#that’s you know. been here for decades with new waves of people every so often

[ichorai]

family tree ; bruce wayne.

track six of DEAR SCIENCE.

pairing ; rpatz!bruce wayne x gn!reader

synopsis ; bruce didn't think he'd find family in you, of all people.

words ; 2.1k

themes ; fluff, slight angst, sorta childhood friends to almost-but-not-yet-there-lovers ??

warnings / includes ; mentions of death, allusions to childhood trauma, one mention of scars, bruce is a dramatic emo softie, alfred is just worried™, reader is a smartie, bruce is on the "save the bees" agenda from now on, an extension of the found family trope i'd say

main masterlist.

Bruce didn’t like it outside.

He wasn’t a fan of the way the sun would glare angrily into his tired eyes, nor was he too keen on the way the wind was blowing the dark strands of his hair away from his forehead. The birds were too loud, the ground felt uncomfortably soft beneath his boots, and he constantly had to raise his palms to gently wave away a bumblebee that merrily buzzed past his nose every five minutes. 

But he liked you. He liked the way the sun looked on your skin, bathing you in a warm honey glow. He liked how you’d pluck at blades of grass and toss them for the wind’s mercy. He liked how you’d comment on how pretty he looked in his black hoodie despite it being so very hot outside. 

So he bit down all his complaints and sat down beside you on a picnic blanket you’d spread out on the grass as you sketched into a large drawing pad, tapping the edge of the pencil against your bottom lip in thought. Bruce watched in rapt intrigue as you scribbled with mute concentration, creating a new design for his vigilante costume—something that he hadn’t ever meant for you to get involved in, but you found out nonetheless after connecting the dots (those dots being his runny black mascara he forgot to take off and the large collection of scars he steadily acquired). You were always the more intelligent of the two, anyways.

“What are those?” he asked quietly, pointing to the small bumps on his utility belt. 

“Hidden storage units,” you responded at an equal decibel, sparing him a glance and a knowing smile that left his heart stuttering desperately against his ribcage. “A place where you can hide small devices people can’t find if you were to be searched. You know… just in case.”

“That’s smart,” commented Bruce, face remaining stoic as ever. You read him plain and clear, however, and nudged his shoulder affectionately before ducking your head back down to keep sketching.

It wasn’t often that he spoke on your little outings. That was perhaps one of Bruce’s favorite things about spending time with you. He didn’t feel like he was out of place with you—nor did he ever feel pressured to speak. If he had something to say, he knew you’d listen, and if not, he knew you were still there for him. Besides, he’d much rather listen to you talk—he quite liked your voice and highly respected your thoughts and opinions. And sometimes, just sometimes, you made funny jokes that’d make him let out a little laugh. 

You’ve been a constant in his life ever since… well, ever since he lost his parents. Alfred had taken you in on a cold and stormy night more than two decades prior—you were drenched and shivering to the point of no return. The Wayne Manor was a desolate building, no place for a child so young and afraid. Nine-year-old Bruce watched from the shadows of his ghastly mansion that night, observing the moonlight on your tear-soaked cheeks, the stiffness of your fingers as it lifted the steaming mug of sweetened tea Alfred had fixed for you. He recognized the anguish in your youthful features—it was the very same as what he saw in the mirror every day.

As the weeks droned by, and Bruce came to realize that you were here to stay, you became a familiar figure in his life. In the beginning, he pretended like you were never there. He lived life like he did before—an emotional little boy with no idea what to do with said emotions. Only now, he was the very same but just… bigger and somehow even broodier. Oh, and with time he began talking to you, too, albeit barely more than two-word phrases at once. It took an excruciating ten years or so of walking on eggshells before Bruce finally grew close enough to you to call himself your friend. You were all quiet smiles and thoughtful gestures; it wasn’t that much of a surprise when he found himself falling head over heels for you, even though he was appalled at himself for feeling such a thing. 

“Do you think we would’ve met if Alfred hadn’t taken me in all those years ago?” you postulated in the gentlest of tones, snapping him out of his reverie. 

It took him another second to realize that you’d already packed away your sketchbook, now shuffling so that you could lie down on the blanket, staring up at him with a look that meant nothing good for Bruce. It was the look that always made him stumble over his words—the one where your eyes went all wide and inquisitive and affectionate. You were close; so close that your knees brushed against his side and your arm was pressed up next to his thigh. It didn’t help at all when Bruce inhaled sharply, the scent of park flowers and your honey-like perfume invading his senses. You were driving him crazy without even realizing it.

“I don’t know,” he admitted tentatively, voice hoarse from neglect. You briefly wondered if he’d had anything to drink today. “You’d probably know Batman. Not…” He trailed off before he could say his own name, gesturing vaguely to nothing.

“Not Bruce Wayne?” you murmured for him, hand reaching upwards to brush your knuckles over his sharp jaw, relishing in the way he leaned into your touch ever so slightly. “I think I prefer my Bruce over your dark alter ego.”

His heart nearly gave way when you called him yours. You weren’t wrong, though. He was yours. 

“I’m not quite done with the new suit design yet, by the way,” you said, dropping your hand to trace random, mindless shapes into the blanket. “But I’m thinking of giving you more kevlar reinforcements—heat resistant and bullet proof. Besides, extra protection never hurts. What do you think?”

“Yeah, ‘s good,” he grunted out bluntly, nodding once. You hummed in response, a lazy smile curling at the corner of your lips. 

The two of you lapsed into a comfortable silence once more—with you watching the clouds drift by above and Bruce observing you do so.

When your phone buzzed in the pocket of your jeans, you twisted to fish it out, propping yourself up with your elbow resting across his lap, answering it with a swift, “Hello?” 

Alfred’s concerned voice buzzed from the other end, and Bruce could faintly hear him ask where you were right now—and that dinner was ready and it’d get cold if you didn’t hurry back.

“Don’t be a worrywart, we’re coming!” you said with a mellifluous chuckle. “Bruce says hi, by the way.” Your eyes locked with his and an amused grin painted itself golden over your lips. “Alright, Alfred. I’ll tell him that. Love you, too.”

When you hung up, you removed your arm from him, and he had half the mind to grab your wrist and pull you closer once more. Obviously, he didn’t. His hands fidgeted anxiously in his lap. “What did he say?”

You fixed him with a humorous faux-glare. “He told me to tell you to stop drawing on the floor. Who knew spray paint was so hard to wash out, huh? I swear, I thought you grew out of that habit when you were fifteen!” you burst into several peals of laughter, clutching at your own abdomen at the thought of Alfred walking into a room full of random violent words and arrows spray painted all over the floor. Against his own will, Bruce could feel a grin twitch at his lips.

“Don’t laugh,” he gently admonished, prodding your arm. “I didn’t have any paper.”

“I literally live right across the hall from you,” you replied pointedly as you got up, ushering him off the blanket so you could fold it up. “You could’ve just asked. I have plenty of paper.” Then, after a considerable pause, you tacked on, “In fact, you could come to my room whenever you want. Whether you need paper for your nancy drew-ing or not, my door’s always open for you.”

Sometimes it felt like Bruce was constantly dangling on the very precipice of emotional turmoil, feet just barely skimming the surface of agony. But you were his tether to reality, his anchor to shore, the beam of light to guide his ship back to land. What did he ever do to deserve someone like you in his family? 

Wait… did he just call you his family? 

Family was the most fickle thing, Bruce mused. Family meant pure, undulated love and care—family didn’t have to only mean blood of his blood. 

“You’re my family,” he said, so uncharacteristically sudden, flushing deeply when you looked back at him with those inquisitive, round eyes. 

It was ridiculous at this point—he’d known you for upwards of twenty years and it was still hard to speak to you without losing his damn mind. Quite reminded him of how he still refused to tell the waiter at the local diner the two of you often frequented that he always orders a burger with no pickles (the acidity of the brine made his head hurt), even after receiving a burger stuffed to the brim with the accursed things, despite being a regular customer there for ages by now. You’d urge him to say something every single time, but knew not to push him too far—besides, he needed to learn how to deal with things like that himself.

He sucked in a breath. This time, slower, he added, “You… You mean a lot to me. I don’t know what I’d do without you. Thank you.” 

He cautiously waltzed around the word love because he’d probably combust into spontaneous flames if he professed his love for you in the middle of a bee-infested park. What made it all the worse was the fact that you’d often casually say the dreaded L word to him as if it were a regular greeting. It frustrated him to no end because he wasn’t entirely sure if you meant platonic love or romantic love. Or both. Bruce was just happy you loved him at all, if he was to be honest. Don’t get him wrong, he was very much content with platonic affection, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want the latter kind of love from you. 

And it wasn’t like he’d never tried to tell you about his true feelings before. There was that one time he made you sit down and listen to Heart-Shaped Box by Nirvana after hours of psyching himself up, carefully watching you for your reaction. If sharing his utmost favorite song from his most favorite band with you wasn’t enough for you to take the hint of his extremely profound and complicated feelings, Bruce supposed it was hopeless for him.

He’d always had a flair for the dramatics, hadn’t he?

The blanket you were holding crumpled beneath your tight grip. You blinked once, then twice. Bruce wanted the ridiculously soft ground to open up and swallow him whole. How embarrassing—this was probably the most he’d ever vocalized how he felt for you. He wanted to run back home and lock himself into his dark room that stank of toxic spray paint chemicals. 

Recognizing his subtle distress, you stepped forward and placed a hand on his pectoral, the other coming to tenderly lodge itself beneath his chin, maneuvering his dark gaze to look away from the grass and to you. “Oh, Bruce. You’re my family, too,” you assured him with a sweet smile that made his insides cave in on themselves. “And you mean the world to me. More than you can ever know.” 

The last sentence was said with somewhat of a bittersweet, hollowed tone, and Bruce could feel his mind gear up into overthinking panic mode. What did you mean by that? Was there even the slightest chance his feelings were reciprocated? He didn’t want to get his hopes up, but oh—he could already feel his hopes getting up.

“Now, c’mon, I’m ninety-nine percent sure Alfred is at his wit’s end with us right now. We should get back before he ruptures a blood vessel or something.”

His stomach coiled into nervous knots when you slipped your free hand into his, lacing your fingers together, tugging him out of the secluded park to go back home. A bumblebee flew past his ear for the millionth time since he stepped out of the comfort of his expansive manor. Bruce didn’t like it outside, but with you—with his family that he L worded—he supposed he’d be able to tolerate it.

#bruce wayne x reader #batman x reader #bruce wayne fanfiction #batman fanfiction #the batman fanfiction #bruce wayne fanfic #rpatz batman #batman fanfic #bruce wayne imagines #bruce wayne drabbles #bruce wayne fluff #bruce wayne scenarios #bruce wayne headcanons #batman imagines #batman drabbles #batman fluff #bruce wayne angst #dc fanfiction #batman angst #the batman 2022 #robert pattinson batman

[sexyzuka]

A Fateful Encounter

Part Two - The Pursuit

Pairing: Kiba Inuzuka x Reader

Word Count: 3.7k+

Content: fem!reader, werewolf!reader, PTSD, mental health, gore, blood, angst, mentions of death, pet names

Summary: After unintentionally pilfering the medication you need to save your friend, your only goal now is to flee Konoha undetected. But it looks like you’ve angered the wrong ninja in the process. With Konoha’s number one tracker chasing after you, how exactly are you going to escape? It looks like you’ve really messed up this time, but you have no other options but to press on in hopes that you can outmaneuver your unwelcome audience. With Kōtarō’s life hanging in the balance, there’s no choice but to succeed. You won’t let yourself fail, especially not in front of a human of all things.

Writer’s Notes: Hey everyone! I’m back with the continuation of my fanfiction. I’ve included a lot of disturbing and vivid imagery in this chapter that some people might find distressing. I referenced some of my own struggles with PTSD when piecing together our heroine's plight. If that’s something that may be triggering for you, I recommend using your discretion when reading this fic. As always, please take care curating your online experience. Writing in this way helps me sort through my emotions and experiences, but I know that this kind of gruesome vibe isn’t for everyone. Thank you for stopping by, and please enjoy my innermost musings!

You can find Chapter One here!

Your pace quickens as you weave in and out of the crowd of people who are now walking the streets of Konoha. You don't like to wander into the village when it's daytime, but necessity trumps any sort of trepidation and restraint you'd normally exhibit, especially considering the situation.

So much has changed over the years, but the general layout of the village remains similar to how it'd been since the reconstruction around a decade or so ago. Large, flashy neon signs decorate the façades of the buildings that used to be humble and unassuming family-owned businesses. This new age of technology has given the village a more synthetic and futuristic vibe, it's almost unrecognizable to how it used to be when you first happened upon that modest little pet store.

As you skillfully maneuver your way through the throngs of absentminded villagers idling on their electronic devices, you're hit with a wave of adrenaline. Every step you take is carefully executed, brisk enough to get you to your destination expeditiously, but not overly flashy, lest your faltering guise of humanity be exposed. Interacting with humans is a delicate game of shōgi, one wrong move could jeopardize your entire strategy. A false step here could strip the golden sheen off of your body, melting your flimsy veneer with a callous indifference until there's nothing left but a heap of regret.

There's no way you're going to concede defeat now that you've come this far, though. There's no way you can let yourself just give up. If you're just a pawn, then so be it. Even the lowliest of shōgi pieces turn into gold generals once they infiltrate the enemy's territory, and you're already more than halfway to your destination.

"This medication isn't going to deliver itself," you say to yourself as you slowly exhale and grit your teeth. A quick pat on your cheeks calms your overstimulated nerves. With a renewed sense of vigor you continue on your way with a sprightly stride.

A few more minutes pass, and thanks to your subdued dashing you've made it to the familiar crates that line the wall that protects Konoha from outsiders. As you take your final steps to the containers you stop to take refuge in some shadows and take one final look around the vicinity with a furtive glance.

You don't often shift with this many people around, but since you took longer than you'd expected, you don't really have a choice in the matter. Most of the people are lingering around the nearby shops, and those who aren't are glued to their handheld devices.

"Now's as good of a time as any, I guess," you shrug to yourself. After scanning the nearby area one final time you jump up in the protective cover of the shadows and begin to morph into your true form.

You can feel your limbs shortening and your teeth repositioning, coupled with a searing pain that you almost find comforting because of its mundane familiarity. As the nails on your hands begin to sharpen you hear a loud voice calling out in the distance.

"Hey!" the gruff voice thunders, alongside the sound of uneven footsteps.

The sudden sound startles you, causing you to crash to the ground instead of land elegantly like you usually do. The aches that accompany your transformation hinder your recovery from this egregious blunder, so all you're able to do at the present time is look down the street while an oversized figure sprints towards you.

"Just what do you think you're-" the voice cuts off when the physique of your acquaintance from earlier today comes into view.

This was it. This was how it was all going to end, you think to yourself. There was no coming back from letting a human see your transformation sequence. This is just like when- no, no use thinking about that right now. There are more pressing matters.

As you look up pathetically from the ground you greet the man's confused expression with a melancholy frown, a silent acceptance of your fate.

"Woah, how did you do a beast transformation without hand seals?" you hear his voice ring out. "I would be seriously impressed right now if I wasn't pissed at you for ditching me back there."

Did he just say hand seals? So that must mean he didn't see everything. Which means... you still have the chance to weasel your way out of this situation.

The voice continued to chastise you while you collected your wits, "You do know that leaving a store without paying is stealing, right? And that stealing is a crime? Listen, I don't like arresting women as beautiful as you, but I'm going to need you to come down to the station with-"

This was it, this was your only chance. As the man turned his body slightly, reaching over to grab his handcuffs, you mustered up enough strength to jump up off the ground. As soon as your paws touched the dry earth you darted towards the wooden crates. You knew that this would likely threaten the only reliable entrance you had to Konoha, but there were no other options right now.

"Alright, princess, it's time to come with me-" the man exhaled exasperatedly, "COME ON, NOT AGAIN!" The anger in the man's voice was palpable, but you didn't let that deter your escape.

By the time the man had noticed your hurried departure you were already squeezing your body through the small gap under the wall. As your body wiggled to the other side you heard a loud crashing sound coupled with an irritated groan. You felt a hand try to grasp your tail, the calloused fingertips gripping onto a few long strands before pulling back with an enormous amount of force. An unfortunate but minor casualty, hopefully those few strands of fur would be the only loss today.

You wriggle your body through the makeshift tunnel, front paws clawing at the dusty ground in a hurried frenzy. After you've succeeded in pulling yourself out of the burrow, you immediately begin sprinting as fast as your tired body will take you. Muffled sounds of aggravation fade into the distance, replaced by the racing thoughts that intensify with every step you take.

I really hope I'm not too late, you think to yourself. Flashbacks from earlier today flood your mind, making your vision hazy. These haunting hallucinations aren't doing you any favors, but the closer you get to Kōtarō, the more intrusive these recollections become. You can feel your paws quivering, making your stride unsteady, but you force yourself to carry on.

So much blood. So red. The deepest and most oppressive red you'd ever seen.

The trees and bushes around you began to morph into a grotesque caricature, melting and mutating into a sea of aberrant crimson shapes. The scenery begins to make no sense, the contours of the landscape wrap in unnatural ways all across your field of vision. Your body feels as if it's moving through a vat of congealed molasses, each step becomes an onerous, almost insurmountable task.

The delirium overtaking your psyche slackens your pace to that of a staggered crawl. You lurch forward while bracing yourself on a nearby tree, you trip on some sort of unseen object, nearly capsizing in the process. The world around you begins twisting and spinning, and you stumble to the ground as you're overcome by an intense bout of vertigo.

"Hey, wait up!" The words sound so muffled, so far away and yet...

"I know you're over here, princess." The familiar yet austere timbre cuts through the crimson vortex swirling around you. "Don't think you can escape from Konoha's number one tracker."

The loud thud of someone landing right next to you startles you, but also serves as an anchor for your psyche. The scarlet-tinted penitentiary you found yourself trapped in begins to dissipate as you slowly look up to see the frustrated man shaking his head at you in disbelief.

"Listen here," he chastised in a harsh tone, "I don't want to do this any more than you do. But you can't just shoplift right in front of a police officer and expect me to look the other way. Kōtarō wouldn't let me hear the end of it if he saw what happened today."

Kōtarō.

Hearing that name dispels the trance that's been holding you captive. You shake your head a little as you steadily raise yourself from the ground, your frenzied panting slowing to a more normalized pace. You look up at the man admonishing you with an appreciative glance.

"Hey, are you even listening to me?" The man's voice is growing more agitated by the second, but there's no time to waste.

"I'm s-sorry," you stutter as you stand up on your hind legs, preparing yourself for one final transformation, "I'll explain everything later, I promise. I just have something I need to do first."

"Don't think I'll let you get away a third time. I won't-" the man's sentence cuts off as his jaw drops, a wave of bewilderment crashing over him.

And why wouldn't he be awestruck? You were equally as mystified the first time you witnessed the woeful yet magnificent transformation sequence.

Unlike a ninjutsu, there were no flashy hand signs or theatrics to accompany this transmogrification. The thick fur that once covered your entire body recessed, and the pale flesh underneath shone as it reflected the harsh wavelengths beating down on you from above. The juxtaposition of the man's sun-kissed skin with your pallid, moon-embraced skin was quite the stark difference to behold.

The sweltering but familiar pain associated with your transformation was positively excruciating today. Maybe it was because of the merciless onslaught of warmth of the mid-afternoon sun. Maybe it was because this was the fourth time in a day you'd shifted. Or perhaps it was because of your nervous system overload, spurred on by the extreme stress of the situation you found yourself in. Whatever the reason, it sure wasn't helping to have a witness to the heinous sin you were committing. Your entire entity was an affront to humanity. A paradoxical creation that should by all means, not exist in reality.

Before the burning in your bones could abate fully, you hurriedly reached into the bag strapped onto your back, rummaging for the wares you had swiped from the pet store. There was no time to take your satchel off and give it a thorough search. With intuition as a guide, you felt around in the bag, moving the supplies you needed most to the top of the pile. The unmistakable feel of the plastic pill bottle and the distinct rattling noise it made when you shook it afforded you a small comfort. Your preparations were now complete.

You were fairly close to your destination by now. You could smell the virulent odors that portended a gruesome truth, a harbinger of death that you were, unfortunately, very well acquainted with. Coexistence with humans always led to this outcome, without fail.

As you drew closer to Kōtarō's scent you noticed a glimmering sparkle next to some nearby bushes. Upon further inspection you recognize the familiar tattered pouch, its strained fibers taut from the weight of the shimmering coins inside. With one swift motion you reach down to grab the bag and then toss it towards the dumbfounded man who has been standing silently in place throughout the duration of your spectacle, without a doubt too astonished to make a move.

"That's what you wanted, right?" you ask, looking back over your shoulder for confirmation. "Well as you can see, or rather smell, I've got more important things to deal with right now. Just take the whole goddamn bag and leave me be, leave us be."

The man was too stunned to even catch the bag you so deftly threw in his direction. Instead it lay on the ground, coins spilling out onto the dirt in a haphazard fashion.

"Wait, miss. Please," the man broke his silence, rasping out his words in an uneven tone, "Let me help."

"Help?" you scoff while turning your body away fully. "That's rich coming from a man who tried to arrest me twice in one day. I don't need your help. We don't need you. So just take your savior complex and shove it up your-"

"Listen, miss," the man pleads as he walks towards you, "I might not be an observational genius like Shikamaru, but I do know a crime scene when I see one. And this," he mutters as he scans the surrounding area with a scrutinizing gaze, "is about as textbook as they get."

You could sense his persistence by the inflections in and tone of his voice. Every second spent arguing with him was a waste of precious time.

"Fine," you reluctantly concede. "You can follow me, but absolutely no touching anything. If I sense even a shred of ill intent, I won't hesitate to shred you into pieces." You flash your devilishly long nails in his general direction while you continue on your way.

An audible gulp followed by a succinct "Yes, ma'am," were the only things to leave the man's lips as he follows you through the thorny thickets.

You spryly weave through the underbrush, the only remaining obstacle standing between you and Kōtarō, with the man following closely behind you. As you emerge through the final bushes you're greeted with a smell that triggers the phantoms of your sordid past to claw their way to the surface once more.

They don't materialize fully though because you feel a brawny hand rest on your shoulder. "Hey," a voice calls out to you. The reverberating baritone keeping the spectres at bay.

"I know I agreed to not touch, but you look like you've seen a ghost, miss."

A quick shudder passes through your entire body, chasing the shadows of the past away, and the world regains its colorful luster once more. For the first time in years, perhaps even decades, you were grateful that there was a human by your side.

"I'll forgive you. This time," you meekly chirp out while taking the final steps towards your friend, hiding your flushed face from the man. "But don't press your luck. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got a friend to save."

You squat down next to the mangled body of your beloved kin. The young pup that you'd instructed to keep pressure on the wound was still in the same position as before. This time, you think to yourself, I'm going to save him.

You reach into your satchel and pull out the pill bottle along with the gauze and medical tape. Sure, there were other equivalents to the bandages and adhesives that humans used, but there was just something about these strange, oblong pills that you couldn't replicate no matter how many medicinal plants you gathered.

"You did an amazing job, Hana. Now let me take over," your voice has a softness to it that lightens the mood, reassuring the bright-eyed whelp at your side while also setting your own nerves at ease.

As the pup moves over you take their position, putting a steady amount of pressure over the wound on your friend's leg with one hand. You rip open the package of gauze by using your sharpened nails, hastily pulling out a clump of bandages with the same swift motion. You then lift up your hand covering Kōtarō's wound so that you can place a copious amount of gauze in the area.

Now comes the tricky part.

You have to unfurl the medical tape with one hand while keeping pressure on Kōtarō's leg with the other. The unforgiving stickiness of the tape proves to be quite a formidable opponent for you today. As you struggle with the accursed adhesive, your impertinent spectator shares a proposition that would have enraged you if this tape wasn't already the focal point of your ire.

"You need some help there, princess?" You easily detect the conspicuous undertones of self-assured smugness in the timbre of his voice.

Me? Get help from a human? And why the heck does he keep calling me "princess"? You were disgusted with yourself, but you knew that if there was any situation where you should swallow your pride, this was it.

"Fine, I'll allow it," you spit out in exasperation.

"What was that? I couldn't quite catch what you said," a cheeky grin was forming on the man's face now as he held a hand up to his ear.

Absolutely. Infuriating. This is why you swore off talking with humans. If the situation wasn't so dire you would have slapped that cocky smile right off his gorgeous face. Where does he get off talking to you like that? Wait, gorgeous? How long has it been now since you've found a human genuinely attractive? Nevermind, you have more important things to do.

"You can help," the words meekly escaped your lips. Gone were the twangs of indignation, replaced instead with a humble submissiveness. You knew when to acquiesce. There was no way you'd be able to fix up your friend if you stubbornly held onto your pride.

"Come again? I can help? I guess I technically can," at this point he was practically jeering at you. "Now what do we say when we ask someone for something?"

The incessant taunting was driving you crazy. Your thin veneer of bravado crumbles under the weight of his gibes. You find yourself powerless against the barrage of quips, frustration growing at yourself due to your inability to shoot back an equally sassy retort. 

"Can you..." the words were almost trapped in your throat, stifled by the fragile remnants of your bruised ego, "please help?"

"Alright, alright. I've had my fun," the man replied, his expression changing from jovial to serious as he continued on, "I'll handle cutting the medical tape, so you can just focus on keeping up the pressure on the wound."

You nod your head tacitly as you hand over the roll of tape to the man, your full focus now on Kōtarō. Before you know it, the sticky strands are partitioned off and are ready to secure the tightly packed gauze covering Kōtarō's laceration. After a cursory check to make sure the segments would fully wrap around his leg, you thoroughly patted down the tape in order to affix it.

Good, you thought to yourself, only one thing left to do.

You gingerly reach into your satchel and grab the bottle of pills, the glorious ambrosia of the gods that cured many an ailment. You didn't know what exactly was in those curious capsules, but you did know that they were a most reputable remedy that saved your clan members' lives numerous times over the years.

You shake out a few tablets into your hand.

"So those are the pills that cost more than a steak dinner for two?"

You'd almost forgotten that you had an audience today, and a boisterous one at that. As you lift your companion's head up and gently place the medication into his mouth, you look to your left to see this veritable enigma of a man flash you the most audacious smirk you'd ever seen. 

"I guess that means I owe you dinner," you were surprised by how brazen and unabashed your words flowed out, "I always pay back my debts."

"It's a date then," a brilliant smile emanating out towards you, a gleaming radiance that comforts your weary nerves, "but, I do think you owe me some sort of explanation first."

And there it is. You let out a heavy sigh as you tenderly comb through the knotted hairs on Kōtarō's head with your fingernails, his body resting comfortably in your lap.

"Sure, let me just get him home first. He's had a very long day." You raise your eyes to meet the steely gaze of the stranger whose name you still don't know.

"Of course, but before you go, my princess," the man implored as he reached out to grab your hand, "can you at least answer one question for me?"

My princess? There he goes again, calling you princess. And what nerve to insinuate that you belong to him. You would normally be furious at the implication that you belonged to someone else, let alone a human, but there was just something about his complete disregard for decorum that ignited your carnal desires. Maybe it was because he reminded you of your old alpha, but no wait what are you thinking? There's no way a human could ever be your superior. That was inconceivable.

"Yes?" you answer in a perplexed tone, lost at sea in the endless ocean of your own thoughts, "What is it you want to know, mister...uh.."

"Kiba," he interjects abruptly, "My name's Kiba Inuzuka."

"Kiba Inuzuka," you repeat to yourself, commiting the name to memory. "So what is it you want to know, mister Inuzuka?"

"You can just call me by my first name, y'know. I don't mind," he responded while covering part of his flushed face with his hand, trying hard to obscure the fact that he was turning beet red. "So what's your name? Unless you don't mind me referring to you as my prin-"

"Izumi," you blurted out before he could finish his sentence. "Call me Izumi."

"Izumi, huh?" he looked off into the distance while still concealing part of his face with his hand. "What a pretty name. It's a pleasure to meet you, miss Izumi."

"Charmed, I'm sure," you say matter-of-factly. "Well, I'd love to stay and chat longer, but I have some pups I need to escort back home. I promise I'll be back as soon as they're safely settled in and squared away. Wolf's honor." 

As you beckon Hana and carefully lift Kōtarō's feeble body off the ground you give Kiba a subtle nod, an implied promise of reunion, before setting off.

"I'll be waiting for you with bated breath, my princess Izumi," Kiba whispered to himself while watching the silhouette of your delicate figure slowly fade into the distance.

You'd be positively livid if you weren't so preoccupied. How dare he call you his princess again?

----- TO BE CONTINUED -----

PART THREE

#kiba inuzuka x reader #kiba inuzuka #kiba x reader #boruto #naruto #naruto fanfic #boruto fanfic #naruto fanfiction #boruto fanfiction #werewolf #werewolf au #werewolf oc #naruto x you #kiba x you #x reader #x you #x you angst #fem reader #my fanfiction #max writes #reader discretion is advised #baby's first fic

[dianneking]

Time, and other hazy concepts  Adult!Professor!Wednesday x Larissa Weems fanfiction

This is a weird fic, born of a sleep-deprived brain sometime in December, which I never felt like going back to fix for posting until now. It is disconnected and stream of consciousness-like, but not quite. I hope it speaks to you in some weird way. It is a  a weird, meandering one-shot exploring how convoluted a seer’s brain can be. OOC, adult professor Wednesday/Larissa Weems. 

Can be read on AO3 here - while my fanfiction masterlist ( admittedly with less weird stuff) is here 

Wordcount: 1189

Tags: Weird prose, OOC, Coming out themes, Genderfluid Larissa Weems, Age difference, Adult Wednesday, Professor Wednesday, Kind of a stream of consciousness.

Time, and other hazy concepts

Wednesday Addams has a weird relationship with Time. Being plagued by visions of multiple possible pasts, presents and futures tends to do that to a person. Some people think of time as a line, others see it as a recurring circle of inevitable events. But to her, it is more like the ocean, with currents and waves, with ebbs and flows and whirlpools. This gives her a unique outlook on life, one that is often misunderstood by those whose normie brains are restricted by chains of their own making.

Look at Nevermore, for instance. Wednesday had come and gone and returned. And the school had always been there to envelop her in its long, narrow corridors and its stained-glassed windows like a mother, waiting for her wayward child. Different, as well as still the same. Time didn’t seem to touch the Academy: it changes and remains the same while throngs of students pass through its halls. Some vampires take decades to complete even one single schoolyear here at Nevermore, because they get lost in their own personal projects and there's no real hurry, right?, not when you're eternal. Wednesday feels like she understands them now. There’s so much to learn, so much accumulated knowledge hiding in the dusty tomes and experienced people, and to discover in labs and gardens and cellars alike.

She almost doesn’t notice when people start to call her Professor Addams. She quite likes the sound of it. They talk of her in whispered tones, reverently, they tell stories of the amazing psychic Raven, the one who had saved the school and the whole outcast world. When she crosses the quad, which is always a pentagon, their hushed tones quiet down in an awed silence, and Wednesday wonders if they too can see the fiery inferno that coursed through this place as if it was still there, the blackened hand of death from which life sprung back. Because Death is mysterious and tantalizing, but Life turned out to be quite awe-inspiring as well, an adventure which she had not anticipated would be so rewarding to explore.

Sometimes, she even remembers to show up on time to her own lectures. But Time, as she well knows, is a hazy concept, and the students just learn to drop by her classroom once in a while and see whether or not there’s a lesson going on. She likes it that way. It makes more sense to her, and Nevermore’s schedule wraps around her in a hug, adapting to her as it adapts to the specific needs of the generations of outcasts that travel through its hallways.

In one timeline Wednesday had held her as her eyes glossed over in the cold throes of death. But in this one she lifts her eyes every day to see Principal Weems solidly at the helm of Nevermore Academy as she should be. As she has always and will always be. There is still debate in the scientific community on whether or not shapeshifters actually age, but age is just a way to try and trap Time, and is not something that has ever made much sense to Wednesday. Principal Weems just is, like the school that is her pride and joy. She is eternal, she has always been.

Principal Weems has been the one who invited Wednesday back to her home, Nevermore, and offered her a room in the faculty quarters and molded the schedule around her new employee’s wandering habits. She is the one that invites Wednesday to her office once in a while, to talk about the students and the school and the past over a glass of wine. And if they end up staying up talking till the lights of dawn start to filter through the window and the embers are dwindling up in the fireplace, what is but one night in front of the whole of Time? They are one and the same, Wednesday and the principal, two sides of the same coin, hard-headed and passionate, unforgiving and unyielding in the things they deem important.

Larissa Weems still calls her exhausting and a trouble magnet, but with a kind, knowing smile and Wednesday feels like the principal is the only one that can make sense of Wednesday’s own thoughts and ways. Because in all of the timelines, in all of Time’s roaring tempestuous waves, she was there by Wednesday’s side when it mattered. When they saved the school, together. So, when one night Larissa’s strong hand covers Wednesday’s own in a silent request, Wednesday curls her own around it, basking in the warmth that glows in her dark heart.

She still plays the cello in the night on her old terrace but her eyes don’t follow the written partition anymore. She pours her soul out and crafts it into music, her fingers travelling on the chords, and pulling the bow mercilessly across the instrument. Her eyes never leave the icy ones of the only person in front of her, the one she dedicates her performances to, the one that never ceases to listen to her, rapture on her beautiful face. They are beyond Time, beyond Reality itself when they are there, wrapped in each other as well as in the music. When the last cello note ends vibrating in the night air, Wednesday runs her fingers on another instrument, and makes her sing through the night.

Change is Time’s child, and its parent. How can things change if they are suspended above the roaring seas that want to buffet them around in the currents of befores and afters? Wednesday accepts Change as she does Time, unflinching and unperturbed by its schemes. But she can understand that for others change is scary, and overwhelming, and she gently guides her principal and lover through its difficult twists and turns and traps, with a patience that surprises the both of them. Some things are worth being patient for. A golden band on her finger is a change that Wednesday finds herself staring at more often than others, a phantom of a smile ghosting on her lips. Maybe it is not a change, though, maybe the familiar weight of ring had always been there, its meaning has always been there. Now it has only taken on a physical form, but it doesn’t change Wednesday feelings. Those have always been and always will be.

Wednesday has never been one to put things in boxes and label them. You cannot contain an ocean in a box, and you can't label all of its waves. So when her wife breaks down in front of Wednesday and tells her that on some days she feels like her husband instead, Wednesday holds them and dries their tears, kissing them away together with their worries. She calls them Larissa on wife days, and Lars on husband days and goes on loving them with all of her big black heart.

As far as we know, there is still a Nevermore Academy somewhere, in some fold of Time. The students come and go and Principal Weems is there to guide them and help them, together with their wife, Professor Addams.

*****

Link to my fanfiction masterlist

#dianneking #larissa weems fanfiction #larissa weems #larissa weems fanfic #wednesday addams fanfiction #wednesday addams fanfic #wednesday addams #larissa weems x wednesday addams #wednesday x larissa #wednesday addams x larissa weems #professor wednesday addams #professor wednesday #adult wednesday addams #wednesday fandom #wednesday the series #wednesday fanfiction #cross posted on ao3 #crossposted on ao3

[saiilorstars]

Love, Ours: Ch. 5 Reaching Through the Stars

Fandom: MCU

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC

Story Summary: One-Shots/AU collection of Seren and Steve outside of their fics (Darkest Before Dawn, Alignment, etc.).

Story Masterlist ○ Seren’s Masterlist ○

Also available on Fanfic ○ Ao3 ○ Wattpad

Taglist: @ocappreciationtag​ @arrthurpendragon​ @anotherunreadblog @maaaaarveeeeel @stareyedplanet​ @averyhotchner@foxesandmagic @kmc1989​

[If you’d like to be a part of any OC’s works/edits, let me know!]

77 years later

Year 2018

He brought his arms around Seren's back, though he moved one hand down to smooth out a part of her dress that had ridden up a bit. He let Seren continue to sleep peacefully. He had no idea what time it was and didn't personally care. That moment right there was the tranquility he needed in his life right now. He was grateful that the moment lasted for a long while. He began to feel Seren waking up but even then he didn't make a move to get up. Maybe he wanted to see what she would do…

Steve's eyes snapped open and was immediately met with his dark ceiling. He passed a hand over his forehead, staying still for a few minutes as he once again accepted it had just been a dream — a memory. Just another memory. Whether he was sleeping or wide awake, his mind always found a way — and the time — to think about the past. Sometimes—or very often—he wondered if escaping death had been more or less of his own personal hell. He woke up from a long, long sleep and found himself in a brand new world with new people and new threats. Try as he did, Steve couldn't "normalize" to the new world. At every corner, he thought about what he left behind. It was only after the first year or so after waking up, that he felt the first real spark of motivation in him to do something about it.

After 70 years, Peggy Carter was an elderly woman living in a retirement home with beginning Alzheimers. She was also the only one who was still alive. Everyone else was gone. Steve was fortunate that she recognized him and understood what had happened to him.

"I've lived a good life," she had said with a smile to match her sincerity the first time Steve showed up. "We all did. Have no worry about that." Truthfully, it did help Steve a little to know that his friends had gone on to live well after the hell they were put through. "Now ask me what you really want to ask," Peggy said only a few minutes into their silence.

Steve had been trying to find the right words and the right moment all while making it seem like it wasn't burning him from the inside to know what had happened with—

"Is Seren still alive?" Only after asking that did he start to wonder if Peggy even remembered her. His concerns waned when Peggy began to muse about their mutual friend.

"Ah, I haven't seen her for decades."

Admittedly, it wasn't exactly the answer he was looking for but it was a start.

"So…so she was okay after…after—?"

"After you had apparently died?" Peggy nodded. "It took a while but she was. She went back to New York with Howard. With her mother."

Steve's eyes widened. "Her mother?"

"Mhm, and they met with her dad. I forget his name—"

"Brooks," Steve said immediately. "His name was Brooks Soul. Did they — did it work out?"

Peggy nodded again. Steve felt another wave of relief.

"Seren spent a couple years with her parents right here in New York. Her siblings — she loved them. Fortunately, they accepted her exactly for who she was."

"She found a family…" The news brought a smile out of Steve, along with many other warm feelings. He could only imagine how happy Seren must have been with her new family. His only lament was that he wasn't there to see it.

"You said decades…" He murmured, Peggy's words hitting him like a brick. "What do you…? How would that…? Is she alive right now?"

"I…I would hope she is," Peggy answered truthfully. "After the war, the SSR offered Seren an official place with us but she refused. She never did get over the fact that we had kept Zola and I couldn't blame her. Being who she was and turning down a national job, the states and many world leaders began to grow wary of her."

"Wary of her?" Steve was not liking where the conversation was turning to.

Peggy nodded. "National security. Seren felt like she was being watched all the time and more importantly, she felt like she was putting her family in danger. She left, Steve."

And just like that, Steve's heart sunk to his stomach. "She's gone?"

"She kept in touch with us — between her and Howard, they set up this communication line. Nobody except for us knew."

"But — and her family?" Steve didn't want to imagine Seren being left on her own, or worse — with her grandmother of all people.

"Her mother followed soon after that, and she brought Seren's father too. Seren stayed away for many, many years. She popped in a couple times to see her siblings. She looked almost the same both times," Peggy chuckled.

Time works differently the further in space you are, Steve remembered Seren's words. "It was probably a shorter time for her."

"Mhm," Peggy said, "She said the same thing. She came for her siblings' funerals. Haven't seen her since."

Steve listened and replayed all of Peggy's words in his head multiple times until he came to a very specific conclusion. Peggy didn't expect anything less from him.

"So…she could still…she could still be alive…" He said, swallowing hard with nerves, "She could still be alive somewhere…up there…" His eyes flickered up above. Although the ceiling was there, he knew space was much, much bigger than what he thought.

That's the thought that kept him going in the new world. Seren was alive somewhere up in the sky, amongst the stars. For a while after the news, all Steve could do was just wish that she was doing fine and that she was, above all, happy. The more time he spent in the new world, the more he began to learn about her history before leaving.

For starters, although unofficially part of the SSR, SHIELD actually had a file opened on her. He found that out through, ironically, Howard Stark's son, Tony. During a mission — Steve's first mission after coming out of the ice — Tony snooped through SHIELD's files and came up with some interesting results. It was there that Steve learned that Tony was also familiar with the girl from the stars. Apparently, Howard had passed down the story.

"She's basically a Twinkle Star nursery rhyme," Tony said cooly the day after their mission together. "You know 'twinkle, twinkle, little star, how I wonder what you are'?"

Even the Asgardian Thor Odinson had once heard about the deal his own father had made with the Celessians. He promised Steve that he would look into the matter. After all, the Asgardians now owned the Tesseract again, the very thing that brought Seren to Earth in the first place. Unfortunately, that search never led to anything. The only thing that they knew of was that many years ago, the Dade family had cut all ties with the Asgardians, more specifically the youngest Dade had. Apparently, no one had ever told off the Asgardian King but Seren had, and furiously so.

Although Steve didn't quite care for Tony's attitude, he knew where his best chances for his crazy idea to succeed were. Surprisingly, Tony didn't put up a fuss when Steve shared what he had in mind. He was actually interested in it as well. Ironically, Steve saw a lot of Howard in Tony when he agreed to the impossible and created another transmission device that would hopefully reach Seren wherever she was.

The modern world had a lot more than Steve could have ever imagined, and he saw most of it in Tony's lab. Tony worked just like Howard on big and little trinkets, and more importantly on the craziest of things. Tony knew exactly what his father had once built for Seren in the 40s and merely copied the idea with his more modern tech. He was sure that it would work. The only thing he wasn't sure is if the famous Seren Dade would hear it, recognize it, and respond. But it was a risk that Steve knew and willingly took.

The transmission started in 2012, and for years it kept running without a response.

Tony lost interest in the thing only a few years later, but he kept it running for Steve. He was always checking in with Tony to see how it was doing and when the Avengers came to live together, Steve was almost always in the lab where the transmission was running. Try as he might, he just couldn't move on when the spark of hope was sitting on a table right where he lived. Even when they had one battle after the other, Steve kept a close eye on the transmission. It was essentially his life.

So when he was forced to go on the run as a fugitive of the law and he had to leave the transmission behind, he felt like he'd lost Seren all over again. He couldn't check on it like he used to, he couldn't ask Tony how it was doing — he wasn't even sure that Tony kept the transmission alive. He had to effectively abandon the idea that he would ever see Seren again. He had to stop wondering if she was alive, although that one was a lot more difficult and almost impossible to do.

There was supposed to have been a break from all that. A real break between his crazy dreams and the actual real word, but all Steve ever saw was a pause before the next battle and his next memory. It was on repeat, even for his biggest battle against, ironically, another alien. Even when this current one was lost, somehow there was still a battle within it.

One moment, the pager once belonging to Nick Fury that he and the remaining Avengers found, had stopped transmitting their signal and the next, they had come face to face with an unknown blonde woman hellbent on getting answers by any means necessary.

"Hey, hey, hey, HEY!" Steve managed to cut in between the blonde woman and Natasha before they went head to head with each other.

Banner was on the other side, trying to pull Natasha back with him while Rhodey tried pulling on the blonde woman's arm in vain. The moment she felt his hand around her arm, she shoved him back. Steve only just caught him before he fell and with his assisting tech around his legs, it would not bode well to have another injury.

"Alright everyone ENOUGH!" Steve yelled over the entire room, freezing the group in their tracks.

The blonde woman shook off Banner's hand and stepped towards Steve, repeating her question again. "Where's Fury?"

"Hard to answer," Steve replied in the same cold tone. "But it'd be a lot easier if you stopped with the hostility."

The woman scowled at him and the others. "That" — she pointed back at the pager — "is the pager I gave to Fury for emergencies. It went off all of a sudden and we raced back here and he's not here. So," she strode up to Steve, leaving them face to face, "where is he?"

Steve didn't appreciate the accusation in her voice. He didn't understand why this woman was on the receiving end of that pager except that Fury had to have a reason for it. Plus, it was their only other option right now. If it wasn't the pager, then they had nothing left to fight against Thanos. Bearing that in mind, he relaxed his voice and started again.

"Something's happened to Fury and we found this pager with no idea who was on the other side," he explained slowly, "We didn't know it was you."

"Who are you?" Natasha beat him to the punch.

The woman flipped her head back, glaring at Natasha. "I'm Carol Danvers, who the hell are you?"

"Hey," Steve called and got her attention again. "We're on the same side."

"Mm, I don't know you," Carol countered. "So who the hell are you?" she punctured her words sharply.

"Fair enough," Steve nodded, "We are on the same side. My name's St—"

"Steve?"

Steve froze in his spot. This wouldn't be the first time he imagined that sweet voice calling to him and during these hard times, it wouldn't be surprising if he imagined it to ease his nerves. But this time it was different. This time, Carol Danvers in front of him looked around, her lips curling into a frown as she muttered 'you were supposed to do a reconnaissance'.

But her partner seemed to ignore it in favor of walking a few steps, at least that's what Steve heard before he finally turned around and got the wind knocked out of him. She couldn't be a figment of his imagination this time, she couldn't be…

"Seren?"

There stood the woman he'd dreamed about for almost every night since he got out of the ice. She looked different now, he saw that in her eyes that seemed to hold a lot more emotion, more life in them. Her once long brown hair was now a ginger color and in a pixie cut with long side-swept bangs to the right of her head. And she wore a much more sophisticated suit than the one Howard Stark once made her.

Finally, the silence was too much and Carol cut in. "You two know each other?" She pointed a finger between Steve and Seren.

They had not stopped staring at each other until then, and even then Seren answered without taking her eyes off Steve. "Once…a long time ago…" She seemed to want to reach towards him but Carol moved and suddenly, Seren was dropping her arms on either side of her.

"We agreed that we would—"

"I know, but I didn't find anything," Seren shushed Carol. "The place is empty…much like everything else around here…" She met Steve's gaze again. "I…believe you rang?" Even her voice was filled with nothing but confusion and sheer shock. She had yet to be able to wipe the shock off her face and she honestly doubted she would be able to anytime soon.

Luckily for her, and for Steve, there were other people in the room and they had not forgotten why they were there.

Natasha was quick to introduce herself and the rest, though she like everyone noted that Steve had not stopped staring at the ginger who introduced herself as Seren. The name was special and they both knew it.

"You turned the pager on?" Carol made a nod towards the now inactive page on display behind the group. "How'd you even get it?"

"It was found near Fury's car," Rhodey explained. "It was already on. We've just kept it running. We were curious who was on the other end."

"He wanted you to get it," Seren whispered to Carol who agreed. She then cast a look on the humans and with a strange, yet not entirely unfamiliar authoritative tone, addressed them. "What physically happened? Because one moment, Carol and I were on galaxies away, and then suddenly people started turning into dust."

"It's happening all around the world then," Banner remarked thoughtfully. "That's what Thanos said he would do."

"Thanos?" Carol made a face.

"Who the hell is that?" Seren practically demanded. She happened to look in Steve's direction and sort of shrunk back. She couldn't ignore the way her heart raced. It hadn't happened in ages…

The remaining Avengers described their last battle against the alien Thanos and what his plan entailed with the 6 infinity stones. It was all going well until Seren heard Banner's side of the explanation.

"Wait," the ginger raised her hands in front of her, "the Tesseract was on Asgard? Again?" Nothing but hatred filled Seren's colored eyes and if looks could kill, she would've. She shot an accusing glance at Carol. "You told me that it was—"

"I left it with Fury in the 90s," Carol argued.

"We gave it to Thor," Steve finally spoke, instantly drawing Seren's attention. "We know more about Asgard now."

Seren visibly swallowed hard. "Then we have a problem…" We have many problems, she thought. "I was on my way to Asgard — I heard something was going on with the planet —"

"Thanos," Banner said immediately, "And Hella, Thor's older sister." Steve, Natasha and Rhodey all looked at him then. "Yes, Thor has — had — a sister. She was mean, basically. He would explain it better than me but he's currently, uh...dealing with some stuff in another room."

Seren wasn't sure what to do with that information so she moved past it to get to her point. "I was on my way but when I got there, there was no Asgard anymore. The whole planet had been destroyed."

"That was Hella," Banner pointed. "But Thor…he had all the Asgardians on a ship and that's where we stumbled into Thanos. He took the Tesseract from Loki—"

"Loki?" Steve threw a hard look at Banner.

"Again, yes," Banner nodded, "He took the Tesseract off Asgard and Thanos stole it from us, after killing Loki."

"The point here is that we need to do something," Natasha said sternly. "Thanos is out there."

"Along with Tony Stark," Steve said, meaningfully glancing at Seren. He saw the reaction he hoped for.

"Stark?" She whispered, and he nodded.

"Howard's son."

Seren's expression softened.

Once again, the others in the room noted the familiarity between the two.

Seren was the first to snap out and cleared her throat, flushing at her lingering attention. "Well, if there's a chance that Howard's son is alive in space, I'm gonna find him."

"We have someone trying to track the ship," Steve said, seeing Seren begin to move. It was stupid but he didn't want her to walk out just yet.

"Oh, okay," she nodded, "Let me talk to them and then we can go from there."

"I can—"

"We'll lead the way," Banner said over Steve without noticing, "Gotta check the scans anyways."

"Oh, okay…" Seren's eyes shifted to Carol as she backtracked, "I will be back. Please do not fight anyone while I'm gone." While Carol pretended that she hadn't heard, Seren stopped on her feet and called her again. "Carol."

Carol rolled her eyes and mocked a salute. "Aye-aye Captain."

Seren's eyes widened, gaze briefly landing on Steve then reprimanding Carol. "Not funny!" Carol's smirk said the opposite. "Watch her!" Seren basically told the others in the room then followed Banner out.

"Yeah, no way..." Carol's smirk was wider as ever and after a few seconds, she backtracked out of the room as well.

Not a second later, Natasha was turning Steve around, demanding for him to explain.

"Explain what?" He said, only for Natasha and Rhodey to deadpan him.

"You know that woman," Natasha pointed in the direction that Seren went in. "How do you know someone from space? Besides Thor!"

"It's…it's a long story…" And Steve wasn't quite sure he wanted to say it just yet, at least not to them. "I have to go find Chloe..." he murmured and walked off.

~0~

Seren was working hard in the lab when she heard footsteps coming into the room. "Weren't you supposed to be not here, not fighting anyone?" Seren didn't bother looking up from her screen, knowing Carol's steps all too well.

Carol passed her fingers along a few trinkets on the table behind Seren. "One out of two isn't half bad."

Seren rolled her eyes. She switched the holograms out to expand her scan. "According to Rocket — that's the guy — racoon — who had the info on the spaceship — the ship has a detectable signature we should be able to track. He's also given up the information on the bioscan of his crew."

"What if they're all snapped?"

"Then we'll find an empty ship."

"You're going to make us go on a trip that might be for nothing?"

"We have to. These are important people to, uh…these people."

Carol dropped what she was tinkering with and looked at Seren. Despite not glancing back, Seren felt the burning eyes on the back of her head.

"You said that you had no one left on earth," Carol began.

"That's not exactly what I said…"

Carol walked a few steps towards Seren's table, able to side-glance her as she moved to the opposite side of the table. "What are you not telling me?"

"What is there to tell?" Seren said as focused her eyes solely on the holograms despite Carol's burning stare again.

"You're being evasive."

"I'm being what now?" Seren moved a few steps down the table. The scan was finally going to start again with her new additions.

Carol narrowed her eyes. "You're only evasive when you're nervous. What are you nervous about?"

"I'm not nervous." Seren occupied herself with the computer.

"You're nervous about that guy, right? You couldn't stop staring at him. You almost drooled." Magic words were said.

Seren looked up from the computer, completely affronted, and slammed a hand down on the table. "I was not drooling!"

Carol's lips spread into a smirk. "Gotcha."

Seren's nose scrunched. "Shit," she muttered on the side.

Carol snorted. "Tell me already! What's the deal and how can I make it better?"

"You mean worse?"

"Seren."

Seren let put a breath and walked back to the other end of the table, standing opposite from Carol. "You remember what I told you about the first time I went to Earth?"

"In the 1940s, yeah," nodded Carol. "That's where all the shit went down and you lost your boyfriend."

"He wasn't my boyfriend and he's still alive!" Seren flapped a hand behind her.

Carol's eyes widened. "Wait — that was the guy?"

"Yes! That was Steve!"

"The one who—" Carol made a drowning motion that Seren wasn't very amused with.

"Yes — and stop that! That's so rude!"

Carol dropped her hands on the table and leaned forward on them. Once again, her lips curved into a smirk. "Talk about luck. Your old flame is alive and looking good."

"Shut up!" Seren exclaimed, her cheeks a bright red.

Carol opened her arms and shrugged. "What? It's true and because this is all true, what are you doing here?"

"What?"

Carol suddenly reached over the table and flicked Seren on the head.

"Ow!"

"Hello! You just found out that the guy you loved is actually still alive and you're here playing with a stupid hologram?" Carol made a face as she heard her own words. "That's ridiculous! You're ridiculous! Get to it, Seren!" She snapped her fingers.

"Get to what?" Seren shook her head. "That was…that was a long time ago. Ten years for me. I can only imagine what it's been for Steve. A lot could've happened in-between. He could've moved on. Wouldn't be surprised if he did."

"Yeah, I doubt that," Carol crossed her arms. "He couldn't take his eyes off you."

Seren continued shaking her head. She pretended to focus on the hologram again. "I have to get back to work. Get ready to leave at any moment."

"Sure…" Carol noticed a shadow drawing closer to the room. "Let me go do that while you talk to your old flame!"

"Stop saying that!" Seren shushed her and even more when she saw Steve walking into the room. "Carol—"

"I will be out there…" Carol made sure to say loud enough for Steve to hear her. She backtracked, truly enjoying Seren's distressed face behind Steve.

"Carol!" The ginger practically hissed.

"Byyye," Carol wiggled her fingers and finally left the room.

I'm going to kill her, Seren concluded. She rued the day she met Carol Danvers.

Seren forgot all her murderous thoughts when Steve turned around and they came face to face. She almost forgot how to breathe. She just couldn't help it. He was alive. She spent countless nights, countless years, with the same heartache that nothing could fix. He was right there with her, looking almost the same as the last time they were together. She wasn't a fool, there was no way either of them could look and be the same people they once were. He was still handsome as ever with charming eyes, longer hair and a beard. He seemed a lot more sure of himself, firm. Although charming, his eyes were older, experienced, and she dared to believe that it wasn't the good experience he deserved.

She didn't realize at what point her breath shook and tears crept into her eyes, but they did.

"Seren, don't cr—" Steve barely got the words out when Seren threw her arms around him. Not a second later, Steve hugged her back. He wrapped his arms around her as tight as possible as if she would slip away again if he loosened his grip even a bit. All the familiar things about her that he'd forgotten about came rushing back. Her sweet smell, her small figure, and her incredible strength.

Neither one knew how long they stayed in their position. There was a long time to make up for it and one hug just wouldn't be enough.

The only reason Steve dared to break it up was because he'd felt her body trembling with her tears. He needed to wipe them off her face. Seren's eyes fell shut as his fingers touched her cheeks. She dreamed of his touch way too many times to count. Steve could've stayed like that for hours. All the things he thought were lost turned out to be right. in. front. of. him. Seren was right in front of him again, after all this time. He felt himself leaning forwards, albeit slowly. The logical part of his brain wasn't functioning and that's what he would blame it on later.

Feeling his proximity, Seren opened her eyes and her breath caught in her throat seeing Steve nearing her. She could move away — the option was always there — but she was frozen, and in some kind of trance. And not the torturous kind either. Steve pressed her back against the table, fingers coming down to her jaw. He had just neared her lips when they heard a call from the hallway.

"Steve — hey!" It was a young woman who burst into the room and forced the two apart on instinct.

Seren turned to the table, taking a moment to ease her hot face, while the other woman rushed up to Steve.

"Natasha — she told me — is it true there's aliens here? More?" The woman was nearly as tall as Steve, and had long curly blonde hair that bounced each time she moved.

"Aliens?" Seren frowned at the woman, and Steve noted the offense in her voice…as well as in her expression.

"Oh!" The woman blinked at her. "You must be one of them!"

"Excuse me?"

"Uuh, Chloe, let's backtrack for a moment!" Steve cut in and grabbed the blonde woman's arm.

"Please." Seren's frown went deeper. "While you do that, maybe I'll go find Carol. It doesn't end well when she's unsupervised."

"Seren, wait a mo—" Steve stopped when Seren practically stormed out of the room. "Chloe," he turner on the blonde woman not a second later.

There stood Chloe cluelessly. "What?" Her eyes flickered past Steve. "Who was that?"

"You said it yourself, although very rudely."

"I didn't say it rudely!" Chloe rolled her eyes. "Natasha was telling me and then the Hive Mind popped into my head and told me there was an alien here — not Thor. Or the racoon."

"Her name is Seren and you sort of—"

"Seren?" Chloe's nose scrunched. "Why does that sound —" And suddenly she let out an ungodly gasp, clapping her hand over her mouth. "No. Is that — is she the—?" Steve had no idea what warranted her smacks on his chest but he yelled at her to stop and calm down. "You didn't tell me that was her!" Chloe still smacked his arm a couple times. "Star girl?" she pointed up above. "The one you built that thing for with Stark?"

"...yes," Steve answered very quietly, because he knew Chloe and how dramatic she tended to be when reacting to some things.

"Oh my goodness!" Chloe squealed, throwing her arms around him. "Talk about timing!"

But just how dramatically she reacted, Steve also knew that her heart was always in the right place, so he hugged her back. It was that which Seren saw when returned to the room. Disheartened, and dead silent, she turned to leave again.

~0~

Carol knew something was up the moment Seren returned and "got back to work". There was no working of any kind, but not for a lack of trying. Seren worked the other computers the team had in the room. They were still recording the people who had disappeared thanks to the snap. Carol decided to step in after Seren crushed a keyboard with her bare hands and made an enemy out of Natasha for temporarily interrupting the census scan. She grabbed Seren's arm and led her into one of the other rooms in the building, a kitchen by the looks of it.

"Usually I'm the hothead around here so I'm gonna be a little rusty at this." Carol turned on Seren the moment they were alone. "What the hell is going on with you?"

"Nothing." Seren moved past Carol, taking in the room they were now in. It was a kitchen that could've used a repaint and a good cleaning. It was a hot mess.

Carol turned on her heels, raising one eyebrow at Seren. "I've known you for a long time now and it's honestly not that hard to learn how to read you. What'd the idiot do?"

"He's not an idiot," Seren mumbled, slowly turning back to Carol. "And…I saw him with someone."

Now both Carol's eyebrows were raising. "He's dating someone?"

Seren shrugged slowly. "I don't know, I just saw him — there was this woman. Steve and I, we were, uh…" Her face flushed thinking back to what had almost happened between her and Steve before that woman showed up.

Carol watched the red tint on Seren's cheeks spread. "You were doing what?"

Seren cleared her throat and mumbled something about talking, but she was unable to meet Carol's eye for a few minutes after that.

"And?" Carol was nothing if not persistent. This, Seren learned very quickly after meeting and it was both a gift and a curse.

"Nothing! This woman showed up, calling him and I…I just left! But then I came back and…well, they were hugging. They both seemed happy."

"That's it?" Carol was finding it real hard not to deadpan Seren right now. "Did they kiss?"

"No, I…I left before I saw something I shouldn't have."

"You know friends hug, right? We do it all the time!"

"No you don't," Seren made a face. "And this isn't really a conversation I want to have! I was stupid, let's just leave it at that and move on, okay?" She decided to go search through the kitchen for something edible.

Carol trailed after her, stopping on the side of the aisle. "Seren, when we first met, I'm not going to lie, you were kind of annoying."

Seren slammed a cabinet shut and threw a sharp look at Carol. "And this is supposed to help me how?"

"You didn't let me finish," Carol shrugged, basically implying it was Seren's own fault for being offended. "There were many people who thought that the Skrulls were evil and you were the only one who believed me when I said what was really going on with the Kree. Your judge in character has never been wrong, even when everyone else thought the opposite. So maybe don't start judging before you actually know what's going on?"

"Carol, it's not…it's not a matter of judging people. I have no right to discuss this with Steve. I thought he was dead, and he probably assumed that about me too. He has every right to move and you know what? I'm happy if he did—"

Carol snorted. "Yeah, because you're so cheery."

"—because I would never want him to stop living because he was holding onto me and my memory." And Seren would stand firmly on that stance because it was nothing but the truth. As much as it pained her, and it did, she would be in much worse pain knowing Steve had not lived this new opportunity because of her.

"You're a good person, Seren," Carol nodded. Seren rolled her eyes and turned her back on Carol as she started going through more of the cabinets. "Unfortunately, I'm not one all the time…"

Seren had heard Carol mutter and turned to warn her that the conversation was over when she saw the same blonde woman from before had walked into the room. Immediately, Seren looked at Carol with an expression of 'you better not' but of course, that never worked on Carol.

"Well, I should probably go check on those scans again!" Carol said, giving Seren two thumbs up as she walked out of the room.

I have got to get better friends, Seren bitterly thought. Whatever else was running through her head, Chloe interrupted when she greeted Seren again.

"I'm…I'm Chloe Winters, and…I think we got off on the wrong foot." To her credit, Chloe did have a genuine look on her face when she held a hand out to shake with Seren. "I tend to get wrapped up in my things and not realize how I come off. I'm sorry." Seren's lips parted, but unfortunately she didn't know what to say. Chloe still smiled as she pulled her hand back. "Anyways, can I show you something?"

Seren nodded silently.

"C'mon," Chloe motioned Seren to follow her. They left the kitchen, though Chloe promised that they would find something to eat soon enough. "This isn't our place — least not anymore. We left it behind 2 years ago when we ran."

"Ran?" Seren repeated, confused.

"Mhm," nodded Chloe. "Steve, me, Natasha, Sam and Wanda. It was, uh — basically, we were fugitives."

"Fugitives?" For a moment, Seren was going to think that the idea that Steve was a fugitive of the law was completely wrong…but a few minutes later, she realized it wasn't that far of a stretch. "Who did Steve disagree with and how wrong were they?"

The question made Chloe laugh. "Wow, guess you do know him very well." Seren ducked her head as she flushed. "Truth be told, I still think Steve was right. The Government wanted us to sign over our freedom to them and work for them. Steve didn't think it was a good idea because then we wouldn't be able to help the people we wanted to, just the people the government would want us to." Chloe led Seren into the room where the scans were still ongoing.

"If that's the case, then I agree with you," Seren admitted. "I know a thing or two about working for others and not getting a say about said work. It's nice to do some freelancing."

Chloe chuckled. "Yeah." She came around the table where the scans were. "So then, according to your friend over there, the snap happened all over the place."

Seren nodded, mumbling a 'yeah' under her breath. Her eyes watched the census keep going. The number was insanely high. "Thanos…did all this?"

"We only learned about him a few days ago," Chloe said, leaning her hands on the table. She too watched the number of snapped people go higher and higher. "Had no idea what we were going up against."

"You all could've been slaughtered," Seren whispered. She felt a special ache of fear for one specific person.

"Mm, nothing new to us," Chloe said, leaning around the scan hologram to meet Seren's face. "We're the Avengers. Fighting is what we do. I just never pictured losing this badly. Tony's hopefully still alive and if he is, that means he's stranded up in space somewhere—"

"We'll find him," Seren said firmly. "If there's even a small trace of an alert from that ship, Carol and I will get him."

"You'd go that far for a stranger?"

"For anyone in need."

Chloe's lips spread in a long smile. "You and Steve are very alike. Now I know why he likes you so much." Seren looked away from the scan as pink dusted her cheeks. "And I say this confidently because I know how much Steve worked to find you after coming out of the ice."

Chloe's words were much too interesting to ignore. Seren's eyes flickered back to the woman. "What was he working — wait, ice?"

"There's a lot you don't know about these past years," Chloe said. "It was 2011 when we found him. Our best bet as to how Steve survived that plane crash is because of the serum and the ice mixed together. I don't know, I'm no scientist. SHIELD, previously known as the SSR, got word that a man had been discovered under ice somewhere in the ocean near Russia."

"That was…?"

Chloe nodded. "It was Steve. For him, he was asleep."

"Frozen," Seren corrected with an awful feeling in the pit of her stomach. "Almost 70 years spent in darkness, frozen, cold…I should have been there." She shook her head and started to pace. "I should have gone after that damn plane — I told him I would but he—"

"Said no?" Chloe's seemingly deep knowledge of the story stopped Seren mid-pace. "He told you to stay away. Told you to live your life."

Seren let out a breath, unsure how comfortable she was with those special moments of hers — theirs — being common knowledge to this woman. "What else did he tell you?"

Chloe sensed the double meaning behind the question and wagged a finger. "It's not what you think. It's far from that. I used to work for SHIELD. I was there when Steve woke up. We've been friends ever since. He's told me all about his life before and the one thing he struggled most to talk about was about a girl he left behind. A girl who, if there was any justice in the world, would still be alive somewhere up in the stars. You."

"If I had known—" Seren had started with a voice filled with guilt because truthfully, that was all she felt right now. She had left Earth, left him, and he was deep under the ocean the whole time?

"He doesn't blame you, far from that," Chloe said gently. "You don't know it, but the first thing that Steve did, after dealing with all that, is learn what happened to you. He visited Peggy Carter."

"Peggy…" Seren whispered, glancing at the year marked on the scan. By this point, she must have already been—

"And after that, he knew you were most likely still alive…so he and Tony worked to build some kind of transmission device…like the one you made for your mother?"

"He did that?" Seren's throat felt pretty dry, and she felt a familiar sting in her eyes.

"Yeah, didn't you ever get it?"

The look on Seren's face said it all. "N-o," her voice cracked. "I was….I was deep in some…I was on other planets, galaxies away — I was always going from one place to another and all this time he's been trying to reach me?" If she felt bad before, she felt completely horrible now.

"Shit, if you cry, I'm in trouble!" Chloe was in full blown panic-mode and hurried around the table to comfort Seren.

"I'm not — of course I'm not crying," Seren sniffled, quickly wiping tears from the corners of her eyes. She tried to calm herself starting with her shaky breathing but she started thinking about her time in the HYDRA base. It always happened like this, once she started thinking about that awful year — no matter how long ago it was — she spiraled.

"Good, because I'm sure Steve would kill me and this time, to my misfortune, Bucky's not around to help me." Chloe was just reaching for Seren's arms to bring them down when Seren froze, eyes wide.

"What?" Seren's mind flashed to the old sergeant she spent a lot of traumatic time with.

"What?" Chloe soon found her wrists being seized by Seren.

"What did you just say!?" the ginger exclaimed.

"What—?"

"About Bucky? Bucky Barnes?"

"Y-yeah," nodded Chloe slowly, "He's — he was—"

"Alive!?" Seren practically shouted. "He was alive too!? And I didn't know it!?" She let Chloe and ran her hands through her hair (or rather pulled at it).

'Bucky, you and I both know that there was a reason Zola used you a lot. There's a reason we were in the same room so many times.'

Vivid moments of Zola pumping out blood from her filled Seren's head. She could feel her skin being prodded, her life dangerously fleeting…

And then she heard Bucky's screams in the same room.

"They were both alive and I just — I just left them!? I abandoned them!?" Seren fell back against the table, completely in shock and now more than ever wanting to crawl into some hole where she could just…disappear.

Chloe went back to panicking the more Seren spiraled. Finally, when it looked like Seren was close to hyperventilating, Chloe had no other choice (nor idea) but to go get help. In no less than five minutes, Steve was running into the room with Chloe trailing behind him.

"Seren! Seren!" He went directly to the woman supporting herself by the table. He had very little context from Chloe except for the part where she said that Seren wasn't well. He pulled Seren from the table and held on to her so she wouldn't fall. "Seren? Hey, hey, what's the matter?"

Seren was breathing hard, yet it sounded like it wasn't enough for her. Her eyes were glossy when they met Steve's. He noticed familiar star power around her fingers switching on and off like a power switch. Through her state, she heard Chloe's small gasp and she swore that the woman's eyes had flashed blue.

Steve heard it as well and glanced back at Chloe. He knew what the blue eyes meant. The Hive Mind had tapped in to give her some insight. Sure enough, Chloe soon came out with the answer.

"She's having a panic attack!"

"What?" It wasn't that Steve wouldn't believe it but last time he remembered, Seren didn't have that kind of stuff. Bucky had it, he remembered. They were both in the same ward, undergoing similar procedures and it was common knowledge that Seren took the worst hit in those days. He himself had some PTSD he dealt with on occasion.

Maybe it was something she picked up after everything, he realized with a heavy ache in his heart. He hadn't been able to help her this whole time…

Well, not anymore. He grabbed Seren's hands, pushing down the terrible sting of her powers burning against his palms. "Seren, breathe with me. C'mon, do it with me. Breathe in…breathe out…" He mimicked the act until she started following.

"Steve, we should get her somewhere more quiet," Chloe said gently. She and Steve looked out to the room and agreed that the ongoing beeps from the scans and computers probably weren't helping. "Maybe the med-room."

No sooner had she said those words than Seren threw a strangled cry. She tried pushing Steve away from her, and Chloe, all while fervently shaking her head.

Chloe's eyes widened. "Sorry — what did—"

Steve ignored her initially as he tried to win Seren's trust again. He reached for her swatting hands, trying to catch them before she decided to throw star matter at them. "Seren, it's okay, I'm not taking you there! I promise! You — you remember me, right? I don't lie to you. Ever."

He finally caught her hands and to his relief, she didn't fight him anymore. He took the opportunity and swept her off her feet and carried her into the hallway. Chloe was right behind him and offered to get Seren something to calm down. Steve barely heard her and when she left; his entire focus was on Seren and helping her. He brought her into the first open room he came across and sat her down on the foot of the bed. He moved and sat down beside her, still instructing her to breathe with him.

"I know what this is, I know it feels like everything is shrinking around you…" Steve took hold of her hands and gave them a gentle grip. "Breathe, Seren. Just focus on this. We are here. You're not…where you think you are."

Even through her frantic state, Seren managed to get startled. He knew where her mind had gone to?

"You're here now," Steve went on, "You're safe. They're not here. Breathe…" He mimicked the act until slowly, but gradually, Seren managed to get control again. "There we go. You did good, very good." He squeezed her hands affectionately. "Now, can I do something else to help you? Is there — is there something you need?"

Seren shook her head as her throat just wasn't quite ready to let her speak yet. It usually took her longer to come out of these things. Still, her silence didn't deter Steve's urge to help her. Not knowing what she needed at the moment, he scooted closer to her and kept hold of her hand. Sometimes, a comfortable silence was the best kind of help in these situations when the person didn't have an idea of what they needed in the moment.

Seren drew strength in those few minutes of silence to put herself back together and to realize that her world wasn't as small as it felt moments ago. She was just about to say her first words when Chloe walked in.

"I brought—" she stopped herself upon hearing her loud volume and adjusted it to a much quieter one for Seren's sake. "I brought something that might help," she motioned to the mug in her hands. "Surprisingly, they were stocked up on chamomile tea around here. Go figure."

Seren couldn't really look at Chloe when she offered her the tea. She couldn't look at Steve either. Of all the things to do…She sighed.

Chloe and Steve sensed her embarrassment. Chloe handed the mug to Steve, telling him that she would be in the lab overseeing the scans if they needed her for anything else. Seren heard the door close and the bed shift as Steve turned to face her.

"Trust me, it helps," he said as he once again offered her the mug. "Plus, I'm sure you might be a little hungry too…not that this could really fill you up." The moment Seren turned her head on him, Steve stammered. "I meant — not that — I didn't mean to say — you eat what's considered to be norm—"

The chuckle that left Seren's lips was small yet it brought such a summer warmth to Steve's heart. "You haven't changed a single bit," she murmured and reached for the mug he held.

Steve felt her fingers gently brush against his when she took the mug from him. He hated that he forgot how soft her skin was. His dreams didn't compare to real life.

Seren took a sip of the tea and breathed. With each second that ticked by, things felt more normal to her again. Now that her mind was pieced together, she glanced at Steve again, but with flushed cheeks. "I'm sorry."

It took Steve a few seconds to understand what her apology was for. His eyebrows shot up as he shook his head. "N–n-n-n-no, this isn't something you have to be sorry about. It happens. It happens to all of us."

"You mean humans. It happens to humans," Seren said quietly as she brought her mug up to her lips. "Not Celessians."

Once again, it took Steve a moment to figure out what she meant. She was half Celessian, half human. Celessians didn't get—

"Apparently, panic attacks are common in humans…" Seren said, lowering her mug with a sigh. "My father told me that the first time it happened." She looked at Steve from under her lashes, her voice falling into a whisper. "That was a few weeks after, um, my last mission for the SSR."

Translation: after you went under the ice. Steve felt horrible.

"I didn't really know what it was or what was happening…" Seren continued, "One moment I was with my parents in this open market and then the next…I was back in the room with Zola…" She shuddered and took another drink from her tea. "I remember I heard something…it sounded like when…"

"Something triggered your memories," Steve said, sounding like he knew exactly what she was talking about. Seren nodded silently. She looked at him again, studying the way he was so confident about his words. "And it's the stupidest thing but it can bring back so much. And in such a short amount of time too." His eyes flickered and met Seren's. "And it is nothing to be embarrassed about."

Seren swallowed hard. "I—" she ducked her head. "I've tried my hardest to get past it but no matter how much time passes, sometimes…"

"The past just creeps up on you," Steve finished the thought for her.

For a moment, they stared at each other, their mutual understanding rendering them both silent. Then, it was like a waterfall of emotions falling down.

"If I had known that you survived, that Bucky survived, I would've never left," Seren said, her voice strained with feelings.

"Seren—"

"I wouldn't have gone back to New York and I definitely wouldn't have left the whole planet! I would have stayed and I would have searched for you through every single part of that ocean!" Tears had rolled down Seren's cheeks and in her ramble, she had spilled some of the hot tea on her lap. It didn't phase her. "I would've looked for Bucky through those mountains! I would have never left, I swear, I swear…"

Steve took the mug out of her hand before the whole thing fell on her. He set it on the ground behind him and then took Seren's hands. She squeezed his before he got the chance, still apologizing to him.

"Seren, it's okay! It's not your fault!" He managed to cut in. "I didn't even know I had survived, okay? The last thing I remembered was telling you that I…well…I remember talking to you and then…suddenly, I was in some room in New York."

At her confusion, he explained how his awakening with SHIELD had gone like. Her heart ached imagining what he must have felt waking up in a brand new world.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Seren said, bringing her hands to his face. As she did, there was a sort of awed look in her eyes, like she couldn't believe that she was able to do that again.

It was the same for Steve. His eyes followed her fingers along his face until her touch became too much and he closed his eyes to truly relish this privilege. All the times he tortured himself thinking about a moment like this and now it was reality. He leaned his forehead against hers and stayed like that for several minutes.

"I never forgot you," Seren whispered. "I spent a couple years in New York getting to know my dad, my siblings trying to be happy but I kept thinking about you. I…even when I left…I couldn't do it. I've been to so many planets, galaxies…and you were always right here…" She took one of his hands and placed it over her heart. "And I swear if I had known you were trying to send me a message, I would've come back."

Steve leaned back from her, eyes wide. "You know about that?"

"Your friend Chloe told me about it. I'm sorry, ever since the government turned on me, I haven't trusted any transmissions directed to me from this planet. When my siblings passed, I had no reason to believe anyone would try to contact me. My parents…" Seren smiled, "When Howard passed, and Peggy retired, there was no one else. My parents are offshore as well, you see. We have our own line of communication."

"Aah," Steve nodded, "I'm glad they got to travel together then."

Seren chuckled. "All thanks to you. I did what you said…I went back to New York and I met him. And it was wonderful." When the tears welled in her eyes, they were of gratitude and nostalgia. "My brother and my sister…they were amazing. I even became an aunt. I had a family. Thank you for that." Without really thinking about it, her hands came to Steve's face and she kissed him. It wasn't a proper kiss by any means but it was the first domino that knocked rest. Because after so many years of being apart, it really only took the smallest move to light the fire.

Steve slid a hand around Seren's neck until it rested on her nape and brought her body flush against his. Their second kiss was much longer, and passionate. Seren wrapped her arms around his neck and clung to him. There were so many different emotions to convey in one kiss that it was virtually impossible, but they still tried.

Seren didn't know at what point she came to be on Steve's lap until she leaned back and almost lost her balance. Steve's hands grabbed her by the waist to keep her in place.

"This is—this is probably coming late…" Seren panted, her face flushed, "but are you seeing anyone right now?"

Steve laughed. "No, absolutely not." He passed a hand through her short hair, picking at some of the longer strands on the side of her face. It suddenly felt like they were back in the 40s, sitting on the couch of his old ruddy apartment.

"So you and, um, your friend Chloe…you're not…?" Seren trailed off as Steve began to look at her with a teasing glint in his eyes. Her cheeks grew warmer.

"Chloe's just a friend, Seren. Actually, she's more like a sister," Steve explained, holding back the teasing he wanted to do. "And actually, if you must know—"

"N-no," Seren shook her head immediately, "I don't—I shouldn't have asked, I'm sorry. I had no right…"

Steve chuckled at her. "It's okay, sweetheart."

Seren's heart fluttered at his pet name. She heard it a dozen times during her travels and it never sounded anything like Steve's way.

"Chloe and Bucky sort of, uh, had a…" Steve purposely stopped to watch Seren's reaction and it didn't fail to make him laugh again.

"No way! Seriously?" Seren brought a hand to her mouth in shock.

"They never said it explicitly but I picked up on a few things here and there," Steve said, sounding mighty proud of himself.

Seren lowered her hand and giggled. "You picked up on a few things about women? Yeah, that one I'm not exactly buying."

"Hey now," Steve frowned for a moment until Seren started giggling again. Steve would take the moment in a heartbeat. Suddenly, all the things he had once thought about doing with Seren were rushing back. They seemed a lot closer now, perhaps at his fingertips…

"So, um, listen…I know the world's basically in disaster mode right now…" Seren brought her arms over Steve's shoulders, "And I imagine there's going to be a lot of fighting against common enemies in the future but, um…"

"I owe you a date," Steve said bluntly and before Seren would say something about not wanting to force him, he gave her a short kiss on the lips. "And you have no idea how much I dreamt about it these past years. Seventy-seven years to be exact."

Seren cupped his face and set a kiss on his nose. "Long time," she agreed. "Ten for me. Space, it's a gift and a curse."

"I wouldn't want you to suffer seventy-seven years," Steve said, "But if you let me, I'd like to pick up where we left off."

"Me too," Seren couldn't grin any wider. She kissed him again, winding her arms around his neck. "On the plane," she murmured against his lips, "the last thing you were saying…"

"That I love you?" Steve of course remembered those last minutes before he went under. It was all he had. But now he had so much more. "I do. I loved you then, and I love you now."

"I do too," Seren promised him. "I've been…I've been to so many places, Steve. I-I left Celessia almost immediately after returning there from Earth. I kept thinking about what you and I were supposed to do and I did that…just offshore. I told my grandmother everything, and I told her I was done working for her and our stupid matriarch and I just…left. I traveled, I saw so many new things, new people…and I, um, I tried to-to move on…" Her voice shook slightly and Steve knew why, which was why he told her that it was all fine. "But I couldn't do it," Seren reiterated, "I kept thinking about you. Those two years of war and HYDRA and constant fighting were also the years that I grew the most and a lot of it was because of you. I have loved you since then and that is the truth. And if we have to fight Thanos and his minions then I'm gonna do it, but whatever happens after that — whether good or not — I'm staying here, with you."

"I'd want nothing more than that but what about…what about your friend…?" Steve said, "Your…your travels…? Your parents? Aren't they—"

"My travels can continue with you, here. On earth. Or anywhere, really, I don't care. And truthfully, I'm almost positive that both of my parents were snapped," Seren ducked her head. "My mother always communicates with me every day to check up on me. She's done it ever since I left earth but a few days ago, that stopped. My father, he learned how to use our tech…" She sighed. "He hasn't called me either. I'm alone again."

"No," Steve said, hooking his fingers under her chin to lift her gaze up to his. "You're not. I'm here. And Carol — you two seem close — she's here too. Plus, I know your father's children had children and they're still here."

"How did you—?"

"I've kept my eye on them ever since I tracked them down," Steve admitted sheepishly. "I've never gone up to them. I didn't want to freak them out but I...I wanted to make sure that they were safe."

Seren's face softened with his confession. "Thank you," she whispered. "I...I haven't seen them in a long time now. I don't even know if they're still here or...if they were snapped."

"We can find that out together," Steve promised her. "Seren Dade, you and I can do so much here."

"It's, uh, actually Seren Soul now. Has been for the past 10 years," Seren said with a sheepish smile. Steve smiled with her. Seren leaned her forehead against his, taking a moment to really grasp their situation. Truthfully, she couldn't believe it. Time did all sorts of things but she never really saw it doing anything good for her after the 40s.

"Seren Soul, I have no idea what's going to happen but it won't be that bad if you stay with me…" Steve said, matching Seren's smile again. She absolutely agreed with him and went in for another kiss. Whether she intended on it being a short kiss remained unclear as Steve did not let her go for a while after that.

A/N:

Part 5 of 5, we're done! Now onto some spooky season writings even though I have no idea what to do. " and a tumblr account under "saiilorstars" if you'd like to follow

#ocapp #marvelocsdaily #allaboutocs #ochub #fyeahsuperverseocs #marvel #mcu #avengers #fd: mcu #steve rogers #steve rogers fics #steve rogers imagines #steve rogers x oc #captain america #captain america fics #captain america imagines #captain america x oc #mcu fics #mcu imagines #marvel fics #marvel imagines #marvel ocs #avengers fics #avengers imagines #avengers ocs #oc: seren soul #fic: love ours

[maple-the-awesome]

We'll Meet Again...I Know When || Chapter 24

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x GN Reader

Words: 3,065

Overview: Given your old-fashioned personality and obsession with all things 1940s to 1980s, it’s no wonder that most people refer to you as an ‘old soul’ who would’ve rather lived back then than in the modern era. Little do they know, you already did, but with your previous life as Hollie Stark cut short, you’ve been left with some…unfinished business, to say the least. Top of your list? Finally getting to marry your thought-to-be-lost fiancé.

Series Masterlist 🤎 Marvel Masterlist 🤎 Fandom Masterlist

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: LET'S JUST TALK

Compared to the decades you've both been apart before, it really hasn't been much longer than a blink of time since you've last seen Bucky, yet you're staring like a deer in headlights anyways, struggling to process all of these damned emotions that overtake you like a tidal wave. At least you're not alone in this reaction, though.

Despite having been the one to call you, Bucky doesn't say anything too quickly himself. He holds the camera at a slightly awkward angle, struggling to keep it level which you aren't sure he realizes. Thankfully, the image remains crystal clear no matter how much he shakes the screen, allowing you to still dwell on his handsome features as if he were standing right here in front of you: his hair and beard have gotten longer, the former tied back into a messy bun; it's a nice look.

"Merry Christmas!" You blurt at last, cursing how much your smile must make you look like a giddy teenager. Oh well, you're too surprised by this unexpected video call to stress over it.

"Merry Christmas," Bucky repeats accompanied by laughter, a smile adorning his own face. You notice it immediately, unable to skip how much happier he seems in the moment compared to months ago. He carries this sort of glow to himself now that you had only ever seen snippets of while on the run, not to mention there's no longer bags under his eyes nor a drag to his voice. He's relaxed, and that alone makes you feel far better than you have been.

Shortly after Siberia, Steve had sent a letter to give you a vague update on things, however that only gave you temporary peace of mind. You often paced around your room wondering just how safe this 'Wakanda' could be for the love of your life. Steve said it's a very secure country and you trust Steve, but cat-man also tried to kill Bucky every time their paths crossed. Will Wakanda really protect him now? Are they capable of protecting him? Is he happy there and not as depressed as your nightmares tell you he is? You could never be quite sure of any answers until finally allowed to confirm them with your own eyes.

"How, um...How have you been?" You ask to get the conversation rolling, struggling to find a comfortable seat leaned against your pillows in the meantime. Not once during your readjustments do you take your eyes away from the tablet.

"I've been good," Bucky answers quickly, although after thinking it over, he decides to add, "I, uh, don't know how much Steve told you, but I actually went under for a while until the Wakandans could find a cure for the Winter Soldier...so that's all better now..."

He tries to play it off as if it's not a big deal, but ends up smiling shyly once you gasp with a huge grin, "Wait, you're serious?! Does that mean there's no more Winter Soldier at all?!"

"W-Well, we tried the trigger words and they didn't work -"

"- Bucky, that's amazing! I'm so happy for you! I was just thinking something seemed different about you, too - that you look more at ease and all. Oh, I'm sure, though! No more worrying about the other guy coming out must really take a big weight off your shoulders, huh?"

He blushes at your kind words, "We shouldn't get our hopes up too high yet...but yeah, it's been pretty nice having one less thing to worry about."

"That's really good news, Bucky - wonderful news!" You can't stop smiling, "What else have you been up to? You'll have to tell me all about Wakanda. They're known for vibranium and I watched King T'Challa's speech, but that's about the extent of my knowledge. What's it like there? Are you enjoying yourself?"

'Are you happy?' Is the question you're trying to hint at, desperately wanting to hear him say the words which will rest your anxieties in regards to everything that happened the last time you saw each other.

Fortunately, Bucky's eager to nod, "It's nice here. They've set me up with this little hut where I'm able to take care of goats all day and the villagers are super nice even though I'm still struggling to learn their language - Oh, and it's all by this huge lake, too. Did you get to see it? I think I put a picture on your tablet. I did it without any help, though, but I think I got it?"

You chuckle, "I did. You set it as the background. I'm assuming you're my secret Santa who sent this then?"

He nods more bashfully this time, "...Do you like it?"

"If it lets me finally catch up with you, then I love it."

This seems to please him as he goes to explain, "Shuri suggested it as a good gift. 'said none of the calls can be tracked by the government, so it would be a safe way to talk to you without giving away either of our locations."

"Smart. Steve sent a burner phone with his letter, but yeah, I didn't want to use it if it would risk any of you seeing as the government's apparently been searching nonstop for your whereabouts."

For the first time, Bucky frowns, the screen shaking a bit as he must've sat down, "...Have they been giving you a lot of trouble because of me?"

His fears dim your own bright spirit, however you don't want to focus on that nor do you want him to. Waving your hand with a so-so sign, you respond truthfully, "Eh, it's been touch and go. I wasn't formally charged with anything at least. Thanks to Tony putting in a good word for me, I pretty much got a slap on the wrist and required monthly meetings with a probation officer, although I do think they've been watching me pretty closely from afar. You know, in case I get into contact with any of my 'fugitive' friends, but seeing as the FBI hasn't busted down my bedroom door yet, they must be slacking off for the holidays."

Bucky gives a dull hum.

"I can't complain, though. Overall, they've been extremely lenient with me all things considered and hey, I get to live in the new Avengers' compound which is a total win! Like, do you see this room? This is first class living right here!" You turn on the opposite camera, proudly showing off your room for Bucky to see, however to your disappointment, it still only brings a vague tug to his lips before they fall back into a frown, "...Okay, what's wrong? Out with it, Barnes."

He fidgets with his own device, not looking into his camera directly even after you turn yours back to your face. When you draw out his name and thus show your refusal to simply drop the topic, he finally caves in, "I don't understand how you aren't upset with me..."

"Why would I ever be upset with you? Bucky, you've done nothing wrong. You were my friend. Together, we were living a peaceful life in Romania which was honestly the happiest months of my life. It was Zemo who came and ruined it. You couldn't have done anything to prevent that. He caught us all by surprise, even the Avengers -"

"- I know...I know..." He whispers, squeezing his eyes shut for a second, "I know you care about me and I know you never hesitate to protect me...But I just keep repaying Siberia in my head. I can't help thinking about when we confronted Zemo and everything that happened afterwards -"

"- Are you mad at me?"

Bucky's head shoots up, looking at you with wide eyes and shock written over his face, "Why would I ever be mad at you?"

It's your turn to shy away from the camera, rubbing the fabric of your pajama sleeves between your fingers as a distraction, "...I don't know. We went all that way together, we almost escaped, then I chose Tony over you at the last minute...I could've gone with Steve and you - "

"- He's your friend -"

"- So are you," you sigh, dropping your head back against your pillows in defeat, "...I didn't even say goodbye to you - I didn't say anything to you! What kind of friend does that?! ...Be honest with me, Buck. Did that upset you?"

He hesitates, "...Yes..."

You inhale through your nose, the guilt pricking your heart the same way it did back then.

"But I wasn't upset with you - not by any means. I was just upset with myself. At first, it was because I saw what I had done. You can argue that I didn't do it physically and that I had no power to stop it, but at the end of the day, Zemo used me to get between the Avengers and it was because you tried protecting me that you almost got into trouble yourself -" When you open your mouth to object, Bucky shakes his head, not giving you the chance, "You can't deny that part, (Y/n). If I wasn't involved, you wouldn't have had a reason to fight your friends or go against the law...That's the other thing that upset me...

"You had given up so much for my sake already - I never wanted to see you sacrifice anything else, yet you were still willingly to. That's why I should've been happy to see you choose Stark's side in the end. I should've been relieved that you finally put me aside for once to make your own choice...but I wasn't happy and that made me angry with myself. Even in that moment, regardless of how much you had given me, I was still hoping you'd go with Steve and I. I felt...lost when you didn't, then guilty for feeling that way because like I said, I should've just been happy for you instead. What right did I have in being that selfish -?"

"- Bucky -"

"- I'm not upset anymore, though - you should know that. I've had a lot of time to think things over for myself here in Wakanda and I thought about, um...- I mean it when I say I'm happy that you've been, uh, happy this whole time, too..." He begins to stumble with his words, trailing off with an eventual curse, "The thing is -...I've realized -...Shit, how do I say this -?"

"- It doesn't feel right when we're apart," you suggest, earning his attention, although you merely shrug with a smile, "No matter what you do, no matter who you're around, you always feel like something or someone's missing. You can be in a room filled with people and still feel lonely without that one person you had gotten so accustomed to being around all the time."

"Y-Yeah..." He rubs the back of his neck with one hand, a faint blush covering his cheeks, "You feel that way, too, then?"

"All the time. It's gotten a little better, but as it turns out, it's surprisingly hard to reset your life after two years."

"Tell me about it," Bucky rolls his eyes and chuckles. He brings his other hand back to the tablet, his mouth moving, however you don't hear anything making you smirk as you realize the reason as to why.

"James, hun, I think you've muted yourself."

He frowns before looking around as he seems to be calling for someone while tapping several buttons in an attempt to fix the problem himself. A girl soon appears on screen temporarily, shouting at him (which you don't need volume to understand) then swatting him away in order to take the tablet and unmute the video herself.

"- I swear, you're worse than a toddler - or my brother for that sake! Always touching stuff and poking buttons! Keep your hands to yourself!" You hear her curse as she walks off, leaving Bucky to pout and look back at you with obvious embarrassment.

"...Is that better?"

"Much," you snuffle your laughter, "You were saying?"

He appears caught off guard by your question and it takes him a good minute or two to remember the exact train of thought he had been having before, yet thanks to you repeating what you had said last yourself, it manages to jog his memory.

"...I was gonna say that I miss you," he admits bashfully, "Don't get me wrong, I like Wakanda and I'm grateful for everything everyone's done for me here even though Shuri can be intimidating at times, but I, um, really miss how it felt living together. I miss how comfortable I automatically felt around you and the way I could just - I don't know, turn around to talk to you. I miss that simple life we had where things actually felt normal as if we weren't on the run or had any terrible secrets to hide...Thanks to you I felt like a normal person and I could never thank you enough for that..."

You feel your heart soar which no doubt shows on your beaming expression, "I meant it earlier when I said those years we spent together were the happiness of my life. I missed -...I've missed you since then. If I'm allowed to be dramatic, it's utter hell whenever I have to go long periods of time without hearing your voice let alone be able to see you with my own eyes. You're a critical part of my life, James. It doesn't matter how much time passes nor what crazy stuff life likes to throw at us, that fact will always remain the same."

Bucky's blush grows brighter and although he dips his head down a bit to hide it, the smile he bites back is enough to let you know your words haven't crossed any line, thus you refuse to take them back.

"Maybe after the smoke's officially cleared, it'll be safe to see each other in person again and, if we're real lucky, we might even be able to, I don't know, live together again - If you're interested in that, of course."

"I'd like that," he nods, his voice breathless despite not having done any kind of exercise, "...I'm just not sure how plausible it'll be. What if the government -"

"- James, it's the government. It took them two years to find us the first time and as much as I hate to admit fault, I think we were getting a bit sloppy towards the end anyways. Living in the city, going on walks and coffee dates - I bet if we used a more concrete strategy, we'd never be found again. As far as the government would be concerned, we dropped off the face of the earth, never to be seen or heard of."

"What's this 'concrete strategy' entail?" Bucky asks, finding himself mirroring the slight smirk you give in response. He knows you well enough to guess you already have a plan in mind and your hum as you pretend to think doesn't fool him into believing he's wrong.

"Hmm...Well, based on the movies I've watched, it seems the go-to spot for hiding is somewhere completely off the grid - preferably the country since I've seen people move to high up mountains and I am not dealing with anywhere colder than Romania."

He chuckles.

"Think about it, though? We'd live off the land, so we wouldn't have to risk going into town for anything and being seen."

"I think living off the land is a lot harder than the movies, dear."

"Oh, we'll figure it out. We're both pretty smart - I am at least," you dismiss while ignoring the nickname he used. You have to worry about one thing at a time and if you make a convincing enough plan for your imaginary futures, you might just get to hear Bucky call you other sweet names that sit directly in your heart, "Also, if we go to the country, you can bring your little goats, too. Good deal, right?"

"I'm not sure if the Wakandans will let me steal their goats."

"I meant we can get you your very own goats. Please don't start stealing goats from people, Bucky. It's frowned upon," you roll your eyes which seems to trigger a yawn you would've never commented on, however Bucky does:

"It's pretty late there, isn't it? I should probably let you sleep -"

"- It's fine. I'm a world champion for lack of sleep, second to only Tony. It's a Stark thing, I suppose."

"Hypocrite," is Bucky's teasing response as he interprets your words in another way than what you had actually meant; a good thing, too, seeing as you're beginning to lose your self control. Yes, you can force your body to stay up for as long as needed to keep talking to him, however is it worth the risk of blurring the lines further between past and present, friend and fiancée?

"Not a hypocrite. I can function just fine on little sleep. You turn into a big grump, though," you counter, muffling another yawn behind your hand. Unfortunately, the smarter side of you eventually forces out the words you've been desperately trying to deny, "...Maybe you're right. Maybe I should get some sleep. It's been a long day..."

Bucky smiles triumphantly, proud to have won an argument with you for once and without having to say much either, although he must secretly admit his own bitter feelings towards the thought of this conversation ending. He could talk to you all night if allowed...

"...Hey (Y/n)...I -'' He starts suddenly after what felt like forever of silent thought, however you cut him off by holding up a hand and giving a tired smile.

"- I think I know what you're going to say, but how about you wait to tell me in person, alright?"

The stress visually melts off his bones into a sigh as he happily accepts not having to worry about those terrifying words right now, after all he prefers your suggestion of waiting for an opportunity to tell you in person anyways, although he does frown slightly at the thought of how long that'll take. This call ending brings him back to reality, reminding him that he doesn't get to see you nearly as often as he would like...How long will he have to wait until you're within arms length again? How long until the right moment to utter those words?

"James?"

"Hmm?"

"You'll start calling regularly, yeah? Remember: it's utter hell for me not to hear from you. You'll take pity on me by calling sometimes, right?"

Bucky smiles gently and nods, "I'll call as often as I can."

NEXT CHAPTER ->

<;- PREVIOUS CHAPTER

#bucky x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fic #james buchanan barnes #captain america #captain america cw #captain america civil war #falcon and winter soldier #winter solider x y/n #winter solider x reader #winter soldier #bucky barnes x y/n #sam wilson #stark!reader #tony stark #steve rogers #natasha romanoff #marvel #marvel x reader #x reader #reader insert

[a-mole-of-iron]

After yet another unscheduled break, here is a new Duchowiesen short story; this one is about one of the country's many, many railway hotels, and what it takes to renovate one when it's on the list of valuable historic buildings.

Story genre: comfy urban fantasy

Renovating the Hotel

Wolfgang was rapidly strolling down the corridor of The Everyman's Excelsior (formerly The Kaiser's First Choice), a three-gemstone railway hotel temporarily closed for renovations. His rumpled suit and tie, his "mad scientist" haircut, and his gaunt yet lively features were a match to the place - chaotic, confusing, and yet businesslike. He was flanked by his two associates dressed in the same manner, Liv and Bakhtiyar, the two listening and Liv writing down important points on a clipboard, with Wolfgang and Bakhtiyar gesticulating wildly as they discussed the improvements to be done. They passed bags of cement, buckets of paint, stepladders, and boxes full of tools, then went upstairs to check the next floor of ten in total. As they emerged from the stairwell into another corridor that wasn't yet filled with tools and supplies, Bakhtiyar turned to Wolfgang and asked:

"So let me get this straight. This place has been standing since the 10180s, and we're going to get reprimanded if we throw out even one historically important part of it?"

"Yes!" Wolfgang responded. "That's some work for us, eh? This place was only renovated once, after the War was stopped and the people took over, and that was decades ago!..."

"Well, let's get it up to the standards of '268 then!" Bakhtiyar said as the three entered a two-bed hotel room to inspect it. "Liv, are you still writing this down?"

"Yes, I am!" Liv responded, waving her clipboard at the two. "I can already see a bunch of stuff we're going to have to change for better accessibility! We might want to start with wheelchair access, and we're also going to need tactile plaques for anyone who's visually impaired... I'mma just note down the important parts of the room real quick!"

"Great, great..." Wolfgang told her. He looked over the room again, evaluating its decor. It was definitely fraying by this point, despite cosmetic repairs done every so often. The thick drapes and baroque wallpaper would need replacements that'd be at least 85% identical, as the character of the hotel had to be preserved, but what really needed a do-over was electric and telephone wiring. Perhaps a different design for the chandelier was in order - the current ones were a "temporary" batch that was installed seven years ago and not changed since, with their overly gaudy character clashing with the hotel's restrained opulence. For a moment, Wolfgang thought to himself it was strange to see the Overcast Era produce something so tasteful... but then, this is why the hotel ended up on a register of historic buildings in the first place.

"Hey Wolfgang?" Bakhtiyar asked, roping Wolfgang's attention back to the matters at hand.

"Yes?" Wolfgang responded.

"I just remembered I forgot to tell you," Bakhtiyar said. "The solar power company called while you were away around 13 AM. They wanted to know the specifics; are we going to use solar heating, photovoltaics, or both?"

"That depends," Wolfgang said. "Photovoltaics are still more expensive than I'd like... is their asking price below average?"

"I think they're willing to give us a discount if we install both," Bakhtiyar told Wolfgang. "And then there are subsidies to consider..."

"Hmmmf," Wolfgang grumbled. "We definitely need to discuss this with the hotel administration. But I haven't even done the numbers... Liv?"

"Yes, we may be able to break even if we apply for subsidies!" Liv said. "And my understanding of PV economics is that they might be the cheapest form of energy in... about 10 to 15 years! We've got to keep 'em in mind, that much is certain. Solar power isn't gonna disappear into the ether and leave us hanging."

"Yes, yes, good..." Wolfgang said as the three left the hotel room, went back out into the corridor, and checked several more rooms, discussing the improvements as they went. After this was done, they hoofed it further upstairs - entering into the hotel's winter garden. They looked up into the glasshouse ceiling that has seen better days, then around the place, with medium-height spruce trees growing right inside, six floors off the ground. Around the garden, there were soft chairs and ornate metal tables, placed with the intention of reading or dining, as well as smaller bushes, ivy on the walls, and boxy flower planters.

"Alright, the garden." Wolfgang said. "What's our minimum here?"

"A pass by an expert horticulturalist, a new coat of paint for the planters, anti-corrosive burnish for the tables, tempered glass tiles for the ceiling just in case," Liv rattled off without as much as slowing down.

"What about the winter heating?" Bakhtiyar asked.

"Good point!" Liv responded. "I think the optimal variant would be either a district heating tap, or a gas-fired boiler. Possibly biogas? Oh, oh! We might want to add a biogas production digester to the maintenance area!" she shouted in excitement.

"Alright, that's a great idea," Bakhtiyar said. "This is a hotel, there might be plenty of unfinished meals around here... and if there's a space for an anaerobic digester, this might cut down on garbage pick-ups... that's brilliant!"

"Thank you, I'm trying," Liv smirked.

"So what else is on the list?" Wolfgang asked. "The rest of the floors? The attic? The ballroom?"

"The ballroom was converted to a movie theater about 10 years after the War," Liv responded. "This might need a bunch of technical updates, and the decor there is definitely... an interesting addition. It's more Art Deco than baroque of the other places in here."

"Okay, let's just keep going," Bakhtiyar said. "We can just about do everything to best standard if we really try!"

"Agreed!" Wolfgang said. "Let's go!" He set off, and the trio continued into the other parts of the hotel, surveying the aspects of work to be done in the coming weeks.

#duchowiesen #short story #original fiction #urban fantasy #dieselpunk #railway hotel #winter garden #renovations with gusto #construction crew

[21kschool]

The Future of Homeschooling is Here

A decade ago, it would have seemed highly improbable to fathom an online school curriculum in all its innovation and the broad spectrum of specialisations offered. Today, online school education is any parent’s dream come true.

The pandemic accelerated the drive for innovation in education technology and management. So much so that today’s youth does not have any dearth of courses and programs to choose from. This exists even as there are reduced course fees and materials costs. Even though there was an initial adjustment period, entrepreneurs pushed for an easy and accessible K12 homeschooling system online.

Bringing home the internet revolution

The future of education is here — or it is on its way. A new type of "school" will mark the education system in the next few years: the homeschool.

The internet revolution has begun, and it is not going away anytime soon. Video-conferencing companies like Google Hangouts and Skype are becoming more popular with every passing year, and teachers are finding new ways to incorporate technology into their lesson plans.

Parents are also getting in on the action; they are taking advantage of online learning tools that allow them to monitor their child's progress at home with ease. Everyone wants to be involved in this new wave of education, even if they are not necessarily in favor of it.

This may come as no surprise; after all, many parents are eager for their children to succeed academically and want nothing more than to be able to help them achieve their goals. However, what does this mean for schools? Many experts believe that homeschooling will redefine how our children learn by exposing them to new ideas and perspectives that are often missing from traditional schooling environments.

Homeschooling as a concept is not new. It has been around for years, but with the internet revolution, it has become easy to access in today's world. From learning resources to coaching teachers to monitoring progress, there are multiple options available.

There are several reasons why parents choose to homeschool their children. Some of them have been listed below:

1. Individuality and personal attention

2. Customized education system

3. No homework or tests

4. Flexible schedule

5. Opportunity to travel and learn

6. Opportunity to pursue interests like art, sports, etc.

Novel tools for teaching

Technology can help teachers in the classroom and students at home. There are many novel tools for teaching, and we need to redefine what education can be as a whole. Here are three features of new technology that could change how and where children learn:

1. Digital curriculum allows for more flexibility within the classroom and at home.

2. Tech-based testing allows for easier grading and saves paper.

3. Virtual reality will allow students to participate in immersive field trips from the comfort of their own homes or classrooms.

A redefinition and an ed-tech revolution  

As a parent, you want the best for your child's education. But you also know that what counts as a "good education" is constantly evolving in a rapidly changing world, and what schools are offering today is not necessarily the best preparation for tomorrow.

Infrastructure and classrooms for all K12 educators

Partnering with K12 education software giants could bring about the remedial requirements for an affordable online education. Infrastructure can be talked about in online terms, as can classrooms for children and teachers daily. Classrooms can be accessed from a system at home, and other amenities could be shared amongst those less privileged.

For example, books and study materials can be exchanged at an online school sponsored by a donor or senior children.

K12 education and homeschooling

Homeschooling needs interaction and engagement hours apart from family in order to be successful. K12 education is a large part of a child's journey from adolescence to adulthood. The interactions among people, the debates, and the arguments about different issues will lead to the realization of these ed-tech pursuits.

Media associations and K12 ed-tech companies on the internet are well suited to take advantage of a primary focus on such relationships. Parents can engage online in school infrastructure and fees discussions. Children can share their learning with other children through media such as podcasts.

Homeschooling and transformation in K12 education

Homeschoolers have the same access to community resources as public-school students, but they also have the luxury of one-on-one instruction with a parent or tutor who knows them well. They can adapt their curriculum to individual strengths and weaknesses, and they are not limited by age.

Nevertheless, in redefining the future of education through education management and technology, we can envision brighter prospects for our children.

The pandemic has provided time and compressed space for exploring K12 education with value and a plethora of inexpensive resources for children. In a hybrid avatar, Homeschooling could definitely start a new decade of value education.

Take the first step in giving your child the pursuit of a happy life through a well-endorsed K12 education. Come, build a future generation of knowledge leaders and community members worldwide.

#online school education #homeschooling in india #k12 education #onlinelearning

[pashterlengkap]

We’ll learn how to win: HRC’s first president says history proves LGBTQ+ folks can take on the right

October marks LGBTQ+ History Month.  It’s a time to remember the history that is often forgotten and honor the many strides the LGBTQ+ community has made in recent decades. As a queer young person myself, I wanted to better understand the rich history that came before me to gain a deeper appreciation of what it means to be a queer American at this moment in time.  Related: To hide our history is to deny our existence: Kids must learn what queer folks have given the world Queer people gave us computers, the Mona Lisa, and “Where the Wild Things Are.” LGBTQ+ youth deserve to see that they aren’t alone. I spoke with Victor Basile, a long-time LGBTQ+ rights advocate and the first executive director of the Human Rights Campaign, the nation’s largest queer rights advocacy group. Basile was also the co-founder of the LGBTQ+ Victory Fund, which supports LGBTQ+ political candidates. This year, he released his memoir Bending Toward Justice, about the history of HRC. Get the Daily Brief The news you care about, reported on by the people who care about you: Subscribe to our Newsletter In our conversation, I was looking for context: I needed something to help me understand the wave of anti-LGBTQ+ attacks we’ve seen in recent years.  Together, we sat down virtually to look at where we stand and where we go from here.  LGBTQ Nation: Can you provide an overview of the current landscape of LGBTQ+ rights for queer youth in the US today? Victor Basile: It’s pretty rough. We’re facing an onslaught of bills against queer youth, with more than 420 anti-LGBTQ bills having been introduced into state/local legislatures this year. They come mostly from red states and queer youth are largely the ones targeted. Until recently we’ve made some great progress. And it’s only in recent years that have we seen — what I call “emboldened behavior — because anti-gay politicians see a political advantage. I see this as a fairly recent development. And it may get rougher before it gets better. LGBTQ Nation: What do you mean by ‘get rougher’? VB: In red states, little will get in the way of the passage of many of these anti-LGBTQ bills, try as we might. There are just too many states and too many legislators to successfully fight. But just as we did in the 80s and early 90s when things were so bad, we did learn how to fight and we did learn how to win. And the same is true now: We’re eventually going to beat these attacks back if we stay focused and organized. We’ve been down this road before.  LGBTQ Nation: Tell me more about the period of time when you served as the head of the Human Rights Campaign  VB: There were frequent ‘gay bashings’ directed mostly at gay men [like Matthew Shepard]. The police would do little to help, they would say the victim got what they deserved for being gay and the courts would agree.  The government also turned its back on us when AIDS came around as we watched thousands of people die, which started around 1983. It took Ronald Reagan until 1987, when he made a speech about it. Every year up until then, his administration zeroed out any funding for AIDS research. It wasn’t until 1983 that Congress put money on the books to fight AIDS. But queer youth today don’t know much about that history. Through telling these stories, it may give some hope to today’s youth that we may overcome.  LGBTQ Nation: What’s on your mind this LGBTQ History Month?  VB: To know us is to love us; the more visibility, the better life is. Do you know how National Coming Out Day started? It grew from the War Conference held in 1988, which was a gathering of about 275 activists around the country to address the government’s handling of the AIDS epidemic. It was called this way because we felt, back then, that the government was at war with us. And the overwhelming conclusion, despite all our disagreements, was the need for people to be “out” in public and that would eventually change people’s minds about our community. I was there.… http://dlvr.it/Sxywq3

[hjellacott]

We talk a lot about our negative experiences with trans people, and perhaps because of that, I have been feeling luckier to have trans friends who give me a drastically different, very positive and wonderful kind of experience, and I thought I'd comment on it here a bit to give a bit of hope to my feminist friends who feel like they'll never be able to be friends with trans people.

I've talked about them several times here, but if you're new to my Tumblr, pretty much 90% of my friends are gays and lesbians, because we work in the arts and you know how that goes, and a small portion of them have come out as trans in the last few years, including an ex-girlfriend (who's now ex-boyfriend) and a couple MtF friends. I have more "mates" who are trans, but I'd rather only talk about those actual friends close enough to me for me to know their stories better.

One of my most recent experiences of absolute light with them came when one of my MtF friends, who I've known for about a decade now, and I went out for lunch one day. We live in different countries now, so we don't meet often, and the last time I'd seen her, she didn't look like a woman at all just yet. And I remember when she identified as a gay man, she used to be very unhappy with her hair. She has this thickly curly hair that as a man, she kept short because she didn't want people to call her feminine or anything (this was when we were teens, for context), and now she's let her hair grow. It's long, blonde, and super curly, and GORGEOUS. And I was frustrated with my hair because it's quite wavy too, but I can never manage to keep the waves from looking entangled, so we sat, and over a wonderful lunch at a bar, she told me all the tricks and I was thinking HOLD MY BEER! I don't have to spend hours trying to figure out "women's things" ever again! Now I've got this friend who'll look everything up and help me out! Yes! And anyway, it was so much fun. She's also helped me manage heels a little better (because I was always a tomboy but now I'm expected to wear heels at work, and I suck), and in exchange, I'm giving her tips about bras, shaving, and make-up, but also, it's not like being a woman is just "womanly" things, so we're having to talk about other stuff, and I've found SUCH A JOY discussing stuff like feminism with her, and introducing her to concerns that, as a man, she never had to deal with, and that now are part of her day to day. She's become so much more understanding of women's problems, so much more empathetic, and it's only made our relationship better, so my heart swells every time I see her.

But perhaps the one that made me the happiest recently came with my ex, actually. He's been trying to be more "manly", and trying to change his clothes. I mean he always dressed in a rather "manly" way ANYWAY but still, he insisted. And he's German and I haven't been able to visit him in Germany in ages, so instead he's been sending me pictures modelling for me and it brings tear to my eyes, because I knew him when he identified as a lesbian woman and was depressed as fuck all the time because she didn't feel comfortable in who she was, and now I see this goofy dude being like "aren't I handsome with this shirt?" and the light is BACK in his eyes, and I cannot put into words how it feels like to see someone be brought back to life just by looking the way they feel is right.

[nancypullen]

I’m  Excited!

All summer long you’ve heard me say I’m tired, I’m sick, I’m blah blah blah.  Today I’m telling you that I’m excited!  By the way, that key on my laptop still isn’t working - the one between Z and C.  I avoid using words with that letter in them, but when I can’t  I type the word I want into my search bar, Google guesses what I meant without the missing letter and offers me the word, then I copy and paste it into my sentence.  Does that seem ridiculous to you? It is.  But I will copy and paste for months if I have to in order avoid hearing the mister tell me how I’ve abused this old laptop.  Then he’ll order a new one and I’ll have to A) get used to it and B) listen to him complain about all of the junk transferring from my old laptop to the new one.  “Do you know how many pictures you have on here?!?”   Copy and paste doesn’t seem so silly now, does it?  Besides, I can usually think of a half dozen synonyms for the word I want to use. I’m a short girl with limited education, I’ve spent my entire life finding work-arounds. Anyyyyywayyyy, back to why I am thrilled, enraptured, electrified, delighted.  I did something last week that I have rarely done in nearly four decades of marriage.  I put my foot down.  My size 6  (well, more of a 6.5 now) foot has scarcely ever been used to get my way. I would almost always rather keep the peace, see someone else happy, or admit that the issue simply isn’t as important to me as it is to my partner.  As the third child in a family family of five I was also the model of compromise, it never caused me any heartache. But as a post-menopausal woman I’m finding great delight in getting what I want.  That’s not to say that I don’t often get what I want, you know I have a husband who loves to surprise me.  I guess I’m finding joy in voicing what I want. That sounds better than demanding.  But I digress.... When we were driving home from D.C. Mickey had two choices, listen to me sing along to every song on the radio or talk to me.  We were chatting about this and that, stuff that still needs to be done to the house and when we’d do it...and I said, “I’m going to tell you something that won’t make you happy.”  He responded, “What’s that?”, and I proceeded to tell him that I’m taking over the room at the front of the house.  It sits empty, it’s wasted space, he doesn’t want it for his office, it can’t be used as a guest room, we don’t need a formal dining room, and I am aching for a space that I can call my own and use to create art, write, make jewelry, whatever!  I added that we could move my desk out of the grandgirl’s room, I’ll find a cabinet to keep all of my supplies tidy and tucked away, and wave my magic wand to make it a beautiful space.  His beef in the past was that he didn’t want a craft room to be the first thing people see when they come in the door.  Newsflash - no one is coming in the door.  Also, I’m going to make it so pretty that all people will see is a lovely room....that may have some paintings drying in it.  I was ready to defend my decision and release all of my pent up frustrations to plead my case when he shrugged and said, “Okay, I’ll get Tyler to help me move your desk.”  Wait, what?  It was that easy?   I leaped into action before he could have second thoughts.  Remember that I’d painted the desk pink?  As wasteful as it is, I knew it needed to be repainted. That didn’t break my heart - I was really unhappy with the quality of the paint I used.  Some people swear by Dixie Belle chalk paint, I hate it.  I love Country Chic paint.  As a gal who has painted everything paintable, take my word for it.  Anywho, the pink desk was brought downstairs and my planning started.  Taking into consideration the wall color and floor color, I chose a deep teal called Jitterbug.  I’m going to add some floral touches on the desk, maybe a pretty area rug, and I’d like to do a gallery wall behind the desk if I can find enough old frames to paint.    Grabbing images online, I slapped together a quick idea.  This is crude and basic...but you get the idea.

For the gallery wall I’ll use a combination of photos from our travels, art pieces, and quotes.  One of my favorites:

I found that teal background (I think it’s actually a fabric sample) and placed the quote on top.  It’ll be pretty in a gold frame.    I’ll add a cabinet across the room, nothing huge, maybe put a plant and a pretty lamp on it.  In another corner a comfy chair will be perfect for reading.  I can do about 90% of this with what I already have, the cabinet and the rug will have to be purchased but you know I won’t pay full price.  I’ll go haunt my favorite used furniture store. Isn’t this exciting?!? A space of my own dedicated to creativity! Oh my word!!!  I’ll be honest, I’ve really been missing the window in front of my desk in Mt. Juliet.  I watched the seasons change, I watched birds nest and bunnies play, I did a lot of cloud gazing and sunset sighing there.  I won’t have that again, but I will have more room instead of a corner of a room.  I’ve put a bird bath and a feeder (well, Mickey hung the feeder for me) outside the window of the room.  Although it faces the street, it’s a cul-de-sac so there’s really no traffic.  I’m slowly luring songbirds to our spot.  We’re seeing cardinals, chickadees, and finches now. Progress!  I’ll carve out another sweet place for us, it’ll just take time.  The thought of having this room for making art and stringing words together into poems and silly stories lifts my heart immeasurably. Did I mention that there’s room for dancing in there? Bonus! I haven’t been able to let my imagination run out of my fingertips for months - I haven’t made any cards, earrings, anything since I packed up my supplies in Tennessee.  I suppose my outlet has been putting together rooms in this new house - that’s something!  But the last couple of nights have been spent designing cards.  I made a little something fun that I’ll print and put together for my sweet friends back in Wilson County, and then this one...it still needs some work, I think the caption is a little clumsy and needs to be refined, but it makes me laugh.

It should probably just say “Ed wondered why...” but confused is a funnier word. So that’s all of my rambling nonsense for the day.  I’m going to put a last coat of Jitterbug on my desk drawers and let that dry before putting the hardware back on and getting started on the rest of the room.   MY room.  My space.  I could even call it a studio if I wanted to, which it’s not and I won’t, but I could.  I think I’ll crank up Daydream Believer and celebrate the possibilities. Stay safe, stay well, stay true to yourself.

Nancy

[itsapeterthing]

All of You || Bucky Barnes

pairing: bucky barnes x avenger!reader

request: “can you please write a bucky x fem!reader where the reader comforts bucky because he thinks of his arm as a weapon and is ashamed of it but she’s like ‘i love every single part of you’”

word count: 1.7k

warnings: bucky questioning his self worth, fearing hurting you

masterlist || request || taglist

Turning to your side, you noticed the empty space beside you- the sheets pushed towards the end of the bed and the indent in the pillow still visible. You reached out your hands, feeling the empty space where your boyfriend should have been and furrowed your eyebrows.

You carefully slipped the sheets off of your figure, swinging your legs over the side of the bed. When your feet met the cold, cement floor below you, you hissed at the feeling, but almost silently made your way out of your room.

Your feet padded down the hallway to the common room of the Compound, not wanting to wake anyone else up. When you made your way to the threshold of the room you could see the soft glow of the lamp on, highlighting Bucky’s features as he sat in an arm chair facing the window.

Before you could even step into the room, Bucky watched your reflection in the window and spoke, causing you to stay glued to your spot.

“Did I wake you?” He asked.

Leaning against the doorframe and watching his reflection in the window you smiled. “No, baby. Just woke up and you weren’t there.”

You watched as your boyfriend leaned his head on his hand, back still turned towards you as he sat in the chair. Rather than giving you an explanation for his absence he sighed.

“You should go back to bed, doll.” He said.

“Come with me?” You asked, reaching out your hand for him, but rather than him standing up from his seat he shook his head.

“I... I can’t.”

You quirked your eyebrows, crossing the common room to stand in front of him. When he looked up at you, you could see the dark circles under his eyes and you knew he was exhausted despite denying coming back to bed with you.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, reaching out your hands for his.

Without a word he took your hands in his, pulling you into his lap. As you sat comfortably in his lap, you felt his hand run up and down your back, his vibranium one gripping the arm rest beside him.

“Buck?” You asked, moving your hand to hold his face in your hand, running your thumb along his cheek. “Why won’t you come back to bed? Did I... did I do something? Or...”

As soon as the words slipped out of your mouth, his hands halted their pace on your back and he snapped his head up to face you, eyes wide, shaking his head.

“No. No, doll, you could never do anything wrong.” He said in a hushed voice. “I don’t want you to ever think that.”

Gazing at his face, you moved your hand from his cheek into his hair, running your fingers through his freshly cut strands.

“Then why did you leave?” You asked.

He could still hear the sleepiness in your voice and see the exhaustion in your eyes and he felt bad for causing you to come searching for him... but he would have felt even more awful if he stayed and something bad had happened.

“I... I don’t want to hurt you.” He told you, looking you in the eyes. “I don’t know what I would do with myself if anything bad happened to you.”

He moved his flesh hand to cup your face and watched as confusion made its way across your features.

“Why would you hurt me, Buck?” You asked, pulling your hands away from his hair to hold the hand of his that was cupping your face.

“It’s my arm.” He told you.

You immediately knew which one he meant and your eyes darted to the vibranium hand that hadn’t even brushed your skin, kept away from you still gripping the armrest.

You had known that Bucky was ashamed of his past and feared being used as a weapon again after spending decades of his life as an assassin under Hydra’s control. It was a given, but what you didn’t know was that even after years of being freed from Hydra’s control while he was in Wakanda and given a new arm that he was afraid of hurting you- so much so he couldn’t even sleep in bed besides you out of fear of what could happen if he lost control.

“Baby...” You cooed.

“Just look at it, Y/n.” He shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut. “They gave me this thing so I could become a better killer. It’s- it’s a weapon. I wasn’t myself for so long and they used this thing to hurt people. I hurt people I cared about and I didn’t even know.”

You could see how hurt he was and you moved your hands to lay against his chest. “Buck, that wasn’t you. That isn't you-”

Without opening his eyes he continued.

“I couldn’t sleep because all I could think about is that I could close my eyes and- and hurt you.” He said, voice trembling. “I can control myself when I’m awake, but what happens if you’re next to me and I can’t stop it? What happens if I wake up and-”

You cupped his face, urging him to open his eyes and look at you, not wanting him to sink even deeper into his own waking nightmare.

“Bucky that won't happen.” You assured him. “I’m okay. I’ll be okay.”

“I don’t know what I’d do with myself.” He said, finally opening his eyes. “I couldn’t live with myself if anything happened to you.”

Your eyes met each other and as you stared into his you gave him a sad smile.

To his surprise he watched as you moved your hand down to meet his vibranium one beside you and although he couldn’t physically feel your touch, you know he felt it on the inside when you gripped his hand.

“Nothing is going to happen to me, Buck.” You nearly whispered. “You’re not going to hurt me. You’re not the winter soldier anymore, baby. He’s gone. You’re in control and as for the arm... it’s not the same one that they gave you-”

“I hate this stupid fucking arm-”

“Don’t say that, Buck.” You told him seriously. “This arm is part of you-”

He shook his head and you could see the hurt in his eyes.

“Stop, Y/n.” He said. “Stop pretending that you like it. Stop pretending that you don’t hate it. If I could still have my normal arm-”

Angry that he was saying such horrible things about himself, you picked up his vibranium hand and held it close to your chest.

“Stop it, Bucky!” You nearly shouted if it weren’t for it being one in the morning. “Stop hating yourself for the things you can’t control. I don’t care that your arm is made of vibranium and I wouldn’t care if it was made of flesh. I don’t give a shit, okay? Because I love you. I love you, James. I love every single part of you. Every single part.”

Your eyes met his as you raised his vibranium hand to your lips and pressed a kiss onto it.

Although your boyfriend often attempted to keep his emotions to himself, his eyes betrayed him as you began to see tears pooling within them.

Bucky couldn't help himself. He had hated himself for so long because of the actions he had committed in a past he wasn’t in control of. To him, his arm was a constant reminder of the atrocities the winter soldier had committed and he had always feared being used as a weapon again, but when you kissed his hand, assuring him that you loved every single part of him and that the man he was today was not the same as ten years ago, he couldn’t help but cry.

“I love you, baby.” You told him, dropping his hand and swapping to hold his face. “I love you so much. All of you.”

Through his tears he smiled, but before a single word could slip out of his mouth, you pulled his face towards yours and allowed your lips to meet his. You could feel both of his hands wrap around your waist as he pulled you closer to him, deepening the kiss.

Bucky Barnes regretted a lot of things in his long life, but being with you would never ever be one of them. You helped him not only accept himself, but love his new chance at life with you and he was grateful to have your presence in his life every single day.

As he pulled away from you, he moved his hand to wipe at the tears that had stained his cheeks and smiled.

“I love you so much, Y/n.” He told you. “More than you know.”

You smiled.

“I know, Buck.”

Right as you were about to lean in for another kiss you heard the sound of someone clearing their throat coming from the doorway. Pulling away from Bucky, you looked up to see none other than your boyfriend’s best friend leaning on the doorframe, arms crossed, smirking.

When Bucky looked over his shoulder and saw Steve standing there he rolled his eyes.

“Leave us alone, Steve.” He groaned and you couldn’t help but laugh.

Steve laughed, pushing himself off of the doorframe.

“Alright, alright fine.” Steve gave in, making his way out of the room. “Just quiet down out here.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” Bucky grumbled.

Steve waved to you as he exited the room and you laughed, pushing yourself off of your boyfriend’s lap. You took Bucky’s hands in yours and pulled on them to ease him out of the armchair.

“Let’s go to bed, hmm?” You hummed, a light smile still playing on your face.

Bucky threw back his head, smiling before allowing you to pull him out of his seat. When he was finally back on his feet, you felt his vibranium arm wrap around your waist as he switched off the lamp beside him.

Kissing your forehead, he guided you out of the room and whispered, “I love you, Y/n.”

Wrapping your arm around his torso you smiled. “I love you too, Buck. Now let’s get some sleep.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes blurb #Bucky Barnes drabble #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff

[watchmegetobsessed]

PAPER-THIN WALLS

a/n: i woke up totally in themood to write just straight up smut... and that's what i did lmao. there's not much plot in it, just a whole lot of fucking, so enjoy!

pairing: Bucky X Reader

warnings: sexual content, unprotected sex, oral, the good stuff

word count: 3.8k

masterlist

The Avengers compound was built almost perfectly with its luxurious suits, several entertainment rooms, fully equipped training areas and millions of hidden snack and drink bars all across the building. But the stress this time is on almost.

Bucky was never sure if the walls were originally built to keep less noise than in any other buildings, or if it was just his super hearing that allowed him to catch conversations and noises that weren’t meant for his ears. He would often hear gossiping agents as he walked down the hallways, or Vision and Wanda talk about recipes and TV shows in her room and there was this one time he heard Nat and Bruce have a discussion that was surely not meant to be heard by anyone but the two of them. He is still trying to get rid of the words he heard.

Having a room next to yours, he often sat on his bed, hearing you shuffling around, humming to yourself. As the latest addition to the Avengers, you felt a little out of place at the compound, like you were a stranger to the team even though they never gave you a reason to think so. This feeling of not belonging is what brought you closer to the century old super soldier on the other side of the wall, who despite being free from the claws of Hydra finally, still felt like an outsider in the superhero filled complex. Bucky always thought he was hard to make friends with, but he had to realize that it was all about who he was trying to make friends with. Because with you, it was an instant, like he had known you his whole life, you’ve definitely become one of the closest people to his heart in a very short time.

With this friendship came some undeniable feelings and tension from Bucky’s part. He couldn’t help but fall for you, how couldn’t he? He would have been surprised if it didn’t happen, after spending so much time with you. He found himself craving your presence, to be with you, talk to you and listen to you at the same time. He was a sucker for your lame jokes that he would laugh at even if they weren’t that funny. He loved your enthusiasm whenever you brought a new book and basically told him the whole plot, spoiling the story, but he never minded, because the way you rambled in excitement made up for everything.

And of course, he has been attracted to you since day one. Even when you weren’t that close, he couldn’t deny how much it affected him when he saw you spar with Steve at the gym in just some tight shorts and a sports bra, or when you linger around in the kitchen early in the morning wearing only an oversized shirt and your underwear hidden under the long fabric. It stirred his fantasies that’ve been sleeping for decades and late at night, when he was lying in his bed restless, his vibranium hand firmly curling around his erection, he thought about you. How you’d taste and feel, what it would be like to have your body pressed against his, his name falling from your lips in a whimper as he pleases you all over and over again. Sometimes he felt dirty after an elaborate fantasy, barely able to look into your eyes, but he just couldn’t help it. You had him in the palm of your hand.

What he doesn’t know is that he is not the only one with fantasies and desires. Because on the other side of the wall, you’ve often found yourself craving the mixture of warm and cold touch from flesh and metal hands, toned muscles flexing under your palms, pink lips whispering into your ears as you arch against his body… Bucky has been living in your mind rent free and you’ve been having a hard time containing your desire for the super soldier.

Having sex dreams is not at all a new thing for you. It happens every once in a while, waking from a heated scene only to find yourself alone in the comfort of your room, a thin layer of sweat coating your skin as you try to bring yourself back to reality. It was never an inconvenience, but in the past few days it’s been getting worse. You’ve had a wet dream for three days in a row, jolting awake right when you were about to climax, a wave of disappointment washing over your body as you fisted the sheets in your sweaty palms. And the worst part? All of them have been about Bucky.

It’s another sleepless night for Bucky, nothing new. He has tried to chase himself into sleep with everything already, TV, ready, music, even counting sheep, but nothing seems to be working, so he is left with lying in his bed, staring at the blank ceiling, the soft bed sheet throw across his naked upper body, only wearing a pair of boxer briefs, because it’s been hot these past week, but he is not a fan of using the air-condition. The dogtags are lying messily on his naked chest, his vibranium finger playing with the wrinkles of the sheets mindlessly.

His eyes slowly flutter closed, a promise of some rest finally nearing the corner, but right just then, he hears some muffled noise coming from the other side of the wall. His eyes snap open as he sits up, trying to make out what it is, but he catches no words, just… grunts and some shallow panting, as if someone was struggling.

What if you’re sick and something is wrong? You’ve been a little worn off the past days, maybe something was lingering in you.

Kicking the sheets off of himself, he pads his way to the door, his bare feet tapping on the hardwood floor as he walks out of his room, heading to yours, stopping at the door. Pressing his flesh hand to the door he takes a moment to listen to the voices so he can make out what’s happening, but it really feels like you’re in a struggle, but he has no idea why. Knocking lightly on the door he hopes to get an answer, but nothing of sort comes and he stays still, debating whether he should go in or just leave. Right when he is about to retreat he hears you gasping, as if you’re at a short of breath and it pushes him to check in on you.

Opening the door he pops his head inside, the darkness fully taking up the room, your king sized bed in the middle, a few strikes of moonlight sneaking through the curtains that are not entirely drawn.

“Y/N?” he calls out softly, not wanting to startle you, but no answer comes once again, however he can see your figure tossing and turning under the sheets, another gasp slipping through your lips.

He walks closer, stopping at your bedside, seeing how your eyebrows are pulled together tensely, chest heaving as you keep moving around. Bucky feels like an intruder, you’re definitely asleep, probably having a nightmare, but he is not sure if he should be in here. Should he wake you? Or just leave? Would you be mad if you found him here upon waking up? After some hesitation he decides it’s better if he leaves, but right as he turns around, taking just one step towards the door, he finally hears a word from you.

“Bucky,” you whine, his name coming out a little slurred, but still clear to him. “Bucky, please!” you continue, his eyes widening as his head snaps around, eyes returning to you. You’re still asleep, but he notices your hand moving down your chest and then disappearing under the sheets, between your legs. That’s when he realizes that it’s not a nightmare. You’re having a sex dream about him.

Clearly trying to chase your release, your lips part as you moan, the voice instantly making Bucky’s cock twitch while hardening. His hands curl into fists as he is fighting himself whether he should do something or leave, but when his name slips through your lips again, he goes feral. He would be damned if he lets you get stuck in your dream when he can please you in real life.

He finds himself striding back to your bed faster like ever, like an elegant lion, hungry for his prey as one of his knees sink into the mattress between your open legs, keeping his weight up on one arm while the other finds your waist. The shirt you always sleep in has ridden up to just below your breasts, the exposed skin watering Bucky’s mouth as he squeezes your waist gently but firmly enough to wake you from your fever dream.

Your eyes snap open and you stare up at him slack-mouthed, your brain barely able to process the sudden change between the Bucky in your dream and the one holding himself up above you in real life.

“Bucky? I—“ you breathe out, the cloud of confusion on your head making it hard to even form a sentence. He leans down, his face just inches away from yours and even though it’s quite dark, his blue eyes are basically piercing. His dogtags fall to your chest, right above your wildly racing heart and you wonder if he can hear the pounding in your ribcage.

“Shh, I’m gonna take care of you,” he whispers and without a warning, his lips crash down onto yours.

It’s so hard and passionate, filled with hunger and longing, the air gets knocked right out of your chest as you eagerly kiss him back while he slowly moves himself until he is fully between your legs, his hips coming down to meet yours and you moan when you feel his erection pressing against your already soaking wet core. Your hands find their way up into his hair, grabbing a fistful of it and he can’t stop himself from growling at your action, grinding himself against your hips, both of you desperate to take it further.

Pushing himself up into a kneeling position, he grabs your panties and tugs them down your bare legs, throwing them across the room before he rids you from your shirt as well, so now you’re lying completely naked in front of his lustful eyes. He could devour you with just his icy blue eyes, he looks glorious, towering above you with his broad, muscular shoulders and toned chest, you’ve never been more desperate for a man before.

Your desire takes action, pushing yourself up your lips meet his chest, kissing the hot skin, your tongue sloppily pressing against him as you make your way up on his body. His vibranium fingers tangle into your hair as he holds the back of your head, pulling you up to kiss you again, both of you in a kneeling position while your hand reaches into his underwear, palming his hard cock, feeling up his size before you push the fabric down and he kicks it off easily, his erection now pressed between the two of you teasing and tempting you, making you buck your hips forward just for the slightest friction.

“Were you dreaming of me, doll? Huh?” he questions, his lips nibbling on your lower lip as he takes it between his teeth and gently tugs on it.

“Yeah,” you breathe out, hands grabbing onto his hips before they move down to his bare ass, pulling him closer to you, earning a moan from him.

“And what was I doing in your dream?” He kisses down your neck, stopping at a soft spot before he starts sucking and biting on it, marking you as his, something he’s been aching to do since the moment he laid eyes on you for the first time. Your brain almost shuts down, one of his hands is on your jaw, keeping your head in place, while the other one is gripping your waist harshly, his fingers digging into your muscles. You fail to answer his question as just a whimper leaves your lips at the sensation.

“Words, sweetheart. Use your words for me, will you?”

“I, uhh—You used your f-fingers,” you croak out, a satisfied grin tugging on Bucky’s lips at your words.

He pushes you back on the bed, making you lie on your back as he gets on top of you once again, but this time he doesn’t stay like that long, after a hard kiss he climbs down until his face aligns with your core, his hands parting your legs widely, baring you to him fully.

“Tell me, where did I use my fingers?” he hums, face so close to your center that you can feel his hot breath on you. He teases you, running his hands up and down your spread thighs, his fingers just grazing your folds before moving away every time.

“Bucky, please!” you cry out, grinding your hips up, but you only reach his chin before he leans back with a pleased grin on his face.

“Just tell me and I’ll do it. Where did I use my fingers?” he repeats.

“On my pussy! You fingered me!” you groan, your cheeks heating up from the blunt comment you just made, but it’s exactly what Bucky wanted to hear.

Two of his fingers find your clit easily, starting off with slowly drawing circles on it, stimulating your nerves and it’s nothing like in your dream. You curse under your breath when his fingers move to your hole and he pushes both of them inside, his lips taking their place on your clit.

“Oh fuck!” you groan in pleasure, your hands immediately snapping to his head, fingers lacing into his chocolate locks as you shamelessly grind against his face.

Bucky is not a man of many words, but god damn, he can use his mouth like a fucking master. It feels like your whole body is on fire, you’re sweating and shaking, his fingers curl inside you every time he thrusts into you and he is stroking that one heavenly spot inside you that makes your eyes roll back into your head. His tongue is slick and sloppy against your wet pussy, but he is drinking it all up as if you were his last meal before death.

“Shit, I’m gonna cum! Bucky!” you gasp as your back arches at the sensation, your orgasm building up rapidly.

“Cum on my tongue and fingers, let me make your dream come true,” he growls against your heat, picking up the pace of his fingers which completely throws you over the edge.

You come with chanting his name over and over again as you ride your high, thighs shaking and tightening on either side of his head until you’re finally able to catch your breath.

Bucky pushes himself up, his lips glistening from your juices and you watch him wipe his mouth with his fingers, licking them afterwards like he just finished eating a chocolate cake, a satisfied grin on his ridiculously handsome face. He crawls up on you until his lips can finally reach yours again, kissing you in a slower pace, but still with a lot of passion to offer.

“Tonight wasn’t my first sex dream about you,” you slyly admit, lips brushing against his as you speak.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Mhm, so there’s more to act out.” His still hard cock twitches again and you’re fast to reach down and palm him again, wrapping a hand around him as you give his cock a few lazy stokes, but it surely has an effect on him.

You’re quick to turn him over, pushing him to lie on his back as you straddle him, steading yourself with holding onto his waist, his eyes bore into yours intently and your mouth hangs open when you grind against him, his hard cock sliding between your wet folds.

“The other day, I dreamed about riding you, your cock filled me up so good, but right when I was about to cum I woke up,” you tell him, not sure how this sudden confidence came from, but you just can’t help yourself. Bucky growls at your words as his fingers dig into your thighs.

“Then let’s make up for that, love,” he breathes out and you nod eagerly, lifting yourself up just enough to position him to your hole and then you sink down as far as you can, his dick filling you up inch by inch and your breath hitches when you finally settle, his length fully buried inside you.

“Oh, fuck!” you whine before you start moving yourself up and down his cock, grinding back and forth, the feeling of him inside you so intoxicating, you think for a moment that this might still be your dream. If it is, you hope you don’t wake up this time.

Though your training has strengthened your legs so you are able to ride him in this position longer, it still tires you out. Bucky notices when your movements slow down, his hands running up your torso, kneading your breasts before they end up on the back of your neck, pulling you down so you lie on top of him, his strong arms wrapping around you. His lips kiss the side of your head before he starts thrusting up into you, doing the work for you this time. You can’t stop yourself from moaning and whimpering as your second orgasm is starting to build up, your senses are on the edge.

“Fuck, Y/N, I’m so close,” he gasps, his thrusts becoming a little uncoordinated and you feel the same way, only moments away from your climax.

You push yourself up, pulling him with you, wanting to take back control before you both reach your relief, you get into a sitting position that allows you to grind in his lap, moving your hips back and forth as fast as you can. Bucky’s lips find yours again, kissing your sloppily before they travel down your neck and he licks at your collarbone as you hold onto his broad shoulders.

“You feel so fucking good, oh God!” he whines, his head falling backwards as you keep moving, both of you sweating, but neither of you really cares, you’re just relentlessly chasing your high again.

“I want to feel you cum. Please, Bucky!” you beg him, squeezing your walls around him, the action completely maddening the man as he holds you to his chest and flips you over with ease, his body weighing down on you as he starts fucking into you fast and hard. You could throw a fuss about how he took control again, but you don’t mind it, not at all. Because the way he pounds into you, his cock disappearing to the last inch inside you with each thrust, your whole body starts shaking as your orgasm finally reaches you.

Your squeeze your walls again around him and the moment he hears his name fall from your trembling lips he cums inside of you, filling you up entirely, marking you with his pleasure.

He rides his high with a few more sloppy thrusts until he stops, his forehead falling against yours as you both try to catch your breath. He captures your lips in a soft and slow kiss, so different from the ones you shared before. Then he finally rolls off of you and you let out a displeased grunt when you feel him slide out of you.

For a while it’s just the silence in the room mixed with your soft panting, but he is the first one to break it as his head rolls to the side, looking at you with those fucked-out eyes of his.

“How long have you been having these dreams?” he asks, turning to his side so his hand can spread out on your naked stomach, fingers drawing tiny circles on your sweaty skin.

“A while,” you admit.

“I wish I heard you earlier through the wall,” he chuckles, but your eyes widen.

“Wait, what? You heard me through the wall?”

“Yeah. Thought something was wrong so I came over to check on you.”

“God, I must have been really loud,” you laugh, covering your face with your hands, but he is quick to peel them off and leaning closer he kisses your lips gently.

“Don’t blame yourself, these walls are like paper. And besides…” A sly smirk tugs on his lips as his hand comes up to cup your jaw, his thumb running along the line of your bottom lip. “I fucking love it when you’re loud.”

“I wasn’t even screaming yet,” you tease back, your comment definitely catching him off-guard, but he likes it.

“We’ll get there next time.”

You and Bucky walk into the kitchen in the morning, completely oblivious to the rest of the world, still in the bliss of last night. Nat, Tony and Steve are sitting at the kitchen island, sipping on their morning coffee when you emerge from your room, all eyes immediately glued to the pair of you.

“Well, good morning, everyone,” you chuckle a little nervously, not sure what the stares mean.

“Morning,” Nat smirks, shaking her head before she turns back to the newspaper unfolded in front of her.

“Nice of you to make an appearance, I have some news to share with you all,” Tony announces as you pour some coffee for yourself while Bucky grabs everything he needs to make breakfast for the two of you. Nodding you signal to Tony that you’re listening. “I decided to do some remodeling on the compound.”

“Oh, what are you getting done?” you ask, wondering what could possibly need work on the building.

“Nothing major, I’m just gonna make the walls soundproof, so we don’t have to listen to you guys fucking all night long.”

You almost choke on your coffee at Tony’s blunt comment, cheeks heating up right away, you were not expecting that. Though he is looking at you and Bucky, who is now standing behind you with a hand on your waist, with a stern expression, you can see the small smile hiding in his eyes. He finds the situation rather amusing instead of annoying.

“Yeah, next time maybe keep it down a little,” Steve suggests as he stands from his seat, grabbing his mug. Walking past the two of you, he pats Bucky’s shoulder however. “But I’m glad you guys are finally getting it on,” he comments before walking out, Nat and Tony following him right after, leaving just you and Bucky in the kitchen.

You glance up at him with concern in your eyes, teeth sinking into your bottom lip, but he doesn’t seem to be ashamed at all. Instead, he leans down, pecks your lips shortly and then whispers:

“I told you. Paper-thin walls.”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

#bucky #bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes blurb #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x you

[littlemisslipbalm]

“it’s not that important”

Summary: Y/N is in Harry’s band and one night they have a drunken hook up. One thing leads to another and they find themselves engaging in a friend’s with benefits type of situation. spoiler: it is important

AKA: A friends with benefits to lovers story :) with some angst in there

This is for @stylesharrys fallinharry10k celebration so my trope is friends with benefits! prompt is “you have no goddamn idea what you do to me. when i’m around you, i have no control of my emotions or my thoughts” and the tenth picture ^ i kinda just used it in the beginning to descripe what he was wearing - i got really carried away with this story but the prompt is in there !! lol, not proofread tho but would love your feedback !!!! :) love y’all very much 

oh boy i’ve had this done for agesss but i hadn’t written the smut until today so now we’re here i dont even remember what happens - i vaguely remember not loving the end but I hope yall enjoy

Word Count: 15.4k (longest fic to date) | Warnings: smut, angst, fluff, alcohol consumption? i dont remember but i dont think theres anything too heavy in here.

-

“Hey Harold!” You smile as you easily hop over the side of the couch and settle beside your bandmate.

Harry groans, yet can’t keep the small smile off of his face when he sees it’s you. “How many times have I told you to never call me that?”

Your eyes narrow at his faux glare. “And how many times have I told you, I simply do not care?” 

You reach a hand out and tousle his already disheveled, unstyled brown hair. Despite his lack of styling, his hair still looked perfect. His chestnut hair fell into a middle part when he did nothing to it and you found it endearing. It made him look far younger than he truly was, like a boy you might have pursued when you were in your early days at college. The waves slightly framed his prominent cheekbones and chiseled jaw that was sporting a tiny amount of stubble.

He moves his arm from around the back of the couch to pat at his hair, trying to put it back in its nondescript position you had just messed with. After he’s satisfied, he uses the same hand to push up his glasses on the bridge of his nose. They’re chestnut brown Gucci frames that match the natural highlights in his hair. You can safely assume that’s why he bought them. The lenses are clear, but you know they don’t hold any prescription. He looks incredulously at you from behind them still.

“Nice glasses,” you mention offhandedly as you reach out to the coffee table to grab the drink you had left there earlier.

Before Harry had arrived, you had been taking up residence on the couch, in the spot he had actually taken up. You had ventured to the restroom for a moment and gotten held up in a conversation when asked your preference for the Beatles. Having to defend your staunch stance for the Beatles and against the Rolling Stones, you had gotten swept up into an argument with Adam. He believed that because the Rolling Stones toured for longer warranted them the title of best rock band. While you countered that despite their long touring and production of music, the Stones had a rotation of members. The Beatles maintained the four of them and held such a large impact even though they were barely together for a decade. They were one of a kind, or at least the first of their kind, you’d allow. You weren’t really in the mood for intellectual conversation tonight, so upon seeing Harry taking up your seat, you had told Adam you’d continue the discussion at a later date and returned to your spot.  

“Thanks,” Harry mumbles as his gaze flits around the room. He wasn’t sure if you were actually complimenting him, but he would take it as one either way.

The rest of your friends are all up and about, drinking, talking, dancing. It was the usual house party scene: a relatively intimate gathering, music you all actually liked, some friends of friends feeling slightly out of place. There was no pressure in this type of gathering but still Harry wasn’t necessarily in the party mood tonight. Usually, Harry was the one instigating these types of get-togethers with his friends and bandmates. He liked to be the life of the party, but as the tour loomed closer and closer, he felt some tinge of longing for quiet and solitude. He knew he wouldn’t have much quiet while on the road, which mostly didn’t scare him. He loved the stage and the high he received from performing and the gratification he felt from all the people in the room being there to see him. But there was also that other part of him that liked the quiet, the privacy. As the lack of alone time nudged itself around the corner, he had been hoping to enjoy solitude, or at the very least peace before he was on the road. Some sort of blissful state before technical chaos ensued. When Charlotte, the host of tonight’s soiree, had texted their group chat about tonight, Harry had politely declined. Then came the slew of private texts from Charlotte giving him all the reasons he should come tonight. He tried to say no again, but had shown up after the continued begging from her.

His appearance mirrored his expression, choosing a not perfectly fitted white t-shirt and random trousers rather than picking something he really loved, like usual. You could tell something was up and as his friend you were wondering what was wrong with him.

“Don’t sound so excited, Harry, someone might mistake you for somebody who’s happy to be here.” You stick your tongue into the side of your cheek, gauging his reaction.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re not very funny?” He quips, green eyes flashing to meet yours.

Your banter is probably how the pair of you communicated the best, never really falling into the whole serious side of friendship. You never shared those late night talks about the future or your fears. It was a fun friendship, so you didn’t fancy yourself one of his closest confidants. When it came to music, you and Harry were a bit more serious which formed a sort of paradox because the music you would share with each other gave a far greater insight into your souls than you probably realized. As a member of his band, you would discuss his music and what was going on with that sort of business part. But the sharing and discussion of other music that you did was part of your friendship, even if you didn’t see it like that. Because of the countless albums you had recommended to each other and the specific songs you had made note of, Harry and you knew each other much better than you thought you did. Music connects to something deep inside yourself and you have to like it enough and know the other person well enough to believe that they will also enjoy it to recommend it. As much tongue and cheek that you partook in with Harry, deep down, unbeknownst to either of you, you were that friend he shared his hopes and fears with, through the way he knew best, music.

“No, most people find me hilarious...”

You take a sip of your drink, trying to cover up the sting that his remark actually left. Most of the time you were great at keeping up with anyone’s banter, especially Harry’s, but tonight you weren’t feeling it. His tone had sounded so harsh it almost sounded like he meant it. His features soften when he sees the way your face falls, despite your sarcastic tone.

“‘M sorry. I’m just not in the best mood tonight. Didn’t want to come, but Charlotte…” He shifts to face you, arm retracting slightly around the couch, landing his hand at the edge of your shoulder. His fingers fiddle with themselves absentmindedly, he turns his rings around his fingers and they ever so slightly brush against your shoulder. You don’t mind, you know its his nervous tick that he did whenever he didn’t have something to clink them against.

“Yeah, same here, actually.” Your tuck an out of place hair behind your ear, returning your gaze to Harry, who’s tilting his head at you curiously. “But might as well make the most of it, though. After all, this is our last week before tour starts.” You raise your glass and tilt it towards him before taking a sip.

You really didn’t have a plan, you were just trying to make him feel a little better. It was seldom you saw him so solemn at this type of gathering. He usually was the one bouncing from group to group, entertaining everyone with his dazzling charm and quick wit. Sometimes he would bring a date and spend the night with them in the corner, but that was usually at bigger parties than this. At these types of gatherings you often found yourself talking with Charlotte for most of the night. You were both new additions in the band and you had clicked immediately. You would travel in a pair between different groups and talk with everyone. Sometimes you would tell a humorous anecdote about your life and everyone would laugh wholeheartedly. Your ability to retell a story and make it hilarious every time seemed to be your secret talent. You could make any experience into a ten-minute retelling and it always sounds like the funniest moment of your life. It ranged from your embarrassing audition for Grease as a tween to your supermarket run in with an old acquaintance or B-list celebrity the day before. It didn’t matter what it was, it just always had the entire circle of people laughing and wiping their eyes with joy. You’d laugh a little with themselves, but usually you just had a triumphant smile on your lips for the rest of the night.

He nods, sipping his own drink for the first time since you had settled down beside him. “Well, I’m all ears.”

“What?”

“Give me your suggestions on how to make the most of tonight.”

“Drinking, mostly, was my plan,” you laugh nervously as Harry continues to stare at you intently.

“Mostly?”

“I mean, what do you want me to say? I didn’t think to pack my bouncy castle, my bad.”

He bites back a laugh but lets some air escape his defined nose, before staring with a deadpan face at you.

You like to tease him. You simply liked him. Harry was different from other men you knew. You were pretty sure most people could say that though. Harry was just different. It seemed like no one could not have some sort of affection for him. With the playful friendship the pair of you had, you always skirted the edge of flirtation. But you also didn’t particularly ever want to cross any lines with him. He was the employer of you, technically. He had brought you into his backing band and you wouldn’t do anything to harm that position. As well, at the end of the day you knew Harry. His tendencies and the choices he made.

When you were around him at parties like this, you had to try really hard to keep him at an arm’s length. Because on one hand, you would drink and suddenly the boundaries you put up didn’t seem that important, instead his lips started to look rather inviting, but on the other, you knew that he was extremely emotionally closed off to any relationship that was more than either friendship or a one night stand.

Harry doesn’t give you a response, just swings back his drink. The pair of you sit and drink in silence. Before you know it, Harry and you are five drinks in, finally talking after the second. The pair of you decide to move to the balcony outside and continue your conversation there after the third. After the fourth, you're getting really handsy and by the end of the fifth, Harry’s arm is wrapped tightly around your waist and you're laughing breathlessly into his neck. It looks like he’s just shielding you from the cold night air, but both of you seemed to be enjoying each other’s embrace for other reasons.

Finally catching your breath, you lean back and pant softly as you meet eyes with Harry. His pupils have blown out from the alcohol and dark light. The emerald green barely surrounds the black and you swear there’s flecks of gold or maybe brown in them. Your brows scrunch at the revelation and Harry asks what you’re thinking. You don’t respond, too entranced and drunk to even hear him.

“Oi,” he bops your nose, “What is goin’ on in there, little lady?”

Your hand reaches up and widens Harry’s eye manually. His inebriated state has no qualms about you doing such an odd thing. “Why’s your green not actually green?”

“What?” He asks before moving your hand away from his face, it instead falls to his chest. The pair of you shift until your caged between his body and the balcony’s ledge. You pout as you stare up at him. His skin looks soft and taught over every inch of his face and neck. The urge to kiss him keeps nagging at the back of your mind. The idea keeps creeping up closer and closer and the drunker you are the less likely you are to suppress it.

“Do you want to fuck me?” You blurt out.

“Sure.” Harry isn’t taken aback. He had been thinking about asking for a while, so he was glad you had asked first, made it easier for him.

“Okay, let’s go.”

He takes you back to your place, the pair of you catching a cab the short distance between yours and Charlotte’s flats. No one blinks an eye at the pair of you leaving together. Everyone watched the pair of you sulk all night about being there and only enjoying the other’s company, so they weren’t keen on either of you staying. Charlotte was simply glad the pair of you had stayed for as long as you did.

The two of you walk casually until you’re inside your bedroom. Once inside, Harry throws you on the bed and fucks you. Hard. He’s got you spread out in more ways than you had ever thought possible. He’s got you saying things you had never even dreamed of saying. And he’s got you cumming and screaming more than you could have ever wanted. He enjoys himself as well. He loves the way you feel around him and the way your eyes look up at him while he fucks you straight into the bed. He loves the way you sound whispering dirty things and screaming his name. He loves the feel of your soft skin all over your body as he pushes deep inside you. He loves the way you’re able to rip a guttural moan from him every time he cums. And he cums three times that night. While it wasn’t quiet, he did find that blissful state he had been in desperate need of.

After the third round, Harry feels spent. He brings himself into a sitting position, legs hanging off the edge of your bed. You’re lying in your bed, completely overstimulated, cumming at least twice as many times as Harry. He scratches at the top of his head, his bicep bulging as he folds his arms around himself.

“That was fucking good, Y/N. Just what I needed.”

You can only hum in response.

Then he takes your blanket and lays it over you. After that he begins to stand up, getting ready to grab his things and go.

“You don’t have to go…” your voice raises when you realize what he’s doing.

“Yeah, I do. This was just a one time thing, yeah? I enjoyed it, but you know...”

“Erm, I guess?” You rolled to fully look at him, he was pulling his t-shirt back on now, his marked chest disappearing beneath the white fabric. “Do you really not stay over at your one night stands?”

He thinks about it as he begins with his shoes and his glasses at the same time. “Yes? Usually I don’t know the person and I don’t particularly want to sign an autograph when I leave in the morning. Best to leave immediately afterwards.”

“That was exactly why I wanted you to stay...Shit! No chance you’ll give me an autograph now? Could sign my tit, right next to your hickies.”

He laughs, automatically in a better mood after the catharsis of having sex. It was also a relief for him that you didn’t seem to be weird about the hook up. “Shut up!”

“You’re a twat, Harold.” He groans instinctively at the annoying nickname, not caring about the ‘twat’ part. “But be my guest, you can freeze your arse off while waiting for your cab outside at this hour.”

“Rude..” He mutters, standing in your doorway now. “You wouldn’t actually make your employer stand out in the cold at this time of night. I haven’t even got a jumper. Could get a cold and ruin my voice. ”

“You’re the one who says it’s best to leave immediately. Get on it, mister.”

Your hand makes a shooing movement, but he doesn’t budge. You sigh as he makes a puppy dog face - eyes wide and a puckered pout with his flushed cheeks and lips - playing into your actual kindness, that he knows is somewhere. Your sweetness that you were keeping hidden from Harry right now. Nothing was serious between you so it made sense that you were trying not to let your innate ability to care show as he’s about to walk out on you.

“Ugh, fine. Stop looking at me like that. Just grab one of my coats from the bottom right, they’re all oversized so one should fit.” He doesn’t relent on the face. “And you can stay inside until your cab comes.” You sigh and throw one of your pillows at him. He catches it easily and throws it back, much softer than your throw. “Also never pull the employer card on me again when I’m naked in the bed you just fucked me in,” you call as he looks through your closet.

Returning with a patchwork coat you had thrifted tight over his shoulders, he looks at you seriously, “Yeah sorry about that part. Definitely wasn’t trying to exert my power over you, it sounded better in my head. Meant more like you could ruin my voice and both of our jobs.”

You nod and chuckle slightly, finding how inarticulate Harry could be as an endearing trait. His explanation didn’t actually make it sound better. “The jacket fits.” You say, choosing to move forward from Harry’s weirdness, knowing he didn’t mean any harm from his initial statement.

“Yeah, thanks. I think my cab is here,” He glances at his phone, “So I’ll go...See you?”

“I’m sure.” You smile, “We do in fact work together and will soon be touring the world. Would be a bit weird if I didn’t see you.”

“Right.” He nods and adds a peace sign before he walks out of your sight. You know he’s gone when you hear the door click shut. What an interesting night.

-

Love on Tour had just started and Harry couldn’t lie. He couldn’t keep his mind off of you. You were both his most recent partner and the best he had had in a while. He found himself rubbing over the spots on his neck and clavicle that you had given particular attention to during the night you had shared together. When he went to bed it was your body he pictured to get himself off. So, after the first show he’s beelining to you at the beginning of the after party. He’s got an adrenaline high and he needs a release. You’re the solution. He’s whispering in your ear, asking if you’d like to meet him in his dressing room. Your eyes study his face when he pulls back and they widen slightly when the realization of what he’s implying dawns on you. Then you’re nodding and excusing yourself from a random conversation five minutes later.

Inside Harry’s dressing room, you find Harry already unbuttoning his shirt. He grabs your face and shoves his lips onto yours once you lock the door. As he kisses you he tries to make one thing very clear, “This doesn’t mean anything.”

“Got it.” You begin to finish Harry’s job of taking off his shirt.

He pulls back to look you in the eye, “Are you okay with that?”

“Jesus fuck, yes, Harry, just shut up and fuck me senseless again!”

He listens to you and begins to kiss down your jaw and neck. His open-mouth kisses leave a searing trail across your skin. He settles on a spot at the base of your neck and begins to suck and nip at it with vigor. You set to work on finishing his job of unbuttoning his shirt. Then you pull off your own shirt, reaching behind you to untie the bows at the back. The new skin exposed grabs Harry’s attention and he moves down to suck over the cleavage of your tits. He’s happy to be back with his ‘bosom friends’. You smack his head when he says it and he chuckles darkly, only sucking harder on them causing you to moan louder than you would like.

Once you’re both in only your underwear, you find your back pressed up against the mirror behind the dressing room counter. Harry’s body is nestled between your spread legs as he kisses down your skin. His fingers dance along the line of your thong as he looks up from beneath his lashes for position, you only push his head closer to your heat in response. He laughs mischievously before tugging them down off your hips.

“Missed this pretty little cunt...All I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout,” He mutters as he begins to latch onto your dripping core.

Your brows shoot up at the thought that Harry’s mind has been stuck on you for the past week. You definitely had thought about your drunken hook up a bit, but hadn’t thought it had left a lasting impression on Harry, you assumed he had that lovely of a night with every person he chose to spend intimate time with. These thoughts are forgotten when Harry’s warm tongue is lapping at your swollen bud. You’re already panting for Harry and now you’re heaving with moans and whimpers leaving your mouth with every lick and nip of his expert mouth.

“Fuck Harry, feels so good,” you whine as his tongue travels down your folds and swirls and dips into your hole.

He moans at your words and the way your legs squeeze at his head. His hands move to spread you open wide to maintain his control and he smirks at the way your body rolls due to the friction of his voice against your pussy.

“Be a good girl f’me,” he growls still pressed against your wet heat.

Your body rolls again as you get closer and closer to your first release. Your bite your lip trying to contain all of the sounds that are trying to escape your mouth. Harry notices the new silence and glances up seeing how you’re trying to behave. As much as he likes you obeying his words, he also wanted to hear how he was pleasuring you.

“Tell me how you feel, princess,” he demands.

“So-so good,” you hiccup as his fingers caress over your folds now as he looks you in the eyes, his lips wet with your slick. He kisses you hard, his tongue diving into your mouth and you kiss back passionately, loving your taste on his tongue.

He pulls back and your hands trail down his chest, swirling around his familiar tattoos and hair that grace his lower torso as you move. He grins, enjoying the feeling of you on him and how he was affecting you.

Soon enough, his cock is finding its way back to your glistening folds, wet with your own liquids as well as his saliva. His mouth waters at the sight. He only pushes into you a few times like this. Then he catches sight of himself in the mirror in front of him and can’t resist. He pulls out and flips you over, your squeal leaving your mouth before you can stop yourself. His dick finds your entrance once again, not wanting to be without the wonderful warmth for any longer than he must.

“Ahhh,” Harry groans when he slips back inside.

Your head throws back on your neck, the feeling of him as well as the sight of him gripping your hair in one hand and your fleshy hip in the other. His rings dig into the skin as he’s able to slam more forcefully in this position. You gasp and whine at his motions. The sounds coming from between your legs are turning you on even more and they seem to make Harry happy too. He picks up the pace and drops the grasp of your hair for a second. Your head falls down as you try to keep yourself up on your elbows.

Gripping both of your hips, Harry growls, “Look at me while I fuck you. C’mon now.”

You moan in response and tear your eyes open to see your reflections in the mirror. One hand goes up to hold onto the mirror to give yourself more traction, causing your back to arch even more. The new position has Harry’s cock slamming into you deeper.

“Fuck!” Harry practically yells and can’t keep himself from landing a harsh slap on your ass. You jump forward at the sting but his other hand keeps the pace steady. He keeps burying himself into you all the way to his base, his balls slapping at your now slick spread thighs. He rubs over the red handprint he had just left on your ass. You whimper and bite your lip, truly enjoying the sensation.

Still staring into the mirror as Harry commanded, your eyes water slightly and Harry makes eye contact with you through the mirror. You smile widely and he grins back. “This feels so fucking good. Your pussy takes me so well. Fuck…” Harry babbles, still pistoning into you. You had noticed how vocal he was the first time you had fucked, but thought it had just been the alcohol. Apparently not. But you didn’t mind, you much preferred it to partners who barely spoke or didn’t even moan. Like how were you supposed to know what was going on in their minds? With Harry, you knew he was having a good time.

A few more heavy thrusts and you felt yourself nearing the edge. Your panting was getting faster, exceeding the speed of Harry’s thrusts and he could also feel you were close. Your cunt began squeezing him tighter so he hooked a hand under your knee and brought it onto the table. He hunched over you slightly and snaked his hand to your clit. “C’mon darling, I know you're close. Can feel that little cunt putting a choke hold on my cock.�� He rubs at your clit with the vigor of strumming a quick paced song on the guitar. It’s enough to overtake your senses and the laugh that had bubbled from his words turns into your orgasm moan. You try to muffle it into the arm that is holding you against the mirror to avoid a full on scream because it feels that good. You felt like you were having your first ever orgasm, it felt that new to you.

A few more thrusts and you’ve come down from it, but Harry still hasn’t finished. It’s your turn to be the partner coaxing the other to get off. “Faster, Har. Want you to cum too.” He grunts, picking back up the pace. He had slowed to let you ride out your stay. “That’s it...want you to cum in me. Your cock feels so fucking good.” You whine, meaning every word. He smiles again at you and closes his eyes, focusing on chasing his high. You watch as his smile widens to that open mouth grin, “Fuck,” he almost whispers. And there it is. There’s a twitch in his hips that mirrors his expression and then he’s pulling out and cumming on your back. His voice is now even lower and raspier than before as he babbles how good that was and how tight your pussy was. It was sweet nothings, but extremely explicit and you sighed heavily, feeling a small orgasm wash over you again. His final thrusts and voice pushing you off the cliff again easily.

The two of you take a minute to bring your breathing back to normal and Harry goes to clean your back off.

“So..how do you feel about maybe doing this regularly?”  Harry asks sheepishly as he begins to pull his pants back on.

“Like a friends with benefits kind of thing? Or bandmates with benefits, rather.” You laugh breathlessly at your not really funny joke, but you’re now truly exhausted. From the show and the fuck, you felt thouroughly worked out.

“I guess that’s what it is, yeah.”

“Yeah, sure. Sounds good.”

“You’re honestly so chill, Y/N. It’s fuckin’ hot.”

You laugh and flip your hair dramatically. You’re only in your bra and panties right now and Harry licks his lips, finding your playfulness to be a turn on. “What can I say?” You laugh.

“But like I said before...it’s just sex.” He’s buttoning up his shirt and looking at your reflection through the mirror now. He watches you slip the pants you had been wearing back on.

“Oh, Harold, I know.” On cue, he groans and turns around to face you after fixing his mused hair in the mirror. Interrupting yourself, you turn your back to Harry, “Can you tie this, sorry it’s hard for me to get the -” Harry walks to you without any hesitation and begins tying the silk ribbons on the back of your shirt. “Thanks. Anyway,” you turn to face him when he’s finished and you place both of your palms on his chest. “Trust me, I know you’ve got your issues and I’m not looking to be the girl that tries to change you. I know what this is. I only ask that you let me know when you sleep with other people, because once you do, you won’t need me.” Harry nods and you pat your hands against him. You both smile and go your separate ways when you leave the dressing room.

-

Harry and you fucked almost every night on tour. Sometimes it was right after, on the counter in his dressing rooms. Sometimes it was later in the evening in his hotel room or yours. He stopped leaving immediately after your hook ups. He never kicked you out of his room so he decided it was fine for him to stay in yours. Especially because you weren’t a stranger who would be weird with him in the morning. He also didn’t like trekking through the hotel halls late at night.

The first few times you stayed in the same bed, the two of you stayed on opposite sides of the bed, not touching after you were finished engaging in your sexual endeavours. Rigid bodies against the edges of the mattress. Then one particularly long night, filled with multiple rounds, Harry was so exhausted from his performance on stage and off that he collapsed on top of you. He fell asleep there and you didn’t particularly mind. It felt nice to be slightly compressed and held. He shifted in his sleep and when he woke up he wasn’t upset to find you nestled into his side with his arms wrapped around you. After that, cuddling sort of became part of the routine. After you were done having sex, Harry or you would get up to clean up and bring back waters. Then you would settle in his arms. Sometimes in a spooning position and sometimes you cradled softly into his chest. You didn’t talk about it, it just happened.

One night it was your head directly on top of his butterfly tattoo, one leg thrown over his lower torso and your arm snuggly wrapped around his middle. He liked to pet your hair when you laid against his chest in that way. His fingers would fiddle with the strands and you liked it because he usually took off his rings before he would do it and his hands felt so soft and delicate against you. Harry liked the way he felt when he would hold you afterwards. It was calming to fall asleep against your soft skin and feel your fingertips trace lyrics to songs he wasn’t sure the name of against his own.

No one knew about how your friendship with Harry worked. To the rest of the world, you seemed to be someone who had become another close friend in the band. You were similar to Mitch in many respects. Except for when Harry winked at you during a show, it wasn’t a friendly wink, it was a ‘this song makes me horny and I can’t wait to relieve the pressure by fucking you later’ kind of wink. You knew this because Harry had gone over and whispered it in your ear during a quick break, when you had only looked at him weirdly after he did it.

Before the show tonight, you pulled Harry aside, “So what are we thinking tonight? I feel like I might want to ride you...Haven’t been on top in a while.” In the darkness of the backstage, you crane your neck to take Harry’s earlobe between your teeth. He groans softly and grips your hips to guide them against his for a second. “Sounds fuckin’ fantastic, love.” You twitch back, releasing him immediately at the word. You always told him not to call you that and he tried to reason with you, that it was just something he called people. But you disliked it a lot, adding it to the growing list of rules the pair of you had for the do’s and don'ts of being friends with benefits with each other.

“Harold,” you groan and he steps back at that pet name. While he hated this, you refused to let him put it on the list because it didn’t cross any lines with your physical arrangement. Not that there was any physical list to put it on, it was more of a theoretical list that the two of you would speak of occasionally.

“Sorry.” He says eventually, “Didn’t mean it.” You both laugh.

You think about how other relationships were sometimes desperate to hear their partner express their love for them and you believe you’re grateful for the simplicity of your arrangement. The term relationship regarding what you and Harry were doing was also in the ‘don’t’ category on the list. If either of you were being honest, there should be no need for a list and you should be questioning yourselves why you felt the need to set boundaries if one part of it was physical and the other part was your friendship and job. If it truly was just physical why were boundaries constantly needing to be set and followed? But right now honesty was not in the cards.

-

After the show Harry gets delayed with press or fans or something that you don’t really care about. You barely read the text that he sends, only caring about the ‘sorry got held up’ and the ‘be there in thirty’.

You let yourself into his room and wait on the bed, flipping through your phone, completely unbothered by the rest of the world. When you hear a knock on the door, you don’t think twice about getting up and opening the door. You only realize your terrible mistake when it’s Mitch and not Harry standing at what you’re also just realizing isn’t your door, but instead Harry’s.

“Shit!” you say under your breath as Mitch looks at you confused.

The room is dark behind you because Harry would have just entered and gotten down to business. He might turn on a side lamp, but you hadn’t felt the need to have light on while you waited. Forgetting all of that, you had just gone to the door and opened it.

Mitch tucks some of his hair behind his ear as he stares at you. “Is Harry here?”

“Er..No?” It comes out as a question. You rub the back of your ankle with your foot, feeling nervous.

“Is he actually not here or?” Mitch trails off, narrowing his eyes at you.

“No, no he’s really not here. I’m waiting for him, too.” You rush your words, but try to remain calm.

“You have a key to his room. And you’re waiting in the dark.” He says. They’re not questions and you’re not sure just how guilty you look.

“Yeah!” You try to come up with a non suspicious response, hoping there’s a way to still salvage your’s and Harry’s secret, “He gave me his key because he wanted to talk about something and I kept it dark because my eyes always hurt after shows. Kind of like a migraine.” You scratch at your head and smile, trying to convince Mitch. He seems to believe you as he nods slowly and opens his eyes more.

There’s a little bit of an awkward silence and Mitch shifts his weight between his feet, looking at you still. Just as you're about to invite Mitch to come wait inside with you, Harry steps out of the elevator and begins to walk down the hall. His key card is already in hand and your eyes widen. Harry’s expression mirrors yours when he realizes Mitch is standing outside of his door and that you are standing with him. “Mitch!” Harry says, placing his hand on Mitch’s shoulder and sliding his key card into his back pocket with the other. Mitch turns to Harry without seeing him put away the other key card and you look at the pair of them.

“I was just telling Mitch how you gave me your key card so we could talk about...that thing.” You interject, flicking the lights on in Harry’s room as casually as possible. Harry shoots you a look about how you couldn’t come up with an actual reason for being there. You shrug your shoulders helplessly.

Mitch looks between the two of you and feels some weird tension and he’s not sure if it's always there and he’s just noticing or if something is going on right now.

“Yeah, well, I came to stop by to talk about the riff in Canyon Moon. Something is wonky with it.”

“Oh! Sure,” Harry nods to Mitch and then glances at you, “Y/N, we can talk about that other thing later. It’s not that important anyway.” His tone is so casual and nonchalant. You stare at him, thinking he can’t be serious. You had been almost sure he would send Mitch away, but instead you were being kicked to the curb. When he doesn’t say sike or anything of the sort, you nod. “Okay,” then you mumble a ‘good luck’ with figuring out the problem with the song. Mitch walks in the door, but Harry’s eyes stay fixed on your figure retreating down the hallway. He watches you disappear and is only pulled from his thoughts when Mitch calls his name from the couch in the room.

After reaching your floor, you key into your room and get ready for bed. Just as you’re about to drift off to sleep, completely alone for once in a long time, there’s another knock. This time you check the peephole, a habit you realized you were going to have to get better at. It’s Harry. You open the door and walk away immediately once he’s entered the room.

“Why are you here?”

“Thought we could still...” He follows you into the room, trying to make out your face in the darkness.

“I’m not in the mood anymore.” Your tone gives away your annoyance. You couldn’t hide that you were mad at Harry for sending you away. It made you feel weird. The way he did it so easily made you feel like you were extremely disposable and unwanted.

“I’m sorry,” he sighs as he lays down beside you. You turn to face him when he places a hand on the small of your back. You’re face to face and your noses are almost brushing. It’s not really possible to see each other’s features, but after months of hooking up you knew each other’s faces pretty well. You could reach out and pinpoint all of Harry’s freckles and moles on his face and neck right now and be correct. He could likely do the same. The theory is proven correct when he reaches out and his hand dances down your cheek. “Just thought it would be less suspicious if I didn’t get rid of him. Couldn’t make him wait either…”

“I know,” your voice is small and soft, just above a whisper, “I forgive you.” You scoot closer to him and Harry instinctively wraps his arm around you, bringing you tightly into him. You sigh into his neck and he shivers at your warm breath on his slightly clammy skin. When you lick your lips, they brush lightly against his skin. He laughs at the feeling, so you decide to press an intentional kiss to the hollow in his neck. In response, he presses a kiss to your hairline, his lips slightly chapped after the concert.

The kisses are tender, filled with that thing neither of you dare attribute to anything the two of you did in the dark. The word you told him time and time again to not call you. So is just about every touch and word that has been exchanged in this room since Harry entered it. You fall asleep wrapped up in his arms, a soft smile resting on both of your faces. Neither of you seem to mind that you didn’t actually have sex tonight or anything even close to it.

-

When you wake up you feel especially well rested. You shift around and realize your bed is empty besides you. It depended on the day, but it was always a toss up between Harry being there when you woke up or not. However, lately, you had found it was usually the former. You would linger longer and so would Harry in each other’s rooms, lounging in each other’s embrace under the soft glow of the morning light peaking through whatever windows the room had. Today you were cold at his absence. Then you look up and realize you aren’t completely alone. Harry is standing at the end of your bed, staring down at his phone, smiling.

“Hey.”

You wait for his reply, but he doesn’t look up from his phone. “Hey, Harold,” you repeat. His head snaps up, a grimace on his face at the name. He slips his phone in his pocket and ruffles his hair. “Hey.” He finally responds. “I’m gonna head out.”

“Okay.”

Neither of you seem to find it necessary to talk about what happened last night. Harry definitely seemed a little off to you this morning, but you try to shake it from your thoughts. There was no reason to be upset with him being quiet. He didn’t owe you anything, you hadn’t even slept together last night, so if anything it was weird he stayed as long as he did.

It was the second night at the Forum in Los Angeles. This means no travelling necessary. No day off either, tomorrow you’d have a day off before the third and final show at the venue though.

Harry and you were talking normally at the venue, mostly about the setlist - him and Mitch had changed something for whatever reason last night, which was fine. Your banter was to a minimum, but you were trying to convince yourself that nothing was off. Even though it felt like something was different, you couldn’t place your finger on what it was, so you thought it was best to ignore it.

When Harry is about to go out on stage, you don’t pull him aside and when he introduces the members of the band to the audience, he doesn’t say anything fun or silly about you. He doesn’t wink or come up to you at any point in the performance. It’s so unusual the rest of your bandmates are giving you funny looks. Charlotte looks at you from across your keyboard in a way that she’s asking if you’re okay. You shake your head at everyone trying to signal that you’re fine.

Mitch goes over to Harry and whispers in his ear to check in with him, Harry looks at him with a bright smile on his face and says “of course, why wouldn’t I be?” Mitch looks between the pair of you, thinking back to last night and how weird the pair of you were being then. Maybe it dawns on him then what might be going on between the two of you, but if he did, he wouldn’t mention it for a long time.

You falter a bit on your back up vocals tonight. You’re trying to give it your all, like always, but for some reason your voice isn’t sounding the way you want it. About halfway through the show, when your voice comes out the exact opposite of how you would like, Harry finally gives you a second glance. His face practically emotionless, save for the single arched brow. He’s concerned, but not concerned enough where he would go over to you. He just doesn’t understand why you keep missing the right note tonight. You make a shake of your hand to say I don’t know either. He just shrugs and turns back around to continue the show, his lively smile returning while he turns his head.

After the show, Charlotte, Sarah, and you are all checking in, going over what had happened during the show in general. They’re both worried about your voice and you’re simply trying to tell them that it was just an off night. Nothing was wrong. As long as you told everyone else that, then it might turn out to be true.

“It’s fine, maybe I didn’t get enough sleep last night,” you fib, having gotten more sleep last night than most other nights on this tour. They both nod, seeming to take that as a reasonable answer.

Then Charlotte gets quieter as she whispers to the three of you, “Did you guys notice anything weird with Harry? He was super lively, but he barely interacted with you, Y/N, which is so unlike him...”

Sarah nods while you look skeptically on. Sarah adds, “He kept looking up to the boxes, too. More than usual at least. I don’t know though…” She trails off and you cross your arms over your chest, not really enjoying the conversation topic. “I mean, what do you think, Y/N?” Sarah adds.

Your eyes dance between the two women, your fellow bandmates, your friends. You sometimes wished you could share with them what you were doing with Harry. The secret was fun, but it’s also nice to be able to share with your girlfriends about the guy you’re seeing, even if it is a casual thing. The friendly gossip of it all is something fun to share, but sadly that was another thing you couldn’t do. You sigh, “You never really know what’s going on in his mind, y’know. He’s just Harry.” Your response is half-assed at best. You figure they’ll both give you shit for the non-answer you just supplied, but instead someone else speaks for them.

“I am in fact, just Harry.” He says and you swivel around to find yourself almost chest to chest with him. Charlotte laughs while Sarah simply smiles. Your eyes are huge as you stare up at him and you hope your blush doesn’t come out too strongly after being caught talking about Harry by himself. “Enlighten me on when I was being ‘just Harry’ though?” You bite your lip and take a step back from him, forming more of a line with the other women. He shrugs when no one offers a response, laughing lightly.

“Oh and Y/N, I can’t talk about that thing again tonight, I’ve got-”

“A date?” Charlotte asks, trying to understand why Harry was acting a little different tonight still. The part that Sarah had mentioned about him looking up into the boxes had given her the idea that he might have plans with someone after the show. Harry scratches his head, his hair slightly wet with sweat right after the show. He’s taken off his coat so he’s just in the almost completely unbuttoned, sweat soaked shirt he had been wearing underneath. It sticks tight to his skin and you can make out all the muscle lines that hide beneath the fabric that you usually get to caress. Your eyes flit from his body back to his face when he speaks again.

“Erm, I wasn’t going to phrase it like that...but yes, I suppose, it’s a date.” He says finally, he avoids your eye contact and you look at him very confused, trying to hide the hurt. He shoves his hands in his pockets trying to look and sound as casual as possible and ignore the strain he sees on your face. Is that what had held him up yesterday? Making plans with someone else? And he hadn’t told you until now? The past twenty four hours stung a little bit more now that you knew why Harry was being so distant. It simply felt icky finding out this way and it didn’t even seem like he was going to tell you it was a date.

“Okay,” you say simply and walk away. You hear Charlotte asking him details about his date, but you try actively not to hear any of it. Sarah watches you walk away and sees the way you wrap your arms around yourself to comfort you. She feels a twinge of sadness as she watches the scene unfold, seeing something she hadn’t realized was there before.

Harry doesn’t text or call you that night. You hang out with everyone else for a little while in Charlotte’s room before heading to bed, saying you think you need an early night tonight. Before you’re able to walk out of the door, Mitch stops you. “I heard Harry blew off whatever conversation the two of you have been trying to have again. Just wanted to tell you I’m sorry.” You try to smile but it comes out as more of a grimace. There is no conversation Harry is blowing off, it’s simply you. “It’s fine. Like he said yesterday, it’s not important.” Mitch nods, but still looks at you with concern. What he had seen last night, then on stage today, and what Sarah had told him about your interaction after the show it all strung together in his mind. It didn’t seem unimportant at all. But he didn’t know how he could tell you that. He felt like he should talk to Harry about the way you looked when you left Charlotte’s room tonight, but he didn’t know how to bring it up to him either.

You don’t realize you’re crying until you're in the elevator, and it’s slowly rising to your floor of the hotel. You’re only one level up, but it feels like an eternity in there. You already weren’t a fan of elevators, but this ride felt impossibly worse. The walls are all made up of mirrors and you see yourself in the reflection, but you don’t exactly recognize the girl in there. Your eyes are tired from the show, dark circles already formed. Your hands are aching, clenching and unclenching on their own accord. Your body is slumped against the back wall, likely leaving a slight imprint from the smoke residue and dust on your clothes. Worst of all are the tears running down your face, smudging at your makeup, the black mascara you had applied dripping down in sinister raindrops against your skin. The sad girl stares back at you as you sniffle slightly, confused at what you’re seeing. “Why are you crying?” you ask yourself, your voice creaking and then breaking at the end as you struggle to get out the word ‘crying’ before a sob wracks through you. You roll your eyes when your reflection offers no explanation for itself. You laugh at your own patheticness and try to shake the feelings you’re experiencing.

Inside your room now, you flop on the bed and stare straight up at the ceiling. Your arms spread to your sides and your legs lay limply below you. You think about every night before last, every night since the tour started. Every night where you weren’t alone, where you were with Harry. Your mind flits to last night, how Harry’s lips had ghosted over your skin after his apology. How you had told him you forgave him and it had felt so peaceful, so simple. It was all so easy. Thinking about him and the things the two of you did together brought a smile to your face, unbeknownst to you. When you realize it’s there, your face drops immediately, deciding not to think about Harry.

But trying to not think about Harry makes you only think about him more and what you think about him now most definitely doesn’t bring a smile to your face. You’re thinking about him out on his date with some person you chose to learn nothing about. Maybe out of fear of what is happening right now. By knowing nothing about the person, you can’t compare yourself to them. Can’t see what’s different about them that would make Harry go out on a date with them. But it doesn’t matter who they are or what they look like because at the end of it all you know one thing for certain. They’re not you. You correct yourself, you know two things actually, because you also know that Harry chose to be with them instead of you tonight.

You fall asleep with tear stained cheeks that night and absolutely nothing positive on your mind. You want to sleep but know it only brings whatever is bound to happen tomorrow, which doesn’t seem very promising.

-

It’s noon when you wake up and you wake to a knocking on your door. You grumble and throw a sweatshirt over your body to hide the underwear you slept in. Not remembering your new habit, you swing the door open without any hesitation to find Harry. He looks wide awake and happy, the way he almost always looks, a fresh beautiful flower of a man. You look at him groggily, “What are you doing here?”

“You weren’t answering your phone.”

“Because I was asleep?” You tilt your head and look at him incredulously. “What about this,” you gesture to your appearance, “looks like I just went for a 3 mile jog for fun and I love the morning?”

“Can I come in?” He ignores everything you just said and enters the room when you leave the door to get back in bed. You often did that with him, you don’t know why, but when he asked to come in the room it was just simpler to let him in then say anything. He knew what you meant.

He sits at the edge of the bed as you reclaim your spot in the middle of it, tucked slightly under the covers, but still sitting up. “How was your date?” You try to sound nonchalant and it seems to work. Harry doesn’t notice your tense figure, but you notice how he tenses up when you ask.

“Good…Her name was-” You don’t let him finish, you already know the answer to this next question and you don’t need her name in order to ask it, “Did you fuck her?”

He’s silent, green eyes staring straight at you. You meet his gaze, your eyes almost burning holes into him. His eyes are begging you to not make him answer the question, he doesn’t want this to end, even if he also didn’t want the commitment he had felt himself exhibiting the other night.

When he had come to your room the other night after Mitch had almost caught you, he knew he shouldn’t have stayed. He didn’t want you to feel bad so he had come to apologize, but when the pair of you didn’t have sex, he should have left. But he didn’t, he stayed and it wasn’t for you, it was for himself. It was for him to hold you in his arms because he liked to. But when he woke up the next morning he knew he needed to leave. Solely cuddling wasn’t part of your arrangement together. It’s probably on the list of don'ts that the pair of you had. So after he realized the line he had willingly crossed with you, he quickly sent a text to Jeff who had tried to set him up with a model they were acquaintances with the night before - the reason he had gotten held up. Harry had initially declined, not very interested in seeing anyone else but you. But looking back on that choice in the light of day seemed to solidify what this relationship was - a relationship - and Harry didn’t like that. The commitment wasn’t part of the plan, so he told Jeff to set that date up for after the second show at the Forum and give the woman a ticket. That’s why he was smiling at his phone the morning after only cuddling with you, that’s why he didn’t joke around with you during the show, and that’s why he wasn’t in your bed last night.

You watch him expectantly, silently waiting for his answer, your veins cold as ice. He finally starts his answer and he wants to make it clear that it wasn’t as good with the other woman, but he’s not sure how to work that part in. He’s not sure how to explain to you it meant nothing if your arrangement also apparently meant nothing. You barely even let him get in a sentence. “Yes, but it was just a one time-”

“Alright.”

“What?” He doesn’t understand what you mean when you nod your head and cut him off.

“I told you at the beginning, Harry. Tell me when you sleep with someone else because when you do this is over. It doesn’t matter if she’s the love of your life or a one night stand. I will not be a backup plan, so if you’re able to find other people to sleep with, you don’t need to be sleeping with me.”

He sits in silence for a moment, his jaw dropped open slightly. He’s unable to keep it shut as his mind races about what to say. “Are you mad with me?”

“No, I’m fine. This was just sex. Charlotte will be happy that I’ll be going out with her more.”

Harry’s brow furrows as you shift away from him on the bed, grabbing your phone and beginning to flick through it. You feel numb and you’d like to not think about why.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asks because he does care about you, worry is written all over his face. He just can’t commit, not now.

“What would I be mad about, Harry?” You look up and your eyes widen at him, silently asking him to truthfully say why you should be so upset about this revelation. You always knew it would eventually come to an end, you just hadn’t expected so soon. You hadn’t known the last time would be the last time and it broke your heart even if you knew it shouldn’t.

He shifts to reach his hand out to touch your exposed knee. You move away from him and he sighs, looking exasperated. “I- I don’t know. It just seems like we should talk about this.”

“You didn’t even think it was necessary to tell me you were going on a date last night, so I think it’s best if we just left it at ‘it’s fine, see you around’.”

He spreads his hands out across the sheets, examining his rings and painted nails thoroughly. You’re right, he doesn’t really want to talk about this. Well, more so, he’s conflicted. He would like to talk enough that you want to continue your arrangement but he doesn’t want to talk about feelings or emotions. Even if he has those feelings and emotions, they’re just not part of the things he’d like to talk about. “But-” You set your phone down at his first word, “Were you even going to tell me you fucked someone else today if Charlotte hadn’t asked you if it was a date last night? Would you just have come to my room tonight and acted like nothing had changed?”

“I would have told you.”

“Sure.”

“I swear I would’ve. I would never break a promise to you.”

“But you would make a decision that affects the both of us without telling me until afterwards?” Your voice breaks a little and you beg yourself not to cry right now.

“I thought you said this was just sex?”

You laugh humorlessly, in disbelief, “Of course it’s not, Harry! And it hasn’t been for a long time and that’s why you got scared and went and fucked someone else.” He looks at you blankly, unsure what to say, knowing you’re right. You continue, “But I also told you at the beginning of this, that I wasn’t going to try to change you. So this is me not trying to change you.” You sigh when he still says nothing, his expression completely unreadable, even to you. “Why couldn’t you have left it at ‘it’s fine’?” You say finally, barely above a whisper.

He blinks a few times after your final question. He flexes his hand one more time and then stands up from the bed. He adjusts his clothes and stares at you. You feel helpless, but you’re still trying to look pulled together, even after your outburst. You stare back. A thousand words floating through your heads, all the things you want to say and likely never will.

“I know, I’m…” he pauses, trying to get himself to say it, but he can’t. He can’t admit that he’s completely ruined whatever messed up paradise you had created together. “I’ll see you later.”

The apology or lack there of hangs in the air as he walks silently out your door. You don’t move, you barely even blink, still staring at the spot he had just occupied. Your breath finally escapes you, a large sigh. Then some nervous laughter. It was over...just like that. But things like this, left like this are never really over.

-

It’s awkward for a good amount of the rest of the tour. You hang out with your bandmates more and Harry rarely ever comes out with them after the shows. He either hangs out with Mitch on his own or is going out with random people he knows on the road. You and him speak, but it’s never a lot or about anything relatively meaningful. It’s not the fun back and forth of before or the fiery heat of sneaking around. You try to be normal with him, act like his casual friend and bandmate.

He does his best to do the same, but it’s difficult for him. He doesn’t know how to talk to you anymore. He misses being with you, but can’t bring himself to fix it. He doesn’t do much to right his wrongs with you. He also doesn’t even know what he would want if he did apologize. It scared him to think about the step that came after ‘sorry’ so he saved himself the trouble and never did that part either. One night he texts you: “I’m trying, it’s just hard.” and that’s it. You don’t give him a response, he doesn’t need one. You know he’s trying and he knows you know.

Near the end of the tour, he comes out with the rest of you for drinks one night. Only Mitch is between the two of you in the booth, so you feel closer to Harry than you’ve felt in a long time. The group of you are chatting and having a good time. You somehow get onto a story from when you were still in college. You explain how you had narrowly avoided getting Chlamydia right before your Christmas break junior year. You act out the conversations you imagined would have happened at all your Christmas events if you had indeed gotten it. Your impressions of your mother, father, and sister have everyone laughing the most. Harry is shaking with laughter from your story and you smile at him in appreciation when he says, “That is the funniest story I’ve heard in a long fucking time.”

The rest of the night goes really well, for the most part. No one bickers or is short with each other. Everyone is laughing and drinks are flowing. Eventually Mitch gets up to go to the bathroom and you feel Harry slide back into the booth closer to you after letting Mitch out. Your hand had taken up residence next to your thigh, resting on the vinyl of the booth. You sense something next to it now and notice Harry’s hand is resting close beside it. He shifts his hand closer when he sees that you’re looking down at it. He’s almost touching you and you look up to his eyes, wondering if he’ll close the distance. He makes an imperceptible shake of his head, but you know what he means. As you’re about to shift your hand so that your pinky connects with his, Mitch returns and your head shoots up to his figure. You instantly remove your hand from the vinyl and shift closer to Charlotte. Harry gets up, but doesn’t sit back down once Mitch is settled. He instead walks off to get another drink, risking one last look at the table where he makes eye contact with you, but he doesn’t come back. Mitch informs everyone that Harry went back to the hotel because “he was tired” after Harry doesn’t return and Mitch gets a text. You roll your eyes, sure that you saw him slip out of the side door with a woman he found at the bar after he had gotten his drink. If that’s what ‘tired’ looked like on Harry, it was fine.

You start to speak to Harry on a more regular basis after that night out. It’s not funny or lighthearted. It’s just ‘I saw this song the other day, thought you might like to listen’. It went back and forth, it wasn’t everyday but it was something. The last text between the two of you before you began sharing songs again was his ‘I’m trying it’s just hard’ text that he had sent randomly one night. Then after one of you would listen, you would see each other at sound check and mention the song and what you thought about it. It can be noted that it was Harry who sent the first song.

For Harryween, Adam couldn’t be there. He has some family emergency the day of and doesn’t come with the rest of you to Madison Square Garden or the hotel you were staying at. Thankfully, Charlotte also plays keys and you can play bass. The band had to shift around some things on stage and make minimal changes to the setlist since you weren’t rehearsed on the covers Harry was doing. You spent the whole day running through the chords of those songs with Mitch, trying to memorize them so you didn’t mess it up during the show.

It was weird because for Harryween the setlist was switched up a little from the regular set for Love On Tour. Harry was playing the entire new album as well as half of the first album, Medicine, some of his other unreleased stuff, and about six covers, including old One Direction songs. It was going to be a long show and a challenge for you.

Before the show, Harry pulls you aside, to a dark corner backstage, and your mind flits back to the last time you had been in this type of position. The last time he had called you ‘love’, the last time you bit his earlobe - which always drove him crazy, the last time he ground his hips against yours, those and more and you had no idea that it was the last. By then you had already had sex with Harry for the last time, kissed his lips for the last time. It made your heart race to be so close to him and so alone once again. But it’s nowhere near the same as it once was. You shake the memories from your mind and look up expectantly at him.

“Have you got this?” He asks seriously, tone concerned. Of course it’s a music question, nothing more. Like it always was now.

“Yeah, of course.” His stare is unwavering and you try not to falter from it.

“I can get someone else to cover tomorrow, it was just such a short notice today. You know bass really well too, it made sense.”

“I’ve got this. Seriously, don’t worry, Harold.” You pat his chest lightly and for once Harry smiles at the sound of your nickname for him. You had stopped using it after the end of your arrangement. It never felt right to use when you were talking about music, and that was about the only time you had been talking. In this moment though, it felt right. His warm, large hands held your upper arms as you stared up into his big eyes. You missed staring into them, the shimmering emerald of his irises were constantly intriguing. You instinctively reach up to move back a curl that has fallen onto his forehead. He doesn’t shy away from your touch and continues to smile down at you.

“Y’haven’t called me that in forever.” He grins, his lips a shiny pink from the lip balm he had on.

“No, I suppose I haven’t. But where was the groan? The whole point is to annoy you.” You smile coyly. He tips his head back and laughs, releasing your arms from his grasp as he laughs wholeheartedly.

Then he does a soft groan, a playful sound, “How was that?”

“Eh. I’ll give you a four out of ten. Not enough emotion behind it.” You slide from the area the two of you have been occupying and make your way onto the stage to start dealing with the bass you would be playing. You hear Harry call out to you, “I think I deserve at least a five, maybe even a six!” You turn back for a second to look at him with an unimpressed expression and shake your head no. He laughs again and you hear him even when you walk out onto the stage. You smile to yourself as you pick up the bass.

When he introduces the band, he waits to talk about you last. “And sadly this evening Mr. Adam Prentergest, our usual fabulous bassist, was unable to attend our fancy dress party! However! Our lovely Y/N L/N is also a superb bassist and was kind enough to step into his place. - Anything to add?” He saunters across the stage to you and you laugh kindly, feeling at ease in this part of the stage even though you were usually on the opposite side and further back from the crowd. You nod at Harry and he leans his portable mic towards your lips. You wet them quickly and eye Harry before turning out to the crowd. “Just please go easy on me if the bass sounds a bit wonky. It wasn’t on the job description that I’d be playing songs I didn’t know, with a few hours notice, on not my main instrument.” You say this in a kind of list format, holding up your fingers as you tick off all the ways that this was out of your comfort zone. You scratch your head dramatically after you’re finished and the whole crowd laughs and cheers. The rest of your bandmates chuckle along and Harry nods and smiles at you.

“You’ll do great, love.” He leans into your ear and says without the microphone. Then he winks and turns to go back to the center of the stage. You press your lips together to contain your smile, both happy and concerned about the flip your stomach just did.  

The show is going great. Harry is killing it with the crowd. Everything is electric. You’re entirely focussed on your bass playing, but Harry has been coming over every so often to do something fun or have you tell a joke.

“She’s truly the funniest person I know! And I know a fair amount of people I think.” Harry says as he walks over to you have you tell another joke. Mitch has been looking at you and Harry interacting all night and he’s sure that it isn’t your different position that has him coming over and talking to you so much tonight. Something has definitely changed once again. First the pair of you were always together and having fun, then it was silence and stolen glances that neither of you realized you were taking, now it was back to the beginning.

“That’s because you think puns are part of the top tier levels of comedy.” You say easily, “Here, I can guarantee Harry will love this and the rest of you will likely groan.” Then you stop and act as if you’re thinking for a little, everyone’s waiting expectantly. “Sorry, thinking...Well, I’ve got some skeleton puns I could do, they’re very humerus or y’know classic vampire ones..eh but those ones kind of suck. What do you think, Harry?” You look out at the crowd, face deadpan, as Harry laughs beside you. You roll your eyes playfully and push him back to the center of the stage. Leaning into your own mic now, you say, “I told you.” That’s when everyone laughs. Harry throws another look at you over his shoulder and laughs a little more, his smile wide and eyes bright.

A little over half way through the night, it’s time for ‘to be so lonely’. You already knew the bass chords for it before today and you were confident in yourself by now. It wasn’t as hard a song so you were happy for the little break. This song allowed you to not be looking down at the notes you had stuck to the floor in front of you. Harry’s voice comes in after Mitch’s intro and you watch the way his lips move against his mic. You laugh a little as you watch the crowd yell the first “arrogant son of a bitch” line. You used to not particularly like when people did that, but after it had ended with Harry you had started to enjoy it a bit more. Having those people yell the words you couldn’t, but truly felt about him sometimes, was cathartic. Tonight you weren’t angry with him, but you enjoyed the energy in the room when everyone said it. We’ve all got our own ‘arrogant son of a bitch’ that we want to scream at sometimes. Tonight yours wasn’t Harry for the first time in a long time. The song moves along and Harry takes the microphone off its stand, he walks towards your side of the stage. When the lyrics get to:

“I miss the shape of your lips, your wit, it’s just a trick, this is it so I’m sorry”

Harry isn’t looking at the crowd, he’s looking straight at you. You don’t understand the way he’s looking at you. Or maybe you don’t want to understand it. This song, its lyrics, explains Harry really well. You saw the relationship you had with him in the words. Maybe not precisely, but a part of it was in it. Harry had unknowingly foretold your lives with his words. You know he has trouble connecting and committing, you know his issues, and you accept them. But you knew what had happened between the two of you was far more serious than meaningless sex and you knew Harry couldn’t bring himself to be that serious. He ran off and that was fine, but the face that he couldn’t even apologize hurt you the most. But the song lays it all out for you, he’s not one to be able to apologize quickly. The fact that he looks at you and means the apology he sings in the song for you, it’s a big step, but it’s not enough. The banter, the technical apology, it was all a good start, but it’s just that - the beginning. If Harry wants to make things better with you, a lot more needs to be discussed. So when you sing backing vocals for the following chorus you mean the words for Harry completely.

“Don’t call me baby again, you got your reasons, I know that you’re trying to be friends. I know you mean it, but don’t call me baby again it’s hard for me to go home and be so lonely”

His eyes flick to you again and see your lips moving around the words as you play the bass. He sees the emotion in your face and understands what you’re saying. It’s hard for you to go to your room at night and be alone while he’s out with someone else. It’s hard for him to act like everything’s all fine and perfect, back to normal, because for you it isn’t really. He can’t call you ‘love’ and tell the world you’re funny and expect it to be enough. He can’t sing his sorry that was initially for someone else to you and expect you to accept it. And he knows it, too.

After the show everyone decides they’re exhausted and need to rest before tomorrow. You all planned to celebrate the whole day and you knew it was going to be a wicked Halloween. Knowing this, you’re surprised with the knock on your door after about an hour of being back at the hotel. You’ve given up the habit you had once hoped to cultivate and swing the door open haplessly. Truly having no idea who to expect, you are still surprised to find the man standing before you.

“Mitch.”

“We need to talk.” He stares down at you, his shoulders slumped from tiredness.

“Come in,” you usher him in when you hear the urgency of his voice. He saunters in before you and you close the door. You move to the small couch in the room and sit down. Your hands gesture for him to sit as well, but he shakes his head. He stays standing and brings a hand up to smooth his hair back on the right side. His eyes staying on the floor and flickering up to you every so often.

“What is going on with you and Harry?”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh come on Y/N. You’re seemingly best friends with him for a good portion of tour, then you’re barely on speaking terms for the second half, now you’re joking around again. What is going on?”

You sit there in a stunned silence, “I don’t know what to say.” Your arms go to hug your body, feeling anxious about being confronted about this topic.

“Were you seeing each other?” His voice is soft, eyes taking in your body language and knowing it’s a difficult topic.

“I wouldn’t put it like that…”

He holds back the ‘I knew it’ statement because of  how sullen you look, b..ut in his mind all of the pieces he had watched unfold came to fit in a perfect puzzle. He decides to sit beside you when you don’t say anything else.

“We were having sex,” it felt weird to say it out loud, no one but you and Harry had actually known, “But it ended. I don’t know what today was...but it felt different than how it’s been.”

“Why are you so sad if it was just sex?” He places a hand on your shoulder and your tear-filled eyes meet his. “Oh…” He knows why.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” You sob at his apology because he’s not the one who should be at your door apologizing. You sniffle and lean your head into his chest. He takes you into his arms and holds you as your cries become muffled sounds in his shirt.

You cry without words for a few minutes, Mitch coos some soothing words, his voice soft and kind. He was always a good shoulder to cry on for all of your bandmates, he was extremely strong and you made a mental note to thank him thoroughly when you actually were capable of forming coherent thoughts. “I’ve never told anyone before. It feels so weird even saying it out loud,” you say as you pull back from Mitch’s embrace. You're thankful his shirt is black, no tear stains can be made out.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asks gently, gauging your reaction. You wipe at your eyes and nod.

Taking a deep breath, you decide to start from the beginning. “Do you remember the party Charlotte had a week before we left for tour?”

Mitch nods and his eyes widen at what you’re saying as he remembers the night. “It started back then?” He’s unable to contain his incredulous question. He had suspected something, but hadn’t thought it had been going on for that long. He was truly astounded. You nod, “Well sort of,” then you go on to recount the last couple of months. All the way up until the Forum shows. “That night, when I opened Harry’s door and it was you standing there...Harry and I didn’t have anything to discuss. It was just…” Mitch nods again. He hadn’t spoken much since you had gotten into the story, wanting to let you be in charge of what you were saying and believing he could probably ask questions at the end. “Then the next night he blew me off for his date with that model and I cried in the elevator because I knew what was going to happen next.”

“So that’s when it ended?” Mitch asks when you don’t speak for a rather extended period of time.

“Yeah, the next morning he came over and I asked if they had sex and he said yes so I told him it was over.”

“But I don’t get why he went out with that model. He had told me she wasn’t his type the night before…” Your eyes shot up and looked at Mitch. His eyes widened when he realized what he said.

“What?”

“When we were talking about Canyon Moon, he mentioned that Jeff had tried to set him up with some woman but he had declined. Said he wasn’t interested. I don’t get what changed between then and the next morning.” He figured it was best to put all the cards out on the table right now. You’d be going your separate ways for a while, now that the tour was over and he had seen how unhappy both you and Harry had been over the last part of the tour.

You shift your leg to have it folded beneath you as you continue to stare at Mitch. “He came over after you and him had your meeting,”  you say quietly. Mitch hums, waiting for you to continue this time.

“He apologized for choosing you over me to talk to. Then we slept together, but we didn’t have sex...I think that’s what wigged him. It had felt too real, sleeping in the same bed with me without having sex beforehand made it feel like something more than just two people fulfilling needs.” Mitch nods and sighs heavily. He looks around the room and then back to you, taking in your full appearance. Again he feels terrible for you, how he had felt the second night at the Forum even though he hadn’t known the full story yet. “Now we’re here.”

“Tonight, it felt like he was trying,” Mitch finally said and you smiled sweetly, thinking back to Harry’s behavior. No matter how far from him you were, all those good feelings you associated with him never went away.

“Yeah, it’s been getting better. He texted me once saying he was trying. Then he came out with us one night and it almost seemed like that would be the night he’d apologize, but then he didn’t. Then we started sharing music with each other again. Then tonight… was tonight. It’s just confusing. He’s confusing.”

Mitch smiles sadly and brings you in for another hug and you’re actually so thankful he

showed up at your door. It was your first time telling anyone all of this, because Harry didn’t even know how you felt about some of these things. It felt amazing to be heard and to be told it was okay to be feeling like this.

Pulling back, Mitch says, “He’s definitely different. But his differences are what make him special and that’s why I think he clings to them even if they sometimes can hurt other people. The fact that he’s trying is a good sign. I hope he can find it in himself to make it right between you two because I had never seen either of you happier than when you were apparently together. Especially those few weeks leading up to Los Angeles. Sarah had kept asking me why Harry was so smiley back then. When I had asked him, he had just said “have you ever found something and realized you wanted to keep it with you forever?” I had no idea what he had meant, but I feel like he meant you now.”

Your awestruck at what Mitch has just told you. He was right about the first part about Harry trying to change, but the last bit, that’s what had left you speechless. You turn your body to face the rest of the room and put your chin against your hand as you think.

“Mitch...I have to go.”

He understands what you mean and you walk out of the door with him. He walks down the hall to his room and you walk quickly past the elevator and opt for the stairs. Before you know it you’re running up the stairs, taking two at a time even though you’re not the most athletically inclined. You can’t stand to wait for the elevator and your mind is racing.

You knock on the door that is Harry’s after reaching his floor. It swings open and reveals a confused and sleepy Harry. Thankfully he’s still fully dressed because that would have been a whole other problem you would have if he hadn’t been. You push past him and walk straight into his room without any invitation. He follows behind you, still unsure of why you’ve come here.

“Have you ever found something and realized you want to keep it forever?” You ask him, repeating the words Mitch had just told you.

“Pardon?”

“You told Mitch that about me before we ended things. If that’s how you felt, why didn’t you do what you said?”

Harry sighs as the words register in his mind. The memory of when he had smiled at Mitch so giddily and asked the vague question, his thoughts only of you as he asked it. The shit-eating grin he had plastered on his face after Mitch had looked at him confusedly flitted across his mind. As well as the way he had gone to his dressing room and had a quickie with you after that conversation.

“It’s not that simple…”

“It is, Harry! Why can’t you just be honest with me for once?”

“Okay, fine. You want me to be honest?” you nod at his harsh tone. The two of you standing only a few feet apart. “You have no goddamn idea what you do to me, when I’m around you, I have no control of my emotions or of my thoughts. I pushed you away because I didn’t like feeling out of control. I got out because what had started as a fun time had turned into me longing to be with you every waking hour. I found myself not caring what we did as long as I got to hold you and be around you, but that wasn’t part of the plan.”

“Plans can change, Harry.”

You step closer to him and he meets your eyes. He had left his music playing softly on his phone before he had opened the door so now as the two of you stared at each other, he must have been playing his Etta James playlist because her voice faded out of the song “I’d Rather Go Blind” and straight into “A Sunday Kind of Love”. Harry had shared her At Last album with you over the Christmas holiday of last year and you had decided to listen to her entire discography afterwards, so you knew the songs. The transition was a little too on the nose and you wondered if Spotify ever listened to your conversations.

His emerald eyes examine your face and take inventory of your features, measuring whether anything had changed since he had looked at you this close up. Your hand goes up to cup his cheek and he nuzzles into it, dropping his head closer to you ever so slightly and closing his eyes at the feeling of you.

“I am sorry,” he whispers earnestly as he reopens his eyes.

You can’t take your eyes off of him even if you tried. He looks so soft in the moment, so vulnerable in this light as the music swells in the corner of the room. Etta sings about how she needs a love that is going to last as the pair of you inch yourselves closer together.

“I forgive you, Harry,” you whisper back.

He nudges his head further down and your lips finally press together, slotting back together after months apart. Your lips are eager to press back against their favorite companion. You oblige them, but pull back for a second, just far enough to say, “I will always forgive you, so long as you tell me when you’re scared so we can work through it together.”

He nods, “I promise to never let you go again.” Before taking you back against his lips and gathering your body up in his arms. His lips missing yours just as much.

-

#fallinharry10k #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #long one shot #first fic in awhile #pls lemme know what you think #I've missed putting work out #im equally nervous and excited #harry styles one shot #harry styles oneshot #harry styles imagine #am I forgetting tags?? #can't remember #oh well #def meant to call this keep it forever but forgot #oops #also lots of mitch #bc I love Mitch Rowland with my whole heart

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Shock Troops Part II: The Drop

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)

If there is one thing to be said about the age of interstellar travel it would be that it be impossible without the aid of the space gate network.

The space gates comprised of several hundred ancient machines scattered around the cosmos that formed a three dimensional network allowing near instant travel between star systems normally thousands of light years apart. Many of these machines were often located in empty space at the edges of their local systems, but the one in the Hodun system was situated directly over the planet of Hodun Prime and was considered to be the gate to the inner sphere worlds of the Tempish Ascendancy.

Considered to be one of the mightiest governing bodies of the era, the Tempish Ascendancy was a highly efficiently monarchy protected by a near fanatical well-armed and trained military. Their rise to power is often credited to the fact that the Temp people controlled the only space gate for several neighboring systems. With this level of control the Tempish people expanded, either through diplomatic undertakings or military campaigns, into those other systems and quickly incorporated them into their domain. Within a couple of generations the Tempish population was the dominant species on these worlds firmly placing them under their control. From here they had expanded through the space gate; an expansion that eventually led straight to the doors of humanity.

How the war started has been debated and refuted a dozen times and then again a dozen times more, but the end result always comes to the war that erupted between humanity and the Tempish. Each time humanity felt it was on the cusp of victory the Tempish would flee to Hodun Prime and through the space gate back to their territory to recoup only to reemerge several months later and begin the war anew. This back and forth had continued for over a decade as humanity lacked the needed manpower to secure Hodun Prime and in turn launch an invasion of the inner sphere. This tide of fortune for the Tempish soon turned when humanity made peace with several other factions it had been at war with and finally could turn its full attention to the Tempish Ascendancy.

The space gate in orbit above Hodun Prime was controlled by a secure facility on the planet’s surface. Surrounded by near impregnable walls, shield towers, orbital cannons, and a legion of the best trained soldiers the Tempish military had; the facility was able to deny access to the space gate to any ship that was not Tempish. Furthermore, when humanity had in the past launched raids to secure the facility in the past the facility would send out a distress signal through the space gate to the inner sphere worlds were a waiting support fleet would respond and jump through the gate and arrive over Hodun Prime within the hour. This threat of being assaulted by both ground and space forces had deterred further attempts to secure the facility until only recently when a specialized regiment became available for deployment. -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ripja strode into the command chamber and ran a glance along the tactical displays lining the walls. He passed between rows of consoles to either side of him each controlling a vital system to Hodun Prime’s defense; each one now blaring warning sounds and baring red marks of imminent danger. Several of the soldiers stood to salute Ripja but he waved them away. Now was not the time to stand on ceremony.

“Report” Ripja asked as he approached the center of the room. There stood a large table displaying a three dimensional hologram of the planet and the orbiting space gate currently surrounded by the high command and their aides. Several icons were scattered around the planet listing military positions, outposts, defense sectors, and more.

His second in command, Kempid, approached and tapped a data wand against the table. A rash of red icons suddenly appeared in orbit of the planet directly above the command facility they now stood in.

“Roughly ten minutes ago three human ships exited the space gate directly over us.”

Before Kempid could provide more information the entire room was filled with warning alarms.

“Enemy bombardment incoming!” one of the console operators called out.

Within moments Ripja could hear a noise reverberating throughout the entire room. It was faint and sounded distant and yet there was no mistaking it.

“Shields are holding.” Another attendant called out.

“Send the signal to the fleet in the inner sphere,” Ripja said to one of the waiting aides, “we need reinforcements now.”

With that they scurried off to the communications bank and transmitted the signal while Ripja took a closer look at the holographic display.

Fiddling with the controls he enhanced the image in orbit and focused in on the human vessels. Two were cruiser class by their ship design and the third was a troop carrier of some kind. The cruisers were using their heavy cannons to lay down a withering barrage of plasma focused directly on the shields surrounding the space gate facility.

“This doesn’t make sense.” Ripja stated, making some of the nearby command staff turn to listen as he began pacing around the table. “They must know two ships can’t breach our shields, and our guns can’t fire so long as our shields are up.” He stopped his pacing and magnified the enemy fleet once again, this time showing a live feed from one of their orbiting stealth satellites.

The two cruisers had positioned the troop carrier between them while the bombardment was ongoing and appeared to have achieved a stable orbit. As he was pondering this defensive nature he noticed through the feed several of the hangar bay doors of the troop ship slowly opening.

In silence several dozen landing craft shot out from the troop ship and began heading towards the surface. To his amazement the landing craft were not arcing away from the orbital bombardment but instead were flying directly through it; their tiny craft veering and swerving in-between the human orbital fire like insects flying through the rain.

“They must be insane!” Kempid said as he came over and saw what had enthralled Ripja.  

“Clever.” Ripja spoke as he motioned another aide over. “They’re using their orbital fire to disable our anti air capabilities while they land their forces.”

As the aide approached Ripja shrunk the hologram to only highlight the main command facility and the space directly above it. Already the red icons of the landing craft were appearing one after another as they raced towards the facility.

“Lower the shields in the south quadrant of the facility and have our orbital guns begin firing on the cruiser on the left.”

“But sir,” the aide spoke hesitantly, “that will leave that quadrant exposed to their fire.”

“They won’t change their target.” Ripja pointed to the central facility currently the focus of the human bombardment. “They need their bombardment to silence our own anti air cannons; if they deviate even for a moment it will give us a window to shoot down their landing craft.”

The aide nodded and moved aside to relay the new order while Ripja motioned Kempid over.

“Deploy all air squadrons and have them engage the human landing craft.” He said as he highlighted the leading ships. “I do not want one of them touching down on our soil unless it is a burning wreck.”

“Our pilots won’t be able to fly thro-“ Kempid began before Ripja grapped him by the throat and pulled him over to the hologram.

“The humans are flying through it!” he softly snarled at Kempid, “Get. Them. In. The. Air.”

“As you wish.” Gasped Kempid as Ripja let him go. “Command to all air wings, deploy and repel enemy landing craft.”

Within minutes a rash of new blue icons from landing fields surrounding the main facility were lighting up as dozens of combat air wings took to the skies. As he watched them take flight he also saw the shield in the south lower and the retaliatory fire commence against the human fleet.

Several cannons fired at once and impacted the left cruiser, its shields flashing bright blue in the cold void. As the retaliation strikes continued Ripja noticed that even though the fire wasn’t piercing the shields it was altering the human bombardment. The angle of the shots was being offset by the Tempish fire moving the cruiser and as a result the landing craft were thrown into a chaotic descent.

If Ripja had to guess the humans had coordinated specific flight paths to navigate the orbital bombardment fire to ensure their craft weren’t hit by friendly fire. Now however the paths were changing and the human landing craft were flying straight into their own bombardment and shattering.

Ripja let a faint smirk cross his lips as he watched the enemy icons slowly blip out one by one. Soon they will be forced to retreat and the day will be ours, he thought to himself. He watched the hologram waiting for the moment, waiting for the first ship to turn tail and flee back to the troop carrier in orbit, waiting for the enemy to flee the system in defeat, waiting for yet another achievement for his military record.

Waiting…..

Waiting….

The smirk vanished from Ripja’s face as he continued to watch in astoundment as the human landing craft did not flee, but instead sped up directly for his command facility.

Even when the Tempish air wings finally swooped in and began picking off the seemingly defenseless landing craft they still kept coming. By the count now the landing craft had suffer 37% casualties and they still had not even reached the planet’s surface.

Ripja watched in horror as even through the orbital strikes, even though the wings of fighter craft picking them off with every pass, even with another 15% of casualties the humans still kept coming until finally the moment Ripja had never thought possible happened.

The humans landed on Hodun Prime.

#HUMANS ARE WEIRD #humans are insane #humans are space orcs #humans are space oddities #scifi #story

[one-rosy-sock]

Coming Undone | Abner Krill x fem!Reader (1/2)

Go to the {Ao3 Link} for more info...

Fandom: The Suicide Squad (2021) Rating: T (M for future chapter) Summery: You’re a psychiatrist. You should know the warning signs when a relationship with a patient is becoming problematic. But you refuse to consider this, because Abner Krill is a lot of things, and violent is not one of them. Warnings: PTSD, childhood abuse, trauma, brief mention of past suicide attempt. 

Notes: no use of y/n Disclaimer: Author is NOT a real therapist. I do not own DC comics. __ The first time you met Abner Krill, he was recommended to you by a colleague at Belle Reve.

It had been several weeks since the convicted metahumans defeated Starro, that giant one-eyed starfish. Sometimes it amazes you to no end what strange things exist in this world. The Corto Maltese coup and monster defeat held onto headlines for several weeks until the next big thing came to top it. Seeing such exciting news affect your patients wasn’t unusual, but to have a high profile patient be a part of such news was a first, you’ll admit.

As for you, well, things were pretty much the same. You see your patients during the week at your office. You’re a licensed psychiatrist, and oftentimes you see men and women who have been convicted of a felony or are ex-prisoners themselves. It wasn’t a dream job for many women, much less anyone, to counsel people so troubled. You aren’t like everyone else, though. No, you might not have x-ray vision or super strength, or any super fancy gear to punch bad guys, but you do have a gift not many have: A good ear and an open heart.

And a prescription notepad, but you are determined to make your sessions more than just a pill dispensary.

You are aware of who Abner Krill is. The Polka-Dot Man. One of the metahumans who went to Corto Maltese and defeated Starro. This has partially immortalized him in the media as a superhero, despite his past as a prisoner. Some of your patients were metahumans too, but none as powerful or as widely known as the Polka-Dot Man. His identity and those of his teammates had been concealed from the general public. As of last week, you know his real name.

His appointment’s in the morning on a Tuesday. Your secretary came by as you were straightening up your office to let you know he had arrived. You fluff the couch pillows, throw blanket over the back, tissue box on the side table, a mild scent infuser on your desk. The century-old computer at your desk whirls to cool itself off. Earlier you'd taken the time to shoot an email to Ms. Waller confirming Mr. Krill's appointment.

You follow your secretary up front. She goes to her desk and you step into the waiting room.

Though foolish, you half expected to see Abner in his super suit. The polka dot suit and headgear. Instead, he’s wearing a pair of khaki trousers that hugged high over his hips, and a somewhat flashy, silk button-up tucked neatly into the waist. And, dare you say, a fanny pack. His outfit looked straight out of the 70s or 80s. You don’t know the definitive difference between the decades. But his shirt looks clean and pressed, the collar tucked down nicely. He has one leg over a knee, bouncing it rhythmically as he watches the fish swim around the tank in the wall. It looks like he tried to read a magazine, but stopped halfway, finger wedged between the pages.

“Mr. Krill?”

He jerked in response to his name, swinging his head up with a guilty look gleaming in his eyes. You think of a puppy who’s been caught peeing on the carpet. His expression, or perhaps the way his face was structured, reminded you of a puppy too. His face was somewhat sallow, somewhat droopy. Lines indicate a lot of frowning. Like a sad, droopy cartoon dog. His face narrowed down from his eyes, making his red cupid’s bow mouth seem small. A strong, straight nose dominates his face. His big eyes seem dark and questioning. Like a scared, lost child.

Krill quickly shoots up like a bean sprout, shaking his hands out. The magazine drops to the floor. He swears, bends down to pick it up, and anxiously fusses over righting it on the coffee table. You watch the way the glossy purple cuffs wave as he moves about in jerky, quick moves.

“Good morning, doctor,” he greets warily, avoiding your gaze and staring at your shoes.

“You must be Abner,” you smile. You reach out your hand. In a painful, pregnant pause he visibly wavers as he stares at your hand as if you’d stuck out a gun at him. Finally, he reaches out to take your hand.

He has a strong grip. Sweaty hands.

Hastily, he pulls away.

“Nice to meet you. Why don’t we head on back?”

He nods. His legs are long yet his steps uncertain, reminding you of a gangly adolescent. He follows you down the hall from the waiting room and awkwardly stands by as you open the door to your private office. You hear him pat his thighs as he waits. Like a shadow, he follows and sticks close but careful not to touch. Barely making a sound.

After your office door clicks shut, the two of you sit in your respective places. Your desk chair has a high back, cloaked in a fraying, multicolor knitted throw blanket. A bit garish against the dull beige walls and simple yet whimsical desk decorations beside you. There’s a poster that reads It’s OK to feel this way: over a circle divided by colors and sections, listing different emotions.

You pull your knees up and begin to take off your shoes.

Your patient stares in visible confusion.

“Would you like to take your shoes off?” You ask, setting your shoes aside as you straighten up in your chair. “I find it easier to relax without them.”

“Um…” he trails off, his downturned mouth pursing as he considers this. The tension rolling off him makes him stiff and hard to read. All you’re getting from him so far is how much he doesn't want to be here.

You watch him while occupying your hands with things on your desk so he doesn’t feel pressured to make a decision. From the corner of your eye, you watch him swallow, Adam's apple bobbing, and he slowly reaches down to untie and slip off his oxford shoes. He sets them neatly beside his feet. Hands tucked in his lap, sock feet on the ground. Looking up at you somewhat imploringly.

“This is a safe space, Abner,” you smile at him. You have your clipboard and pen in your lap, but you make yourself relaxed and as welcoming as you can. Note-taking can be done later. Visibly, at least. Don’t want to make him think you’re already assessing him before y'all begin to talk. Can’t force him to talk.

Ex-prisoners often struggle with reforming to civilization after release. He couldn’t be forced to attend therapy here despite the outside forces that pressured him to. If he wanted to walk out, he could. Abner was so tense he seemed to be walking on eggshells. He struggled to relax his shoulders, like his limbs were too long for his body. During all this, he hadn’t met your gaze one.

“Whatever we talk about won’t leave this room, unless, for instance, you said you plan to hurt yourself or someone else.”

This gets a reaction out of him. A grimace, a shake of his head. “No, I wouldn’t…”

“Of course not. You’re a superhero now, right?”

He grins. It’s brief, boyish, sheepish. He’s studying the design of your clothes. You consider that progress from your feet.

“You were recommended to me by Dr. Rooney at Belle Reve,” you begin conversationally, baldly, wanting to get a feel of where he was coming from. Your colleague had said Krill was not a violent inmate, but was often verbally bullied by other prisoners. He tended to avoid crowds, thus mostly avoided. More than once he had been on suicide watch. Casually, you glance down at your clipboard. Born in Philadelphia to Augustine Krill--father unknown--and tried and convicted for first-degree murder as an adult in the city of Metropolis. He was incarcerated at Belle Reve shortly after turning eighteen. He was in his early forties now.

You look back up at Abner. He had that sad puppy dog look again, staring at nothing in particular with his neck hunched.

“Did you and Dr. Rooney get along?”

“D-Doesn’t your notes say?”

You make a face. “I want to know what you think of Rooney, not what he thinks.”

Abner didn’t answer right away. “He was okay.”

“Okay,” you echo, licking your bottom lip as you cock your head up. “Okay is better than nothing.”

“We mostly spoke about my mother.”

“Oh?”

“She experimented on me and my siblings. She wanted us to become superheroes,” he said. His voice held much more confidence than anything he’d said so far, but his expression remained unchanged. It was because he kept words void of emotion.

“I see.” Yes, you did see. You had anticipated the topic of his mother coming up if you didn’t ask him about it first in future sessions. Dr Krill was listed in his files as a scientist at S.T.A.R. Labs, and having six children whom lived on site with her. CPC had been called a few times, rebuffed every time by various means other than being convinced nothing was wrong. The whole thing was fishy, especially after the untimely deaths of three of Dr. Krill’s children. The whereabouts of the other Krill children were unknown. All investigations into S.T.A.R. Labs had been terminated by higher powers, even after Abner’s arrest and psychological evaluation.

Abner continues, to your surprise. “I pictured Starro as my mother.”

“You did?”

“It makes it easier, when I convince myself that my enemy is her. I don't like killing.”

You pick up your pen and tap your lip, looking down at the way he was fidgeting his feet. “Did you regret killing your mother”

Abner’s knee stopped bouncing. “No.”

“Do you regret killing the other scientists at S.T.A.R. Labs? The--”

Abner grimaced and brought his hands to his head, tugging on fistfulls of black hair. “I-I didn’t mean--I-I--”

“Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to answer that today,” you placate with a soft tone, putting down your pen, fingers rubbing along the edge of your clipboard. After a moment of heated silence, you set your things down on the desk and stand up. This makes your patient crumble in on himself, trying to hunch low enough to shield some blow. You smile sadly where he can’t see. “Abner, do you see my poster here? With all the emotions?”

He looks back up, glancing from you to said poster. His attention is answer enough.

“Whatever you feel in this room is valid to you and to me. Not now, but in the future I’d like for you to give me short but detailed descriptions to how you feel on certain things. It's okay to say something you think is taboo or unorthodox. This room doesn't have ears or a head to judge. Do you think you can do that?”

The couch makes no sound as he moves to better see the circle chart of words. Timidly, he nods.

“Great,” you smile sadly and sit back down. “Let’s get back to that later. Today, I’d like to talk about something other than your mother.”

Abner tilts his head. You must be doing something to exceed his expectations, because now he’s looking at you and not at you. “The Corto Maltese mission?”

“No. I want to know about you. I want to talk about Abner Krill. Who are you?”

His blank stare makes your heartache a little for him.

The following silence, where all you can hear is his ragged breath, the whirl of the monitor, and the soft mist of the incense humidifier, is thick. You can cut it with the tip of your pen. The sound of his voice as he speaks is almost staggering. "I am... I am my mother's son."

“No."

He flinches.

"Your mother does not define you. What you think about your mother and how you feel about her should not determine your sense of self or your future. You liked defeating that monster, right?”

Abner nods.

“You’re a superhero because you took action, not because she moved your hand. What you say here today, and any day, should be the same. Do you think you can do this for me?”

“I don’t understand…”

“I want to know the real Abner,” you smile. “Not Dr. Krill’s son.”

He still can’t make eye contact. The fidgeting starts back up. “But, what I am is because of her.”

“Not unless you choose otherwise. Starting today, you and I are going to help define Abner Krill. First, you are not your mother’s son.”

“But I am?”

“No. You are not your mother’s son. You’re Abner Krill, superhero. What does Abner Krill the superhero like to do?”

Understanding slowly started to dawn on him, visible in his eyes as he lifted his slanted brows. Recovering from trauma was no walk in the park, but the two of you had to start somewhere. Rooney over-fixated on Abner’s fixation on his mother and the abuse, and after years of obsessing over it to “fix” him, it seemed to become all Abner could think about. No one had really given him proper trauma recovery therapy, or helped to treat his PTSD. You wanted him to take the first step into self-evolution. No one could do it for him. You want him to define himself other than his mother’s son. Seeing himself as a superhero was perhaps the start of it.

“I-I don’t know,” he frowned. “I like to read…”

“That’s great!” Your enthusiasm startles him. “What sort of things do you like to read?”

“Well… Ah, I-I uh... I like the classics….”

The rest of your session with Abner was mostly casual. The safe topics you steered him to visibly made the man relax. He spoke about the fictional worlds he enjoyed immersing himself in. He liked the classics because they were “soft”. Sweet romances where the only real worries were who’s going to the ball. He didn't like tragedies or novels about war or great violence. With some coaxing, he opens up to talk about his favorite foods, animals, celebrities, songs-- You ask about his (non-virus related) talents or any hobbies he might’ve picked up at the prison or since he’s been out. Steering him away from the topic of his mother confused him in the beginning, leading you to assume he had anticipated mostly speaking about her. He’d been prepared like he might prepare to go into battle.

You know he won’t be able to just brush his mother aside; his virus was because of Dr. Krill. He blamed his 20+ years of incarceration at Belle Reve on his mother’s experimentations. He blamed himself. He hated her. He hated himself. Feared her. Feared himself. It was an inner wound that would never heal, you know this without a doubt, but you hope with time it becomes easier to manage as he takes control and independence of his new life.

“Did you ever go to school, Abner?”

The phantom smile on his face falls, but you haven’t lost him as he turns to you. Looks at your shoulder. “No. We--my siblings and I--were… homeschooled.”

“Right. Well, you at least know what homework is?”

“Yes. Of course. Am--Do you want me to--?”

With a hand gesture you hope is placating, you smile and gently cut him off. “Don’t worry, I’m not assigning you an essay to write or a month-long project to present. I’m not that cruel,” you chuckle. “But I am going to push you a little. Can you try that for me?”

He looks as if you’ve asked him to consider sacrificing his firstborn. Thankfully, he nods as he plucks a loose string off his knee.

“I want to see you biweekly, so schedule with Patrica upfront. Maybe this Friday or Saturday?”

“I-I can do that, yes ma’am.”

"Now, it's your choice to come back or not but it would make me really happy if you did."

His back straightens. "Yes. I'll be here."

“Beautiful, Abner. Beautiful. Sometime this week I’d like you to do something you normally wouldn't do. Go on a hike, join a gym, take a class on cooking or arts and crafts. It can be simply looking up a food recipe you’ve never tried before and making it. Tell me about your experience. If you’re around strangers, how is your relationship with them? If you see something new, how does it make you feel? This isn’t an order, Abner, just a… strong suggestion, mm? All I’m asking is for you to do something new and spontaneous. It can be at home or outside. Your choice.”

Abner licked his lips. It had taken a great deal of effort to convince him to come here at all today. Today is the first time speaking to him, but you’ve had his file for a few days now. You’re a little grateful for that. There was a lot to read. However, it took outside forces such as one Amanda Waller and fellow ex-prisoner teammates to get him to come here. You suspect someone dropped him off if he didn’t take a cab himself. He had no driver's license.

“Ah… Okay. Um, yes miss. Ma'am. Doctor! Ah--”

“You can call me by my name,” you reassure, tilting your head to him. “This is a safe space for you and I. We may be doctor and patient outside that door, but here, we can be as familiar with each other as we'd like. Like old friends.”

He turned to you with a look that sent a thunderbolt of sensation down your spine. Surprise, awe. A silent question gleamed in his puppy-dog eyes. He doesn't respond, brows raised high as he just stares at you.

You cover for his lapse. “I’ll see you in a few days. It was wonderful to finally meet you, Abner,” you say, looking at him without pretenses to hopefully show your honesty. He had an incredible gift that could help save a lot of people, and from what you've learned from recent character evaluations on him he had the makings of a fine superhero. First thing first, he needed to adjust to civilian life after years of being locked up, and years of having nothing but unresolved trauma. All the while, you hold back a rueful smile at his demeanor. You won't say it aloud of course, but he was so cute. Idly, you wonder about his sexuality- but you can ask that another day. For now you wanted him to be a little more daring to try new things and focus on something other than his mother.

You stand up and shake his hand. His grip is a little looser this time, lingering longer, but he moves away quickly, gathers his shoes, and you see him out. His scurrying reminds you of a startled elk. Large yet quick, stumbling over his long legs. Running from you as if you held a rifle instead of a purple glitter clipboard.

It was hard to believe this man had committed mass homicide.

#abner krill #polka dot man #the Suicide squad #abner krill x reader #polkadot man x reader #reader #therapy #chapter one

[stuff-from-the-void-matron]

Laurel Wreaths & Animal Teeth (11)

(c!technoblade x fem!reader)

(people showed chapter 10 some nice love so here’s chapter 11. sorry it took so long to get out. I threw my back out and doing just about anything has been physical torture. but I’m starting to feel better so here’s hoping I’ll write more soon. but remember, please comment and reblog. they keep me motivated! <3)

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

Things settled down pretty well after the election. Almost unbelievably so. Wilbur pretty much completely disappeared afterwards. You felt worried and voiced your concerns with Niki, saying you hoped he wasn’t terribly upset he’d lost the election. You understand he no doubt felt incredibly attached to the title of president, and he may feel resentful of you for ‘stealing’ it from him. Niki smiled at you, glad you were being kinder about this than the other contestants would be in your shoes, but sighed and said,

“Yeah, he’ll probably be upset for a while. But I’m sure he’ll come around to accept you as the new president.”

You gave her a thankful smile, even if you didn’t quite believe her words. But then you paused and wondered if maybe, despite all your reservations about the brunet man, it was possible to smooth things over with him? Maybe all you needed to do was sit and have a talk with him. Perhaps he’d gone insane in the original timeline because both Schlatt and Quackity were… well, for lack of a nicer term, total dicks to him. They were openly antagonistic to the former president, banishing him and his younger brother from the very nation they fought and died for, which no doubt added to his crumbling mental state after L’manberg chose a new leader.

But maybe you could be different from Schlatt and Quackity. Honestly you had no desire to be cruel to Wilbur, though you would not put up with any of his BS, and honestly you hoped to have a neutral relationship with the man. So you decided right then that there was no harm in trying. Your smile brightened and you nodded and said to the blonde woman,

“You’re probably right, he just needs some time. Maybe after a few days he and I can have lunch and just talk. Clear the air between us. I’ve never been president before so I’m sure he’d be a great help in getting me better settled in!”

Niki was super glad you were being so chill about all of this. She knew you were the best choice for president. That’s probably why she’d voted for you. (yeah she’d heard your little speech and was really moved) But she’d never tell Wilbur that. He fully believed she’d voted for Coconut2020, and to be fair she had intended to until she was so moved by your speech. You had a way with words that just put the listener at ease.

“Yeah, I’m sure things will be alright,” Niki replied with a cheerful smile.

-0-

You settled into being president pretty well all things considered. There wasn’t as much work as you were expecting there to be for a president. But perhaps your only frame of reference (the US president) was a bit different than your current job (l’manberg president). L’manberg was super small actually. Especially compared to the United States. Hell, Punz’ house was almost as big as L’manberg if you remember right. 

You’re glad there wasn’t much presidential work to do at that moment. Because you wouldn’t have had time to juggle that work plus going back to your village and packing up some of your stuff in your ender chest before telling the villagers (and azo) what actually happened while you were gone. Which had been an ordeal in itself. You felt bad for just leaving to a new place so out of the blue. But you felt obligated to complete the role of president given to you. You’d feel less obligated if there was some other option you felt safe passing the torch to. Someone not a child. That left out every minor on this server and Wilbur. 

Part of you considered Fundy and Niki for the job but another part of you doubted if they’d be able to handle it. Honestly they shouldn’t have to either. It’s no secret that being president is one of the most stressful jobs a person can have. Being in charge of the safety and well-being of a group of people is enough to turn anyone’s hair grey. Even if the group was just like 10 or so people like L’manberg had. You remember seeing a post about pictures at the start and end of American presidents’ time in office. And each president looked at least a decade older in each after picture. Complete with wrinkles and grey hair. Those happened in FOUR years! Their jobs were so stressful that they aged 10+ years in only 4 years.

You were pulled from your thoughts by Tommy practically shouting “We’re here!!” as you all made it over the hill that led to your village. The first thing you saw was the towering bamboo wall around the perimeter of the place. You’d been so in your own head that you’d actually forgotten about the two boys on either side of you. They’d insisted they accompany you to your village as ‘presidential bodyguards’ despite the fact you said you would be fine. They’d practically demanded to go, to ensure the ‘new prez’ didn’t get attacked on the journey. Amused and touched that they cared, you’d finally relented and let them come along. You’d only be gone a short while anyways. At least that’s what you told yourself. 

It didn’t take long to pack up everything you wanted to take with you to L’manberg. You put all the nice gifts the villagers gave you (as well as a couple of the banners you made) and some of the stuff you made and packed it away into a shulker box you pulled from the Creative inventory before picking up said box and putting it inside your ender chest. Then you just picked that chest up and tucked it safely in your inventory and you were basically done. With packing anyways.. You still had to talk to the villagers and let them know you had to move away for a while. But you doubted they’d be heartbroken or anything. Maybe bummed out but they’d understand. It’s not like they’d be lost without you. They’d been living in this world long before you showed up and they’d probably be here long after you left.

Then you were ringing the village bell. And like every time you did the villagers all poked their heads out from wherever they were to see who rang it and what was going on. And when they saw you they brightened and hurried over to see what was happening. They gathered around you and the bell, murmuring curiously between themselves. You sighed and cleared your throat, gathering their attention to you before you hesitated, not entirely sure what to say. Should you explain the entire story from start to finish? No, probably not. That would take a while and you felt like they’d get bored fast. But just blurting out that you were leaving felt too abrupt and blunt. Though your indecision ended up not mattering because Tubbo finally lost patience with the silence and just let the metaphorical cat out of the bag in his usual laid back candid way.

“Are you gonna tell them you’re moving away?”

Oh that caught the villagers’ attention and suddenly you were surrounded by displeased grunts and hums, like surround sound stereos. You sighed and confirmed yes, you were. So with the news out there you started explaining what happened the day before, or at least a shortened version of it. You mentioned how you’d gone to support Tommy, placing a hand on his shoulder as you said this. Then you said how you’d sorta advised everyone to vote for who they felt would lead them smartly, and how you guess they took that as you entering the presidential ring.. And finally how you’d won the election by some points and how you’d not wanted to reject their trust so you’d accepted the job…

“Reader is our new president!!” Tommy practically shouted, clearly excited. 

Though from the disgruntled murmurs from the villagers they didn’t seem happy.. But you told them it would be okay. You’d come and visit them as often as you could while juggling your new job. But even with that promise they didn’t seem happy. Your shoulders slumped a bit and without thinking you said,

“I’m not happy about having to leave the village and move away either. But I made a promise to the people of L’manberg, one I intend to keep.” 

Despite not feeling the best about this you were determined to keep your word.

“Besides, it’s not like I can just pack up the village and move you all next to L’manberg!” you said with a flippant wave of your hand.

But the idea didn’t sound too bad to the villagers. They basically worshipped you as their guardian deity. So if loading up all their possessions and hauling them to a new place meant they got to stay within reach of their deity then so be it. They’d still be living in squalor if it hadn’t been for your kindness and generosity, so they wanted to follow you wherever you went. Be it sunny skies, harsh rain, freezing snow. 

So they all made excited grunts and you blinked at them, catching on to their train of thought pretty fast. You shook your head, missing the confused looks the two teen boys were shooting between you and the villagers, and said they couldn’t follow you to L’manberg. Hearing this made the boys’ eyebrows shoot up and they started asking if the villagers wanted to come live in L’manberg. You sighed and said they seemed to, yes, but it wasn’t viable because there was nowhere for them to live! Moving them all on a spur of the moment thing would be reckless. Not only would the journey be very hard on them and take quite a while but there’s also no homes available for them in L’manberg. 

“We could make some houses for them if they want to move to L’manberg!” Tubbo said with a little grin, not seeing the issue with them coming over.

You rubbed a hand down your face, careful not to jostle your mask too much. But then you sighed and finally caved in. 

“Okay, you can all move next to L’manberg,” you began, but before they could cheer you cut them off with, “BUT! They can’t leave today. I refuse to let them take the whole long journey to L’manberg just so they can be homeless when they get there.”

You said you and some others (who you would pay) would build a new village next door to L’manberg for them. And once it was complete you would come back and help ferry them all over safely. But you might have to take them over in small groups to avoid hostile mobs and stuff. Though despite all the risks the villagers seemed quite happy with everything. So you pulled out your notebook, the same one you’d used when you first showed up to the village actually, and made a note to start construction on a new village to either the North or East of L’manberg. Or whatever side had better building room. But now that that all was settled you bid the villagers goodbye, saying you’d start construction as soon as possible.

With that out of the way you decided to pay a visit to Azo. You missed the adorable little piglin and hoped she was doing okay. Your boys followed you into the Nether, asking what you needed from there so badly. That made you pause and realize they’d never officially met Azo! You smiled down at them and said you’d sort of taken up guardianship of a little piglin girl who lost her parents. You’d expected questions and some comments but got nothing but silence in return, which left you feeling a bit confused. But when you glanced over at the boys you saw Tubbo looking lost in thought and Tommy looking mildly upset. This caused you to stop short, which made them pause and look back at you. 

“What’s wrong?” you couldn’t help but ask.

But they both waved you off, Tubbo with a soft ‘what do you mean?’ and Tommy with an almost harsh sounding  ‘nothing’, both of which didn’t sound the least bit convincing. So you tilted your head to the side and in a firmer (but still gentle) tone you asked again what was wrong. Tommy’s nose scrunched up and he crossed his arms, adamantly saying nothing and asking if you all could hurry up and see ‘this kid’ since you had to hurry back to L’manberg. Tubbo tried to piggyback off Tommy, his smile attempting to be brighter as he agreed, saying he wanted to meet your ‘new kid’. That’s when it hit you..

“Are you two upset that I adopted a kid?”

Tommy wasn’t very subtle with his feelings, his loud “WHAT?! NO!” didn’t convince you of his supposed ‘uncaring’ regarding the situation. Tubbo however reacted slower than his friend, like he was processing what you’d asked before he gave a laugh that sounded too stilted to be genuine and denied being upset, saying that was ridiculous. Tommy actually started walking away, heading in the direction you three had followed when you were together here last time, with the goatish brunet watching him anxiously. But you called for him to stop and come back, maybe a touch sterner than you’d wanted. But when the blond came back to you he refused to look at you, just scowling down at his feet. You felt your heart ache at the sight and let out a calm breath.

You wrapped one arm around the blond’s shoulders and the other around his back, pulling him into a comforting hug. You laid your cheek on the top of his mop of hair, glancing down at Tubbo who was shifting between watching you both and glancing away nervously. Without much thought you removed the hand holding Tommy’s back and instead used it to carefully tug the brunet boy into the hug. They just stood there at first, still and awkward almost. But once Tubbo wrapped his arms around your hips and Tommy’s back his blond friend quickly caved and sunk into your warmth, wrapping his arms around you both tightly, like he was afraid you’d both disappear. 

You took a breath and gently began to rock the two back and forth, missing how Tommy’s eyes pricked with hot tears as he heard your steady heartbeat against his ear. After a couple minutes of just standing there relaxed into the hug you said quietly but with as much emotion as you could put into it,

“Tommy, Tubbo, please talk to me. I can do many things, but reading minds is not one of them.”

You felt your shirt become warm and you frowned and hugged them tighter,

“If something is bothering you two, if you’re sad or upset or angry then you need to tell me so I can maybe do something to make you feel better. I never wanna see either of you upset, so please… talk to me?”

The air around you three was unintentionally heavy, only the sound of fire crackling nearby broke up the silence. It was killing you to remain quiet but you didn’t want to push them to speak. That would just make them clam up and possibly push you away. So you waited, just holding and rocking them as you did. And your eyes brightened when your patience was rewarded.

“.... Why’d you have to go and get a kid?”

You half expected for Tommy to be the one to break the silence, he was always so against the quiet. But no, instead it had been Tubbo who finally buckled and voiced his thoughts. You couldn’t help but ask what he meant. And he sort of stuttered over his words, not sounding exactly sure what he wanted to say before he got his thoughts and mouth to cooperate.

“I thought you already-.. I mean you have us.. Why’d you-..”

If your heart could physically break like glass then you knew after hearing that it would be in a hundred pieces on the floor. You couldn’t help but pull them closer and bury your face between theirs, unknowingly letting out a softened keening sound. 

“I want you both to listen, just because I take another child under my wing doesn’t mean I no longer care about you two. I don’t think I could ever stop caring about you. You’re my boys, and I-....” here is where you hesitated, not wanting so sound weird but you continued,

“If you both want… I mean since neither of you have one to my knowledge… I’d happily be your mom.”

Shy isn’t exactly how you’d describe the two boys you’d begun to care for, but there was no other word accurate enough to describe how they agreed to your offer to be their mom. Tubbo gave an almost meek, “alright, sure” while holding onto your waist and Tommy gave a long-suffering sigh while trying to discreetly wipe his eyes and said, “I guess you’re cool enough to be my mum. Barely though.” That caused you to let out a loud guffaw, your grip on them loosening enough to where you could ruffle the blond’s hair.

“Ohhhhh, Big man himself thinks I’M cool? Very high praise~”

The heavy atmosphere lightened and your laughter had the two boys laughing too. But then a sly grin took over your face and you chuckled. The sound alerted the boys of your mischievous mood and they looked up when you started talking.

“Well, now that you’ve accepted me as your mom I’m legally obligated to do all sorts of ‘Mom Stuff’, I hope you realize that. Like making sure you both eat things besides bread and meat, make sure you sleep regularly, and do the spit thing when you’ve got dirt on your face.”

They gave you a look that was a mixture of confusion and mild disgust, and Tommy couldn’t help but blurt out,

“What the fuck do you mean by ‘spit thing’??”

Unbeknownst to him, he’d activated your Mom Trap Card and your grin grew into a smirk and you raised your hand, casually commenting that he seemed to have a bit of dirt on his cheek, and then you licked your thumb and moved it towards his face. He shrieked and practically threw himself backwards to avoid your spit covered finger. But you still had your arm around his shoulders so he didn’t get far. He rapidly screamed out a verbal blur of ‘nonononoNONONO!’ that had Tubbo nearly doubling over, howling with laughter.

Though his laughter abruptly cut off with a gasp when Tommy escaped your hold, causing you to turn your sights on him. He let out a noise that sounded suspiciously like the bleat of a goat before turning and running from you. You just cackled and chased after him, your longer legs giving you the advantage. You caught up with him before he knew it and lifted him in a backwards hug. Now it was Tommy’s turn to laugh at Tubbo.

But you did let him down, without cleaning his face, and smiled down at the pair and said sincerely,

“All joking aside… I think you two would make a cool pair of big brothers..”

Tommy took that and ran with it, saying of COURSE he would be! He was practically Tubbo’s big brother already! Which just caused Tubbo to argue with him that uh, NO, he was older than Tommy! So HE was the older brother out of the two of them, if anything! And oh boy that caused them both to go back and forth, arguing about who was the ‘older brother’ between them. Tubbo insisted it was him because he was born first but Tommy insisted it was him because he was taller. You just shook your head and led the bickering duo down the familiar path to Azo’s little ‘house’ you built her. And as you reached the open area you saw her outside the house playing with a couple other baby piglins. But when she looked up and saw you she squealed happily and all but sprinted over to you. You made sure to bend down and hold your hands out to catch her. 

She was so excited to see you again that she totally missed the two boys standing at your sides. At least until she heard them and then she stiffened and stared down at Tubbo from her place in your arms. Neither boy really knew what to say so you decided to intervene and put out introductions. You tapped her hand and smiled down at her, helping her worry ease a bit.

“Azo, I missed you! I want to introduce you to my sons! This,” you gestured to Tubbo, “is Tubbo. And this,” you turned your head and pointed to the blond on the other side, “is Tommy. They’re both very nice. And they wanted to meet you!”

You turned so you and Azo were both facing the boys and saw them smiling genuinely. Relief flooded you, thinking they were actually glad to meet the little piglin, unaware the smiles were more stemming from the fact you’d called them your sons so easily.

But you saw the wariness still on Azo’s face and worried she’d not like her new brothers. Suddenly you got a bright idea and your smile widened as you spoke up and said, 

“Hey, don’t you two have a gift for Azo? Maybe something yellow and shiny~?”

Tubbo’s mouth dropped down into an ‘o’ as he realized what you meant. Then he elbowed Tommy and then pulled open his inventory and started looking through it. Tommy glared at him, moving his arm away after getting jabbed, but then his eyebrows raised when he saw his best friend pull out a gold ingot from his inventory. Then he understood what you meant and hurried to look through his inventory as well. Thankfully he did have some gold ingots leftover from when he was crafting golden apples.

Azo perked up when she saw the gold ingot Tubbo had taken from his inventory. And when he offered it to her she couldn’t hold back the happy snort she let out as she joyfully accepted it. You giggled at how she admired the saffron colored bar. And when Tommy extended his own gold ingot you laughed when Azo’s little tail began to swish back and forth in glee as she took that one too. She looked so cute as she admired her new items. You rubbed her back and said,

“See? They’re pretty nice, right? Why don’t we go have something to eat? And we can hang out.”

The tiny piglin seemed more than happy with that plan and snorted happily. You carried her towards the house, her little friends having long since scurried off. The teens behind you followed your lead, joining you in the house. You sat Azo down and suggested she show off her toys to Tubbo and Tommy, which she started doing gladly. The two played with her while you brewed some tea and crafted some cookies. Chilled rosehip tea and shortbread cookies were on the menu and after it was all done you laid it out on the table before calling them over. The boys were all too happy for the chilly drink, the cold giving them reprieve from the heat of the Nether. But Azo was shocked by the cold, not having experienced something like this before. It took a bit of explanation to get her to give it a try, and despite how it made her shiver she seemed to really like it. And cookies were always popular. So the plate was emptied in a flash.

As you sat with the three, listening to Tommy brag to Azo about how ‘cool and tough’ he was and how he’s practically a hero in the Overworld while Tubbo interjected with contradictions, you felt yourself smile serenely; truly happy where you were right then.

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

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#technoblade x reader #techno x reader #dream smp x reader #dsmp x reader #mcyt x reader #c!tommy #c!tubbo #c!niki #c!wilbur #c!fundy