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justmypartner · 3 years

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Make it Work: Chapter 10

Summary: When offered a permanent position with the FBI, Hailey agrees to take it under one condition: Jay comes too. As their personal lives and work lives begin to change, the two partners find it increasingly difficult to navigate their complex relationship and manage their feelings for one another.

Writer’s Note: The Finale!!! I’m so sad to wrap up this story. This story was the idea that inspired me to start this account and dive into the fandom world as a fic writer, so it’s very special to me. It has been so fun to develop, and I have really enjoyed reading everyone’s reactions and input after each chapter. So, from the bottom of my heart, thank you for reading this story and joining me for this journey😭❤️ ...& be on the look out for info about my next multi-chapter which will be out soon!

Tagging: @angelsjedi , @brookerz122493 , @cpdfan2014 , @the–carousel , @maya-asturias , @itsdesiree86 , @tvshowsaremyhappyplace , @stephanie708

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“So, the FBI and New York, huh?” Trudy questioned, settling into the barstool across from the younger detective and flashing her a curious look. The goodbye party at Molly’s was just finally dying down, and Trudy took advantage of the quiet moment to question her for the first time since finding out she was leaving.

“Yep,” Hailey responded, a sheepish look on her face with the response.

“When did you and Halstead finally… you know, get together or whatever?” Trudy asked, sending a heat directly to Hailey’s cheeks.

“What? No, I mean, no… It’s not like that,” Hailey stammered out, embarrassed by the question.

“Uh huh. Right, because anyone would just give the FBI an ultimatum when offered an elite position, all just to keep their ‘partner’,” the sergeant said sarcastically.

“It’s not like- I mean he’s a great partner. The best one I’ve had in all my time with the CPD. I’m better with him as my partner,” she shrugged before continuing. “When they offered me the job, it was an offer I couldn’t refuse, except there was a part of me that wanted to refuse it. The part of me that was missing him. Without even thinking I just told them I wasn’t going anywhere without him. It was like my mouth was moving before my brain could catch up,” Hailey confessed, immediately grimacing at the soppy words.

“Look, kid. I’ve worked with so many people over the years. I’ve had horrible partners, I’ve had some that left an imprint on me that I’ll never be able to shake, but I’ve only ever had one that I would give up this job for, only one that I would’ve even considered bargaining with the same way you did,” Trudy confessed, a perceptive look on her face. “That partner is my husband.”

Hailey shook her head, a half-frown, half-smile expressed across her face. Just as she was about to respond, Jay came walking up. She watched as he bantered back and forth with the sergeant, smiling, but zoning out as Trudy’s words sunk in with her. She hadn’t fully confronted what she felt for him. She knew she had feelings for him, she just kept them buried, knowing those kind of feelings could ruin the great thing they’d built over the years. But at the same time, she realized doing so could mean missing out on something even better. She snapped back into focus when he asked if she needed a ride. She refused, and he joked a little more with Trudy before saying his goodbye and walking on.

“He’s a good guy. I’ll kinda miss him,” Trudy admitted, turning around briefly after he walked away. Her head snapped back to Hailey quickly. “You tell anyone I said that and I’ll deny it,” she threatened, causing Hailey to let out a throaty laugh.

“Really though, from the outside looking in, what you two have seems to be more than just a partnership,” Trudy told her. Hailey blinked her eyes closed slowly, reluctantly giving in to the sergeant’s attempts to pry the feelings out of her.

“I’ve definitely let my mind wander. You know, he looks at me a certain way and I think what if we were more than partners? What if we took that leap? But I’ve never been good at relationships… I don’t want to ruin the thing we’ve built by trying to turn it into something more,” Hailey divulged, feeling a strange sense of release finally talking about those difficult feelings she had tried to hide for so long.

“I dated this guy once. He was a geologist,” Trudy said, causing Hailey’s eyes to widen and her brows to curve into a question. “Yeah, it didn’t last long. Anyway, he used to use the word watershed a lot. He really loved the double meaning of it. Obviously in geology it represented actual water or whatever, but he also used it to describe things that really impacted his life. Turning points. I never really understood it in that way until I met Randall. Before him, I had already given up on the idea of relationships, then he showed up out of nowhere and suddenly my entire outlook changed. He was my turning point… my watershed guy, and there was nothing I could do to change it. I guess what I’m trying to say is if you think Halstead could be your watershed guy, don’t wait too long to make your move Goldilocks. You’re only tempting fate the longer you push the idea away,” she finished, taking a sip of her drink as she observed Hailey’s reaction to her story.

“I’m going to miss you, Trudy,” Hailey said softly, raising her bottle to clink with her glass as the words resonated with her.

- - - -

The obnoxious beeping of Jay’s alarm woke him, and he groaned as he mustered up the energy to roll over and turn it off. It had been two weeks since the incident, since he confessed his feelings, Walker was suspended, and Hailey told him she needed time. Hailey took those two weeks off, telling Drake she needed to take time to heal, both physically and emotionally. It was time he happily granted after everything that happened.

Within days of Walker’s suspension, an official investigation had opened up concerning his misconduct. With that came several other female agents with stories to tell about the man. Stories very similar to Hailey’s. Nothing official had taken place yet, but things weren’t looking good for him, and the prosecutors all but promised that Hailey and those other women would finally get justice for what he did.

Fortunately, Drake and the rest of the Manhattan office backed each of the victims completely, sending out memos voicing their total and consistent support for anyone that ever needed to come forward with allegations of misconduct. Especially internal misconduct against other agents.

In this office, we protect the badge when necessary, but we also demonstrate accountability when that same badge is being abused. Victims should never be silenced, and victims should never be blamed, especially when they are members of this sacred institution.

This was the line that stuck out to Jay in all of the memos, and he was proud to represent a group of people that were willing to address the issue in such a way. It meant a lot to him that they had Hailey’s back in a way the CPD didn’t, and he hoped it brought her some sense of peace their former department never could.

In those two weeks she took off, Jay and Daisy were partnered up again considering both of their partners were off the job. The dynamics around the office were weird. They hadn’t filled the void left by Walker, and without Hailey there, Jay didn’t feel like himself. The gossip was lighter than he was expecting, something he was grateful for, but he and Daisy both caught lingering stares anytime they were in the office. It was already distracting to not be working with Hailey, and the stares certainly weren’t helping. He was just counting down the days until her return, but in a way it seemed as though the rest of the office was as well. Everyone wanted to gain back some sense of normalcy after everything that went down.

He didn’t see her in all of that time she was off, but they kept in contact through the occasional text. In those texts, they avoided talking about them. It was mostly just him catching her up on work or her catching him up on the Walker case, all very brief and to the point conversations. She told him she needed time, and that was exactly what he was giving her.

At that moment he laid there in bed, it was the weekend, and he was relieved to have it off. They had caught some rough cases throughout the week, and he needed one day that wasn’t filled with horrible people who did horrible things. He also needed something to keep his mind from missing Hailey. Pretty much every time he closed his eyes during those two weeks, he pictured her lips against his, her body tucked into his side, and her light breath against his chest. The memories of that day lingered like phantom touches, and he couldn’t get her off of his mind. He needed a distraction from it all, but he didn’t have any plans for the day. He could have easily stayed in bed longer, but he knew if he did that he would just end up spending the rest of the day there wallowing, wondering when Hailey would be ready to come back to him. So, he forced himself out of the bed and began his day.

Once he was up, showered, and fully caffeinated, he lingered by the window, catching the idea to tour the city as he watched the people walk about the street below. In all of the time they had been in the city, he still hadn’t taken an opportunity to get to know it. It was a clear, warm weather day, so he thought it would be a perfect time to meander the still unfamiliar city. He hoped the unfamiliarity would force his mind to think about something other than Hailey.

His tour started by taking the subway to Times Square. He always thought it was an overrated attraction, but standing in the middle of it all, looking up around him he realized why people find it so alluring. There was a surreal feeling he had standing there, a feeling he really couldn’t explain. Afterwards, he made his way to Rockefeller Center, Central Park, and around lunchtime he ate at some hole in the wall restaurant outside of Madison Square. The deeper into the city he got, the more charmed he was by it. Looking around while not also chasing a criminal or looking out for a threat changed his perspective in the best way possible. Nothing would ever replace the spot Chicago had in his heart, but he really was falling in love with New York. After lunch, he wandered around, people watching and taking in how unique every street seemed to be. With his career, he never really got the chance to travel, so being a pseudo-tourist for the day sort of mimicked that. It was an interesting experience for him.

It was nearing sunset, and he was scouting out the best spot to catch it. He was never a sit around and watch the sunset kind of guy, but he figured new city could mean new traditions. Just as he was scouring the internet for the best spot, a text came in from Hailey.

Can you meet me?

Along with the text came a pin of her current location. He was in Lower Manhattan, and the location was only a few blocks away on the Lower East Side by the river. His face lit up when he read it, and he felt like he couldn’t move his legs fast enough as he started in her direction. He made his way through crowded sidewalks, the usual noise of traffic and other city sounds around him falling silent to the pounding of his heart in his chest. Two weeks without her, he wasn’t even concerned with what she had to say, he was just ecstatic to finally see her. He made it to the edge of a park by the river, one that looked impalpably familiar. Then he saw the bridge and the orange tint in the sky, and it hit him. It was the spot from the picture she showed him on the plane to the city. He crossed the street and entered the park. His eyes scanned the area, circling the field briefly before spotting a familiar blonde sitting on a blanket under a tree.

Her back was to him, and he took in every detail he could from afar before she could notice. It took him a moment to realize it was her because she was wearing a dress. In the four years he had known her, he had only ever seen her wear a dress a few times and only on special occasions, but this one blew them all out of the water. It was a pale yellow sundress with a delicate flower pattern. Her legs were kicked out to the side under her, and the dress revealed the beautiful tan tone of her skin, the Greek in her that gave her that subtle olive glow. He noticed the way her golden waves fell effortlessly down her back and over her shoulders, and it amused him to see she had paired the dress with simple white sneakers. Such a Hailey Upton thing to do, balance out something as frilly as a yellow sundress with something so casual like a pair of sneakers. The color of the dress suited her so well, and she was quite literally glowing in the orange rays of the setting sun.

As he approached, he noticed a box of pizza and a bottle of wine settled beside her. Oh God is this a date? He thought to himself, becoming aware of the boring t-shirt and jeans he was wearing and the fact that he just spent the day working up a sweat as he walked around the city. He wished he could pop home, or even in a nearby store to at least change his shirt, but he was already there and there was no turning back.

“Hi,” he finally said when he got close, his voice just loud enough for her to hear. She quickly stood and spun around, beaming at him as she did so. She smiled for a long moment, silently taking in his presence with a radiance of joy spread across her face.

“God, I’ve missed you,” she finally said, breathing out the words with a solaced breath.

“Me too,” he said simply, taking in how stunning she was. The bruises that once lined her neck and chest were all healed up, and the spot on her lip that was once split was mended. It was like nothing ever happened. She looked perfect.

“Sorry I look like this. I just spent the day touring the city, but you…you look…” he began, but a dozen words fought to come out. Beautiful. Gorgeous. Perfect. Incredible. Of all of those words, his brain settled on a breathy “wow.” She laughed lightly, shyly looking to the ground as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“You look great… and thank you,” she said, sending him a toothy smile as he nervously chuckled back.

“So, uh what is all of this?” He asked, forcing himself to make real conversation before he embarrassed himself with further nervous babble. He noticed her finger tips lightly tapping in a mindless rhythm against her thigh, and he had to swallow away the grin that formed. He knew she was just as nervous as he was.

“Right, uh sit. I just wanted to do a dinner. A thank you for being there for me. I know you said I don’t have to thank you, but I do. Really, I do,” she said timidly as she dropped back down onto the blanket. He followed suit, settling on the ground with his knees pulled into his chest.

“I thought you hated New York pizza,” he chuckled, his eyes settling on the box before them.

“Oh I absolutely do, this is the one decent slice I have been able to find in this pizza hell of a city. It’s no Bartoli’s, but it’s edible,” she joked. He snickered at how worked up she got over pizza, and he grabbed the plate she was holding out to him.

“So, how’ve you been?” He asked, recognizing they had fully bypassed that initial level of small talk.

“Better… way better,” she admitted, and he knew by the look in her eyes she was telling the truth. It made him happy to hear, and even happier to see.

“I’m glad,” he told her with a grin. A warmth flushed through his body as she smiled proudly back at him.

“Yeah, I’ve actually been seeing a therapist. Dealing with what happened, and even dealing with stuff from Chicago that I never really dealt with,” she admitted. Years ago she changed his outlook on therapy, and he grew to learn just how beneficial it could be. He was surprised to learn therapy was a new thing for her, but it made him happy that she seemed so excited about it.

“That’s so good, really. If anyone knows how helpful that is, it’s me,” he said as he locked his eyes with hers.

“Yeah, I spent the last two weeks thinking about the thing with Walker, going over it with my therapist. I spent my sessions talking with her about everything, and I’d just go home and wonder what I could have done differently, why I missed the signs that his friendliness was more than just…”

“Hailey, none of what happened was your fault. You were nice to him, and he took advantage of that. End of story,” Jay interrupted, waving a hand in front of him to emphasize his words.

“No, no, I know that. I just kept thinking about what he said about me leading him on. While I know I definitely wasn’t doing that, I did start to question why I so easily looked past his comments and his flirting. I mean, I would have shut that down immediately in any other situation with any other guy. Like, I knew it was happening, yet I let the comments go and still agreed to keep seeing him after work. I kept thinking about that, kept talking it over with my shrink, and I eventually realized what it was,” she said, her focus fixed on the sky behind Jay’s head as she spoke, and he noticed her fingers restlessly playing with the hem of her dress.

Jay wrapped his arms tightly around his knees, locking his fingers around his wrists, anxiously waiting for her to finish her thought.

“Every time I went out with him, it was an excuse to get away from you… a distraction because I couldn’t stop thinking about how I felt about you,” she confessed.

Jay let out a shaky breath. He had figured she had feelings for him, imagined what she was thinking when only her eyes were communicating what words weren’t, but the verbal confession still took him by surprise. He looked at her, stupefied and relieved by the admission, and there was a long pause. She took a breath and finally continued as her eyes seem to roam the sky for her words.

“Before I left Chicago, Trudy said something to me that I just couldn’t stop thinking about. But, we were going through this big change, new city, new job, it all just didn’t seem like the right time, and I wasn’t even sure if you felt the same way. But then we’d have these little stolen moments, these blips of time where it felt like we were going to make that jump, and something would get in the way,” she said. Jay almost let out a chuckle at how familiar her words sounded. It was like she had snuck into his brain and was reading off a script of his own thoughts.

“When I was out with Walker, I was passing the time with him to forget about you. Yet, every single time, you were all I could think about… Trudy said the longer I pushed the thought of us away, the more I was tempting fate. Well, I’m done tempting fate. I’m done letting people and time and situations stand in the way of us because Jay, you’re my watershed guy,” she rambled, her words rolling together the quicker she spoke. She took a series of deep breaths after the long monologue, clearly fighting back tears as Jay tried to process everything she was saying and everything it carried.

“Watershed guy? I don’t think I’m follow-“ he questioned before she cut him off. She snickered lightly before continuing, shaking her head amusedly as she tried to find the words to continue.

“Right, you don’t get that… uh there’s a story behind that, but what I’m trying to say is my life hasn’t been the same since I’ve met you. You’re always there. When I expect it and even when I don’t. In more ways than one, you have made me a better person, a better detective, and now a better agent. We came into each other’s lives and for me it was like everything changed. I’ve never had a partner like you. I’ve never had a friend like you, and at some point I realized I can’t even picture what my life would look like without you. I don’t want to. You… you are my turning point,” she said, inhaling sharply.

“Jay, I’m in love with you. I love you so much more than I thought I could ever love anyone, and I’ve been pushing it down for so long but I can’t anymore. I haven’t stopped thinking about you since you said those words to me. I know I made you wait for me, and I would understand if-“ with that, Jay leaned forward, kissing her with the desperation and fervor that had been building up in him over the past two weeks. The past four years if he was being honest. She relaxed into the kiss, bringing her hand to the back of his head, brushing her fingers through his short hair as she pulled him closer into her. They sat there in the middle of the park together, lost in each other, and completely oblivious to the world around them as they unleashed almost four years of pent of feelings. When they finally pulled away for air, they giggled against one another’s mouths, coming down from the reality of the euphoric moment. Hailey leaned forward into him, placing a brief kiss against his lips before pulling away again, staring into his eyes and rubbing a thumb over his mouth lightly.

“So, does that mean we’re on the same page?” she asked with a smirk.

“That means, I’m in love with you too,” he said back, tangling his hand into her hair and bringing her back to him for another kiss. She smiled widely, before settling back onto folded legs.

They ate dinner together under the setting sun, watching as the sky changed from day to night. They talked and laughed for hours until they realized they were the only two left in the dimly lit park. Upon the realization, they gathered everything from the ground and made their way out of the park, their hands intertwined together and their faces sharing the same twinkled smile.

“So, what now?” He asked as she swung their joined hands together between them. They walked slowly, savoring every second as they maneuvered half-empty sidewalks.

“Now, we go back to my place… if you’re willing to share a bed with me again,” she said in a confident whisper, pulling on his arm slightly so that she could raise up and say it into his ear.

The corners of his mouth curled up in return, and he bobbed his head dramatically in endorsement.

“You had me at go back to my place,” he said firmly, smiling as she giggled next to him. He leaned down, pressing a kiss against her temple, and they continued to make their way back to her place, at a slightly quicker pace than before.

- - - -

“I know I said this before, but you make a great pillow… among other things,” she innuendoed, raising her brows and kissing the grin from his mouth. They were wrapped up in her bed, unable to keep their hands off one another from the moment they made it back to her apartment. It was late into the night, and they remained tangled together, their hands mindlessly traveling each other’s bodies as they basked in the afterglow.

“You make a pretty damn good weighted blanket… among other things,” he teased back, causing them both to giggle. Once the light laughter had subsided, he broke the silence with a question, a heavier question than he intended.

“So what does this mean for our partnership?” he asked her, his fingers still dragging lightly across her bare shoulder.

“What do you mean?”

“I just mean what if the FBI doesn’t let us stay partnered together,” he whispered, slight concern in his voice. There was a silence as she thought it over, and her fingers that traced circles against his chest suddenly stopped. She sat up, resting against his chest the same way she did weeks ago as her eyes peered intently into his.

“I think we’re great together. As partners, and as I’m sure time will tell, as more. This doesn’t need to blend with the work stuff. I know us, and I know we can keep things separate. If they have a problem with that, they can take it up with me. I’ve given the FBI an ultimatum for you before, I will gladly do it again,” she replied, a sneaky grin expressed across her face. He shook his head with a smile in response, bringing a hand down to push a strand of hair out of her face.

“I love you,” he said in a soft whisper. She brought her face close to his, merely inches away.

“And I love you,” she whispered back before connecting their lips.

“Whatever happens, we’ll be fine,” she reassured him upon pulling away.

From detectives to agents, partners to friends, friends to lovers, they’d endured a lot of change in the past few years. They were bound to face even more change ahead, but one thing Jay knew for sure, it was only the beginning of an entire lifetime of change they’d endure together.

“Yeah, we’ll make it work,” he nodded, and she smiled widely before crashing her lips back into his.

#upstead #jay x hailey #hailey x jay #jay halstead #hailey upton #chicago pd #upstead fic #justmypartner fics #collection of Em’s fics

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erisbaek · 3 years

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Stucky Fic Rec [Part Two]

Here is part two of the fic rec, as promised by today! I don’t know how many parts this will be since I am constantly reading new fics, and adding them. Every fic added to this rec I have read, and would recommend, therefore they are my personal preference (meaning typically longer than 10k, and very few - if any - shrinkyclinks and ABO) Same as last time, I will provide the Google Doc link where I update the rec regularly, but if you’d prefer it formatted here, it is under the cut!

Google Doc Link: https://docs.google.com/document/d/10wqr5s-CzkFzLidQgt-y4-cjudHWwVeVPWCedMjK7t0/edit

If you want to recommend fics, you can do that as well! I only add fics that I’ve read.

Watch Them Rolling Back

Word Count: 16.9k Rating: Teen and Up Notable Tags: Post Infinity War, Canon Divergence Warnings: Temporary Character Death Synopsis: Bucky was just here, he was right here. This can’t be all that’s left. Well, it’s not all that’s left, not quite. There, in the pile of ash that used to be Bucky Barnes, already drifting to scatter across the soil of Wakanda, to dissipate in the air, to be nothing but dust on Steve’s hands and in his gasping mouth and in his lungs—left there, in that ash and dirt, are his gun, and his left arm, gleaming dully in the sunshine.

Hey Bartender, Pour ‘Em Hot Tonight

Word Count: 22.9k Rating: Mature Notable Tags: Bartender!Bucky, Patron!Steve Warnings: Smut Synopsis: Steve looks down and catches sight of a bright pink drink in a hurricane glass. Moisture is beaded on the outside, and the cool feel of it is nice on Steve’s sweaty hand as he picks up the monstrosity Sam has ordered for him.

“What the hell is this?” Steve asks, a disbelieving smile on his face. “You couldn’t just order me a beer?” “You said to surprise you,” Sam smirks. “And you made me wait.” “But what is it?” Steve repeats, and is answered by a deep, unfamiliar voice. “It’s a Singapore Sling,” the man behind the bar is smiling. “Not what you were expecting?” In which Bucky is a bartender and Steve is immediately smitten. He's not the only one.

Roommate Wanted

Word Count: 61.7k Rating: Teen and Up Notable Tags: Roomate!AU, Secret Identity Warnings: None Synopsis: As Captain America, he’s one of New York’s finest heroes. But as regular old Steve Rogers? Nothing more than a struggling graphic designer who can't quite pay rent anymore. The solution? Get a roommate. Enter Bucky Barnes, aka the Winter Soldier, ex-brainwashed assassin turned hero trying to make up for his violent past. He needs a place to stay - preferably with a roommate who wouldn't mind his weird hours. Seems like the perfect match. Only problem? Neither knows the other is a hero.

These Streets

Word Count: 5.4k Rating: Mature Notable Tags: Cop!Steve Warnings: Smut Synopsis: The life and times of Police Officer Steve Rogers and his dealings with the not so classy residents of his local precinct, including Bucky Barnes, the rough muscle with the dreamy blue eyes.

(A Silent Prayer) Like Dreamers Do

Word Count: 12.5k Rating: Mature Notable Tags: Soulmate!AU, Shrunkyclunks Warnings: None Synopsis: Everyone has a soulmate. Everyone. Since the counsel has been keeping records, there has been one exception to that rule, and considering the man, no one was very surprised. After all, Captain America, ne Steve Rogers, was the exception to all the rules. So when he plunged into the Atlantic in a plane loaded with enough explosives to take out the entire Eastern Seaboard, the nation mourned him, but the counsel breathed a sigh of relief. Their perfect record - a soulmate for everyone - was intact. When Bucky is five or six or seven, he has his first bonding dream.

The Tipping Point

Word Count: 16.8k Rating: Teen and Up Notable Tags: Not CACW Compliant, Touch Starved Warnings: None Synopsis: Bucky shows up at Steve's door a week after he pulled him out of the Potomac. He brings his cat with him. Eventually, they stay.

Victims and Victories

Word Count: 14.7k Rating: Explicit Notable Tags: Army!Steve,, Mechanic!Bucky Warnings: Past Abusive Relationship, Mentions of R*pe/Non-Con, Assault Synopsis: Steve Rogers is an Army Special Forces Captain. Bucky Barnes, former marine sniper, restores and sells old cars in his spare time. They meet one day when Steve is on a run and Bucky is running from his abusive ex. Steve turns out to be exactly what Bucky needs.

Strange Visitor (From Another Time)

Word Count: 51.1k Rating: Explicit Notable Tags: Shrunkyclunks, Hidden Identity, Reporter!Bucky, Slow Burn, Enemies to Friends to Lovers Warnings: Slight Smut Synopsis: James Barnes, rising star reporter of the New York Bulletin, has a plan. One, find out all there is to know about New York's newest vigilante Nomad, starting with his true identity. Two, write a masterful piece about it. Three, win a Pulitzer and become the envy of all his peers. Four, enjoy. Or, you know, something like that. One thing's for certain, though: he sure as hell isn't going to let that fucking asshole newbie Grant O'Connor steal his spotlight.

I Will Remember You

Word Count: 15.4k Rating: Teen and Up Notable Tags: Temporary Amnesia Warnings: None Synopsis: Bucky is James now, and it takes Steve losing his memory to bring them back together He stares at the man, curious and wondering. “Who are you?” “James Barnes.” The man’s voice, and the way he shapes his consonants—soft and smooth and just a touch foreign—is almost, but not quite, familiar. “Are we friends too?” he asks. “Yeah.” Huh. The way his body’s responding to James doesn’t seem very friend-like.

Travelling Light

Word Count: 56.8k Notable Tags: Angel!Bucky, Dark Fantasy, Bonding Warnings: Canonical Character Death, Smut Synopsis: When Steve wakes up, it is a surprise. The last thing he remembers is the bottom of the lake, sharp teeth and yellow eyes, and the cold pressure of not being able to breathe. But he isn’t dead. He didn’t drown. He is not in the water anymore. Instead, he is warm, very much alive, and wrapped in a cocoon of feathers. He’s also naked. And with a man lying right next to him.

La Belle et la Bête

Word Count: 66.7k Rating: Explicit Notable Tags: Beauty and the Beast!AU, Forced Marriage, Veteran!Bucky Warnings: Body Horror, Smut Synopsis: Steven Rogers was born in 18th century Ireland to a mother who knew herbs and the old ways. After she passes, Steve asks for aid and gets more than he bargained for. He’s cursed into the form of a beast by day and given 300 years to prove to the fae enchantress that such a thing as true love exists. If he can’t prove it, he’ll be whisked back to her realm and be forced to marry her. He can try to find love with whomever he wants, but they have to fall in love with him without seeing his human face for a year and a day. He spends hundreds of years searching, but so far, no one seems worth the risk. Bucky Barnes is a grumpy war vet whose sister is dying. Desperate, he goes in search of a flower that can save her, but the cost is higher than he anticipated: His sister’s life in exchange for his. When he returns to keep his side of the bargain, nothing in the mansion is what it seems.

Captain America and the Great Pygmalion Debacle

Word Count: 31.7k Rating: Explicit Notable Tags: Friends to Lovers, Slow Build Warnings: Smut Synopsis: Bucky absolutely refuses to cut his hair and for the life of him Steve can't understand why. The reason? There's nothing in this world Bucky loves more than having Steve brush it...

Breath I’ll Take, and Breath I’ll Give

Word Count: 17.1k Rating: Mature Notable Tags: Post CATWS Warnings: PTSD, Suicidal Thoughts Synopsis: It's starting to get harder for Steve to find reasons to get out of bed in the morning.

Lucky Seven

Word Count: 94.3k Rating: Explicit Notable Tags: Shrunkyclunks, Mechanic!Bucky, Russian!Bucky, Slow Burn Warnings: Smut Synopsis: Captain America trashes his motorcycle a lot. Tony says he'll fix it, then never gets around to it and just buys him a new one. Steve, the Depression-era kid, can't stand the waste and goes looking for somewhere near him in Brooklyn where he can get his bike fixed. That's how he finds Red Star Bike Repair, and the hot Russian-immigrant bike racer who runs it: all long hair and muscles and tattoos. And for the first time since he woke from the ice, Steve feels a connection to someone; a comfort in the other man's silences and his space, an attraction in his sheer skill at racing. But James Barnes isn't exactly who he seems…

The Arsonist’s Choir

Word Count: 11.9k Rating: Explicit Notable Tags: Post CACW, (Kind of) Fake Marriage Warnings: Smut Synopsis: "It's Bucky," Steve added, helplessly. The buyer was now sitting at Mikhailov's table, but the mission seemed unimportant. "He's been arrested. In Texas. And, uh, apparently, we're married." "Congratulations," Natasha replied, with a small grin. "Are you registered anywhere?"

What a Dizzy Dance

Word Count: 30.7k Rating: Explicit Notable Tags: Shrunkyclunks, Model!Bucky, Neighbours!AU Warnings: Smut Synopsis: An AU where Bucky is a model but Steve is still Steve. They live next to each other and Bucky keeps accidentally stealing Steve's cat.

Separating Me From You

Word Count: 14.8k Rating: Mature Notable Tags: Post CATWS Warnings: None Synopsis: After Bucky's recovery, in the face of SHIELD's rebirth, and as all the Avengers have found themselves at a comfortable place with themselves and each other, it should have occurred to Steve that something would go wrong. However, he could have never guessed that trouble would come in the form of the US Army deciding that, because Steve had signed himself over for Project Rebirth, he was technically still the property of the US Government. Property that they wanted to claim.

The Sweetest Spark

Word Count: 73.1k Rating: Explicit Notable Tags: Modern!AU, Age Difference, No Powers Warnings: Smut Synopsis: Steve Rogers runs a successful business. He has great friends and a great life. It seems like he has it all. So why is he sitting in a diner on a Friday night alone? Maybe he's just a little lonely. Maybe Bucky Barnes can help with that. ----- It wasn’t just how he looked. Of course, the fact that he was ridiculously stunning was what Steve had noticed first when he’d spotted him across the diner and had left him staring with his mouth open before he’d realised what he was doing, but how could he not?...

A Memory Like a Haunting

Word Count: 28.6k Rating: Explicit Notable Tags: Time Travel Warnings: Smut Synopsis: “Why is Bucky’s line disconnected?” Steve asks. “Steve, who are you talking about?” Clint asks. Steve glares at him. “Bucky. You know. The Winter Soldier. My boyfriend. Long hair, metal arm. Come on, guys, this isn’t funny.” “No one is laughing,” Natasha replies. “There is no one called the ‘Winter Soldier,’ and if you have a boyfriend, you certainly haven’t introduced him to us.” “JARVIS, can you tell me if Bucky is in the building?” he asks instead of responding to Nat. There is a long pause and then JARVIS’ clear voice comes down from the ceiling. “I have no records of anyone who goes by the name ‘Bucky’ entering the building.” Or: Steve wakes from a nightmare only to find that Bucky no longer exists.

Honeymoon Cabin

Word Count: 16.8k Rating: Explicit Notable Tags: Shrunkyclunks, Post Avengers, Veteran!Bucky Warnings: Smut Synopsis: After a misunderstanding about the rental availability of the famed Honeymoon Cabin, two lonely men end up falling in love during a winter snowstorm that strands them in the same place.

#stucky #stucky fic rec #stucky fic #stevebucky #stevebucky fic #starbucks #wintershield #steve rogers #james barnes #bucky barnes #the winter soldier #captain america #marvel

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stuffwedoistotallynotillegal · 4 years

Text

A Different Kind; Norman Bates x Male!Reader

Could you please do a Norman Bates x male!reader where the reader doesn’t think that Norman would ever like him because he’s a guy? (Reader is also unaware of Norman’s blackouts, like the half of the town that got straight up murdered)

Warnings: repressed sexuality, homophobia/biphobia, slurs, bullying, profanity, sex, mention of sexual assault/harassment, some minor OC characters for plot

Author/ A/N: this has a long build up, and is kind of bad and angsty until it isn't (and by 'bad' I mean most of the trigger warnings are in the beginning.), in fact, if you are interest in reading this, but don't want to read the parts with all the traditionally bad triggers mentioned, then under the asterisks is the fluffy love stuff. This might be the longest thing I've ever written.

It started when you were young, the toxic air around anything other than heterosexuality. You remember the kids on the playground yelling the godforsaken word at you. The 'g' word. No rhyme, no reason. You didn't understand what it meant until the summer you were fourteen, when you were sitting in the backyard at Jacob Smith's birthday party. By then most kids didn't care what sexuality anyone was, but there were still kids who felt the opposite. You had sheepishly asked what it meant when the discussion was on former president of the mid-1800's James Buchanan's potential homosexuality. It was an odd topic, but somehow that's how the conversation had flowed naturally.

You sat quietly in thought, knowing deep down you had some sort of attraction to boys. Or at least, you weren't repulsed by the thought of kissing one, or marrying one, or... more.

The next school year brought you into the cold grips of highschool, where you found yourself on new, unfamiliar ground. Second semester of freshmen year was your first experience with another boy at a senior's house party. The senior was a Saint of a girl, a cheerleader with the popularity of a popstar, but heart of an elderly neighbor who bakes all the kids on the block cookies.

You had been in the backyard with a sophomore named Connor O'Reilly. The conversation had been fairly deep, you were comfortable talking to him. As you sat in the cool, crisp spring air you dared to look at Connor through the dark. His eyes were on you, and before you knew it you were both leaning in until your lips touched.

Just as you were getting further into the kiss the door slammed open. Out walked the Varsity Quarterback, only a junior. He yelled inside to his friends, then at you and Connor. That was the first time ever being called the 'f' word.

Connor, who happened to live just down the street, bolted, leaving you to deal with the football players on your own. However, the was no way Steph, the cheerleader, would allow one of her freshman babies to deal with the football team on their own. After being ripped a new one by Steph, the jocks shuffled back inside with tails between their legs and blushes stained on their necks and cheeks. You cried in Steph's room the rest of the night.

The next day you were pushed around, but only in places your couldn't be protected. In the lockeroom you were spanked and whipped with damp towels, and one of the seniors made another freshman steal your underwear. The message was clear, so, like any logical kid with nowhere else to turn, you repressed your sexuality.

It didn't stop the abuse.

That summer was one of the best you've ever had. Your family went across the country to visit family, there you met many people like you, forming a few causal relationships. The first time you truly let yourself free, and god it felt great. And when you got back to school you stopped caring. Their words didn't matter to you, didn't cut like they had. You started seeing things for how they were, and how surprising to find that many of you oppressors were people repressing their own issues: sexuality, emotions, homelife. You started responding to their hate with love, and it worked. It worked well on the Quarterback, too.

His name was Mark Thatcher and it was one of his friend's parties where you saw him across the room. Summer had treated him well for his final year in highschool. Earlier in the week he had shoved you into the locker, yelling in your face. You had just muttered back a quiet, calm "It's ok, you'll be ok." He had blinked at you before letting you go and walking away, glancing back once before turning the corner.

He looked good leaned up against the wall, chatting with the coach's son. Mark shifted his eyes around the room before meeting yours and quickly looking to the side. Nearly half an hour later you had walked out of the bathroom and straight into a muscular arm. Mark had stopped you.

"So," he paused "are we doing this or not?"

You looked at him before pulling his face to yours, you let him push you up against the wall and deepen the kiss. It wasn't long before he lead you both into a bedroom. It started off desperate and hot and quick, but as it went on something deep within Mark broke and his actions got rougher. He was muttering slurs that were more self-directed, and you were telling him to stop. You felt tears hit the skin on your back and you pushed him off. He stepped off of the bed and backed himself up against the wall, head in hands and breath erratic as he slid down onto the floor. He was shaky as he sat on the floor and cried.

You got off the bed and walked to him, offering your hand to hold. He pushed you away, not in anger or disgust, but in pain. Pain with himself. You got up and cleaned yourself off, before getting dressed. By the time you were done Mark had calmed down and you helped him clean up and get his clothes on. You offered to let him walk out first and he just shook his head, grabbing your arm and pulling you out of the room. He didn't walk back to the crowd with you though.

The next school day there was a rose taped to your locker with a note reading 'I'm sorry". You never hung out with Mark again, and he never bothered you for the rest of high school.

After that senior class had graduated everything began to run smoothly, you had made new friends, paved new roads for the other kids who were different.

It was an overcast day as you walked down the sidewalk in front a couple shops, ducking your head down as your thoughts swirl through. You glance up to catch eyes looking at you.

After realizing it was Norman, you look back down and tense up, trying to ignore the feeling of your stomach twisting and fluttering with butterflies. You keep walking, not letting your head think too much on how his lips curved upwards when you met his eyes. You continue on your way.

There’s no need in longing for something that will never happen.

The next day is when you quite literally run into him. Norman steadied you with a small grin.

“Sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going.” he chuckled.

“Oh, no!” you interject “I wasn’t either, its just as much my fault.”

Norman’s smile only grew, “I guess both of our minds are elsewhere, huh?”

You look down and lick your bottom lip, “I guess.”

“Nothing wrong with that.” you hear him say, voice soft.

You bit your lip and look up at him, shaking your head, cheeks pink. “Absolutely not.”

Norman nodded and stepped to the side, releasing his delicate grip on your arms. You moved on, telling him to have a nice day. He wished you the same.

You saw him a week later while he sat on a bench at a park just a town over.

After a day of following Steph around while she was back from University, you finally ended up on a swing with her on another while she talked about her life in higher education.

“And I just don’t understand how he could think we’re the issue when the entire class is doing poorly! You know? Like, I understand you’re considered an expert in your field, Dr. Smith, but no one else in your class is, so maybe you should consider teaching us better.” Steph ranted on as you looked across the landscape to find Norman’s nose tucked in a book.

“Anyway, I’m just ranting, I’m so frustrated! I’m sorry, how are you, Y/n?” Steph’s empathetic voice moved your eyes back to her as she lightly swing back and forth.

You feet were planted under you as you swayed left and right. You nodded to the bench across the way.

“That’s the guy I was telling you about.”

Steph’s head shot to the direction, hair whipping in her face.

“Oh?” her eyes darted to find a person before landing right on Norman, “Oh.”

She slowed her swinging to a stop and stared for a moment, “Okay, I see.”

You snorted, “What does that mean, Steph?”

“I mean he’s cute! I understand why you like him.”

“Yeah, right? It’ll probably never happen, though.” you sigh, kicking a rock to the side.

“Um? Why not?” Steph had her eyebrows raised as she looked at you.

“I don’t think he like guys.” you shrug.

Steph stared at you a moment, slack-jawed before laughing. “Dude, he’s literally been sneaking looks at you since we got here. He definitely like you, at least.”

“Wishful thinking, but thanks.”

“Are you joking?” Steph reached over and pushed you. “Who wouldn’t? You’re fucking hot!”

You leaned forward, giggling as Steph nearly lost her balance and fell out of the swing.

“I’m serious, Y/n! Anyone would be lucky to be with you; you’re a catch.” She said it like it was a straight fact.

“I miss you, Steph, why’d you have to leave me here? My ego misses you even more!” you jape.

Steph rolled her eyes and stood up, walking toward Norman.

“Steph, where are you going!”

“To the car, loser. Luckily, you’ll have to pass the love of your life to get there.” she walked away cackling.

You were able to get back to the car with little issue. In fact, you managed to have a brief, pleasant conversation with Norman along the way. Steph couldn’t stop giggling the entire way back, muttering smug “he likes you”‘s to you throughout the whole ride. You just rolled your eyes until you got home.

Weeks had passed since then and Steph was gone again, but you had managed to have many more pleasant--and not so brief--interactions with Norman in those weeks. You were finally in a place where your face wouldn’t get too red from the interactions. It was fantastic.

Then the day that changed it all happened. The day Norman asked you out. On a date.

You had nearly spit out your drink when he did it, looking over to him with wide eyes.

“Why?” you asked.

Norman’s brow furrowed, “Because I like you. And I thought that maybe you might like me?” He opened his mouth to speak again, but you beat him.

“I do! And I will! Go out with you, I mean.” You look over to Norman and saw his wide grin, brow still furrowed.

“I just,” you pause a moment before continuing “I didn’t think you, you know. I didn’t think you liked men like that.”

Norman moved closer to you, “Well, I like you, Y/n.”

You looked back to him, eyes drifting about his face before smiling back and speaking.

“Okay. So, what are we going to do on our date?”

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kadeu · 4 years

Photo

Accepted — Alis Nazarian

♣️ Alis Nazarian aka. Vesper looks like Angela Sarafyan (actor) ♣️ She was born August 5th, 1869; making her 150 years old but she appears 37 ♣️ This Shifter is Pansexual and an Ace of Clubs ♣️ She is the Owner of Boxing Clubs

Biography

They regarded her with pity.

For valid reasons, of course. To be born to low ranking parents—a 1 of Clubs and 2 of Clubs respectively—was one thing, but for said individuals to remain distant, burdened by their own string of issues that they couldn’t care for each other, for her, was another matter entirely.

Alis Nazarian served as the perfect example of how one’s pedigree mattered little in the scheme of things. Her father’s former status as a formidable Ace and mother’s position as ruthless Queen were a distant memory; something akin to a myth, a tale drummed up by intoxicated patrons over one too many. A once fearsome reputation ultimately lay in ruins, courtesy of destructive habits, and she was the unfortunate victim of their poor choices.

But it wasn’t in her nature to dwell over the details.

There was no point in criticising her father’s penchant for Chrono and mother’s fascination with the gambling scene. No point in wondering just who would guide her along the shifter path, some day, when they were busy with other pressing… matters.

As easy as it might have been to pin her suffering on the pair, she couldn’t find it in herself to indulge in such. The only viable choice was to proceed and push through, regardless of the difficulties associated with it. Sure, the hardships were aplenty, and it would be a blatant lie to say that the frustration hadn’t driven her up the wall on multiple occasions— but it could’ve been worse.

And so, she did what she did best in situations such as these when the odds were heavily stacked against her: survive.

In the hands of distant relatives, family friends, or anyone kind enough to take her in on a temporary basis, she was raised among a bevy of both familiar and unfamiliar faces. Armed with a razor sharp wit and keen eye, Alis seamlessly adapted to each environment she was presented with. Not even subpar sleeping arrangements or measly meals could bring her to tears—in public, at least. Humour quickly became a source of comfort. It was far easier to joke than worry over the fact that she’d eventually have to figure her own way out. Alone, in a society that had it out for her.

What exactly was a girl meant to do in this instance? Sit back and wait for the end? Allow the other Clubs to trample right over her when she was down and almost out like this? Well.

Ask her and Alis would swear that she hadn’t meant to steal that day. Promise. The thought of dipping her hands into the pockets of a highranker was absurd. No one had to tell her twice. Consequences were deadly for someone lowly like her, except the possibility of hitting gold—perhaps in the literal sense—gave her the incentive to give it a go. Just for today, anyway. Better to be taken down on a high than wither away like many had assumed she would.

What she hadn’t expected, however, was to be caught red handed. More specifically, to come face to face with a person who apparently knew her father far better than she did. Even knew her, for that matter.

Huh. It was a goddamn joke that not even Alis could laugh at.

Boris Kuznetsov, he’d introduced himself as over a meal later on. A childhood friend of her father’s, a training partner, a close confidante; the poor soul who’d personally witnessed his demise and didn’t want the same for her. Or so he claimed. Alis barely took note when the abundance of food before her was considered significantly more interesting than whatever he chose to ramble on about at the very moment.

It was a sight that prompted the man to ultimately take her under his wing. Either to keep her off the streets and give her the chance to live, or to restore honour to her family name once more. Maybe both.

In a matter of days, Alis finally understood the very definition of stability: a roof over her head, never-ending meals, proper clothing. There was no risk of having everything snatched from right under her here; a far cry from what she was usually accustomed to. It was the kind of life she’d long been deprived of, yet a life that could be hers, so long as she was willing to, quite literally, fight for it. And was she? Was a reckless street kid capable of making it to the top? Boris thought so.

Whereas he was stern and implemented a strict training regimen as preparation—but also to keep in her line— she was fond of bending said rules when possible. Whereas he emphasized the importance of upholding tradition, she opted to break it and put on her own unique spin on it, instead. And when he’d requested that she get her shit together and actually take him seriously, Alis would pretend to deviate for the sole purpose of hearing him grumble angrily in his mother tongue—only to turn around and prove that she’d excelled in everything he’d taught her so far.

Let it be known she’d developed a soft spot for the old man and would vow to work hard in his name, shit talking and all.

To put it simply, the first few fights didn’t go to plan. Battered, bruised, and brandishing a new scar; her friends considered it an absolute miracle she was still alive by the end, let alone capable of cracking a joke about having her ass handed to her. Trust Alis to see the lighter side when others (see: Boris, always Boris) did not. Although the outcome was widely viewed as a disappointment, especially when her parents were capable of so much more, there was no denying that she was one to be watched.

Unconventional in her use of weaponry, and unpredictable in her movements; it was startlingly clear that the young woman had all the makings of someone great. Pair that off with a never say die attitude, and her potential would become a popular topic of conversation among the masses. It was only a matter of time until Boris honed her in and polished her up until she emerged gleaming, glittering. Unstoppable.

Whoever said her ascension through the ranks was an easy one had no idea. Not one. The years were marred by unexpected losses, in addition to accumulating a steady amount of injuries; some of which would leave Alis stranded on the sidelines. No one made mention of the mental toll involved in going from Jack to Queen to King, nor the fear in having the hard work fall apart in its final stages. How a poorly timed move could unravel everything achieved so far, leaving no other choice but to start over, with no guarantee of returning to where they’d left off.

The road to Ace hasn’t been pretty. Alis wouldn’t hesitate to vouch for that, pointing to her numerous battle scars as proof of how much she’s had to endure. Plenty has been lost, although just as many has been gained. She isn’t the type to brag of her achievements and prefers to remain humble, biting her tongue against the compliments regarding her fancy ranking.

But she’s done it. Pulled off the impossible, and by God, no one is going to take it away from her that easy.

Not without a damn good fight, at least.

Personality

At first glance, it would be easy to assume Alis Nazarian was anything but the Ace. Often caught in the midst of some farfetched tale that may or may not be true, she’s often regarded as unthreatening by many at The Boxing Club. A complete jackass, in fact, by those closest to her. Her laidback nature, along with her fondness for a good time, tends to distract others from straying too far, and instead encourages them to stay close, just to see what kind of entertainment she’d drag them along to.

The faction and ranking system holds little to no importance to her. Having risen from the bottom herself, Alis doesn’t deem it fair to judge people according to their ranking, and chooses to rely on interactions when determining whether someone is worthy of her attention. She finds grudges utterly draining, petty conflict even more-so; thus, she won’t outwardly express her displeasure towards certain individuals when it’s perceived to be a waste of time and energy.

Saying that, Alis is capable of switching to deadly in an instant. Anyone who’s seen the woman in action is well aware how ruthless she can be when the situation calls for it. Her tolerance for mayhem is high, except if a person has chosen to cross her, time and time again, for the sake of riling her up, she will see to it that they never do so again via a personally delivered and violent message. All because she’s relaxed, doesn’t mean she should be messed with.

Congratulations Bee your app has been accepted and your personalized plot drop will be sent to you soon

Please follow and welcome @alisnaz to Kadeu!

#follow;#accepted;

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keelywolfe · 5 years

Text

FIC: The Elephant in the Room ch.2 (baon)

Summary: Jeff has started working at the Embassy. He’s got a new job, a new car, and a new place to live. Now if only the rest of his life could fall into order, that’d be great. Any time now…any time at all…

Tags: Spicyhoney, Kustard, Established Relationships, Prejudice Against Monsters, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Mentions of Past Suicidal Thoughts, Mental Health Issues, Friendship

Notes: Stretch quitting smoking? Going swell. Jeff quitting the bookstore? Super duper. Red is a creeper? Well, everyone knows that! Except Jeff, it seems, but hey, he can be taught!

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

There wasn’t much parking downtown at that time of day, the best spots taken by day workers and college students. Jeff was forced to park on the street a couple blocks from the bookstore. It wasn’t much further than they would have gone from the bus stop and Stretch didn’t offer any complaint.

He did hop out of the car the moment it was in park, before Jeff even had a chance to turn it off. Jeff only shrugged mentally and gathered up his keys and bag. At least he didn’t shortcut out, the sound of it could be painfully loud in an enclosed space.

When he got out, he saw that Stretch hadn’t run ahead. Instead, he was lingering on the sidewalk with a vape pen in hand, already exhaling a cloud of vapor. From his scrunched expression, it wasn’t as satisfying as a cigarette.

“Not so good, huh?” Jeff asked with amused sympathy.

Stretch grimaced. “it’s not the same. you’d think i’d like the tasty flavors and you’d be wrong. i wasn’t smoking ciggies because i so enjoy the tanginess of chemicals and tar.” He grinned then and nudged Jeff with a sharp elbow. “but it’s better for the baby, am i right?“

Jeff groaned, but he snickered helplessly, ”I said I was sorry.”

“oh, you did,” Stretch agreed. He started down the sidewalk and Jeff fell into step beside him, “but i’ve still got a little mileage left on that joke before i run it into the ground.”

From the way he was determinedly using the little vape, Jeff got the idea that the whole quitting thing might not be going so well. He didn’t put it away until they got to the store, tucking into his hoodie pocket as he held the door open for Jeff. The bell jangled above the door as they walked in and an unfamiliar face looked up at them from behind the counter. “Good after…noon.”

The faint hiccough in his speech was barely noticeable, as was the way his smile faltered. Stretch certainly didn’t seem to notice on his beeline directly to the recently acquired shelf.

“Hi,” Jeff said, just this side of too loud. The guy jerked and turned back to him. “Is Thomas in?”

Before he could gather himself enough for a reply, a full head of salt and pepper hair poked out from the office, followed by the rest of his former boss. “Jeffery, my boy! And Stretch, schön dich zu sehen! What brings you, you have a new order to place?”

“nah, i’m just here with the troublemaker today,” Stretch grinned and jerked his head in Jeff’s direction. “don’t worry, though, i’m working on a new list. you’ll be sherlock holmsing around for me in no time.”

“Ah, but I also have a new detective!” He stepped around the counter and gave the young man a firm clap on the shoulder. “This is Steven, it is his second day.”

“Hi, again,” Steven said obediently. It sounded friendly enough but Jeff didn’t miss the way he kept glancing away from Stretch, who nodded a greeting before going back to perusing the shelves.

Thomas didn’t notice, only came back around and transferred that firm grip to Jeff, leading him away like a lost sheep. “Come now, Jeffery, we can go over the last orders you were working on in my office.”

“Sure,“ Jeff murmured. But he left the door open and stood in a way he could watch the main room.

Every glance out made him worry a little more. Not about Stretch, he was only poking through the books, setting a few off to the side in a neat pile. He never even glanced at Steven, much less bothered him. But the guy was watching him like a mall security guard, not even pretending to be doing anything else.

There was something about that look, the visible discomfort in it, that had Jeff frowning mentally. Monsters had been aboveground for several years now, long enough that anyone who lived in Ebott should’ve bumped into one at least every few days around town. Considering how young this guy was, he should’ve been on campus a few times or in the local coffee shops. No one should be that freaked about seeing a Monster, no one with manners, anyway.

Especially seeing Stretch, who was easily one of the most recognizable, only below Asgore and the diplomat group when it came to fame. Plus, the skeleton Monsters tended to look more Human than some of the other species out there. They wore clothes and shoes, and when Stretch had his hood up, he could easily be mistaken for human from behind.

Besides, his sweatshirt had a dinosaur with Mickey Mouse ears on it and a speech bubble that said ‘wrong park’, for crying out loud. How was that remotely threatening?

Next to him, Thomas was two finger typing his way through the list of orders that Jeff had been working on, humming beneath his breath. “Thomas,” Jeff said, low. “Yes, my boy?” When Jeff nodded towards the front counter, Thomas stood and leaned over the desk to see. He frowned, his eyes narrowing, as they both watched Stretch walk over to another shelf of books. Steven moved as he did, unsubtly shifting over to the far side of the counter, his eyes never leaving Stretch as he backed away. “Bah,” Thomas muttered irritably. “That one, he’s not going to be staying.”

Jeff nodded. Definitely for the best. Even if someone unfairly thought Stretch was scary, he was hardly the only Monster who came in hankering for books. Moms brought in their kids all the time, elderly Monsters searched for books they remembered from the Underground. The cheery sticker on the front door inviting Monsters in would tell anybody that much, before they took a single step inside much less submitted a resume. Why the hell would someone who was so visibly uncomfortable around Monsters want to work someplace that was blatantly Monster-friendly?

Jeff didn’t really care for any of the reasons his brain was offering him and suddenly, he didn’t really want to leave Stretch out there alone with a guy who was eying him the same way he would a serial killer. “Would you mind if I came back this weekend to go over this?” Jeff asked softly.

“Not at all. Come, let’s go out together. I think maybe I should ring up Stretch’s purchases for him.” Thomas sighed and shook his head. “Such a shame, he had a good resume. A worse shame I will have to pay him for today.”

“Send him home at lunch,” Jeff said sourly, “save some money.”

“A very good idea.”

~~*~~

They were walking back to the car, both of them with bags in hand when Stretch finally asked him, “okay, what’s the matter?”

“Why do you think anything is the matter?” Jeff asked lightly. It wasn’t going to work, he knew that, and Stretch only tutted in exaggerated disappointment.

“because your smile fell so far its sitting on top of your shoes. so before you trip over it, what’s wrong?”

“That guy, the new guy. He seemed…” Jeff hesitated, trying to think of a way to phrase it that was better than, ‘he was a dick,’. “He seemed really Monster unfriendly.” “yeah. i noticed.” Stretch pulled out his vape and used it, exhaling a sweet-smelling cloud. It was a decent distraction but Jeff knew him too well now to miss the fleeting unhappiness that crossed his face before it was hidden beneath easy carelessness. “he didn’t say anything to me, but—“ “No, because he was too busy trying to blend into the furniture,” Jeff gritted out. He should’ve known Stretch noticed, he was weirdly observant like that. Maybe Monsters had to be when their HP was in the single digits. And to have to deal with that in one of his safe places had to be doubly upsetting. “Thomas already said he was getting rid of him, but seriously, what an asshole. He was acting like you were gonna rip his throat out with your teeth.” Stretch made a face, “nasty. i love the old monster movies but man, the creature from the black lagoon sure didn’t do us any publicity favors.” “Good movie, though.”

“yeah.” The faint melancholy that had settled over Stretch faded as he suddenly smirked. “wanna go watch it?”

“Hell, yes.”

The trip back home was a lot shorter when they didn’t have to depend on the bus, and soon enough they were settled on the sofa with snacks. But even the campy black and white classic couldn’t hold his attention, and Jeff found his thoughts picking irritably at the events of the day.

That Steven applied at Classic Books at all was rubbing him in all kinds of wrong ways. There was literally no chance anyone would miss that it was a Monster-friendly business, and even if Thomas was going to fire that prick, well…maybe he should let someone in Security know. Like Red, Jeff had a feeling this was definitely something he’d want to know about. Edge probably would too, but he and Stretch had enough to worry about lately.

Better to have it checked out first before starting any panics or holy wars or anything.

So after the movie, Jeff regretfully turned down an offer to head over to Grillby’s and instead drove down to the Embassy.

Instead of politely greeting the security guard and heading right to the elevator like he usually did, Jeff stopped and asked, “If I needed to talk to Red, where would I find him?”

The guard’s floppy ears perked high as he looked up from his sudoku book, eying Jeff warily. “You actually want to see Red?”

“Um. Yes?” Well, he had before that.

“Huh.” The guard looked at him a moment longer, doubtfully, then shook his head and picked up his pen again. “Just wander around. You don’t really find Red so much as he finds you.”

Well, that wasn’t at all ominous or terrifying. “Thank you.”

Even worse, it wasn’t really helpful. It was close to five and most of the staff was getting ready to go home for the day. The cafeteria was closed, the chairs already atop the tables, and none the departments seemed likely. It wasn’t like there were any signs pointing towards ‘creepy skeletons this way’ like a damn Target store.

Jeff was ready to surrender and almost convinced himself that he was overreacting. And yet, if he didn’t say anything and someone got hurt? Yeah, better to overreact and feel stupid, times a thousand.

An email, then? That’d be something, and Jeff made his way down to the PR sector where his office was. It was about a step above a closet, but he didn’t care, it was his, and he should be able to check the email listings from there.

The main office was already deserted, the lights dimmed. Jeff walked on to his door, trying not to feel like an intruder as he unlocked it and switched on the light. Only to nearly scream at the sight of Red sitting casually in his chair, his boots propped up on the desktop.

That grin of his was so similar to Edge’s and yet not at all, and neither was the way he ran his tongue over the jagged points. His eye lights glowing with crimson ferocity that gave lie to his tone as he said easily, “wellie, well, well, if it isn’t handy andy. heard you were looking for me. what can i do for you, sweets?”

Yeah…he was starting to think the guard had the right idea. Seemed like no sane person went looking for Red. Except now Jeff had him and so he got to deal with him.

Jeff wet his own lips nervously, wondering how the hell he was going to coax this genie back into the bottle. Somehow, he didn’t think flattery was the right option.

~~*~~

TBC

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #by any other name

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lovemesomerafael · 5 years

Text

Becoming Mike Chapter 3: Wherever Here Is

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Read it on AO3

Mike woke up the next morning and immediately regretted all the wine he’d drunk the night before. He knew what cured his hangovers, but it took all the mental toughness he had developed in the Special Forces to get himself out of bed and into running gear. He wanted to stay in bed and sleep for another five hours. Even more than that, he wanted to lay in bed and replay that kiss in his mind for another five hours. Instead, he dragged himself out of bed, popped a couple of aspirin with a glass of water, and hit the streets. Five miles later, he was a new man.

Physically, anyway. He still couldn’t get Sonny Carisi out of his head. In the shower, he imagined what might have happened if he hadn’t walked out the door when Sonny opened it; if he’d pushed it closed again and then been the one to back Sonny against the wall. It was different than what he’d imagined when he’d gone to bed the night before, but he came just as hard as he had then.

When the squad got a report of a missing teenage boy that day, Mike wasn’t surprised when Sonny volunteered to go with him to interview the principal of the kid’s high school. Mike had been looking for an opportunity to talk to Sonny alone, too.

They made awkward small talk for the first few blocks, but it was obvious what was on both their minds.

“So were you as hung over as I was this morning?” Mike asked, trying to sound casual as he approached the subject of the night before.

“I love red wine. I’m Italian, right? But drink more than one glass, and I always regret it. You don’t look like you’re hurtin’ too bad, though.”

“I took a run. It helps. You sweat out all the shit.”

“What, you wake up feelin’ like dog meat, and your first instinct is to run?”

“Hell, no,” Mike laughed. “It’s my last instinct, same as any normal person. But it works. Learned it in the military.”

“Well, no offense, but I’ll stick to my grandmother’s patented cure: Gatorade and toast.”

“Does it work?”

“Sure. I feel great.”

“I’ll have to try it. Hey, thanks again for listening to me whine. Appreciate it.”

“Sure.” Sonny squirmed a bit in his seat and looked out the passenger window. “So, ah… Are we OK?”

“Yeah. Yeah, we’re good,” Mike answered quickly.

“’Cause I been tryin’ to wait for you,” Sonny continued. “But there you were, in my apartment, and you were hurting, and you just looked so good… I couldn’t help myself.”

It was very fortunate that they happened to be sitting at a red light at that moment, given Mike’s instant head swivel to look at Sonny incredulously. “You’ve been waiting for me?”

Sonny blushed slightly and looked down at his feet, shuffling them and squirming adorably. “Yeah, I mean… I thought you might be interested, and I’m definitely interested, but… I dunno.”

“You seemed pretty sure last night.”

“Yeah, well, I had a lot of wine last night,” Mike thought Sonny had never looked so cute as he did with a fierce blush and a shy smile.

The light turned green and Mike had to pay attention to driving again.

“Anyways,” Sonny stuttered, “I just wanted to, you know… apologize, or… explain… I mean, I know it’s different for you. You’re the one who’d be in trouble if we… you know, dated. And I don’t know how out you are. I just wanna be clear here, because I like you. I’m interested, and it seems like you are, too. But I get it if you want to just forget it happened.”

Mike sighed lightly, twisting his lips as he tried to figure out what to say. “I don’t wanna forget it happened, Carisi. Couldn’t if I tried. It was… I mean, yeah, I’m attracted to you and I… really wanted to kiss you.”

He stole a quick glance at Sonny, still wearing that little smile. “Seemed like it,” Sonny said.

“But there are a hundred reasons we can’t… I can’t. So, it can’t happen again, but I’m glad it happened once.”

They shared a nice moment, just smiling at each other.

“A hundred reasons? I can only think of one. Maybe two. What are the other ninety-eight?”

“Gimme a break, Carisi. Reasons one and two are plenty.”

“Yeah. Yeah, they are. But I think maybe…”

“What?”

“Nothin’. It’s none of my business. You’re gonna turn left at the next block.”

Mike wondered what Sonny had been about to say, but decided to leave well enough alone. He wished he felt more sure of the reasons he’d given Sonny for not pursuing a relationship. He wished he felt more sure that he was even capable of keeping a professional distance. It wasn’t the first time he’d had a thing for a coworker, but it had never even approached the level of distraction or temptation he was experiencing now. And he’d certainly been attracted to other men, but this, with Sonny, seemed all-consuming. Mike was starting to become concerned about what could happen, because he was starting to become a little afraid of what he wanted to happen. Where Sonny was concerned, everything seemed completely new. Unfamiliar. Exciting and terrifying in equal measure.

Trying to locate the missing teenager ended up involving quite a bit more travelling than any of the squad were used to. Between the trip to a ski lodge in Vermont and another to a cabin in Pennsylvania, Mike had way too much time to sit and think. About Sonny, especially. But also about SVU. Olivia Benson didn’t seem to be very good at having a Sergeant. Instead, she dismissed his ideas and attempts to take some of the work off her plate and made him, essentially, just another detective. Which was not what he was there for. That thought naturally led him to wonder what his father was going to have to say about that. Mike wasn’t looking forward to a lecture on taking more initiative. Sometimes he really wished Matthew was around to shoulder some of their father’s plans and expectations.

The team did find and rescue the teenage boy two days later, but not before the pedophile wrestling coach had drugged and assaulted him. Worse, the case took a dark and nasty turn when one of the perp’s former students, another of his victims, kidnapped and tortured a confession out of him. Worst of all, the torture had involved stabbing the coach, who died in an ambulance on the way to the hospital. Which meant that the pedophile’s abuse had shattered the kid’s life and driven him to commit a horrendous act in a desperate attempt to try to reclaim himself, but instead, he would now go to prison, possibly for the rest of his life. The rapist never faced justice, and the victim’s life was now over.

Sonny took it hard. Because of who he was, Sonny was especially sickened when trusted authority figures abused that trust to victimize helpless kids. He hated seeing this scumbag coach get off so easy, and was even more incensed that one of his victims was going to be charged with first-degree murder. Nothing he could say to ADA O’Dwyer made a dent. He raged, he urged, he argued and wheedled, reminding O’Dwyer over and over that, with all his experience with teenage offenders, he should have had more empathy with the guy. Instead, O’Dwyer simply repeated that it was up to the jury to decide his punishment. Sonny threw up his hands, sputtering in protest, almost too angry to be coherent.

Mike put an arm around him and led him away before he could get physical with O’Dwyer. That didn’t seem like something Sonny Carisi would do, but he was angrier than Dodds had ever seen him.

“Get him out of here,” Liv growled quietly to Mike. “Give him a beer, let him vent, but let’s not have him punching out an ADA.”

“Copy that, Lieu.”

Had Mike had time to think about it, he would have been very hesitant to go anywhere alone with Sonny, particularly to a bar. But he found himself outside the station five minutes later, hailing a cab with still-furious Sonny in tow. Mike told the cabbie to take them to Steve’s Place.

For a very long time, Mike just sat and listened to Sonny. Sometimes vitriolic rant, sometimes near-tearful, frustrated gripe, Sonny’s outcry of protest was eventually exhausted. He got up from the small, high table where he and Mike had been huddled together for over an hour and went to get their third beers. Mike watched him, relieved that Sonny seemed to have been able to release some of the bitter rage he’d come in with. He couldn’t help but notice how Sonny moved, how beautiful his hands were, how the slightest hint of silver had started to highlight his hair at the temples… He was really insanely good looking, Mike thought. No wonder he was helplessly obsessed.

Setting the beers on the table and climbing back into his chair, Sonny said, “I bet you’re tired of hearin’ me whine, huh?”

Mike extended the neck of his bottle toward Sonny, who clinked it with his. “You did it for me just a few days ago. You warned me it would be your turn next.”

Sonny grinned feebly. “Yeah. I guess. Let’s talk about somethin’ else. I thought I heard you tell Fin you play the guitar.”

Mike huffed a small laugh. “Something like that. I used to want to be Springsteen.”

“No kiddin’. You ever play in a band or anything?”

“Several.”

“No shit! I play a little, too, but my biggest gig was playing the teen Mass at church.”

Mike laughed, enjoying the idea of Sonny playing the guitar and singing church songs with a group of other kids. Sonny, however, was fascinated to learn about Mike’s high school garage band, and the groups he’d played with throughout his time in the military. He was entertained, but more intrigued, by the picture Mike painted of himself as a tortured artist during his Hell’s Kitchen days.

“So what made you give it up?”

“It got old. The squalor, the messed-up hours, the drugs… I just figured I was ready to grow up.”

“You did drugs?”

“Nah. Smoked a lot of weed, is all. But I saw a lot of it, and I got tired of being around junkies. Mostly, what made me give up that life was just, I kept hearing my father’s voice, telling me I was never gonna be a success in that world, and I could succeed in this one.”

“His world.”

Mike shrugged. “I guess so.”

“You think you gave up music for your dad?”

“I don’t know. He had a lot to do with it, I guess. But it was my choice, too. I was done being dirty and broke.”

“Huh.” Sonny said thoughtfully.

“What, ‘huh?’”

“Nothin’. Just… What’s it like working for your dad? Personally, I find him to be… a challenge. And it kinda seems like you do, too, if you don’t mind my sayin’ so. Plenty of jobs in the NYPD. Why wouldn’t you go someplace else?”

Mike sighed, thinking. “He’s got this five-year plan. That’s what he calls it, his ‘five-year plan’. SVU is part of that.”

“’He’s’ got a plan. What about ‘you’ got a plan?”

“Meaning?”

“I mean, that’s what he wants you to do. Is that what you want to do?”

“Well, sure.”

“’Well, sure’,” Sonny mimicked. “I’m not buyin’ it.”

“You think I secretly yearn to go back to a two-room dump with no windows in the back of a fifth-floor walk-up? Working behind a bar watching hookups and fights all night long?”

“I don’t know. And, to be honest, I get the feeling you don’t, either.”

“Fuck, Carisi. You got some balls callin’ me a daddy’s boy.” The words could have been harsh except that he was smiling as he said them.

“That’s not exactly what I’m sayin’,” Sonny said thoughtfully, studying Mike almost as he would a suspect. “You just seem kind of… obedient, is all. I’d like to hear you say ‘I want’ sometime, rather than ‘my father wants’. That’s all.”

“You want another beer?” Mike asked, giving his empty bottle a swing by the neck.

“Nah,” Sonny answered. “Let’s get outta here.”

Did he say that with an invitation in his voice? What was that look? Mike berated himself, again, for drinking around Sonny. He was hard enough to resist sober.

It was starting to feel familiar, walking through these streets together. Mike thought Sonny seemed to be walking a bit more slowly than usual, and consciously chose not to ask about it. If Sonny wanted to prolong the walk, Mike had no objections. Nothing bad could come of walking together. He just wished it didn’t feel so damn good. He wished they were going somewhere together, instead of just walking together to separate destinations. He didn’t notice when his mind began to wander forward, to what it might be like to be heading back to Sonny’s apartment, maybe to kiss again-

“Are you?” Sonny’s amused, insistent voice cut through his sultry daydream.

“Huh? Am I what?”

Sonny laughed. “I asked if you were paying any attention to me. I’m callin’ that a ‘no’. Where were you?”

They reached the corner where Mike would turn off to go to his apartment. “Nowhere,” he mumbled.

“You OK?” The teasing note left Sonny’s voice, to be replaced by a note of kind concern as they stopped walking and Sonny turned to Mike.

“Yeah, I was just… thinkin’.”

“About me?” Sonny asked. Mike would have expected a different expression on his face. Flirtatious, or mocking, or something. But Sonny’s eyes were serious, his features open and guileless. He was honestly and simply asking the question. It was disarming.

“Yeah,” Mike said softly, looking into Sonny’s eyes, dark blue here under the streetlight. “I was thinking it would be nice if we could be going somewhere together, instead of home alone.”

Sonny didn’t respond, or move, or change his expression. Which meant that it was Mike who put his arm around Sonny and his hand behind Sonny’s neck, pulling him into a kiss. Sonny hadn’t started it, but he responded with eager heat. He tasted like beer, and Sonny, and sex, and temptation. Mike could smell his body, warm from the walk, a deep, almost sweet scent that made Mike want to lick him, or chew him.

When they came up for air after several intimate, promising moments, Sonny murmured, “I think I just got my wish. I heard Mike Dodds say ‘I want’.”

“Believe me, I want. But this is dangerous for both of us,” Mike warned, going back to kissing him with growing passion.

“I know that,” Sonny responded, his answer in his kisses as much as his words. “And I’ll take my chances, if it means I can be with you. But it’s your decision. We both have to be willing to risk it.”

Eventually, Mike surrendered as he’d always known he would, taking Sonny’s hand and turning toward home, walking in silence. On the way, Mike put an arm around Sonny’s shoulders, holding him close and kissing him on the temple, just because he could. Sonny’s arm felt warm around Mike’s waist. Mike felt somehow as if he had missed having it there, although it had never been there before.

Mike’s entire awareness was so full of Sonny that he had no memory of the rest of the walk home, or of unlocking the door next to the dry cleaner’s and climbing the stairs to his apartment above it. He pulled Sonny into his arms as soon as the door to his apartment was unlocked, and this time he was the one who got to press against Sonny, holding him against the wall.

“Shit, Carisi, you have no idea how bad I want you,” Mike growled into Sonny’s neck, finding it frustrating that he couldn’t both unbutton his shirt and press against his chest at the same time.

Sonny was clearly having similar thoughts, because he reached up and pulled his tie off in one motion, helping Mike with the rest of his buttons so that he could yank his shirt and jacket off together, throwing them and forgetting about them before they hit the floor. Once they had struggled and grunted their way through removing Mike’s jacket and shirt, as well, their bare chests were enough skin contact for the moment. That allowed them to ravage eachother’s mouths and rub against one another, moaning hungrily without regard to what Mike’s neighbors might hear happening just inside the door.

Eventually, Mike ran his hands up Sonny’s chest, finally burying his fingers in that hair, and looked into his eyes, panting for air. The almost sweet smell of Sonny, combined with the hint of musk they were creating together, made Mikes’ head swim.

“Babe, we should… We shouldn’t…”

“I don’t want to hear ‘should’ from you right now,” Sonny rasped, his breath ragged. “Tell me what you want.”

“You know what I want.”

“Say it.”

“I want to fuck you. “

“Then take me to your bedroom and do it.”

Mike kissed Sonny deeply and thoroughly before taking his hand and leading him the few steps through his front room to his bedroom. They stood next to Mike’s bed, kissing and unhooking first each other’s belts, then hooks and zippers, until they could finally touch each other. With hands wrapped around each other’s cocks, they stroked one another until they were groaning with need. Sonny felt like perfection; long and rock-hard, but Mike wanted this first time to last. He consciously tried to slow things down, taking time to slide Sonny’s pants and boxers over his hips and let them fall down his legs. While Sonny toed off his shoes, Mike quickly stripped off the rest of his own clothes and shoes, then led Sonny onto the bed.

Lying next to each other made it easier to kiss and explore one another, and the short break to undress and get into bed had allowed them to slow their pace a bit. Mike found himself looking into Sonny’s beautiful blue eyes and stroking his chest, trying to restrain himself from focusing on his cock. He didn’t want this to be over too soon. He was overwhelmed with sensations. He was as aroused as he could ever remember being, but his desire to fuck Sonny was matched by an equal desire to touch him, to stroke him and taste him everywhere. He didn’t just want to fuck. He wanted to experience Sonny, to be fucking him. It was a totally new experience Mike had absolutely no idea how to approach.

“You are so fucking beautiful, Sonny. Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?”

Sonny smiled and pulled Mike to him in a hungry, invasive kiss, reaching down and taking Mike into his hand. Mike was spellbound by his caress, heedless of the sounds he was making, of the way he was saying Sonny’s name. He couldn’t stop himself – didn’t even try to stop himself – from rolling on top of Sonny, beginning a slow, deep grind that had them both gasping.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Sonny gasped. “I want you inside me. Will you…?”

Mike tore himself away to fumble in his nightstand for supplies, tossing them on the bed near Sonny’s hip and returning to kiss him hungrily, as though he’d been gone for hours. After re-establishing that Sonny was still there for him, still wanting this, he began to kiss his way down Sonny’s body, faster than was particularly romantic, and promising himself that he would take a long time to explore Sonny’s body with his mouth as soon as possible.

Sonny swore loudly when Mike took him into his mouth, eagerly tasting him by swirling his tongue around his cock while he took him as deeply as he could. Mike inhaled deeply the smell of Sonny there, in his most intimate place, dizzy with desire as he blindly coated his fingers with lube. He worshiped Sonny with his mouth while he rubbed the lube between his fingers, warming it up a bit before reaching to softly stroke Sonny’s hole. Again, Sonny almost shouted a curse word as Mike moved his fingers against him.

“Do it,” he hissed. “Fuck me…”

Mike tried to pay attention to Sonny as he slid a finger into him, wanting to be gentle, but Sonny was past that. He pushed down onto Mike, fucking himself on Mike’s finger already. Mike, balanced on one hand over Sonny’s hips as he finger-fucked him and sucked him, was near insane with need himself, especially watching Sonny’s writhing and hearing his cries. As Mike began to fuck him with two fingers, unconsciously murmuring his name, Sonny pulled at his shoulder, pulling Mike up toward him.

“I can’t- you gotta stop that – I don’t wanna come before you’re inside me…” Sonny’s speech was disjointed, his words crammed in between deep gasps of air and moans.

Mike obeyed, kissing and licking up Sonny’s chest as he slipped a third finger inside him, sliding them as far in as they would go and feeling Sonny pushing down to meet him. By the time he had kissed his way up to Sonny’s lips again, Sonny had reached over and torn open a condom. Mike removed his fingers from Sonny and lifted up so that Sonny could slip the condom over Mike’s cock. He could easily have come just from the feeling of Sonny’s hands on him, but gritted his teeth and managed to hold off, moving into position and pressing the head of his dick against Sonny’s pucker.

“You OK?” Mike grunted between breaths.

“Fuck, yeah. I just need you…”

Mike pushed into Sonny, feeling the initial resistance and tightness, but also feeling Sonny pushing toward him, urging him deeper. He whispered Sonny’s name yet again as he took his mouth, devouring his lips as he slid in and out, quickly beginning to speed up his thrusts. There was no way he was going to be able to do this for long, not with the gorgeous man beneath him stroking his tongue across Mike’s lips and making those unspeakably erotic sounds. When he felt Sonny take his dick into his hand and begin to stroke, Mike let himself go. He felt the first shocks of a volcanic explosion just as Sonny cried out and he felt the hot spurt of Sonny’s climax. Waves and waves of ecstasy washed over Mike as he continued to plunge himself into Sonny for as long as he could, unaware that he was groaning Sonny’s name over and over with each thrust.

Afterward, when they’d recovered enough to clean up and settle under the covers together, Mike found that he couldn’t hold Sonny close enough. He found himself kissing him wherever he could reach as Sonny lay with his face buried in Mike’s neck. Mike stroked Sonny’s hair, put a leg over Sonny’s and pulled his legs closer to entwine with his, and slid his hand up and down Sonny’s back, tired and sated for the moment but unable to stop… experiencing Sonny.

Another thing that had never happened to Mike before. He wanted to cry, and laugh, and kiss Sonny some more, and sing every sappy love ballad he’d ever heard. Love. Mike realized that this felt like the way the songs described love, although he’d never felt anything like this before. Was this love? Mike was mature enough to know that, lying entwined with a pretty man when his dick was still a little hard and the sweat hadn’t even dried wasn’t the time to decide he was in love. But he couldn’t deny that this was more than he had ever felt before. He fell asleep wondering what was happening to him.

He woke up with Sonny’s lips wrapped around his cock and his hands exploring Mike just as Mike had done to him the night before. Mike’s sleep- and hormone-addled mind wasn’t sure whether it was the best head he’d ever gotten or just the best wet dream he’d ever had. Whichever, it was glorious.

When he came down from his orgasm, he rolled Sonny onto his back and, taking time to kiss him tenderly, began to move down Sonny’s body, taking the time to do some of the tasting and exploring he’d promised himself the night before.

“You don’t have to-” Sonny murmured, his closed eyes and half-smile belying his words.

“Fuck, yes I do. Maybe you don’t need me to, but I need me to. I’ve been wanting to since the second I saw you. You say you want me to tell you what I want? I want to suck your pretty dick and make you come down my throat. That’s what I want.”

Conveniently, it was what Sonny wanted, too.

Although it was difficult to let Sonny out of his arms to go home and change for work, it gave Mike a chance to think. To process what had happened – was happening – with Sonny. Mike actually appreciated the normalcy of going to work and doing routine things that reminded him of who he was. Because he couldn’t shake the feeling that he wasn’t quite the same man he’d been when he’d left the squad room the day before. It wasn’t just that he’d slept with Sonny Carisi, and it wasn’t just that it had been spectacular. He’d slept with other people, had great sex with some of them, and it didn’t change who he was. But something had happened to him, and whatever it was, Sonny was responsible for it. If he’d been concerned before about what could happen, now he was truly afraid. He felt like he had when Sonny had kissed him. Entirely in Sonny’s control, and ecstatic to be there. He’d been willing to let Sonny make him do anything that night. But this was his life. What might Sonny be able to make him do to his life?

The fear didn’t stop Mike from taking Sonny back to his apartment after work. Although he didn’t usually bottom, something made him want to feel Sonny inside him this time, and Sonny was more than happy to switch places.

It became easier to ignore the fear every time he made love with Sonny, which was as often as they could manage it. They were never really tempted to try to steal some time together at work, but that had little to do with the absolute need to keep their relationship secret. It had much more to do with the need to keep their sex life entirely separate from the hideous crimes they investigated, to avoid any possibility of the ugliness they saw at SVU seeping into their own lives. From that first night together, whenever they were both off work at night, they were together at one or the other of their apartments. It didn’t make sorting out his feelings any easier for Mike but, somehow, when he was with Sonny, he felt less untethered and afraid of whatever this was. It was only when he was alone, or with his father, that Mike wondered how he was ever going to get back to normal. It was at one of those moments when he had the thought that maybe, if he and Sonny kept having sex as often as they were, at some point he would get Sonny out of his system, and he’d be himself again. He ignored the voice in the back of his mind saying that so far, the opposite seemed to be happening.

After Mike and Sonny had been lovers for about a month, they were lying in Sonny’s bed in the position they most often took after sex, with Sonny lying in Mike’s arms and their legs intertwined. They had been forehead-to-forehead, looking into one another’s eyes, murmuring silly, affectionate nothings to one another. Sonny was trying to figure out exactly what color Mike’s eyes were, and why he found them so hypnotic. Mike was simply being amused, watching the way Sonny’s mouth moved and just enjoying being close.

At some point, Sonny’s expression became more serious, and his voice became even softer than the quiet purr it had been. “Can I tell you something?”

“Babe, you can tell me anything,” Mike grinned lazily, kissing him.

Shallow frown lines appeared between Sonny’s eyes as he began. “You know, I wanted you from the minute I saw you, and I wanted not to like you. But you blew past that right away, and then we became friends. And then… this happened.”

He stopped, seeming more to be struggling to find words than to have said all he meant to say. Mike simply said, “And?”

“And now I just… Mike, I… I really like you. This is more than just sex for me. I don’t know what you’re gonna do with that information, I know you’re at more risk than me, but I just… need you to know. For me.”

“Sonny…” Mike pulled Sonny to him and held him almost painfully tight, kissing the side of his head because it was the only place within reach. “Me, too, Babe. God help me, this… you… it’s more than sex for me, too.”

As the weeks went by, they continued to spend every possible night together, and had gradually come to spend all their time in Sonny’s cheerful, comfortable apartment rather than Mike’s drab, utilitarian place. Mike’s apartment had become the place he returned to when he needed to pick up his mail, or get fresh clothes, although more and more of those had taken up residence at Sonny’s.

Sonny came home from Sunday dinner with his family to find Mike slouched on the sofa, his long legs draped lazily over the coffee table and ESPN playing on the television with the sound off, the way Mike often watched sports for some reason. Sonny had teased Mike about it, saying he thought it was cute, and maybe a little weird, which was incidentally the way he would describe Mike on the whole. Tonight, Mike was sipping a beer and paying no attention to whatever game was on.

“You OK, hon?” Sonny asked as he breezed through the room to the kitchen to deal with the bags of leftovers his mother always sent home with him.

“Yeah, I’m good. Just thinkin’.”

“About?”

“I don’t know. Nothin’.”

Sonny came back out of the kitchen and stopped on his way to the bedroom. “You sure everything’s OK?”

“Everything’s great. I guess that’s what I was thinkin’ about.” Mike smiled affectionately at Sonny, thinking he looked particularly adorable in his church clothes, casual slacks and a cable-knit sweater over a T-shirt.

“Well, hold that thought. Let me get changed, and then I wanna hear all about how great everything is.” Sonny’s smile was incandescent and, for some reason, he was blushing just a bit.

He quickly returned from the bedroom, still wearing the T-shirt, and now comfortable in a pair of Mike’s sweats. For some time now, Sonny had made a habit of wearing clothes that Mike had worn, saying that it made him feel closer to him. He especially liked wearing Mike’s shirts, because he said they smelled like him. Mike had felt his chest clutch when he said that, and could have sworn that there were tears threatening behind his eyes.

Sonny sat down next to Mike, as close as possible, and put his legs over Mike’s and his head on Mike’s shoulder, scooting his body under Mike’s arm so that Mike had no choice but to put his arm around him. As though Mike wanted a choice.

“So. You were thinkin’ things are good, huh?”

Mike laughed and tipped Sonny’s face up to kiss him. It was a few minutes before he pulled away slightly. “Yeah. Good.”

“What else were you thinkin’?”

Sonny was a talker. He was always asking how Mike was feeling, what he was thinking, how he felt about things. Sometimes that was difficult for Mike, because he didn’t tend to ask himself those questions. But he’d begun to, somewhere in the couple of months he’d been seeing Sonny. Thinking about Sonny was always nice, but the habit had begun to creep into other areas of Mike’s life, and it wasn’t always pleasant.

“I was thinking about… you and me, I guess. How we got here. Where ‘here’ is.”

“You come to any conclusions?”

Mike hesitated, then shrugged. “I told you. That things are good.”

Sonny shook his head. “You kill me. You’ll chase an armed perp without a second thought, you’ll go nose to nose with anyone who wants to challenge you, no matter how big they are. But ask you to talk about how you feel, or what you think, and you panic and start lookin’ for the exit.”

Sonny sat up and turned to Mike, putting a hand out to stroke his hair. His whole face was aglow as he looked at Mike, his sentimental grin showing his dimples and making crinkles around his eyes, both of which made the bottom drop out of Mike’s stomach.

“It’s one of the things I love about you. It’s also one of the things that make me want to strangle you.”

Mike stroked Sonny’s thigh, smiling back into his eyes. “Did you just tell me you love me?”

“Not very eloquently. But I do.”

Mike sighed happily, his eyes showing all that he felt. “I love you, too. How’s that for talking about my feelings?”

“Pretty fuckin’ good,” Sonny said, beaming the full wattage of his radiant smile on Mike. “I think you deserve a reward.”

#law & order svu #law & order: special victims unit #mike dodds #sonny carisi #andy karl #peter scanavino #dorisi

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raywritesthings · 4 years

Text

What Have They Lost? 4/?

My Writing Fandom: Arrow, The Flash Characters: Laurel Lance, Oliver Queen, Thea Queen, Barbara Gordon, Barry Allen, Wally West, Bruce Wayne, Tommy Merlyn Pairings: Barry Allen/Iris West, Laurel Lance/Oliver Queen, Pamela Isley/Harleen Quinzel Summary: “I can definitely tell you that there’s a way we’re going to bring [Laurel] back and she’s going to be alive and well. And Flashpoint might have a little bit to do with that.“ -Wendy Mericle AKA: The AU where that wasn’t a blatant lie, and Flashpoint has bigger repercussions for Barry’s friends and allies than he first realized. *Can be read on my AO3, link is in my bio*

After the weird encounter with a man named Barry and seeing Dinah from Birds of Prey in one night, Mia’s life had gone back to depressingly normal. How was that fair?

She’d thought about sharing the discovery she’d made about Larry online, but then who would really believe her? And pop stars had to have lawyers and stuff looking out for their image. She really couldn’t afford getting sued.

A part of her still didn’t believe it anyway. How could someone so cool like Dinah have such a schlub for a father? But then again, nobody knew her past.

Mia has always kind of assumed — or maybe hoped — that her idol was a kid from the system, like her. No parents, no roots, free to do as they pleased for good or ill. More ill in her case, as it had turned out so far.

It was another long night of pouring shots and drying glasses. The nights all seemed to blur together after a while, unless something extraordinary happened.

And then something did. “I’m gonna take my fifteen,” she called out, not really waiting for a response. Mia tossed her apron aside and walked to the door, only vaguely noticing the guy who stood from one of the two-seater booths to do so as well.

She did notice when he followed her around the corner. “Hey, buddy, this is kind of the unofficial employee-only section, so if you could—” The rest of her words died in her throat once she’d turned towards him.

Because it was Oliver Queen.

“Yeah, sorry,” he was saying, his eyes jumping all over her appearance. “I just wanted to ask you when your shift ends.”

Mia raised both eyebrows. She’d heard he was some kind of player back in the day, but seriously? “Don’t you think I’m a little young for you?”

His jaw dropped. “No! No, that’s not what I — I promise, this is not a come-on. I just...we need to talk, about something important.”

This was so weird. That Barry guy had asked her what she knew about Oliver Queen, and less than a week out he turned up looking for her?

“I’m here for another four,” she said, breaking every rule of how to interact with male customers, but this one was famous so it wasn’t like he could get away with too much.

“Okay,” he said. There was a spark in his eye, like the prospect of getting to talk to her more was something to be happy about. He was about the only one who’d ever thought so.

“Yeah, so can you let me have the last of my break?”

“Right. Yeah, I can do that.” He retreated back inside.

Mia shook her head. What was even going on anymore?

Four hours later, he was still at his booth. She sighed, throwing herself down into the empty seat across from him.

“Okay, what’s this about?”

“Did you want to talk here? We could go somewhere else.”

“I’m not going somewhere with you. Stranger danger and all that.”

“Right,” he said with a wince. “That’s good. That’s smart.” He scrubbed at his goatee. “So that’s probably where we should start. Uh, recently I learned that you and I — we’re not exactly strangers.”

“Aren’t we?”

“Well, in a way. The thing is...I’m your half-brother,” he told her.

Now it was her turn for her jaw to drop.

“On my mother’s side,” he added, like he thought that was helpful.

Thea placed her head in her hands. “Okay, really, what’s the joke? Is it the last names thing? Cause that guy was in earlier—”

“What guy? Barry?”

“Wait, you know him?”

“He’s my friend. He’s the one who told me.”

Mia sat back. “What do you mean? Why would he know?”

“That’s kind of complicated. But we can talk about that, too. I...gosh, there’s so much to talk about.” He said gosh. Who even said gosh anymore?

Her shock was starting to give way, however, and Mia found herself narrowing her eyes. “Why?”

“What?”

“Why do we have anything to talk about? For over twenty years, you couldn’t be bothered to even notice my existence. Now because some guy says we’re related, you’re suddenly interested?”

He was stunned speechless for a few moments. “Mia, I- I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“Right, because our mom — your mom — didn’t tell you. Because she didn’t want me.”

“I’m not sure why she sent you to the orphanage. But she kept an eye on you, made payments—”

“Oh, because that makes everything better?” Mia said with a nasty laugh. A couple people glanced over their way, but she paid them little mind. “Trust a Queen to think that money solves all problems!”

“That’s not what I meant. I’m still trying to figure everything out, I just wanted—”

“Screw what you want, alright? I’ve survived my whole life without a family. I don’t need you swooping in to force me to be yours.” Mia stood and stormed out of the bar.

“Mia!” He called after her, but she didn’t stop and he didn’t follow.

What did he expect? That she’d move in with him and his bastard kid, they could forget everything that had come before and sing kumbaya? If what he said was true, she’d had parents, and they’d willingly given her away. Not out of some kind of necessity, not because they couldn’t afford it, but because they hadn’t wanted her. She’d long ago given up wondering what her family might have been like, but the reality was worse than anything she’d ever imagined.

Mia stopped and let herself lean against a wall, willing her eyes to just stop stinging already. She’d promised to stop feeling sorry for herself.

“Well, that wasn’t very nice of him.”

Mia stiffened at the unfamiliar voice and looked up. Standing across from her was a man with dark hair and a beard. He looked about the same age as Oliver Queen and even richer in his expensive suit. Mia sighed. She so did not want to deal with this.

“Sorry, I couldn’t help noticing what was going on back there. It was Mia, right?”

“What do you want?” She huffed. “You about to tell me you’re my secret brother, too?”

He smiled, but there was something off about it. It didn’t reach his eyes.

“Funny you should mention that.”

---

Dinah looked at the street down below and gulped. “Why’d I let you guys talk me into this?”

“Hey, you’ll be fine. Think of it like stage-diving.” She was used to earpieces on stage, but it usually wasn’t Babs’ voice in her ear. It hadn’t surprised her in the least Ted had a working pair of comm links, though.

“I am not jumping from this high. Not without a wire, at least. Just...getting a feel for things. Lay of the land.” It sounded unconvincing to her own ears. Dinah scowled at herself and reached to tug on the material resting around her eyes.

“Stop picking at the mask.”

“What makes you think I’m doing that?”

“Because I can see you through the security cam mounted on the high rise across from you.”

Dinah made a face in the high rise’s direction.

“Cute.”

“I try. Look, Babs—”

“No names on the comm. We use code.”

She rolled her eyes. “Alright, Bat-ling.”

“Please don’t call me that.”

“Well, what do you want to be called? Lady Bat? Batgirl?”

“I’m kind of thinking of making up my own thing. You know, since this is just us.”

Dinah felt herself smile. “Alright. Just let me know once you have something.”

“Sure thing. You start thinking about one, too.”

“Yeah,” Dinah sighed. It wasn’t like she wasn’t used to rebranding. From Laurel to Dinah, after all.

She’d been hearing the name she’d gone by in childhood a lot, recently. Visits to her dad tended to do that, but she could’ve sworn that one camera guy from the Central City publication had nearly called her it the other week. Maybe she’d imagined it, or maybe it had just been a herald of the strange turn her life was about to take.

Her eyes caught shapes moving down on the street below, and she quickly went to the fire escape and slid down the railing partway.

A few young men were giving chase to another of their group, yelling epithets as they went.

“You’re a dead man!”

“You think you can walk away? You think it’s that easy, huh?”

“Maybe not a damsel in distress situation, but one less murder’s always a good thing,” Dinah muttered to herself. She continued down to the ground level, doing her best to blend in with the shadows as she tracked the men to an alley.

“There’s nowhere to run!”

“Come on, guys, I don’t want a part of this anymore! I gave you my cut!”

“We said at the start, all in. That was the deal. And you gave us barely half!”

“I had bills, man! I can get you the rest later!”

Dinah cleared her throat. She’d heard plenty to get the gist. “Boys?”

The ones cornering their former friend turned, looking her up and down in clear confusion. Aside from the mask, she supposed she didn’t look much like a vigilante; Ted was working on getting something a little more durable made for her, but for now Dinah was in her jacket, a navy tank top and a set of her workout leggings. She was working on a limited wardrobe here since she didn’t exactly want anyone recognizing her outfit. Instagram was terrible for going unnoticed.

These guys were probably also expecting a big man in green, she reflected on a moment later.

“Who the hell are you?”

Damn, she hadn’t expected to need a name already. Was she supposed to tell people her codename? How did that even work?

“A concerned citizen?”

They scoffed at her. Dinah hadn’t had anyone scoff to her face in a long time, outside of the band anyway. It was kind of refreshing.

“We’re just settling a score here, lady. Nothing to get ‘concerned’ about.”

“Settling it physically?”

“What exactly is your plan here?” Babs asked in her ear. Dinah ignored her, mostly since she didn’t feel like looking crazy talking to the air.

One of the men looked about fed up. “Yeah, physically.”

“Okay, just wanted to confirm.” They’d admitted to trying to commit a crime, right? That gave her due cause or something. She stepped forward and grabbed the arm of the man closest to her, whirling him around and throwing him towards a dumpster behind her.

“What the fuck?”

“Get her!”

She ducked a fist that came careening at her and tripped the guy it was attached to. With her planted foot, she pivoted to send a kick to his rear end.

A third man grabbed her elbow, and Dinah pushed instead of pulled, jabbing him in the chest and sending him sprawling into his back.

They weren’t exactly hardened thugs, it turned out. Dinah glanced around at the three of them groaning on the ground. Her blood was pumping and she was fully in the zone, but here they were just...lying there. “Figures. No stamina,” she grumbled under her breath.

Dinah started to leave when the young man she’d been defending called out, “Um, thank you.”

“Some free advice? Turn yourself over to the cops. They can get you protection I’m not able to provide 24/7.” Dinah turned, marching over the fallen man in her path. “What did you think?”

“Couldn’t see much,” Barbara told her. “But not bad. Want to take on something a bit more challenging?”

“Why not? Night’s still young.” And she doubted this was the only crime or almost-crime happening in the whole city. Though that caused a thought. “So where do you think Green Arrow is?”

“Who knows? Why, you want to meet him?”

“I dunno. We’re in the same neighborhood and all, he might get nervous I’m on his turf.”

“And you’re worried about that?”

Dinah smirked. “Worried? No, that’s the fun part.”

Barbara’s laughter filled her ear, and Dinah picked up her step.

---

Bruce was a very busy man. Even if he didn’t have a secret night job, he would likely be considered a busy man. A ridiculous notion; CEOs tended to delegate more than anything. Nevertheless, running Wayne Enterprises was only one in a very long list of tasks he had to complete each day to ensure his city stayed afloat.

Which was why he didn’t appreciate when others came asking for his help in their own cities unannounced. Particularly when said others bypassed all his security measures.

Alfred tsked whenever he wore the cowl in the cave, but it was necessary for times such as these when two speedsters zipped right into being.

“Woah,” the older of the two said, looking around the cavernous space.

Bruce hit a button on the console which locked the door to the upstairs from the inside to ensure Alfred didn’t accidentally arrive in the middle of whatever this was.

The younger one nudged his mentor, who gave a start. “Oh, right! Uh, Batman.”

“Yes?”

“We wanted to ask if you could run a background check for a case we’re working?” Allen probably didn’t realize how much his easy parlance with law enforcement terminology gave away about his identity, but Bruce wasn’t going to point it out to him.

Especially when he could tell the man was hiding something. “What’s this really about?”

“What do you mean?” Flash asked, as if a desperate attempt at casual was going to smooth everything over.

“You’re acting like you’ve never seen this place or me before.”

“That’s...because I haven’t.”

Bruce worked to keep any surprise off his face. If Flash was out of step with the rest of their reality, there was only one logical explanation. “Time travel.”

The speedster gaped. “How did you—”

His sidekick, West under the mask, raised both hands. “Don’t look at me. We’ve never told him about the time travel.”

Bruce rolled his eyes. “You both are capable of reaching speeds that break the sound barrier and beyond. It’s a logical assumption that should you achieve a velocity higher than the speed of light, it would allow you to transcend the normal barriers of linear time as well.” Not that he liked it, but that was a discussion for another day.

“Okay. Well, yes, there was time travel involved. It’s better for the universe if I don’t say much more.”

“Then why did you come here?”

Flash blinked. It seemed he was once again unused to Bruce’s gruffness. “Well, Kid Flash said you call yourself a detective?”

Bruce frowned. “Others do.”

“I need your help finding out information about a woman. She’s a meta, potentially dangerous or potentially not. I need to know more about her.”

“What do you already have? A name?”

“Dinah Laurel Lance, born um...1985!” Said Flash, as though he’d just recalled it.

Bruce turned to his computer and started to type. He could sense the speedsters shifting restlessly on their feet behind him as he did so but pushed that minor irritation to the back of his mind.

“Dinah Laurel Lance, as you say, born in 1985. Her father gained sole custody of her when she was about seven years old but lost it in another year due to his alcoholism making him an unfit parent. She was sent into the foster care system. No record of adoption.”

“Oh man,” West murmured. Sympathy, likely from his own history with a parent embroiled in addiction.

“Any, uh, criminal record?” Allen asked, his nerves plain even behind the mask.

Bruce narrowed his eyes but scanned through the documents.

“Some records indicate a tendency to get into fights, but nothing beyond juvenile censure. What was she doing when you came across her?”

“That’s the thing, I really don’t know. She might have been helping a woman, but then she might have been trying to hurt some guys just for the heck of it. It’s...she’s complicated. But she was definitely born here?”

“She was born in Starling City.”

Allen shook his head. “Right, never mind.”

Bruce grit his teeth. He wasn’t being told something still.

“Thanks for the help.” The speedsters were both gone in an eye blink, leaving him alone once more.

Bruce frowned as he looked over the information. He could see why Flash had needed help; her records for the most part seemed to stop several years ago. But then, if he was right…

Dinah, the singer. They were the same woman. And Barbara Gordon was involved with this woman, a member of her band after leaving Gotham. A metahuman with powers he still didn’t know what were capable of doing.

If this Dinah was dangerous like Flash was fearing, and Barbara thought this was her in to the sort of life he’d tried to shield her from for Jim’s sake…

He was going to have to keep his eyes on this one.

#lauriver #laurel x oliver #laurel lance #oliver queen #arrow #the flash #dcu #thea queen #bruce wayne #green arrow #black canary #barbara gordon #my writing

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crayolacrayonhalloweenpacks · 5 years

Text

Lo Stesso Tempo

Summary: Logan Berry and Roman Gold are equally ambitious and skilled pianists. Unfortunately, those ambitions are not necessarily compatible. Competition ensues.

Words: 6045

Notes: Alrighty! This is my first Sanders Sides fic, and the first fic I've ever posted in a public space, so please don't murder me if they're super out-of-character or some parts are super rushed or whatever. (Which they are, lmao.) But I really enjoyed writing this, so I decided to post it anyway, because that's the only way to ~grow~ and whatnot. Have a nice day! :)

Read on: Archive of Our Own, Wattpad

Ms. Anne Berry had always wanted to be a musician, and when she grew up without achieving her aspirations, turned to trying to raise one. In her childhood daydreams, she entered a shining hall, hung with crystal chandeliers and gold sconces. A stage was set before a sea of black velvet chairs, upon which hundreds of elegant aristocrats sat on the edge of their seats in anticipation. On the stage was a sleek black grand piano. She walked out to ear-splitting applause and cheering, but the audience hushed immediately, eager to watch the virtuoso at work, when she placed her hands upon the keys. Those dreams turned to dust as she aged. She attended law school, became an attorney, worked so tirelessly she never had time for music. In her new dreams, the baby in her womb grew up to play sold-out shows in those beautiful halls to hordes of admirers in her stead, so that she could at least be at peace with her former ambitions.

In that spirit, she had selected a wonderful name to encourage her future child’s musical inclination. It that of many great composers, graceful, and refined. Clunky, awkward, unexceptional Logan was not the name she would have chosen for her child, but her husband insisted on it. The Berrys had been bickering over this since they found out she was pregnant. It was practically routine.

Ms. Berry would list off notable musicians who bore her chosen name. (“All I’m saying is that it has a fantastic musical significance.”)

Mr. Berry would argue for his family’s honor. (“And Logan has a wonderful familial significance. My grandfather was a--”)

She would dismiss this argument every time but the first. (“Yes, yes,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “You’ve given me your little spiel already.)

He would point out what an absurd name it was. (“We cannot name our son Johann.”

“And why not?”

“Are you kidding? You’re going to get him bullied!”

“Johann is an excellent name. No one in their right mind would mock it.” “They’re kids!” Mr. Berry threw up his hands. “None of them are in their right minds!”)

Then the two would stalk off to their respective ends of the house and not speak to each other until dinner, upon which they would smile and nod politely as if nothing had happened.

The Golds went grocery shopping every week, just a walk to the store with a list of items they had to buy. Roman was in charge of keeping track of what they had in the cart. Tomatoes, check, chicken, check. He pointed out that it would be much easier to lug the bags back home if they took the car and didn’t have to carry all the bags, but his mama insisted it was barely half a mile, and besides, they had to get their steps in somehow.

It was a path they’d tread many times before, but this time, there was something unfamiliar in the way. Well, not in the way. Even though it was on the sidewalk, it was pushed near the entrance of the nearest shop, leaving a wide berth for pedestrians to pass by. It was new, nonetheless. Roman jabbed his mama’s arm. “Look!”

She glanced down, amused. “Yes?”

“Why is there a piano on the road?” He had only ever seen them in movies. They were huge, glossy black, and, according to his moms, expensive, so even though this one was brown wood and hardly in mint condition, he couldn’t fathom why it would be left out in the elements.

“It’s a public piano, darling,” explained his other mom. “There’s a music shop right here,” she said, pointing to a sign reading SANDERS MUSIC. “They’re probably the ones who put it out here. People just put them out in the open so anyone can play them.”

“Anyone?”

"Yes, anyone. Do you want to play?”

Roman’s eyes lit up. “Yeah!” He plopped down on the bench and pressed down on a key. Roman’s breath hitched. He pressed it again, just to listen to that sound. It sang out over the street like sunlight, bright and brassy and warm. He looked up at his moms.

His mama smiled. “Go on.”

He plunked the key below it, and then the one below that. His head shot up, and he replayed the keys, stuttering his way through “Mary Had a Little Lamb”. “Look, mom!”

“Lovely, Ro,” his mom said, ruffling his hair. He beamed.

"Hey, that was pretty neat!” A brunet man with multiple black cases strapped to his back and dangling off his arms jogged up to them. “You’re a natural.”

Roman rolled the word over in his head in delight. He was a natural. “Thank you!”

“Of course!” He held out a hand to his moms. “I’m Thomas. I own the shop.” His mom shook his hand. “The piano was a new idea my friend pitched, and I wasn’t sure about it at first, but it’s really been a hit so far!”

Roman jumped up from the bench. “You own the store?”

“Yep! Family business.”

“Mama, can we get a piano?”

She chuckled softly. “Honey, those are expensive.”

“How expensive? I have a lot of money saved.”

His mom smiled sadly. “A lot more than what’s in your piggy bank.”

"But I wanna learn!”

His mom flushed red and turned away from Thomas. “Those are expensive too, darling,” she explained.

Roman’s eyes stung. “How much--”

“A lot more than we can afford.”

Thomas cleared his throat. “Your moms are right,” he said when they looked over. “Lessons and pianos cost a lot of money. It’s not a decision to be made lightly. But,” he continued quickly when Roman’s face fell, “I teach group piano lessons at most schools in this area. If you want to go to our school for details, they can give you a registration form. Most are held after school hours, but it’s completely free.”

“Can I go?” Roman pleaded. “Please?”

“I don’t know--” his mom began.

His mama shushed her. “I think we’ll be doing that soon,” she said brightly. “Thank you so much for the information, Mr. Sanders.”

“Of course. Always happy to help.”

“Thank you.” His mom nodded after a moment, then took Roman with one hand and her wife with the other. “Let’s go get some bread, huh?”

Roman skipped all the way to the supermarket and back. He couldn’t wait for school to start.

There was a specific story his mom particularly enjoyed telling, and would to anyone who would listen, from relatives at dinner to total strangers in the audience. As she told it, while pregnant, she had purchased a CD of classical music off a website that proclaimed the amazing effects of prenatal musical immersion on later intelligence and academic performance. She played it daily against her belly. A few months later, Logan Johann Berry was born, and at the ripe young age of six, he began playing the piano, beginning his transformation into the gifted musician he was today.

His mom liked to leave out the part when every major news source in the country debunked the website’s claim and she was delivered a ten-dollar refund alongside a note of apology. Once, Logan had chimed in with this fact while his mother told the story to an audience member at one of his recitals and received nervous laughter and a death glare in return. He never attempted it again after the incident. He supposed it somewhat diminished the dramatic effect of the story.

Regardless, it was at this age, during the lesson, that he met Roman. His mother had enrolled him in the after-school program’s piano lessons as soon as she heard. The teacher, Mr. Sanders, had left briefly for the restroom. Before he left, he instructed them to practice playing a C scale using the method they learned--tucking under their thumbs to play F. Logan had already mastered this technique, but supposed a bit of practice couldn’t hurt.

Out of curiosity, he glanced over to the child seated in the middle of the bench and frowned. He had decided to play the first five notes with his left hand and the last three with his right, going against Mr. Sanders’s explicit instructions. “Hey,” he said, “You’re doing it wrong.”

The boy glanced over at him, shrugged, and played the scale again.

"No, like this,” he supplied helpfully, giving a short demonstration. C, D, E, tuck, F.

The other shrugged again.

Irritation growing, he pointed out, “You can’t do it like that, it makes no sense.”

“Yeah it does.”

“No, it doesn’t. What if you wanted to play two different things? You’d need one hand for both.”

“Maybe I have four hands,” he contested.

“Hey, guys, maybe--” the boy on the other end of the bench interrupted.

“No, you don’t.”

“Don’t be mean--”

“How do you know? You’ve never seen them.”

“Because you can’t have four hands, that’s not how people work!”

“Please, can we--”

“Maybe I’m not a person, then! Ooooooooh!” he said, wiggling his fingers.“Maybe I’m an alien!”

“That’s not what aliens say, that’s ghosts--”

“Whoa, whoa, okay!” Mr. Sanders stood between them, holding out his hands cautiously. “Let’s break it up, alright?”

Logan looked down, picking at the keys. “Sorry,” he muttered, but his gut was still boiling. He was just trying to help.

“Mr. Sanders?”

“Yes, Roman?”

“Is this right?” And he proceeded to play the scale in his completely, totally, utterly, infuriatingly wrong way, topped off with a triumphant sneer at Logan when he finished it. That halfwit. Logan dug his nails into the bench.

Mr. Sanders’s face twisted. “Well. That was certainly…”

The two boys looked at him expectantly.

“Well. Hm. And how are you doing?” He turned his attention to the child on the other end of the bench.

Logan grumbled. He was right! And he was just trying to help! Why wouldn’t Roman, or Dolan, or Rolan, or whatever his name was just take his advice when he was clearly the correct one?

The lesson ended, and the three children filed out to be picked up by their parents. On the drive home, his mom asked, “So how was it?”

"Good--”

“How were the other kids? Did you do well?”

“Better than the other boy. He wasn’t doing it right, and he didn’t even listen when I tried to help him!”

“Oh, really?” His mom was more than happy to commiserate, seeming positively ecstatic at the news of his classmate’s failure.

Roman practically floated off the stage as the next act was announced, unable to keep the triumphant beam off his face. He had killed his rendition of the Moonlight Sonata, chosen specifically to outdo Logan, who was always being praised for the beauty of his pieces. Well, see him try to beat a piece so lovely it reminded a critic of “moonlight on Lake Lucerne”. His moms and Mr. Sanders had thought it was pretty, too--they were all smiles while he practiced it on the piano in the music shop. And the whole audience applauded a little more enthusiastically after his performance, too. Certainly more than they had for the parrot trainer and that kid who had just hula-hooped for ten minutes straight. So, admittedly, the bar was low. But that meant he had just set it higher--so high that Logan couldn’t even dream of touching it with the barest brush of his hands. Actually, maybe he’d gotten some of the notes wrong--he hadn’t had lessons since a few years ago, before the after-school program was discontinued--but no one would be able to tell unless they’d memorized the whole piece. He was satisfied. That talent show trophy was his.

The act was dismissed to dim applause--some kid with an instrument that looked like a giant violin? How weird--and Logan started heading to the stage. Roman clapped slowly, not bothering to stifle a sneer when Logan passed by his chair. What was going to upstage the Moonlight Sonata? His precious scales couldn’t help him now. The announcer told the audience the name of the piece he was playing, and Roman’s smirk widened. What on Earth was “Shoe-bert” and his impromptus? More like Snooze-bert.

Logan began playing and the audience fell silent. He laughed quietly, earning himself a jab in the ribs from his neighbor. This was Logan’s piece? It barely had anything beyond a basic melody! And there was so much repetition--had he learned anything beyond a couple lines? Anyone could play that. He leaned back in his chair. And here he’d thought he’d get more of a fight. Then, his eyes widened and he nearly fell off his seat.

What-- How was-- It couldn’t be. Was Logan playing a two-against-three rhythm? It was so difficult! Whenever Roman tried to do that, his right hand kept trying to catch up to his left and he would end up with a mess of ugly, clashing notes. Roman could never get that right. Never. But apparently Logan could. He ground his teeth. Before he knew it, Logan’s performance was over. He smirked back at Roman as he walked past.

Roman’s heart dropped even lower when the winner was announced. Hint: he got a participation award.

Roman was a high-school heartbreaker, although not in the traditional sense. At his last performance, he got the entire audience bawling into their neighbors’ shoulders. He played with incredible expression, drawing tears of joy and sorrow alike from his listeners, filling them with every emotion possible, from anger to flights of fanciful passion.When Logan played, people just clapped. He hated Roman for it, but there was a sliver of him--which he shoved safely into the back of his brain, because Mom always said he couldn’t afford distractions--that admired it. Logan’s strength was in technique. He had spent countless hours studying Czerny and Hanon, scribbling reminders on all of his pieces, drilling even the shortest measures ruthlessly if he felt there was the tiniest imperfection. It would have to be enough. It had to. There was only one pianist spot in the entire orchestra, and Logan was determined to claim it as his own. His mom had done nothing but encourage his hard work, and the look in her eyes when he told her he wanted to play for the orchestra was so bright he feared his whole world might go dark if it disappeared.

He happened to be directly after Roman in the audition order. Roman eyed him up and down as he approached. “What are you doing here, oper-awful?”

He rolled his eyes. “That makes no sense. I don’t even sing.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Auditioning, like you. Although, on second thought, hopefully nothing like you. I don’t want to play remotely like the guy who’s probably going to try to “Moonlight Sonata” the judges to death again.”

“Is that so, Moz-fart?”

“How juvenile.”

The doors swung open. The student who had just auditioned was smiling broadly until he saw the two death-glaring at each other. “Um. How are we?”

Roman sniffed haughtily. “Well, I’d better get in. Don’t want to be late.”

“Good luck!” the boy called. He turned to Logan as he walked down the hallway. “And to you too!”

Roman disappeared behind the double doors of the audition room, but not before Logan caught a glimpse of his piece. “Papillons.” A common nickname for one of Chopin’s etudes--a rather easy one, at that. Sure, choosing Chopin was playing to his strengths, but Logan thought he’d play something more difficult. Not that he was complaining.

He peered in through the window, and it was only then he realized that what Roman was playing looked nothing like the etude. His stomach twisted and he ducked away from the window. Of course it was the other Papillons--the notoriously difficult piece by Schumann, so difficult that some parts as short as a few measures were learned as separate pieces. Roman came out two minutes later. “How’s that for juvenile?” He brushed off his shoulder. Logan didn’t respond. “Good luck. You might need it.”

Logan lied to his mom for the rest of the year.

The New York State Musician’s Association’s annual charity recital was about the great cause they were fundraising for--bringing music education to more schools. And of course Roman cared about that! How could he not? Having a proper music education certainly would have helped in his endeavors as a pianist. However, it was undeniably also about victory, and glory, and basking in the light of the aforementioned. He, like every other reasonable musician in the room, was vying for the Junior Musician Recognition Award, the most prestigious music award for high school students in the tri-state area. The orchestra position was fantastic, as was passing the audition and performing at the recital, period and he was wholly glad he’d earned those opportunities. But this was something to finally prove his talent, the central gem in his crown of achievements. And the fact that he could lord it over Logan didn’t hurt, either.

Logan was the current performer, playing something Roman didn’t recognize. The audience whispered to each other in hushed, pointing out a particularly good bit. He rolled his eyes. Wasn’t speaking during a performance supposed to be rude? He poked the contestant--excuse him, performer--next to him, a Victor or something who went to his high school. Roman distantly recalled him playing cello in the back of the orchestra. “What do you think of that guy?”

Victor jumped. “W-what?”

“What do you think?”

“I--who are you?”

“Roman? The orchestra pianist?” he said impatiently.

“Oh. Yeah.” He glanced at the stage. “He’s good. Is that Bach?”

“Yeah,” he snapped.

Victor raised his eyebrows. “Whoa, dude, chill. I was just asking.”

Roman closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. I’m in my happy place. I’m in my happy place… “Right. Sorry,” he muttered and turned back to the performance.

“Well, what about you?”

“Pardon?”

“Do you think he’s good?”

Roman looked back to the stage. Logan’s posture was perfectly straight, elbows perfectly out, every note perfectly hit. The longer he watched, the more impressed he was. Ugh. His playing was technically flawless. His fingers flowed over the keys as easily as water. Every movement was deliberate but delicate, gliding like a figure skater. He made everything he played look elegant and effortless. Maybe, Roman realized, that was why he had always underestimated him. What had really gone into making the masterpiece before him? How devoted was Logan to his craft that he had this kind of skill?

“Well?” Victor prompted.

"He’s fine,” Roman spat, a bit louder than he intended.

Victor cringed when the people sitting behind them glared. “Sorry,” he whispered.

“He’s fine,” he said, lowering his voice. “Just. Fine.”

The piece concluded with a final chord and he bowed, catching Roman’s gaze across the room. Roman suddenly became very invested in adjusting the buttons of his shirt.

Logan was not fine. He was good. He was a good musician. Really good. Great, even. And also… He swallowed, biting the inside of his cheek. He’d studied his piece for so long. Even if he wasn’t as talented as Logan, at least he could fake it with his hard work. His effort had to mean something. It couldn’t be for naught.

His turn was approaching. He adjusted his buttons shakily, hands damp and clammy, and made his way up to the stage. The crowd applauded politely. The announcer was calling his name and piece. The stage was empty, the keys alien on his fingertips, unwelcoming and cold as ice. He shook his head, trying to focus. Focus. It would not be for naught.

Well.

He admitted it to himself.

And also, Logan was better than him.

Logan was still swooning from the adrenaline. He was certain he’d messed up the trills--his hands kept slipping off the keys, and his heart thundered faster just thinking of it. But there was no use worrying about that now. He took a deep breath and glanced over at his parents. His mom was grinning broadly, nudging the person next to her, mouthing “That was my son!” He exhaled. It was done. Finally.

The boy next to him seemed even more anxious, bouncing his leg and fidgeting with the edges of his blazer and his tie. “Are you alright?” he asked.

The boy looked over and gave a nervous chuckle, wiping his forehead. “I’m going next so… Whoo. Stage jitters.” His eyes lit up with recognition. “Hey, don’t we go to the same school?” He stuck out his hand. “Patton Baker.”

He shook it. Patton’s hand was damp, and Logan tried to wipe it on his pants discreetly after he let go. “Logan Berry.” He frowned. They were supposed to perform in alphabetical order. “Shouldn’t you have gone already?”

“Oh, no. I’m doing a duet, and my partner’s all the way over there.” He pointed down the aisle.

“Neat. What are you playing?”

“Oh, just a little--hey! Isn’t that the orchestra pianist?”

Roman was onstage. Logan’s gut clenched. “Yeah.”

“Is that Chopin?”

Yes, it was. One of his waltzes--A-flat major, if he wasn’t mistaken. Roman evoked joy perfectly, of course. But he didn’t look the part--actually, he looked rather downcast. Logan always thought he just played what he felt, but that couldn’t possibly be what was happening here. Now he realized how well thought-out his interpretations were, down to the most minute detail. Roman played with skillful subtlety. The tactful shift between staccato and legato, delicately plucked highs and elongated lows evoked grand, golden, glowing joy perfectly. Even when he was miserable, Roman was happier than Logan had ever been. Logan never stood a chance next to someone like him.

All the musicians had performed, but Roman hadn’t paid attention to any of them. He’d been too busy wrestling with the thought. Logan was better than him. He imagined Logan snickering with the other orchestra kids after tricking Roman into thinking he had even an ounce of talent, watching him parade around and brag while knowing the whole time what an absolute moron he was. His eyes stung. His heart sank.

"Folks, it’s the moment you’ve all been waiting for!”

Roman glanced up.

“All of the young musicians here tonight are extraordinarily talented, and we celebrate that with the Junior Musician Recognition Award!”

Applause.

The announcer cleared his throat. “This award is given annually to one student or performing group to celebrate those who have shown themselves to be valuable members of their musical communities as well as exceptional artists.”

Roman tried to hone in on what the announcer was saying but just slumped back into his seat. Come on, Roman! Isn’t this what you’ve been working for? This was what he wanted. A chance to prove he belonged here with everyone else, that his relentless dedication had paid off somehow. But he couldn’t bring himself to feel like he had before.

Valuable members of their communities. Logan would have laughed if he wasn’t afraid of disturbing the anticipating hush that had fallen over the crowd. All his music was just him, holed up in his room, ignoring everyone else so he could...what? So he could keep his mom happy? So he could have a reason to feel superior to everyone else? He didn’t think he qualified as a team player.

And what if he got the award? How would that feel? He wanted to get out of the room and never have to know the answer. He was afraid the award would make him feel exactly what he had wanted it to.

How much of this was because he enjoyed it? There was a time when he loved music, right? Wasn’t there?

He was also afraid of feeling nothing. That everything really would have been for naught.

“Would Patton Baker and Virgil Grayson please come to the stage?”

He clapped as Patton, a surprised but ecstatic grin on his face, joined Virgil on the stage to accept their certificates. The audience applauded, and then they were dismissed.

When he got home, he took a step back to examine himself. He felt...fine. He wasn’t upset about the award. He was worried about his mom, though. The car ride home had been spent in silence. He tried to glimpse how she was doing, but each facial feature had been carefully schooled to stony neutrality the whole way. Other than that, he felt oddly calm. Relieved, even. He collapsed on the bed, trying to bury himself in the mattress.

He thought about the piano against the wall of his bedroom. His mom had bought it when he was ten and proved that it would be worth the investment. The piano, new sheet music, lessons, audition fees--it all felt like she was giving a gift to herself. He had always wanted to put a bookshelf there.

What he had thought earlier. That there was a time when he had loved the piano. If he dug deep inside himself, he could find what something that resembled it--the satisfaction of a perfect run-through, the intense concentration that overtook him while learning a piece, the relief that came with the end of a recital or the ecstatic look on his mom’s face after he played. Piano was just another part of his routine. He couldn’t find so much as an ounce of himself that played just for playing’s sake.

The most talking they got to was arguing during an audition. They never had a proper, civil conversation until a few days after the recital. A knock came at the door while Roman was wrapping up his practice. He got up from the bench and opened it. “Oh. Hi.”

Logan nodded. “Hello. Um, can I come in?”

“Uh--”

“I-if you don’t, I understand completely. I wouldn’t like for my practice to be interrupted either, I just didn’t know where to find you, but the sign on the door outside said this room was reserved for you, so I figured I may as well take my chances.”

“I was going to say sure.”

“Oh.”

A moment passed before Roman stepped to the side. “Come on in.”

Logan closed the door and seated himself at a desk near the piano. Roman faced him. “What’s up?”

“I…” Roman saw his throat move as he swallowed. “We’ve never spoken.”

“Yeah…”

“And I just wanted to say. You were really good. You are really good, actually. Duets aside, you were the best person there.”

Roman scanned him for any sign of snark, but he seemed genuine. “Oh.”

“No, w-wait.” He took a deep breath. “Your technique is good. But your dedication and love for your music really shines through. You just...blow life into everything you play. I can’t imagine how meticulous you are.”

“I… Oh.”

“Actually, how did you go about learning the Papillons a couple years ago? That was very impressive. I’ve never tried to learn them, but I’ve been meaning to.”

Roman straightened. He could talk music. This was much more familiar territory. “I just picked a couple pages to learn,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

“Seriously? That’s it? No other tricks or methods?”

“If there are such things, I don’t know them.”

“Really? None of that? Your teacher didn’t teach you how to drill a piece?”

“I don’t have an instructor.”

His jaw dropped. “You’re self-taught?”

“The last lesson I took was that program in elementary school.”

“Wow.” He stared at Roman, wide-eyed and quiet.

“I just practice a lot, I guess.”

“Do you usually do that here?”

He shrugged. “Sometimes. When the room isn’t available, I usually go down to this music shop. The owner lets me use the piano there.”

“That’s incredible, Roman,” he said softly. “Sincerely.”

Roman’s face flushed with heat, and he looked away, chuckling. “Well, you’re not bad yourself.”

“Thank you.”

“No problemo.” He stuck out a hand.

He raised an eyebrow. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to give you a handshake.”

“Why?”

“You seem like the handshake type. Now. C’mon.”

He rolled his eyes but shook his hand. “Anyway, I’m glad that Patton and Virgil got the award. I’ve seen them perform together before the recital. They’re quite a duo.”

He braced himself, but the mention of the recital didn't hurt him like he expected it to. His loss wasn't nearly as harrowing as he'd expected. After giving up on being better than Logan, it ceased to matter to him, but even now that he was feeling better, it didn't affect him. A part of him was even glad to have avoided the potential conflict after Patton and Victor-- He gasped. “Virgil!”

“What?”

“I just remembered, I’ve been calling him Victor for a year!”

Logan snorted. “And he never noticed?”

“I guess not? I should apologize!”

“Yes, you should,” Logan snorted.

Roman grinned. “You know, we could be quite a duo as well. With your talent and my dashing good looks, we’d be unstoppable.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, you’re talented--” he began.

Roman had already stood up, striking a dramatic pose that sent Logan into another laughing fit. “Maybe that’s why the universe made us rivals. Our combined gifts would be too powerful.”

“Rivals? I wouldn’t go as far as that, there are tons of pianists at this school.”

“But how many are on par with you and I? The brightest of our age?” Roman tucked his sheet music under his arm.

“I--I can’t say I know,” he stuttered as he was tugged to his feet. “Quite a pair we’d make,” he mused.

“Dynamic!” Roman punched a fist in the air.

“Vivace,” he suggested.

“That doesn’t alliterate.”

Logan laughed, and Roman along with him. Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all. And he could use someone to talk music with.

It became a regular occurrence for Logan to visit after school while Roman was practicing. However, Roman didn’t always practice in the same location. After walking a few blocks, they entered Sanders Music, the bell on the door dinging brightly. Logan glanced around. It would have been small to begin with, but the instruments and accessories adorning the walls furthered that effect. He watched his surroundings warily and stepped gingerly, hoping with all of his pounding heart he didn’t knock something over. His mother would not be happy if she had to pay a damage fine. Despite the worry-inducing surroundings, Roman strode in, spun around, and, with a flourish of his hand, announced “Welcome to the birthplace of my musical career.” What a place to begin. “It’s…” He hesitated, trying to pick through his words carefully.

Roman rolled his eyes fondly, clapping him on the back. “I know it’s cramped. And a bit stuffy. And probably not as fancy as what most musicians are used to, but this is really a place of magic. The kind of magic that turns a clueless little boy with nothing but fantasies of being extraordinary”--he placed a hand over his heart--“into a man with ambition and skill. Plus, Mr. Sanders is super chill.”

“Wait.” The name sounded familiar. Logan scoured his memory for it. “Mr. Sanders from elementary school?”

“Indeed!”

“Oh, no.”

He frowned. “What? Did I say--”

“No, no, it’s not you. I was just...absolutely insufferable as a child.”

"Technically, you’re still a child.”

"I suppose I could still be insufferable now and not know it. Am I?”

“A little.”

“Thanks."

“No problemo, andanti-nerd.”

“That wasn’t one of your better ones.”

“It certainly wasn’t,” he agreed. Roman pulled out the piano bench, sat, and rummaged through his bookbag, presumably for his sheet music. “So, what’re you learning now?”

“Me?” Logan said.

“I don’t see anyone else here.”

“Well, I haven’t really decided on a piece,” he admitted. “I think my mom’s still really upset after I didn’t...you know. With the award. So I’m trying to find something she’ll think more impressive and appropriate for a performance of that magnitude.”

“What do you want to play?”

His stomach twisted. “What do you mean?”

Roman looked at him, deadpan, and stopped rustling his papers. “As in, what have you heard lately and thought, ‘Hey, that’s cool, I want to play it’?”

He looked away and shrugged, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

He raised an eyebrow. “Alright,” he said, and resumed, shuffling his sheet music and placing it on the stand. “Okay. You’re really into technical stuff, right? You seem like the type.”

“I guess?”

“So what’s your practice situation like?” He barely disguised a chuckle, turning his head away to face the piano. “Do you have, like, a schedule? A timer so you can make sure you do exactly an hour, or whatever? I bet you don’t move around as much as I do.”

“I guess not,” he muttered, picking at a loose string on his shirt. “My piano is in my room, so I stay pretty stationary.”

Roman’s jaw dropped. “You have a piano in your bedroom?”

“Yeah. Against one of the walls.”

His jaw dropped even further and gasped, reeling back. “You what? Nobody puts a grand piano in the corner!”

“Baby grand.”

“Regardless! I can’t believe you have an actual piano and you just...shove it in a spot like that.” His voice was tinged with bitterness. “Totally ruins the acoustics.”

“I...suppose.” Logan knew the physics of sound, but to be honest, ruining the acoustics had never really crossed his mind. Maybe he just didn’t care enough to realize that would be an effect. He took a deep breath, leaning against the wall for support. “Can I tell you something?” he said quietly.

“Sure.” His irritation softened.

“I don’t...I don’t believe I want to continue playing.”

“Whoa, what? Is this because of that stupid recital?” Roman stood up, his sheets swept off the stand in his wake. “Because you should know, they totally got that wrong. You were by far the best person there. I don’t see how--”

“No, it’s not--it’s not that. I just...I don’t know.” He sighed, glaring at the floor. “I don’t really...like. It. That much.”

“Then why would you do it for so long?”

“I… I don’t know.”

Roman gave him a knowing look.

“I--I guess. My mom. She really wanted me to…” He trailed off. He hated stuttering, how unsure he was of his words.

“Seriously, is it the award? Because you have serious talent, and it would be so wasteful to just throw it away like that--”

“No!” It came out louder than he intended. Roman flinched. He took a deep breath. “Sorry. I’m--sorry. I just… I don’t know. Why do you play?”

“What?”

“Why do you play?” he repeated.

Roman blew out a long exhale. “I guess...I love it, but it’s not just that. It’s like a part of my identity. If someone took that away from me, I don’t know what I would be.”

Logan stared at the ceiling. “I don’t feel that way. I don’t think I ever have.”

“Oh,” he said softly.

He nodded.

“What’s your mom going to say?”

“I don’t know.” He hadn’t thought that far. “I don’t think I’m going to break it to her yet. What with the recital having happened so recently, it wouldn’t be an ideal situation.”

“Well. Whatever you decide, I...support you.” He leaned over awkwardly and patted Logan on the shoulder. “You’re actually pretty cool when you’re not, you know, roasting my taste in music--”

“Gee, thanks.”

“--and you’ll continue being really cool without the piano. It’s not a part of you. You don’t need it to be anything. You’re just...really good on your own.”

Logan swallowed thickly. His eyes stung, and he willed himself to hold back tears. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” Roman smiled warmly. Logan's lips curved in response.

It was impossible for Logan to know what would come next. How his mother would react, whether or not he and Roman could be friends given their history. But for now, it was nice to be here, enjoying the company of someone who was willing to move at his same pace.

#logince #platonic logince #tsfic #sanders sides #logan sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #ts logic #ts creativity #ts anxiety #ts morality #sanders sides au #musician! au #musician au #fanfiction #my post

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shauds-archived · 5 years

Note

Can you do dismissed with Jason?

Came this close to doing something with Steph untill you tacked Eddie on there, here it is.

Jason knows the second he finds out that Edie signed up for the Everyman Project that a former kid sidekick won't be accepted. He didn't know he'd feel bad about it. Eddie doesn't know why this guy is so familiar, or why he's being so nice to him, but he's not going to complain.

000

Another familiar face. Some days every face is familiar, every glance cast his way is a shriek of danger, every shadow is staking him. It's common enough that he's used to it already, he what measures he needs to take to manage those days without an incident taking place.

Jason hasn't taken those measures today, because today has by all counts been one of the better ones. Everything clear and quiet and just near enough the surface for him to do what's supposed to be his job. Still the face is familiar. Arm outstretched, yelling for someone to hold the lift. There are three people other than Jason in the lift, none of them look about to stop the doors from closing. Jason shouldn't either, if it's familiar there's a chance it will recognize him too, and that would be... not good, not good at all.

Jason blocks the door with his foot anyways, it gets him a couple of disgruntled looks, but no idiot's going to do anything about it. Ah nepotism.

"Hot damn." He's out of breath when he slumps against the wall and struggles to catch it back. "Thanks. It wouldn't look good if I was late, huh?" He flashes Jason a grin. There's no recognition in his eyes.

Jason's smile is tight and formal, he nods, adjusts the tray of coffee in his hands and fixes his eyes on the numbers rolling by on top of the door.

The doors open, the woman in the pink business suit gets off. Jason pretends the kid isn't watching him, then there's a hand being shoved in front of his face.

"I'm Eddie."

"My hands are a little full right now." Jason nods down at the eight cups of coffee he'd been sent to fetch. Eddie looks down at them too and flushes a bright red.

"Sorry." He chuckles, nervously and their two remaining companions frown at him, the both of them get off only seconds later. "So." Eddie shuffles his feet and buries his arms up to the elbow in the pockets of his bright green hoodie. "You work here?"

"Yeah, I'm..." He definately not an intern, but he doesn't think what he does really fits with the 'personal assistant written on his contract either. "I get coffee."

"So your like a gopher?" Eddie seems a little too excited by that, but Jason nods anyway why did this damn building have so many sub basements? "Me too!" Eddie glances upwards and he rocks back on his feet. "Well, I used to be. I'm here for the Everyman Project now."

"I don't get why anyone would sign up to be poked at by those creeps." Jason says, thinking of the throngs of kids lining up around the building, flooding Talia's inbox with applications. Either she'd done a little too good with the P.R departments restructuring, or people were getting even more stupid. Those doctors are the kind of people Jason would taze for getting too close.

"Who wouldn't want superpowers?" Eddie scrunches his face like Jason's said the most in incomprehensible thing he's ever heard. "I'd give up everything for a chance... I did give up everything for this chance, I mean, come on you've never wanted to fly, or go shoot lasers, or move things around with your mind?"

"Everyone I ever met with powers was miserable." Or dead, and Jason's had that option taken away.

"Its not gonna be like that for me." Eddie says, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. "If I get in, I'll be a hero. Just like Blue Devil and... " His grin turns to something almost sad. "And Robin."

"Robin?" Jason starts, lets himself really look at Eddie for the first time since he stood besides Jason. 'He couldn't mean...' "Most people woulda said Batman."

"I never met Batman, but I knew a Robin who was pretty cool."

"Ah." Jason nods and looks back up at the number dial he plucks one of the coffees out of the tray. "Well then here's something for luck." The doors slide open again and Jason steps out. "Be seeing you Eddie."

"Hey thanks!" Eddie calls after him, so excitable and filled with hope it's cruel, and cruel of Jason to allow, even worse to encourage it.

They'll never let a former kid sidekick into the project.

000

It's raining, because of course it is, when Eddie's kicked out. Dismissed for psychological reasons. Nobody tells him what those reasons are, the assessor had barely even looks at him when she stuffs Eddie's file into a drawer and tells him he has five minutes to leave the premises. It takes him all of those five minutes just to get outside, and from there he had no idea where he's supposed to go.

There's no money for a return flight to L.A, even if there was something waiting there for him. He doesn't know what number his parents are using now, and if he did, he probably wouldn't use it. He'd risk trying to find Dan for a place to spend the night, but Dan's been missing for months.

Eddie doesn't bother trying to find shelter from the rain, he knows it's pointless, anywhere he can reach by foot is too far away for it to matter. It grants him solitude, at least he can be grateful for that when he dropped onto a park bench like the animatronic props when they had their cords pulled. Head in his hands his shoulders shake uncontrollably, his chest hurts so bad he thinks it might kill him if it doesn't stop, if his lungs keep refusing to pull in air. Alone in an unfamiliar city and all he has to be grateful for is that he's alone, that he's cold and wet and alone because even the mad scientists don't want him.

Then a shadow passes over him and the rain's suddenly stopped hitting him. "It didn't go well?"

Eddie starts, his head snaps up at the voice. It's the guy from the lift, the one with the coffee. He's standing in the rain while he holds his umbrella over Eddie's head.

"Hey." Eddie frantically tries to scrub the tears from his face with his sleeves. The guy watches, impassive, no more emotion on his face than there'd been when Eddie'd chattered at him in the elevator, his eyes so green against the grey of the clouds and the ghostly pallor of his skin that they almost seem to be giving off an unnatural glow, like a ghost. He's still the only one who's showed Eddie anything like kindness since he's been in Metropolis. "No, I uh, don't meet the psychological requirements."

"That's too bad." The guy inclines his head just a little . "I would have liked to see more of you."

"Thanks." Eddie sniffs and wraps his arms around himself to ward of some of the cold.

"You have some place to go?"

Eddie shakes his head, unable to come up with the words to voice his reply.

"Ah." He nods once and steps away from Eddie, but keeps the umbrella where it is. "Come on, I can book you couple nights in a motel."

"You'll what?" Eddie frowns, sure he's misheard, or outright imagined the whole person, he gets nothing but a blank stare in response. "Why would you..."

He looks pained, for a moment, and for just that moment something about this stranger is familiar, something in Eddie's subconsciouses that tickles at his brain but refuses to let itself be known no matter how hard he tries for a clearer picture, and then it's gone.

"I don't want nightmares of you being murdered on this park bench tonight." He cocks his head at the street. "Gotta be up early."

"You're sure?" Eddie asks, getting up from the bench.

The guy nods again and Eddie senses he's getting impatient, so he doesn't question it again, just gets up and lets himself be led away keeping close so neither of them is without the umbrellas shelter.

"I'll uh, pay you back, uh..." Eddie offers later, turns the key card over in his hands when he realizes that he never got a name. "Mister..."

He's surprised when the man lets out a short bark of laughter and his too-bright, too-dim eyes light up a little. "It's Jason, and don't worry about it. I work for Lex Luthor, probably be needing a hero if he tries to steal my hair." He runs his hand through his damp curls as he says it, mixing the thick lock of white in with the rest before he makes for the door.

"I'll keep an eye out!" Eddie calls after him. "Thanks, Jason!"

The smiles Jason flashes him over his shoulder is bright, and again, there's something way too familiar, but there's no way... "Goodbye Eddie." He reopens the umbrella, steps through the door, and he's gone.

It can't be... Like a ghost. Eddie runs through the door, he's only a couple of seconds behind, but there's no one for him to chase after, not so much as a glimpse. His voice is just barely over a whisper, just loud enough to be heard over the pattering of the rain. "Bye Jason."

#Jason Todd #Eddie Bloomberg #fanfiction #asks #anonymous #mine

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kbmercer · 3 years

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Ch.1, Part 5: Encounter

My Heroic Pokemon Squad (A Pokemon/My Hero Academia Crossover)

Summary:

After receiving an emergency call to assist in sedating the legendary pokémon of time and space, Top Ranger (Y/n) (L/n) gets caught in the crossfire of their rampage. Sent barreling into a world unknown, (L/n) must now navigate her new surroundings and somehow find a way home. Yet, the aftermath of a momentary rift between dimensions carries drastic repercussions, especially considering that pokémon had never existed in this place to begin with. Not only that, but it seems humanity here have powers of their own, not unlike that of the creatures she has grown to love.

A small mouse creature of orange and gold is released from the ball. Beady blue eyes take in the surrounding area before regarding Lugia directly in front of her. Letting out a squeak of recognition, the mouse pokémon kicks up her large lightning-shaped tail so it hovers above ground. Raichu jumps to place herself on top of her tail and assumes a surfer’s stance. Small sparks bounce from her cheeks as she releases a determined battle cry. Lugia follows suit with one of their own.

“Alright, Raichu. Give yourself a boost with Electric Terrain.”

The pokémon’s sparking increases. The electric-psychic type builds up her electricity and scatters it, super-charging the atmosphere. The change is sharp and invigorating as a faint yellow color tints the city street. The storm begins to crackle. (Y/n) takes notice that the storm clouds gradually get darker.

Perfect.

They’re at the homestretch. Though, her turn was finished and Lugia makes their move. Gathering the copious amount of the rainstorm, the legendary pokémon concentrates the water and applies pressure to the mass. Moments later the bubble bursts. Water jets like a pressure washer slamming into Raichu. The blast from Lugia’s Hydro Pump momentarily obscures the young ranger’s vision. Having lost sight of her mouse partner, the (Y/n) calls out to Raichu. After the attack had calmed, Raichu could be seen steadying herself on her tail. Shaking of the shock from such a strong impact, the pokémon quickly recovers shaking out her fur as much as she could despite the continuous downpour. Sparks reclaim their spots on the electric-psychic’s yellow cheeks—bigger and bolder with the assistance of Electric Terrain. It’s time to end this once and for all.

“Give it all you’ve got and use Thunder!”

The bright glow of electricity grows exponentially larger as it travels along Raichu’s body. From head to tail the power is stored and the electric mouse shoots a beam upwards and into the raging storm. The thunderclouds boom and get the darkest that (Y/n) had ever seen. Mere seconds felt like minutes in anticipation, then it happened. A hefty bolt to lightning strikes down, landing an impact on the legendary pokémon leaving a blinding flash in its wake. The thunderclap that follows is deafening, the ranger almost couldn’t hear the roar of agony Lugia had let loose. The attack was super-effective! Static leaves the large creature convulsing, the restriction of its wings forces them to the ground. The rumbling of concrete from the fall cause everyone around them to brace their stability.

At last, Lugia was down for the count. Lying on the pavement with swirls in its eyes, the legendary pokémon let out a weak groan of both pain and defeat. It was unable to battle anymore. Raichu along with Carracosta and Honchkrow who were stationed on the sidelines let out cheers for the victory. Meanwhile, (Y/n) had moved to rummaging in her bag for healing items.

“Honchkrow. Do us all a favor and use Sunny Day,”

The black bird hears his trainer loud and clear. With a summoning caw and the hefty flap of his wings the storm gradually dies down. The wet streets were no longer met with the consistent downpour of rain and the heavy clouds subside. The young ranger shivers at the feeling of her wet clothes weighing on her body. Even after all the excursions she’s taken part in, heavy rain is something she never got around to getting accustomed to. The electric terrain disperses soon afterward.

Grabbing some berries and potions (Y/n) moves to help Lugia. Though, before the girl could get any closer to the defeated pokémon, she is abruptly stopped. Releasing a yelp at her abrupt immobilization, (Y/n) swiftly looks down to see sturdy cloth blinding her by the waist. She looks back to see the man—Eraserhead—on the other end.

“What’re you doing?”

“W-well. I’m going to help Lugia…”

“Lugia, huh? Just what is your deal? You barge into a fight claiming that you know what these creatures are and succeed in taking one down—with other creatures that work with you. Are they yours? Did you know that this Lugia would be here?”

(Y/n)’s lips press into a thin line. Couldn’t the questioning wait for a few more minutes? Noise of protest come from the pokémon by her side, their attitudes soured by the man’s adversity. Thankfully, they don’t make any move to attack, but there’s no deny they would be ready if need be.

“These three are mine, but the Lugia is not. And no, I didn’t know it’d be here.” (E/c) eyes scan over the heroes before her. Despite her nervousness, she casts a determined look.

“I don’t mind answering whatever questions you may have, but now is not the right time or place.” Her gaze averts to the defeated diving pokémon. It seemed that the initial pain of electricity they were dealt was gone. Yet, it remained lying there with a saddened twinge in its eyes. (Y/n) could empathize. Those eyes embodied the emotions of loss and exhaustion—the result of being in a new and unfamiliar place with no place to go. Maybe that’s why such a rare and noble pokémon like Lugia had been roaming city streets.

“The portals Dialga and Palkia made. The pokémon and I were sent here…” Her attention returned to the pro-heroes of whom looked both confounded and confused.

“Perhaps Lugia is lost. After all, its been almost three days…They’re probably searching for a home since they had basically been removed from the one they had before.” It was clear that the young girl wasn’t only talking about the legendary creature. She failed to take notice of the tears that ran down her face until she felt Raichu wiping at them. Her faces scrunches as she turns away. Any person caught in her predicament would be afraid, yet the Top Ranger still felt shame to be seen crying regardless.

“I need to make sure Lugia recovers. So please…” (Y/n) may not have been looking, but she could feel their eyes boring into her figure. These “pokémon” could pose a potential threat if their encounter with Lugia was anything to go by. So were they really going to risk the chance of more catastrophe if the creature were to antagonize once more? Nobody could seem to make up their mind, so Midnight decides to take one for the team.

“We’ll release you on the condition that we supervise.” Kamui, Eraser, and Gang look at the woman like she had grown two heads. She shrugs.

“The kid seems to know what she’s doing, and we can’t just leave the creature there. Plus, this’ll be a good opportunity to know what we’re dealing with.”

Izuku Midoriya had been the last to return to Heights Alliance. After all that had happened recently with the brawl between All-Might and All for One, the villain was finally apprehended and in Tartarus prison. Though, the equivalent exchange to this blessing was that the former #1 hadn’t come out unscathed in the end. Using the remaining power he had, All-Might’s time with the quirk One For All had come to a close. So, as the successor to that power, Midoriya worked to fortify the quirk that he and so many holds dear. Unfortunately, only a select few knew of this status, and is often relegated to training either on his own or one-on-one with the former hero.

The green haired teen was ready to call it a day, but seeing his classmates awake and lively immediately grabs his attention. It’s pretty late, most people would be laying in their rooms right about now. Not today, apparently.

Ochako and Todoroki are the first ones to notice him enter. The brunette waves him over to join while the dual-quirked student nods his head in greeting. Izuku places himself between the two as he surmises Mina, Denki, and Momo with phones in hand scrolling through a multitude of photos and videos showing unfamiliar creatures. His features brighten a bit. Those were the “quirked creatures” everyone had been talking about! Ever since they popped up all around the world, it was a topic that arose in conversations despite the fact that it’s only been almost 3 days since their arrival. There was quite a lot to be worried about concerning these animals having quirks, but Midoriya could not deny that he was also interested…maybe a little too interested.

“Oh, hey Midoriya! Come closer and check these babies out,” Mina practically shoves her phone in his face. Nevertheless, his gaze washes over the picture of a blue bipedal fox-creature caught in the action of punching a boulder, the sedimentary nearly rubble in the midst of the creature’s strength. Smaller versions of the larger blue fox stood off to the side watching in admiration of the strength they demonstrated. Midoriya couldn't help but share the same sentiment as the little ones.

Oh yeah. If these creatures are as powerful as they appear to be, Midoriya will have a lot more to mumble about.

***************************

∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿ Fcking finally, dudes. Goodbye Chapter One! Hello Chapter Two!

#soon #crossover #fanfiction #pokemon #my hero academia #shonen #nintendo

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auratusuniverse · 7 years

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Ruby Smiley Chapter 1 - The Boardwalk Parade

Ruby, a gem hybrid, helps her dad at the Boardwalk Parade.

The first chapter of my Rupphire Swap fic. I’m going to try really hard to not make this angsty and the only way to make sure is to make it Rupphire. This is a rather big swap as you will soon find out.

Pairing: Rupphire with more to come!

"Hey dad! The Gems are letting me come hang out with you for the Boardwalk Parade!"

Harold Smiley looked up to see his daughter running towards him as he prepared to open up the arcade. He smiled and knelt down, ready to scoop her into his arms. "They did, huh?" He laughed as he swung her up into the air. "Well that's good because I've been a little fun-derstaffed!" He joked, earning a giggle from the child. He smiled and set her down. She looked just like her mother, her poofy, curly hair framing her round, reddish-brown face. He had never thought someone could bring so much joy into his life, but here was this child, brightening his smile more than he thought was possible. A glance at the red gem in her hand and he felt his heart sink for a moment. He had known her mother for a long time, the two of them had been fast friends. When his partner left him, she was there to commiserate about a lost love. She had eventually seen how well he interacted with children and proposed an idea to him. After their daughter was born, they could raise her together and Harold would no longer be so lonely. He had no idea he couldn't have his friend as well as his daughter until it was too late. His daughter's concerned look snapped him out of his reminiscence. "Dad? Are you ok?" He smiled. "Yeah, I'm fine, Ruby. Just ... thinking." Ruby smiled weakly, knowing who he had been thinking about. "Want to help me turn on the games?" Harold smiled, quickly changing the subject. Ruby perked up and nodded, eagerly following her father into the arcade. As she went to turn on one of the machines, she looked at her palm. She didn't want her dad to worry, but sometimes, she wondered if everyone had been happier with her. She never brought it up with the Gems, but it was hard not to think about how much they must have missed her mom. She tried to push the thought out of her mind. Neither her dad nor her guardians wanted her to think like this. ~ "Hey Sadie!" A nasally voice called from the kitchen. "We're out of ... everything!" Sadie sighed as she leaned against the railing outside. She was used to the human name that Stevonnie had insisted on her using ("It's easier for humans to relate to names that they are familiar with if you want to interact with them!"), and had been using this particular name for over a century, but it still jarred her on occasion to hear the name. Especially if she had just been reminiscing about her life before the war. The small Pearl looked out onto the beach to see Stevonnie sitting there, relaxing and enjoying their own existence. They reclined backwards, soaking the sun into their dark skin as the sun gleamed off of their pink gem.

She envied them sometimes, especially on days when she missed Ruby 1R Cut 0BE. She knew it wasn’t Harold’s fault, but sometimes ... "Sadie!" the voice called again. Sadie sighed and turned to the kitchen. Even after shedding her former identity, she still felt as if she was just Pearl 2A Cut 0IE still, the lowly Pearl of an Agate who had risen in the ranks of Pink Diamond's army - a Pearl who would never have dreamed of joining a rebellion. A Pearl who could never go back to her old life. She opened the screen door to see the lanky Amethyst with whom she shared the Temple. The gem was busily cramming food into his mouth. She shuddered before storming over. "That is for Ruby!" she growled. "She might be hungry when she comes back from the Boardwalk!" "Eh, she'll be fine," the Amethyst snorted. "I saved her a slice of cheese!" he teased. "Lars!" Sadie complained. "I swear, sometimes I wonder if you're four thousand years old or four hundred! It's your turn to go shopping, then!" Sadie groaned, summoning some cash from her gem. "Don't come back until you've replaced everything!" Lars rolled his eyes and stomped to the door before saluting the gem. Sadie growled in exasperation and set to work cleaning up the mess that the rambunctious quartz left in his wake. ~ Ruby watched as the floats drifted down the sidewalk. Even at thirteen, she still felt excitement whenever she watched. She couldn’t get too caught up in the excitement this time, however. She had an important job.

She was honorary Funland Security for the day. She knew, of course, that she couldn’t do any real security, but it felt nice to have a purpose. So often, she felt like she was just in the way. She couldn’t even summon her weapon yet!

But here, on the boardwalk, she could help her dad. She could still be a kid.

The “It’s a Wash” float passed by, catching Ruby’s attention. As it passed, her eyes locked with those of an unfamiliar girl. She looked about the same age, with long blond hair framing her olive-skinned face. She wore a bright, blue dress and a red glow bracelet on her wrist. Her bright blue eyes sparkled as she noticed Ruby standing across the street from her. She pushed her glasses up and smiled before waving at her.

Ruby blushed deeply and smiled back. She sheepishly raised her hand to wave back at the girl who giggled and blushed in return.

Another float passed by, blocking the girl from view, and by the time it passed, she was gone.

Ruby scanned the crowd across the street, hoping to catch a glimpse of her. She searched in vain and soon had to accept that the mystery girl was gone.

She sighed, looking down as the last floats passed to see the pink glow bracelet on the ground. She gasped and climbed under the guard ropes, darting across the street as fast as her legs could carry her.

When she reached the other side of the street, she gingerly picked up the glow bracelet. She looked around, hoping that the mystery girl had realized that her bracelet had fallen off and would soon return for it. She rose up and scanned the dispersing crowd once again.

Nothing.

She looked down at the glow bracelet. She knew that she would be heartbroken if she had lost such an important souvenir of one of the greatest events in Beach City.

“Hey kiddo, ready to head back to the Temple?” she heard her dad say from behind her. “Or did you want to stay and help clean up?” he joked.

Ruby looked up at her dad and held up the glow bracelet.

“Woah, where’d you get that?” he asked, cheerfully.

“This girl …” she started, looking back at the quickly emptying boardwalk. “She was wearing it and dropped it. I was hoping I could find her but ... “

Harold chuckled and hoisted Ruby up onto his shoulders.

“It’s alright. Here, let’s put it in the freezer when we get you to the Temple! It will last longer, and then you can give it back when you see her again.”

Ruby giggled and hugged her dad around his neck.

“Thanks dad,” she smiled.

“Of course, sweetheart! I know how it is,” he winked knowingly. Ruby blushed, thankful that her dad didn’t probe any further about the girl. “Now let’s get that home before it heats up too much!”

Ruby stared down at the bracelet, a smile spreading across her lips as Harold carried her to his car. She barely heard a word he said as she cradled the bracelet. She felt a fluttering in her stomach as she thought of how happy the mystery girl would be when she was reunited with her glow bracelet.

The sky was dark by the time they got to the temple, but Ruby proudly held the glow bracelet to light the way up the stairs. As Ruby opened the door, she was greeted with the sight of Stevonnie leaning back on the couch as Sadie put away groceries.

“Guys!” Ruby called out in excitement, running up to greet her magical guardians. “I had the best time with dad! And I met someone and - Sadie? Can I stick this in the freezer real quick?”

“Huh?” Sadie asked, pulling her head out of the refrigerator. “Oh, yes. I mean, it is your fridge after all.”

Ruby grinned and ran to the freezer with the glow bracelet, standing on her tiptoes to reach into the freezer.

“So, you met someone?” Stevonnie started, looking at Harold and patting the spot on the couch next to them.

“Yeah!” Ruby started. “She lost her bracelet, so I’m going to give it to her next time I see her!”

Stevonnie smiled knowingly and looked at Harold.

“Well, we should set up a time for you to see her then!” They started.

“Well … that’s the thing,” Ruby sighed, returning to come and sit on her guardian’s lap. “I don’t really know her yet.”

“Who are you stalking?” Lars teased as he walked out the Temple Door.

“I’m not stalking, Lars!” Ruby snapped. “I just … wanted to make sure this girl gets her bracelet.”

“Right,” he joked, striding up the the small demi-gem before poking her in her side. “Next thing you know, we’ll be planning a wedding on the beach.”

“No!” Ruby shrieked, her face turning a bright red. “I just wanted to do something nice.”

“Uh-huh,” Lars smirked.

Stevonnie chuckled and watched as Ruby sprung from their lap to attempt to escape the teasing Amethyst.Their eyes drifted to Sadie who had drifted away in thought again. Guilt welled up momentarily before their attention was pulled away by Ruby’s squeals as Lars tickled her.

They had been so supportive of her mom’s decision, but they didn’t know how it would have turned out. They only had examples from the humans around them. Things worked differently with Gems.

It was at times like this that Stevonnie wished that they had succeeded in bringing Sapphire into their ranks.

#steven universe #ruby #sapphire #rupphire #harold smiley #stevonnie #lars barriga #sadie miller #swapfic #ruby swap #ruby smiley

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