#I also need to finish the other four kids N&N have

[val-the-protoss-simp]

I ONCE AGAIN FORGOT ABOUT THIS DAMN BLOG

CURSE MY ADHD AAAAAA

ANYWAY

Part three of this ask, the Nerazim

Part 1/3 the Tal'darim

Part 2/3 the Khalai Part 3/3 the Nerazim <- you're here

Anar. The oldest of N&N babies. Nothing much to say about them aside from that they're a reclusive phase smith (or the Nerazim equivalent to one) They’re good at what they do and they know it, which can lead to them coming off as rather arrogant and full of themselves. They also have your average "oldest child syndrome" and tend to parent their siblings, who are adults and literally hundreds of years old in most cases, which once again is something that often makes them look patronising.

Elyon. A very underdeveloped character for now. I keep putting their writing off because I don't feel like I can portray their story adequately just yet. Yet. They're half Khalani, half Nerazim, the oopsie baby of Zhakul and Tali and because of this mixed heritage, they struggle to “decide” who they want to be in a world where the Nerazim and Khalai society haven't really integrated yet. In a world where not many mixed protoss exist just yet, they fel like they don't really belong in either society and grow up shy and reclusive because of this.

Their end game was to become an Alyssar. Because this little bean is, like, so hungry for knowledge. You know how humans are inherently hungry for money? Elyon’s like that, only with information. Anything is fair game, from knowledge about botany, philosophy, terran theater plays, the way plasma based engines work, molecular structure of a sandwich, etc. They don't necessarily want to do anything with it, like become a doctor or a politician or even a scholar, they just want to have it, to know, to understand. Eventually a few centuries down the line, they move their ass to Ehlna and join the other Alyssar. 

You could also argue it's a coping mechanism. Elyon will live for centuries, like all protoss, but their terran family won't. The grief that strikes them when Jake passes away (and Zhakul's visceral reaction to it) as well as the horror of seeing Harper get older and older in front of their eyes while they stay young, frightens them. So they occupy their brain with other things just so they don't have to think about this, and learning about crop rotation and quantum entanglement seems to be the thing!! 

Elyon also keeps their cords uncut despite frequently feeling the societal presure to do otherwise. This is mostly because it's the only way they get to feel close to one of their fathers, Talizun, who is a previously mangled zealot currently enlosed in the shell of a dragoon. They especially begin to rely on this bond after Jake's passing.

Nanzak. A very tall, very lanky middle-aged protoss lady. (middle-aged for THEIR standard. So she's like 600 years old) Very quiet, reserved, may come off as cold, unfriendly or even mean to others, but really she just likes her peace and personal space.

She's a performer and a dancer originating from a nomadic tribe deep within the midnight deserts of Shakuras. I really like the idea that a sense of family and tribes is very strong within certain Nerazim communities and Nanzak comes from one. The desert tribes have a different outlook on life, which then takes shape in their customs and culture. She'd be considered sort of an outsider in the more urban areas, mostly because she sticks to her tribe's customs and doesn't want to mitigate it whatsoever. She's proud of who she is, very secure in her place in life and society and if someone doesn't like it, that sounds like a them problem. 

She's absolutely and irrevocably in love with her short husband, who she has like seven kids with (something very usual with the the protoss, since most have like two to three offsprings in life IN TOTAL) Speaking of-

Narzul. As mentioned previously, he's Nanzak’s short husband and a complete opposite of her when it comes to personality. He's social, loud, kind of a joker, open and curious. Also quite clumsy compared to her (everyone is clumsy compared to her)

He's a very skilled medic who was travelling all over Shakuras in his youth to quench his thirst of curiosity and that's how they met. They've been together for like four centuries now, have seven kids and are absolutely that couple in public that is way too comfortable with PDA. You know the one. He also absolutely will start talking about his wife and how much he loves her and how cool and perfect she is every chance he gets and won't shut up for hours. Your fault for asking.

After Haven and Shakuras boot up their diplomacy programme, he eagerly joins as the protoss's designated medic. Mostly because he's very very curious about terran medical science and wanted an excuse to to eagerly study it. Now he can do that while there's also so many terrans running around that he can talk to about their whacky boddies?? It's like a dream come true! (he WILL ask about your bowel movements nearly every morning buckaroo you better get used to it) which eventually leads to him being curious about different aspects of terran culture as well.

He also has a role as a sort of an emotional anchor (???) during the time Zhakul is expecting Elyon. This is an unplanned baby that neither Zhakul or Jake feel like they're ready for and are lowkey (highkey) panicking about it, especially Jake, who doesn't feel like he could ever be an adequate father figure to anyone ever. Narzul helps midigate that in a way only a wise old man that's seen it all can do.

Ulzea. The one thing I can say about her is that she’s very pink in my head. And that’s about it fjdvikjbvf

Funny how she’s existed for about *checks watch* fourteen years and there’s barely anything to say about her (even her name, Ulzea, was recycled from a different character that I renamed last year) This is because she was never really a person to begin with. I make it no secret that this entire AU is based off of my frequent daydreaming from when I was a teenager trying to cope with an unfavourable family situation. The thing with daydreams is that they make for an excellent distraction and are a good tool for coming up with ideas, but they make terrible stories when they’re put on paper, namely because of their overly long, complex and often nonsensical narratives that are more aimed to the be self-gratifying to the daydreamer rather than be fully realised, balanced stories.

But I digress. Ulzea is a victim of this. I think the best way to describe her would be that she’s to Zhakul what Vorazun is to Artanis during the events of LotV, that being that she acts as an exposition dump whenever he needs to listen to some Nerazim lore. Ulzea is worse than Vorazun, given that Vorazun is still, you know, a character of her own with her own personality and growth and so on. Ulzea never had this.

The reason why I never talked about her is because she’s essentially been written out of Zhakul’s story because of this. She was more of a narrative device for me to arrange my headcons about the Nerazim rather than anything else, which I achieved by having her dumping this information onto Zhakul, who only just got to Shakuras after living with terrans for some sixteen years and had no idea how to be a protoss. She’s just no longer needed as a character because Zhakul learns of his heritage in a more organic way, but recently I’m thinking about bringing her back if not for any other reason that she’s pretty (also because Zhakul just. Needs more protoss friends who are close to his age)

Uszadar. One of Narzul and Nanzak’s several babies. He lives in the more rural parts of Shakuras, specifically around the crater where the Xel’laga Temple is situated, but due to his lifestyle tends to be mostly nomadic. 

I have a terrible habit of fixating on small features and details in media that regular people don't tend to give a shit about, which is also a case here. I love the kakarus. I have loved them since I first played Brood Wars at the ripe age of six. They were my favourite critter in the entire game and stayed as such to this day as well. I always envisioned them as, like, flying mounts for the protoss because kiddie me was obsessed with dragons, dragon riders and the 2002 Dinotopia miniseries that featured the skybax. So big flying lizard-thing mean alien ride too, yes? 

Anyway, the joys of having my own AU means I can do whatever I want, so I say the protoss ride kakarus. It's mostly something done in the more rural parts of Shakuras because the more urban areas just use modern technology for the transport of cargo, people and messages. At this point it's the equivalent to how us humans keep horses. Something that used to be widespread and important for the function of society is nowadays mostly a hobby. Uszadar is mostly on the practical side of things, still utilising kakarus for transport and to reach the more rural parts of Shakuras, as well as doing conservationist work for the species, preserving their natural environment as well as studying them both in the wild and in captivity. 

Meaning that, yes, he's a horse girl. 

Zeredar. Once again, this is one of Nanzak and Narzul’s babies. She was originally gonna die during the second invasion of Shakuras but then my friends convinced me to let her live (boo) so she continues to unleash herself on the rest of the world. I see her as someone with a very dry sense of humour, which often makes her come off as rude or mean. She’s also the kind of person who can keep an absolute deadpan expression while telling the most hilarious joke you have ever heard. She’s also very dramatic and sassy, something she gets from her mother.

Funnily enough, however, I also see her as a fairly cheerful person, similar to how her father is, despite what her sense of humour may suggest. It’s a bit harder to see this side of her, you have to get to know her better first, but under all that sass and sarcasm, she has a generally positive outlook on life and people, doing what she can to see the best in everyone and everything. She’s very proud of her work and is confident in it's quality, similar to her oldest sibling, and is also a very confident person overall.

The injury she suffered during the invasion doesn’t slow her down one bit and she continues to find beauty and happiness in her life regardless of it.

Zhakul’s mothers

Yeahhhhhhh…they don’t have names ifgvidhvvd

I’m pretty sure you can see a trend by now aaaaaaaaaa

They’re just as old as him, turning 14 years this year, but unlike him, they're are barely concepts. Which is fine in the case of this particular story, given that it’s not about them and they more or less exist so Zhakul can have certain aspects of his backstory set in place, like that he’s related to Vorazun through one of them, or that he eventually decides to walk in their footsteps as an elite member of the Matriarch’s personal Shadow Guard.

They were fully dedicated to their duties and very happy as only a couple, never intentionally trying for a baby. Which is partially the reason for why Zhakul is born when they’re fairly old, being in their early 700s. They both loved him very very much and would happily claim that the few years they got to spend with him before their untimely deaths were the happiest years in their long lives.

Both of them die a few months before the events of WoL. With the zerg invasion beginning anew, many protoss colonies were evacuated as a safety measure, including the one they were escorting. This was during the time the Dominion was kicking its Hybrid Program into overdrive and needed, um, material, to be able to build these guys from. I see you know where this is going. The ship on which the protoss were being evacuated on got seized by Dominion secret forces, resulting in a great loss of life, which included both of Zhakul’s mother. 

AND SPEAKING OF-

Zhakul!! My baby, my little innocent bean, precious cinnamon roll, too good for this world, too pure. Oh, how good it feels to torture him-

Um. Anyway.

This is the oldest OC I have. Period. He was conceptualised in summer 2010 when Wings of Liberty first came out and I played through the campaign for the first time. I fell in love with this game all over again, and came up with Zhakul as a way to organise my thoughts on it because I just could not stop thinking about it. Many things in the AU changed, he mostly remained the same. From the day I first imagined him up until now, he underwent very minor design changes and very small changes to his overall story. This is because he is perfect and has no flaw-

The only other character I can think of that I am more attached to other than him is Jake (who is also nearly as old as Zhakul) who he is essentially attached to the hip to and an integral part of his story, just like he is in Jake’s. They meet shortly after Zhakul is rescued by the Raiders from Castanar, where he was held captive and experimented on. The story of how the Raiders dumped him on Haven is a bit long and I think I already spoke of this on this blog anyway (???) He then integrates into terran society and becomes a part of Jake’s family, almost being like his adoptive brother but not really because he’s an alien being raised by humans. Still, he’s loved just as much by them.

He continues to suffer from terrible anxiety and rather intense ptsd episodes from when he was held captive and experimented on, which was something his terran family did their best to help him with, but there’s only so much therapy made for humans, by humans, can do to help an alien, not to mention when said alien struggles with trauma as heavily as Zhakul does. This eventually results in him severely hurting Jake in one of his episodes by slashing his chest open, after which he panics and runs away from Haven to Shakuras.

(How does he get to Shakuras? No idea. Its been a plothole for the past fourteen years.)

There he gets a bit of a culture shock because he’s been living with terrans for the past sixteen years or so and has no idea what it means to be protoss. Essentially, he’s a terran in protoss skin and I remember that one of my favourite things to think about was how confusing his learnt mannerisms would be to everyone else (like how protoss tilt their head instead of chuckling meanwhile us humans do it when we’re confused. I imagine this lead to quite a few SituationsTM)

A lot of stuff happens here. Zhakul originally only ran away for the sake of running away but eventually figured out the protoss will surely be able to offer better help than terrans? So he gets it into his head that he will go to whatever equivalent of therapy the Nerazim have and then come back to Haven, because more than anything he yearns to be with his family and with Jake. A lot of things happen here, namely events that include Dal and Tali, showing that him that he cannot deal with his issues by burying them deep inside him and pretending they’re not real, but rather by admitting to himself that they happened and learning to accept it and let go. 

A lot of Zhakul’s story is about trauma, coping with it and about healing from it. About learning that your past does not define you as a person and that it’s on you to decide who you are, not other people. The past cannot be erased, so why continuously dwell on it? Mistakes are made, relationships are broken and lost, but being forever attached to all of this and pondering how it could have been different is pointless. What you can do is learn from it, change your future, put effort into being the best version of yourself that you can be, for the sake of yourself and those around you.

He does eventually come back to Haven to make amends, but what happens is once again long and convoluted and more focused on Jake rather than him, because the gremlin human also needs his own character arc. They end up leading a pretty interesting life together, full of adventure and other various shenanigans, but writing about that would end in a much longer essay than this is already. Anyway, Zhakul is my baby and a personal favourite, the One That Started It All and my favourite punching bag.

[hershelwidget]

Grade School (ft. Warren)!

YIPPIE!! I got it done before Saturday! That’s pretty amazing by my standards~ I had to cut out the “(ft. Warren)” in their name because it would cover Spinach Can more than she is already being covered. Anyway, had a lot of fun colouring AND outfit designing, I know I have Not Shut Up About This but Bread Boy is probably my favourite part of this one. Everyone looks very cute though, god they look squishy and soft I love it!!

Grade School (ft. Warren)’s scene is them trying to decide who they can and can’t trust in the house. Warren is presenting his argument for either Steak or Fridge being the shapeshifter, while Spinach Can and Bread Boy disagree and rather believe in Sketchbook or Coffin being to blame. Lily & Todney are the only ones currently accounting for the fact that it was most likely Lamp, Electracey, or Briefcase, and Todney is trying to point that out. The only thing these five agree on right now is that everyone is suspicious.

[mixingandmelting]

Give Life Another Chance

Summary: He had always had your back when he was Robin. He'll always have your back even as an Outlaw

Word: 3.9k

A/N: Finally did Jason's version of childhood friend to lover trope! *Also part of Winter Series: Day 5

Soft, black curls and a smile that could win the hearts of millions- there were so many good points you probably should’ve noticed first. But having been kicked out of the orphanage again and preoccupied to find a safe place to sleep on the streets for the night, your mind was slow to process that you were just saved from being jumped by Robin. So, your brain chose to point something else out as it registered.  Like how haughty he was being with both hands on his hips and an eyebrow raised as he had asked why a kid like you was out in the street this late. 

“You’re short.” 

“…Seriously? Instead of a thanks you tell me I’m short?” 

You were going to ask him if he had any plans on denying what you had just said when one of the thugs on the ground let out a groan. 

“Let’s go!” 

Quickly, boy wonder wrapped an arm around your waist before using the Batarang to pull the two of you up one of the near-by buildings. Surprisingly, you never once let go of him nor scream as he swung from one building to the next. Was it from trust? Survival instincts? You don’t know.  The next few minutes blurred as two teens continued to swing from building to building until he finally landed in front of a 24/7 burger place.

“Wha-where-“

Where did he get the cap he plopped on your head from? When did he change into the hoodie and sweatpants? Your head was spinning from so many unanswered questions that he was practically dragging you into the restaurant with a firm yet gentle grip around your hand. Shuffling you into a booth, he sat across from you and ordered two sets of the same burger meal. 

You both sat there quietly until the food came out. 

“Aren’t you going to eat?” Robin asked, noticing you hadn’t touched your food yet. 

You blankly blinked at him then at the food in front of you. Slowly, you reached for the burger and took a bite. Then another. You take the napkin he offered across the table to wipe your mouth and cheeks from both the food stains and tears while eating. 

By the time you finished, you both were slurping on your soft drinks, stuffed and satisfied.

“Well?” He asked, his eyes behind the domino mask trained on you. 

“… Why?” He must’ve expected you to ask him from the shrug he gave. 

“You looked like you needed it.” 

You looked like you needed it? 

“You were planning to sleep out tonight weren’t you? How were you going to do that on an empty stomach?” 

“I…” You paused for a moment, fiddling with your thumbs. “I’m used to it.”

He didn’t cue you or pressed for answers. It was all on you, spilling everything you’ve gone through from how your parents had abandoned you at age four from being chased by loan sharks to how you were continually being kicked out of each orphanage you enter for accidentally catching the employees embezzling funds meant to maintain the place. 

The one question he did ask was about school. He didn’t pursue further when you told him everyone knew your clothes were from hand-me-downs and the Salvation Army. 

You appreciated how he didn’t offer words of faux sympathy, simply muttering with an “I see”. You were curious what expression he was making though as he had his head turned toward the window and the hoodie pulled over his head blocked your view. 

Once the glasses were emptied, you both headed out. 

“Do you have any friends at your school?” 

You weren’t taken off guard anymore, finding yourself adapted to your current situation. 

“No.”

“Then head to this place. It’s nicer compared to all the others you were placed in.” 

Unexpectedly, an address for somewhere in the nicer neighborhood of Gotham was neatly written on the napkin.

“Yeah, and how am I supposed to get there? Have them let me in? It’s not like I have a social worker or anyone who’ll fill the paperwork for me.” 

“It’ll be fine. Just take the bus and walk there. Once you get there, just give them your name and then, they’ll let you in.” 

It was suspicious to say the least. At the same time, you didn’t have anything to lose.

“Then you have to promise to come visit me tomorrow.” Childishly, you stuck your pinky out at him. “ ‘Cause if you don’t, it’ll be your fault I’m dead.” 

“You aren’t going to die,” he snorted, yet wrapped his pinky around yours. “If anything, it’ll be a step forward to make life a bit better.” 

He was right. Life did get better when you arrived at the written address. With no hesitation despite the time of your arrival being past 1:00 AM, a kind woman welcomed you in and helped get you situated. For a week, you were busy getting used to the new environment where everything and everyone was… well, normal. None of the other kids looked as if they were struggling or waging war for survival. The adults were attentive and fostered healthy maturity. 

It helped that Robin had decided to visit you every night rather than just the next day. Along with checking in that you were okay, he listened to everything you had in your mind. The struggles, the challenges, the confusion from how none of your past experiences could’ve prepared for this big of a change. In a good way of course. 

Too bad the visits became less frequent once you started going to your new school. He mentioned about getting in trouble for not focusing on his patrols the last time. Your disappointment must’ve been evident when he proposed to do the  “pen-pal thing”. Using how you mentioned you’d do anything to thank him on the promised night as an excuse, he apparently had been wanting to do it but didn’t have anyone until you. 

That’s how you ended up leaving your window open ajar every night, having slipped a letter between the slim gap between the sill and the window itself and getting one back the same way, same place.

School on the other hand was eventful. Your only friend was Jason Todd, who, you had to admit, put in a lot of work to get close to you. To be fair, you didn’t expect someone to approach you all friendly on your first day. There were some hiccups along the way, however you guys managed to get through them and became buddies. 

There wasn’t a day you guys weren’t hanging together. Homework was being done at the library, talking about the books you both recently read during lunch. The time you both didn’t talk to each other was during class. Unlike you who sometimes found the drawl on Homo sapiens boring, Jason was soaking in all the knowledge with enthusiasm. You once called him school-freak from how much he loved to learn, being in school and exploring the topics the teachers were going over. He retorted that you were mad you couldn’t beat him in getting a higher grade during the last exam. You simply snatched his book and ran away with it, not appreciating how he was right.

With Robin during the night and Jason during the day, you were brighter and friendlier. Slowly, yet surely, you were found smiling more and approachable. Your schoolmates and teachers warmed up to you, treating you like one of them. You also had a place you could call home temporarily, where you could relax and enjoy the presence of having somewhat of a family.

The serenity and joy you had ended up lasting for two years. Jason suddenly stopped coming to school. Robin hadn’t visited you for a while nor sent you a letter. With Robin, you assumed it was because he was busy fighting criminals alongside Batman. Jason? You got worried about him. You tried to get in touch with him in every possible way you can. You asked the teachers, who were also worried as they didn’t know why he hadn’t been attending. You used the school’s directory book they hand out every year and sent letters to his residence. 

It was when you got the courage and called his home phone you were given the news. It went from shock. Denial. And then devastation. You felt completely ruined. Your eyes were glass and devoid of emotions when you had gone to his grave, dressed in black, holding a bouquet of red roses (he once said in passing that they were his favorite). 

Your one friend you made for the first time in life- you refused to believe he was dead. The news reported it was from an incident related to the Joker, making things much harder from the sheer weight of reality. Especially knowing the survival rate of the victims when the notorious villain was involved. 

You managed to maintain sanity superficially, convincing everyone that you were over it. That you were fine. Never realizing the reason for you to hold on was from the belief that Robin would soon visit you again when he had time or at least take the letters that were growing longer where you switched size of the envelopes multiple times.

Things became complicated when Batman, who hadn’t been seen with Robin for so long, made an appearance with him again. Problem was, the Robin next to the older man wasn’t your Robin. Instead of soft curls, his hair was silky and straight. The costume was different. The way the new Robin smiled wasn’t the same as the other Robin. Your Robin.

During the time Robin wasn’t present, you had thought he was severely injured.  Hence your expression of concern was always written in your letters, even in the midst of your grief. But what if. Just what if- 

You wanted it to be not true so much as you matched dates to events. The day of Jason’s death to around when Robin stopped sending you letters. The day Jason was seen with a cast to the day Robin wasn’t present on a mission. It was a cruel, awful joke played by the fates. Your Robin was Jason Todd. And the people- no, person- you loved with every fiber in your heart was dead. 

Jason, on the other hand, was never really into people back when he was a kid. Helping those in need and bringing justice so those suffering would finally have peace? Of course. He would always do it. Interest in a specific person though? He didn’t until he found you walking out and about in the middle of Park Row. Initially, out of empathy from knowing what it was like living in that awful area of Gotham, he was planning to follow you in the case you decided to get your hand dirty and mess with the wrong nest. He was proven wrong and soon changed his assessment of you to respect when he watched you give candy from your bag into the hands of the little kids hiding in the alley. You weren't being dumb about it either, posing it as if you were threatening contrary to what had actually happened. The longer he followed you, the more he saw how knowledgeable you were, knowing when to pick fights and when to keep your head low to stay out of trouble as you walked through the different alleys.

It made him more curious about you, from how you managed to save an adult man from a beating by tripping the assailant with the cover of his sidekick being the one to kick a nearby can. When he read the information he was able to find about you, he felt bitter. It was one thing to live with a dead-beat dad and a drugged out mom, but it was a whole different situation when having to live out in the street without a roof to cover your head most of the time, trying to get by on your own with no adults. 

He tried to think of something, anything to help you that night, after closing out the files that had been on the monitor in the Batcave. He started out with following you around during patrols and beating up anyone who seemed suspicious or approaching you with ill-intent behind your back. In his spare time, he was figuring out ways to get in a better child-care system considering you were still a minor, just like him. After hearing about his old man sponsoring to open an orphanage in central Gotham, he mustered the courage to put in a favor.

His plan was all set and ready to go once Bruce got involved, all that was left was to get you on board. Lady Luck must’ve been smiling at him when the perfect opportunity arose when he caught sight of some thugs hiding in the alley you were about to pass. That definitely got your attention when the thug that was close to grabbing you by the scruff went down with a thud. 

He never understood that awful and tragic feeling of seeing someone empty until he saw your eyes. Blank and filled with nothing, not even a spark of resentment or rage. He swallowed the lump in his throat, heart burning from the evidence of how the corruption of Gotham claimed another young victim. 

“So, what’s a kid like you roaming the streets at this time?” 

He didn’t mean to sound cocky. He was trying to sound normal, mustering the tiny drop of remaining strength in him to not waver when you looked so broken. Doesn’t mean he was impressed with your jab though. He had been told by Alfred that he was taller than Dick when he was the same age as him for your information. 

As he proceeded to help you get another chance with life, it wasn't part of his plan to become besties, even more so develop feelings for you. Sure, when he approached you as Jason Todd, things didn’t go well at first considering he knew you but you didn’t know him. His civilian self, to be exact. But as he got to know you as both Jason and Robin, he came to know the other side of you. The one with a heart that could encompass the whole world, a mind that had the potential to excel in anything you put your mind into. He constantly worried over the chances of you getting hurt, despite the rough exterior, from being so fragile.

Your letters reflected this as there were times your vulnerability appeared in writing on your thoughts of others. Yes there was hatred and annoyance but always in the last paragraph, you express your desire to understand rather than to exact revenge. You wanted to give them a chance and connect, not resent. 

The day he was captured was the day he wanted to confess to you. Reveal who he was and see if he could have a chance to be in your heart. So when he had come back to the living, he didn’t seek you out. He was scared to find out you had moved on without him. That he was simply left as a fragment of a memory like everyone else. 

You would’ve laughed at the expression he made if you had seen him when he saw you at his grave. He was camping, hoping that Bruce would appear and prove him wrong. To show that he was still loved and in his heart as his son. All he could do was hide his presence behind the giant oak tree, slightly tilting his head out to watch what you were doing. 

He watched your form from behind as you sat down in front of his grave before shuffling and pulling out folded pieces of paper. With his hiding spot not being that far off, he could hear you talking. And he wished he didn’t. A giant block of ice settled to the bottom of his stomach, listening to you read your letters you apparently continued to write to him. Your voice didn’t waver, casual and light as if you were truly talking to him like in the past. 

When you got to what seemed like the end, your voice cracked. Then a sniffle. For a moment, he forgot the anger and hatred he harbored, his knuckles going white from suppressing himself to reaching out and comforting you. It ripped him into pieces from the sorrow and wretch you were emitting, sobbing and whimpering why he couldn’t have told you sooner. Why he left without letting you say your final farewells. How you wanted him back.

You get interrupted and quickly forced to wipe your tears when your phone rung. 

“This is Officer-“ 

He stopped breathing. Out of all things, you became a police officer. The hope to meet and rekindle with you was completely crushed, his status not at all glamorous or society acceptable at the moment. When he heard ruffling, he came back to reality. He could feel his eyes well-up as he watched you place a familiar bouquet of flowers on his grave before getting up and leaving. 

Once you were gone, he walked over and picked the bouquet up delicately. For the first time since his revival, he was grieving for someone other than him, someone he still loves. Ironically, he wished that you were the one to have forgotten about him. Not being haunted and distraught as if you were watching him die over and over. 

Maybe it was then he developed the motivation to change, to leave and let go of emotions he had been holding up to then. Eventually, he had gone from working to dominate the underground businesses to getting rid of them. And whenever he had spare time, he’d have your back and make sure no one was going after you. It wasn’t just criminals he would take down who were planning to attack you and your group when on the field, he had also aimed at any corrupted officers that were going to use you as their scape-goat. 

Sure he had gone on adventures as he progressively turned over a new leaf, yet you were and still always his priority. Back when he was Robin and now, as Red Hood the outlaw. As time passed, he could see you healing. Your smiles more genuine. A glow in your skin. Your visits to him every week being more peaceful. 

He didn’t think nor entertain the idea of ever meeting you again. How could he when it’ll break you to find out he’s been alive, again, for so long?

So imagine his surprise when he arrives at the manor for the traditional Wayne Christmas party, finding you standing under the ridiculously large tree in the equally ridiculously large living room. 

The disgruntled expression gets replaced with shock for Jason as yours morphs into disbelief. 

“Ja..son…?”

Six feet, a body packed with muscles and scars, not to mention the infamous brown, leather jacket. Dick really wasn’t kidding during the time you helped hide him and the other vigilantes during the anti-hero hunt led by Amanda Waller when he had revealed that Jason Todd was actually alive after hearing from you how you knew the other, both as the former Robin and civilian. It makes you sick in the stomach of how much the person you loved once known as Mr. Sunshine went through for all the pure, unadulterated positivity and radiant optimism to be stripped away from him, leaving only hardship, fatigue, and harshness when hearing what he had gone through before and after his death. He didn’t deserve such cruelty, not when he was trying to pull the weight of the effort society refused to put in to make life better when he was a tiny teen. 

What you do next is risky. It may cause you to lose everything the two of you once had even. But how could you have him stand in front of the double-oak doors alone with eyes exposing his vulnerable and fragile heart. 

The questions he wants to ask, the actions he wants to take, they all are swallowed down when he’s pulled into a hug. It’s then he notices how much smaller you are compared to him. Your arms that once used to completely wrap around his shoulders can barely wrap around his torso. Your frame, frail as you tremble and leave tears on his thin, cotton shirt. 

He doesn’t need Dick’s motions or Tim’s mouthing to know what to do. Careful to crush you, he leans into you. 

“I’m sorry, I should’ve told you I was back.”

It’s the greatest Christmas gift life has ever given the two of you when you awkwardly nod in response to his words, no intentions of letting him go from fear he’d disappear on you again. And the sentiment is shared when he squeezes you closer to himself, a smile that was lost for a while reappearing and making those around feel the joy of the holiday miracle.

[lovecla]

TEACH ME (HOW TO MAKE HIM COME) | jack hughes.

nhl masterlist, nsfw, @lovecla’s kinktober collection, chapter four:

<last chapter> <next chapter>

➴ chapter warnings: oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, softdom jack, p in v, no protection (don’t do this kids!), praise kink and degradation if you squint, dirty talk, wet n messy!, subspace kinda, dacryphilia.

➴ word count: 3.4k

💌 from me to you: can we talk about how they completely forgot about the whole teaching thing and just straight up fucked each other? wild! also, will sarah and jackie wake up with trevor almost yanking jack’s door like morgan from criminal minds? maybe. have a nice reading loves!

𖧷

IF YOU had to describe what you were feeling, you’d have to say you are…

Well. Horny.

Being late to everything in your romantic life, you had never felt aroused towards a man before. Of course, you have had crushes on boys and you’d love if things went further than that, but besides Zack, you had never really intended on having sex with any of them.

Even with that guy back in high school, you only did it because you felt pressured to. You didn’t really like him, and you can only guess that he didn’t really like you either.

Until Jack.

You were sitting on the bench near the lake at your brother’s house, the bonfire near you is almost completely extinguished and you’re staring at the dark, lowkey scary lake in front of you.

It was late at night, everyone Trev had invited to his little lake party had already left, Jack included.

“Hey,” Jack’s honeyed voice reaches your ear, as you finish putting on your sweater. Everyone was inside already, and you could hear Trevor’s nonstop talk. “What’s up with the pouty lips, pretty?”

“I’m not pouting…”

He leans closer, chuckling. “Yes, you are, baby. What’s going on?”

“I just…” you sigh, hoping the darkness around you both hides the blush in your cheeks. “Can’t we move on to the next lesson?” Whispering, you look down to your feet.

Jack’s laugh makes you frown even more.

“It’s not funny, Jack.”

“Sorry, sorry,” he whispers. “It’s hard, baby. Trevor’s already complaining about you sneaking out at night and only coming back in the morning.”

“He would never connect the dots, Jack.”

“Baby—”

“Besides that, I’m twenty!” You raise your voice, only to lower it again. “I’m twenty, Jack. If I want you to f-fuck me, it’s my business.”

“You want me to fuck you?”

Jack had a playful, yet amused smile on his face, and you wanted to kiss him really badly.

“I mean, y-yes?”

He leans closer, briefly pecking your lips before stepping back. “Believe me, I want that too, baby. But we can’t right now, so be patient okay? I don’t want Z to give you too much trouble,” he sighs, putting his hands inside his front pocket. “Get inside soon, alright? Don’t want you to get cold. Text me if you need anything, pretty.”

You nod, watching as he smiles at you before leaving.

And you’re still outside, an hour later, with your mind working nonstop. The thought of laying underneath Jack, with his dick inside of you, in and out, while you’re nothing but a whimpering mess under him made you so fucking horny it isn’t one bit funny.

Before, when your friends or even Kiara would talk about wanting to fuck someone, you thought they were just exaggerating to make you want to do the same, and after your first time going awfully terrible, you started to believe that, but now, as you get up and head inside to pack your things, you realise they weren’t kidding.

“Where are you going?” Trevor asks, sounding tipsy as fuck. “Saraah.”

“I’m— I’m going to a guy’s house,” you blurt out, zipping up your bag. “I’ll be back tomorrow morning.”

“What?” He gets up, suddenly looking a whole lot sober, walking in your direction. “What do you mean? No!”

“What do you mean ‘no’?” You scoff, suddenly brave. “I’m twenty and last time I checked, I’m free to do whatever I want. And if what I want is to go to a guy’s house,” And fuck him until I can no longer speak. “Then I’ll do it. Good night.”

“What— Sarah!”

Trevor keeps shouting your name, but at this point, you’ve had enough of his protective bullshit. He’s been fucking girls since he was seventeen years old, so what’s the big deal anyway?

You call for an Uber and put on Jack’s address.

It was now or never.

𖧷

“I’M PLEASED yet scared to ask what you’re doing here, or how you even got here in the first place,” Jack laughs as he lets you inside his house. You look around, seeing the TV on with some random hockey game playing, and a bag of chips opened on the coffee table. “Does Z know?”

“No, but this time he’ll probably figure it out by himself.” You roll your eyes.

“Do I have to worry about him showing up at my door tomorrow?” He raised his eyebrows and crosses his arms in front of his chest.

“Maybe,” you shrug. “I don’t care.”

Jack stays quiet for a while, walking towards you with a mischievous expression on his face.

“Are you this desperate, baby?” He whispers. “Are you so needy for something inside that greedy, little pussy of yours that you’ll run from your brother at midnight just to have my dick inside you?”

“Jack,” is all you manage to say, dropping your things on the floor and ending the distance between your bodies.

“Answer me, baby.”

“You already know the answer to that,” you close your eyes, holding the hem of your sweatshirt tightly. “Stop being mean.”

“I’m not being mean, baby. I just want to hear you say,” he grins. “Tell me, baby.”

“I’m— I am desperate. I want you so bad I think—” you breathe, opening your eyes to stare at his. “I think I’m going insane.”

“Are you?” He tilts his head. “How so, pretty?”

“I think about you all the time,” you start, pushing your embarrassment aside. “I wake up w-wet, after dreaming about you all night. Everyday before I get up I have to t-touch myself, pretending it’s your hand instead of mine down there.”

Jack leans closer and kisses your neck, inhaling your perfume right after, before squeezing your waist, hard. “Is that so, baby?”

“Mhm.”

“Then you’re not the only one going insane,” he mumbles against your lips. “Because I think about you all the fucking time too. I’ve always cared for you, and you know this, baby, but you grew up and suddenly you’re not Z’s little sister anymore, you’re a fucking woman. And I want you so fucking bad, Sarah.”

You can feel his dick hardening beneath his pants and you try to get closer, even if it’s physically impossible.

“You drive me fucking crazy when you wear those little things that you call skirts, or when you wear those bikinis so fucking tight your tits look edible,” he chuckles. “When you asked me to teach you how to fuck? Sarah, you gave me everything I’ve ever wanted on a silver platter. All I could think about was fucking you.”

“Then do it,” you whisper. “Fuck me, Jack.”

“Sarah—”

“Don’t think about anything else,” you continue, running your fingers through his chest. “Just fuck me, please.”

“Fine,” he smirks. “I’ll give you what you want.”

𖧷

JACK IS absolutely gorgeous and you’re just one single step away from losing your mind. You had imagined Jack fully naked before, and even seen his dick and all of that, but once again, the entire thing did nothing to the real thing;

Jack has a tanned, toned body, abs that you wanted to wrap your hands around and squeeze— his thighs were toned and probably illegal in, like, forty-six countries at least. His dick was flushed and red, rock hard too, and his lips were slightly parted as he stood naked in the middle of the room.

“You’re such a pretty thing, aren’t you?” He smiles at you, who’s also naked, dangerous and so, so lustful.

You smile and look at him with begging, doe eyes, before mumbling a small thank you— you remembered right before your first “lesson” started, Jack said that consent is sexy, and so is being talkative inside the bedroom. No humming, no nodding; just using your words and, if things got too much, saying “stop” would work just fine.

“Here’s what we’re gonna do tonight, sweetheart,” Jack started, shamelessly jerking off his dick in front of you. “You’re gonna come three times. Once on my tongue, once in my fingers and, finally, once on my cock. Are we clear?”

You whimpered, before whispering a faint “Yes.”

“Very well, baby,” his cocky accent crawled out of his mouth, accentuating the last word. “On the bed, hands and knees," Jack instructed, his voice dripping with dominance.

You scrambled onto the bed, positioning yourself on all fours, your heart pounding with anticipation. You felt vulnerable yet incredibly aroused, your pussy probably leaking against the sheets.

Even with the dim lighting, Jack could probably see how red— everywhere really; your ears, your cheeks, your nose, your knees— and how needy you are. Your pussy was practically dripping, drenched. Jack looked like he wished he could eat you out until you turned into sand in his hands.

And to him, you’re a fucking vision. Face sweaty and anxious, and he could probably tell how much you wanted to move or just do anything, but you were being good and letting Jack dictate what was best for you and oh.

Jack stepped closer to your pliant body on the gigantic bed and caressed it, his fingers tracing a path on your skin; while all you could do was just squirm in place.

“You’re just like a doll,” Jack said, softly but loud enough to make you fucking moan. “So pliant and needy. So easy to play with, even easier to break.”

“Jack.” You whispered, lips wet and shiny.

“You like that, don’t you? Knowing that I can do whatever I want with you, with your body— I’ll mark you up, and then everyone will know how good you are for me and what you let me do with you.”

You shivered under Jack’s touch. He decided to be kind and move his fingers a little bit further down, until he was touching your clenching hole. He heard you hold your breath and he chuckled, finding it cute.

He leaned down on the bed, placing his knees on the floor, and kissing your thighs gently— he slowly made his way to your dripping pussy, his tongue licking all the way from your folds to your hole, making you moan loudly. It had been brief, just a light touch, but your knees got weak just the same.

“Hold yourself tight, baby.” Jack ordered, before diving completely into your hole.

And he ate well. He ate you out like a starved man who hadn’t eat in days as he licked and fucked you with his tongue, leaving you trashing under him— you weren’t even in all fours anymore, your knees had given up a minute or two after Jack inserted his tongue inside you. He was sloppy and messy, his spit practically dripping out his mouth.

“Jack, mhhmm, J-Jack, please.” You whispered, and it’d only encourage him to sink further, deeper inside you.

His hands were holding you roughly, and you knew it would look fucking amazing to see his handprints on your ass later. Oh, you’d ascend.

“‘m gonna… Jack, please, can I—”

“Come for me, pretty,” He said, getting his tongue out of you for just a moment, before diving completely again. You were trashing and whimpering, your eyes were in the back of your head, your mouth was open and there was so much wetness in your lips and. “Come for me like the good girl you are, baby. Come on, make me proud.”

“‘M gonna make you proud, I’m—” You were just a step away from actually yelling, with how loud you were sounding. But then. “Jack, oh.”

Jack stepped away, looking at the mess he’d made: you were flushed, sweaty, your hands holding the sheets for dear life, your hair stuck to your forehead. Your lips were red and wet, saliva running down your chin and your eyes were closed, eyebrows furrowed. Your pussy throbbed between the sheets and your thighs were covered with your cum.

“Baby,” Jack breathed. “You did so well, sweetheart. Look at you, coming like a good girl. Aren’t you my good girl?”

“Y-yes, Jack, yes.” You stated, a small smile on your face, eyes still closed.

“How are you, pretty?”

“Fine. So fucking fine.”

“Good.”

He didn’t give time for you to recover, not really, manhandling you further up the bed. You whimpered but complied, too tired to do anything else; besides, you would do whatever Jack asked you to— too cock drunk to think of anything else. You simply wanted Jack to be satisfied, proud.

Without another word, Jack got up and captured your lips in a slow, ardent kiss. Your mouths moved together gently at first, then more urgently as he deepened the kiss. You melted into the touch, your hands coming up to grip Jack’s shoulders. You moaned softly as you tasted yourself on Jack’s tongue.

He pulled away momentarily, a thread of saliva connecting your lips. "Keep making those sounds and I swear to God, Sarah, you’re not leaving this bedroom today," he breathed, before claiming your mouth once more, kissing you hard, his hand tightening on your waist.

You whimpered into the kiss, your body thrumming with desire. You wanted more, needed more. Breaking the kiss, Jack trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and down your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin with his teeth. You tilted your head back, giving Jack better access, your hands moving up to thread through his silky hair.

Sucking and biting his way down your neck, Jack left a trail of wet, purpled marks, marking you as his. You squirmed under the sensation, a keening whine escaping your throat. "Jack... please," you begged, not sure exactly what you were asking for, but knowing you needed something.

Jack stepped away for a moment, touching your pussy with cold, firm fingers, spreading your slick all over it.

"Shh, I've got you," Jack murmured, continuing his onslaught on your skin.

Jack said nothing as he inserted one finger inside your hotness, a fuck leaving his lips because, fuck, you were tight. He rubbed your clit, side to side, until it mixed with the remains of his saliva, getting it all wet and messy. He inserts another one, making you clench around his index and middle finger.

“You need to relax for me, baby,” Jack whispered, voice gentle once again.

“I’m, I’m— ah,” You moan, voice raspy and soft.

“Come on, pretty.”

You try your hardest— and you hope Jack can tell— and relax, making it easier for both of you. Jack fucks his two fingers inside you, curling them and searching for the thing that’ll have you whimpering under him like a slut.

He finds it after a second or two, making your body move up and up, trying to get away from Jack’s touch and he understands— you had told him it’d been a while (years) since you had sex for the last time and you had just came pretty hard so it was pretty easy for you to get overwhelmed.

Jack wouldn’t have any of it though. “Take it, pretty. If you fucking move again you’re going to take care of yourself alone because I won’t tolerate any fucking brats,” he breathed, watching as you gripped the sheets harder and— tears coming out of your eyes.

“No, no, Jack, please—” you begged and moaned at the same time because, fuck. Jack had just inserted his third finger in you and fuckfuckfuck. “‘m good. I promise. I-I’m good, y-you said it, I’m good, I’ll come, just— Christ, I’m gonna.”

It’s too early for you to be orgasming again, you’re both are aware of it, but; you’re coming and shouting and trashing, your cum coming out of you like you’re fucking squirting. Jack takes his fingers out of you, wiping them in the dark sheets, just to take a good look at you.

“Baby,” Jack whispered, knowing that you were probably deep inside subspace and everything could be too much. “Can you give me one more? Mhm?”

“I-I can’t.”

“How are you feeling, doll?”

“Good,” you whispered, like you were telling Jack a secret.

“Then you can, and you will,” you could hear the smile in his voice, even though you couldn’t see; you had his eyes closed once again. He manhandled you again, arranging you on the bed so your head was laying against the fluffy pillows and your back was on the bed. “You’ll give me one more, baby, and then you can rest. How does that sound, hmm?”

You nodded and just when Jack was about to remind you about your little rule, you opened your eyes and stared so deeply into Jack’s that he forgot about everything for a second. Jack knew he should always get a verbal answer and that he was probably being irresponsible but you seemed to be speaking with him with just a stare and Jack was weak, so, so weak that he just mirrored your action and nodded too.

He lined the tip of his cock with your hole, pushing forward and moaning because even with preparation you were still tight and squeezing his dick and fuck. He sank deeper and deeper until his crotch touched your bottom making you both moan at the same time. Tears were falling from your eyes and your lips were opened, sinful sounds making their way out.

“Fuck,” Jack moaned, resting his forehead on your shoulder. “You’re taking me so well, princess. You were made for me, weren’t you?”

“Ngh—” your eyes were full of tears and you felt his dick twitch inside you. God, he needed to fuck the shit out of you before you exploded.

“I’m gonna fuck you now, baby, okay?” He warned, even though you were like a putty in his arms and he knew it was going to be hard for you to be verbal at that moment; you would need to discuss ways of communicating when you couldn’t properly speak but for now, you’d just try your hardest and hope for the best.

If there is a next time… right?

He put his arms behind yours, locking you up and he then really fucked you. His pace was fast and his thrusts were strong and accurate, hitting your sweet spot every time. You had tears all over your face, saliva all over your mouth and chin, looking like the cheapest fucking whore Jack could ever find. Whining to the point of making Jack’s own head dizzy.

“Ah, ngh, mmgh,” was all you would say, hands almost yanking all of Jack’s hair but he didn’t mind, no, of course not— not when you sounded like a bitch in heat, moans so sweet and delicious that felt like the syrup he liked to add to his breakfast pancakes sometimes. “T-too much, too— mmhmm.”

“Take it, sweetheart,” Jack was thrusting you like your lives depended on it. “Take it like the perfect fucking doll you are, baby, come on, pretty.”

You actually screamed when you came for the third time, almost no cum coming out at all, but your clit felt more sensitive than ever, it was too much and Jack was still hitting your spot like a maniac and Christ—

“You came all over yourself, yeah? Good—” a thrust. “Fucking—” another. “Girl—” another.

Jack kept chasing after his own release and when he felt like he couldn’t hold it anymore, he left your inside just to cum on your tummy. You were fully crying now, sobbing quietly.

Jack looked at you, fondly, feeling his heart beating faster than it ever did. He knew you needed him but he couldn’t leave you dirty, so he lifted himself briefly, just enough to reach his shirt on the nightstand, which he used to wipe the cum, sweat and saliva on your— now— fucked body.

“Shh, baby, I’m here,” Jack whispered, not wanting to overwhelm you even more. He laid down beside you, wrapping your body gently in his arms and laying your head on his chest, covering you both completely with the duvet— that thankfully hadn’t gotten dirty nor wet. “I got you, sweetheart.”

“Was I g-good?” You whispered after a while, voice small and hoarse. Jack chuckled, combing his fingers through your locks.

“Yeah, baby,” he whispered back, placing a gentle kiss on the younger’s forehead, making you lean in closer. “So fucking good.”

You heard a soft hum and it made you smile. There, with your head on his chest, and the warmth of his body close to his, you realised something: you were utterly fucked because you liked Jack Hughes so fucking much.

You started all of this because you wanted to date Zack, and prove to yourself that you can please him in bed, like any other girl.

But in fact, you don’t want to do that anymore.

Phase four of getting Zack to like you. Phase one of getting Jack to like you…?

[lazycats-stuff]

Hiiii! I was wondering if u could so a batfam x deaf male reader? Where everyone in the family knows sign language and all that. But during one of Bruce's galas the reader gets kidnapped and no one's knows until Damian notices that his younger brothers not there anymore? U can decide how u wanna finish it and its completely if Ur not comfortable writing it. Also I love Ur writing 😙

Oh hell yeah. Thank you for loving my questionable writing though.

Summary: (Y/N) is deaf. That doesn't help him when he gets kidnapped.

Warnings: kidnapping, protective family, fluff I guess...

Bruce was protective of all of his children. But he was more protective of (Y/N), his youngest child. Why? The reason is very simple. (Y/N) has been deaf since birth and that made Bruce beyond protective. (Y/N)'s brothers were no better than Bruce. Of course, they knew that deaf people could function normally in society. They knew that very well.

However, problem lies in two points.

First one being that they live in Gotham City. Crime is rampant, criminals are absolutely everywhere and the fact is that you get mugged at any point during the day or night. Although most of criminal life in Gotham operates during the night, no one wants to take any chances.

And even though (Y/N) doesn't go on patrol, Bruce still worried about his youngest son. Always has and always been.

The four birds shared the same sentiment. Everyone made sure to learn sign language and how to live with a deaf person. Rules were determined, such as, if entering (Y/N)'s room, just push your hand in and then flicker the lights on and off to signalize that you are entering. Don't approach (Y/N) from behind because he would often get spooked.

(Y/N)'s own words.

The second problem lies in the last name Wayne. Bruce Wayne is a well known businessman in the world. And the world of business is like a sea full of sharks. Bruce knew that very well. One drop of blood and they would be out for you and your weaknesses. And one of those is your public image.

Bruce was a proud father, attending anything that his children might have. Anything there is. He wants to be there for his kids, sue him. He would never allow work to take him away from his children. And the way he presents himself in the public is the way he is. More often than not, he hates how many people can be ignorant about deafness.

Sure, some may be genuinely curious about it and the questions come from a genuine place of interest. Unfortunately, such people are far few in between. Bruce can sniff them out rather quickly. More often then not, they often look condescending. Which is a rather judgmental way of looking at people, yes, but it's obvious.

Whenever they had a gall, one of the boys would be with (Y/N) to translate. And despite the fact that (Y/N) can read lips, he's not a fan of that. If someone turns their head and he can't see their lips, it gets more complicated.

Even now, as they are at the gala full of people, (Y/N) stuck close to his brothers, needing a translator. Bruce and others often rotated, to make sure that (Y/N) knows what's going on and that he's in the loop. (Y/N) was happy with that he wasn't out of the loop. It's not a good feeling to be out of the loop. Hearing or not.

He signed to Jason that he was going to go to the bathroom, who nodded, sipping his drink.

Jason signed back. " Sure, go ahead. I'll be moving around so don't expect to find me here. "

(Y/N) nodded and started walking to the bathroom. Jason glanced at him for the last time before moving to the table with food, ready for a snack. He was hungry and the catering at galas is just great since rich people pay for it. AKA Bruce Wayne pays for it and he also loves good food.

As Jason went to the food table, (Y/N) was on his way to the bathroom. He was about to enter when someone grabbed him from behind, putting a cloth over his mouth. (Y/N) panicked and tried to remember the self defense that he was taught. He tried to break free from the person, but the smell of the cloth made him go out cold.

Something was off. Damian glanced around the room, trying to spot what that something could have been bothering him so much. His eyes moved around the room, trained to find anything out of the normal. Then it hit him.

Where is (Y/N)?

Damian moved around the room discreetly, trying to figure out where he went. He talked to Jason about it and Jason told him about (Y/N) going to the bathroom. But that was far too long ago... Damian now became more suspicious and worried. He was on edge. He could feel himself getting more and more restless, his mind screaming at him that something is wrong.

He quickly walked over to his family as they all took a chance to breathe on the balcony. Damian made sure that they had some sort of privacy.

" Are you alright Damian? " Bruce asked, glancing over Damian. He could feel that something is wrong with Damian.

" I'm not alright father. I can't seem to find (Y/N) anywhere. " He crossed his arms as he leaned on the railing of the balcony. Everyone tensed up at that.

" Hold on, he went to the bathroom the last time I talked to him, " Jason declared and Damian nodded.

" But it's been far too long though, " Damian countered the point.

" Did he come to anyone, at all? " Bruce asked and everyone shook their heads.

" Okay, maybe he went to his room, " Tim said, trying to provide a logical explanation. " But he would have told one of us where he would go. He would find one of us and he would tell us... " Tim muttered, now worried himself.

" Should we check the security cameras? " Dick asked, worried, but trying not to show it.

" I'll check the cameras near the bathroom. " Bruce took his phone out of his pocket and going into his security feed.

Jason remained silent, feeling guilty that he didn't notice sooner. Bruce noticed and put his hand on his shoulder. " Do not blame yourself Jason. Please. You couldn't have known. This is our home and none of us should be on guard in our own home, " Bruce murmured and Jason sighed.

Bruce brought Jason into a hug. " (Y/N)'s going to be fine. We are going to find him quickly. "

Dick and Tim furrowed their brows. " What do you mean? " Dick asked.

" You 4 have to swear to me that you won't tell (Y/N), " Bruce stepped away from Jason and everyone muttered that they won't tell.

" I put a tracker on his suit. It's a small one, " Bruce admitted and everyone was shocked by it. They knew that their suits that they wear for their vigilante activities have trackers on them, but a normal suit, for galas and other events...

" It's only when we are at galas and such. There's no tracker on him 24/7, " Bruce elaborated before his sons could accuse him of something.

" Well, we can't tell (Y/N). But lets go get (Y/N) please, " Tim said and everyone nodded.

" I'll have Alfred make something up and we'll make a story so it doesn't seem suspicious about why we didn't know (Y/N) was taken. "

And that's what happened. They concocted a story about it and once Batman dropped him off at GCPD, Bruce came in as a worried father. Media had a field day with the story, a father and son reuniting after a such traumatic event. Bruce couldn't care less about them, his sons are his priority. Screw the media.

Understandably, (Y/N) was shaken up by the entire ordeal. Anyone would be shaken up after being kidnapped in their own home, but with (Y/N) being deaf, he couldn't hear anyone walking up to him. Not to mention, they put a bag over his head. Being in the dark, not being able to hear...

It tugged at Bruce's heartstrings. The other 4 weren't immune either. Damian, the normally stoic one, was affected by that aspect. Even he saw how scary it was. Not being able to see due to the bag over your head and not being able to hear because you are deaf sounds like hell. Damian saw it as a form of torture. And in a way it is. Sensory depravation. Only being able to feel with your touch or feel vibrations, but still...

Damian still shuddered as he tried to envision it.

The other 3 shared the very same sentiment.

And even now, as (Y/N) was with them, on the couch, bundled up in blankets, sipping some herbal tea that Alfred made to calm him down. Both Bruce and Alfred were trying to calm him down too. Bruce was going to find a therapist for (Y/N), that much is sure. It would have to be someone who can sign though...

Well, he'll make sure to find one. For now, he'll focus on making sure that (Y/N) is calm enough to try and sleep. Buce knew that adrenaline was still pumping, but that it will stop soon and (Y/N) would essentially crash.

Everyone sat around (Y/N), trying to calm him and make him feel safe again. Bruce and Tim were going to see how in God's name they managed to get into the manor. This place is more safer than Pentagon, designed to keep any intruder out. And he was going to find out why they wanted to kidnap him.

The best bet was probably money, but then again, you never know. And Bruce was going to make sure that he knew why. You have to nip the problem in the bud.

[axeoverblade]

Classmate

PART ONE (CURRENT); PART TWO ; PART THREE

Earth 42! Miles Morales x fem! reader

Synopsis! For the life of you , you couldn’t understand why Miles had it out to get you so bad. If it wasn’t for the mid-year seat change, he wouldn’t have even acknowledged your existence.

MASTERLIST

Genre: light fluff, enemies to lovers like trope, light bully!Miles

Warnings: mentions of sa (nothing happens just mentioned), mentions of violence, maybe foul language but I think that’s it enjoy!

word count: 5k

Authors comment: I keep seeing School themed hcs and I had to say me sphewl(?), planned to be one shot but thinking about a part two. Sorry for any bad translations my Spanish is meh, please leave a like <3

Do not copy! All rights reserved to ©axeoverblade

It was known half way through the school year at Visions Academy the teachers changed the assigned seats. Being in your last hour, you were pretty much comfortable sitting next to almost anyone in the class.

Albeit, you did have a few in your mind you would rather not be sat with. Kids who didn’t like to do the group work, kids who talked too much, kids who always were trying to copy answers, etc.

The teacher went through the neatly organized desks column by column, starting on the left side closest to the door for the new seating chart. There were only four columns seeing as the wooden desks were double seated. You listened as she went through assigning kids to chairs, finally reaching the last column. There were about seven other kids along with you still waiting to be called to the four desks available. All the kids left were somewhat iffy options to be next to for the rest of the year.

…

Only you and three others were left. She called out to the second to last desk, “Amanda and John”. You sigh a breath of relief happy to not be sat next to John who had a crush on you, your thoughts replaying all the times he had tried to get with you. Feelings were not mutual. “ And Finally Y/n and Miles.”

You walked over to the seat from the front of the room, seeing the Miles kid already getting comfortable in his new seat closest to the wall.

You never had the chance to talk to Miles much. Actually, you don’t think you’ve ever talked to him. He was very reticent in the classroom. The moment he finished his work which was always relatively quick, he was out of the class leaving a few minutes to spare coming back before the bell rang.

There was a reason you never made an effort to talk to Miles. In fact, it was more like you endeavored to avoid him. His hedonistic friend group were known for being-, uncivil. They treated others horribly, always making someone do something that would make your stomach churn if you had to be the one to do it. And even though Miles was known to never actively participate in those things, anyone who hung around people who did those things were bound to start someday.

What confused you though, he was extremely smart unlike the jerks he was always with. You heard he was one of the highest scoring kids, every report card stamped with straight As. That wasn’t much at this school, almost everyone had straight As and high Bs, but all his grades averaged above 94.

There was also no denying he was very attractive. Surprisingly he was never seen with anyone romantically, unlike his friends who always had a girl or two under their arms. There were definitely people were lined up at his feet though, always trying to cling to him. He always just brushed them off, sometimes blunter than he needed to be.

You had seen it once, a girl you hadn’t really liked had gone up to him during passing period asking for his number only for him to look at her and walk right past her. All his friends and their shallow twats of girlfriends laughed at her, walking with Miles past her.

She cried in bathroom for forty minutes after.

You stood next to your seat, putting your bag down. “Hi I’m y/n” you said, formally introducing yourself to Miles for the first time. He looked up to you from his phone. You watched as he took his time studying you, making you slightly flustered as his eyes roamed your body. He looked back down at his phone, disregarding your presence. “I know.”

You blinked a few times processing the abrupt rudeness.

You rolled your eyes and whispered a few choice words to yourself about the interaction as you sat down, realizing you were stuck next to him for the rest of the year.

You pulled out your phone, texting your friend and roommate Mei, who was across the room, about how rude Miles was. She looked up, seeing you staring at her irritated. She giggled before texting back.

Mei: He so fine tho 😍 ask em if he needs a dog

You: Mei 💀

You: he’s so rude n for what? Like he could’ve just nodded or said his name. I know he got that whole “bad boy” thing goin but ain’t have to do allat

Mei: Ion know gl tho 💯

You: Ur no help 😭 Ima ask for a seat change

Mei: It's the first five minutes you have sat next to each other, maybe he is just nervous from ur emmense beauty 😩 I know I would be

Mei: PLUS u know Ms Reita does not b swappin seats. You know how many times I asked to be moved from Jessica only for her to say tuff luck and move on? Seventeen times. Just give it time n maybe it gets better you never know

You: 😐

You shook your head and put your phone down as the teacher started passing out the work. It was a normal worksheet due by the end of class. You went through, solving the easier problems before going back and finishing the ones you skipped.

You were on your last problem when Miles hand shot up lazily. Ms.Reita looked at him and sighed, knowing that he was going to leave for almost the rest of class period if she let him leave the room. “Is your worksheet finished?” “I wouldn’t be raisin’ my hand if it wasn’t.” “Watch it Morales, wouldn’t want to have to tell your Mom you have detention would you?” He sighed before mockingly smiling “sorry Ms.Reita, can I so humbly excuse myself?” He batted his eyelashes for extra effect, clearly tired of the interaction and ready to leave. She huffed as pointed to the door. You snickered to yourself watching the exchange. He looked at you, a glint of amusement washing over his eyes, but the look left as soon as it appeared. He looked away getting up and walking out.

_

You walked with Mei back to your shared dorm, talking about the nonsense that flooded your minds. Luckily for you, it was Friday and you could go home tonight, you just had to go grab your bag and you would be free from this hell hole.

…

“Alright Mei I’ll see you on Monday” you said, grabbing your suitcase and backpack, pulling it with you to leave. She smiled and waved, still packing. “Bye baby mama” you rolled your eyes playfully at what she said. She would constantly make jokes about how she could care for you and be your sugar momma, even though she was just as broke as you were.

You walked toward the lobby of the school, seeing the exit to the building so close. It felt like knowing air was near when you were drowning, finally being able to catch a break and breathe- “oh sorry baby girl, didn’t see you there.” You felt someone bump into you, too intentional for it to be accident. You cringed at the nickname and gathered yourself. Luckily you hadn’t fallen, just stumbled causing your bag to fall off you. “Don’t call me that John.” You said, picking up your bag and slinging it in on your shoulder. “You know you like it” he said, closer than he needed to be. Recoiling at the sound of him so close to your ear, you stuck your hand out and lightly pushed him further from you. “I really don’t, I already told you I want nothin’ to do with you.” You continued to walk to the exit, only for him to walk beside you. “Cmon baby I can show you the world, stop playing hard to get.” You looked at him, stopping in your tracks, “I’m not playing hard to get, this is me playing I don’t want you” “so you admit you're playing about not wanting me?” He said, smirking. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, just wanting to go home. “For the final time John, I am not interested.” You walked again, this time he didn’t follow because his friends were walking up to him. “I’ll see you on Monday baby!” He called out loudly, drawing attention to the both of you. You scowled and walked faster out the building, happy to not have to see John for a few days.

Unbeknownst to you, Miles was watching the interaction from the beginning, ignoring his friends talk about the girls that passed or the sexist comments they made. He noted how you reacted to John, how much disgust surged through your body language. He disliked John, but for separate reasons. John was one of those guys. Class A jock who didn’t know when to quit. Also didn’t know when to shut their mouths. Granted, those were the exact people he hung around. But at least he could tolerate their idiocy, and it was better than walking around the school alone all day. Only kid he hung around that wasn’t like that was his roommate Ganke.

He watched as you scowled and left the school. He shrugged minding his own business, zoning back into the conversation about who had the biggest boobs.

Monday rolled around quicker than you could’ve imagined. And it felt like a Monday, which never helped. You trudged into your last hour groggily, just wanting to be done with the day so you could go back to your dorm and sleep. Walking over to your seat, you looked at Mei across the room. She wiggled her eyebrows, mouthing for you to initiate conversation with Miles. You rolled your eyes, sitting down. Miles was sketching lightly on the worksheet already passed out on the desks. You tried to look at it, but the braid that draped over his shoulder covered your view. You didn’t want to seem invasive, so you just grabbed your sheet and began working.

Finishing the sheet quickly, you got on your phone, scrolling through your socials. You saw a news alert flash across the top of your screen, some message about “the prowler striking again” over the weekend. You swiped it away.

You didn’t hate the prowler in all honesty, but you would never admit that out loud. Whoever was under the mask did bad things, but usually only to bad people. Usually.

The police barely did anything anymore, making it hard to even go outside without getting mugged or groped or something bad. With the prowler being out and about, some idiots have been scared off the streets, enough to where you could at least walk to and from your family apartment to school. In your eyes, the vigilante kinda helped a little.

“Stop tapping, its annoyin” a voice rudely interrupted you from your thoughts. You looked over to see miles looking at you, semi-irritated. You hadn’t realized you were tapping the desk, something you did unconsciously when you were lost in your own mind. You pulled your hand back, putting it on your thigh, “my fault, ain need all that attitude though” you said looking at him. He rolled his eyes and started drawing again. “Whatcha’ sketching?” You asked, leaning towards him slightly. He looked at you with furrowed brows, blinking a couple of times, before going back to sketching ignoring your question. El tiene algunos nervios. Instead of just excusing his behavior like you did on Friday, you opted to invade his personal space; moving his braid, your head now hovering over his shoulder. He moved his body quickly, his reflexes faster than you could process. “Qué coño estás haciendo?” He said sternly, but you didn’t budge. “You didnt wanna respond” you said not looking at him, more focused on the drawing. “That ain’ answer my question” he said, you could feel the irritation laced in his voice, but instead of leaving him alone like he wanted, you grabbed the paper to get a better view. The drawing was a well portrayed mask of sorts, oddly similar to the prowlers, and a few weapons all sketched on the back of his paper. You raised your eyebrow at the drawing. He was actually really good at drawing, the detail for him to have started that less than twenty minutes ago impressed you. He snatched the paper back. You turned your head to him, seeing him looking at you with furrowed eyebrows, getting ready to say something. “Answer me next time and I won’t have to do that” you said before he could speak, a mocking smile laying on your lips. He rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath before going back to sketching.

One word, Regret.

You really wish you hadn’t decided to let you imaginary balls get the best of you. Because now Miles how a personal vendetta against you. Damn your pride. Within the span of few weeks he somehow had broken into your locker and trashed you books, he made sure it wasn’t anything that you couldn’t fix easily though, just a few torn pages. He constantly would shove you, which he mude sure to do lightly to not actually hurt you, into the lockers when he passed you in the nearly empty halls when he was with his friends. He would say the most outlandish things to you whenever you passed him when the halls were too crowded and others could see what he did. He made sure his friends didn’t mess with you though, knowing they would take it way too far how they had with the other kids they harassed. And even though you tried to ignore him the first few weeks hoping he would stop, he never did. You swore you could feel yourself loosing your mind.

Miles had only originally planned on pestering you for a day or two to get the point across that you should’ve left him alone, but then he realized how fun it was to provoke you. You became his entertainment, or at least that was the reason that he told himself he went out of his way to annoy you. And now that he had gotten on your last nerve, you were like a ticking time bomb every time.

You made school easier for him, giving him something to look forward to. Your reactions were always so animated, almost comical, making messing with you so funny. He didn’t just mess with you in sense of picking on you., he would mess with you feelings too. He looked for you in the halls just to go behind you and pull you by your backpack into him. You would lose your balance then he would put his hands on you waist to stabilize you, whispering in your the cusp of your ear sternly to “watch where you’re going mami”, a nickname he now would often call you just to see how irritated and flustered you would get. You would always reply with a snarky remark, something along the lines of “he pulled you into him”, always stuttering through the sentence no matter the amount of times he had done this to you, siempre fue tan mono a él. Something that unintentionally brought his face to a smirk was how you never mentioned anything about the nicknames he gave you like you did with John.

His friends would constantly make comments about how Miles liked you and now you were off limits, but every time he shot the idea down with a quick annoyed face. But perish the thought one of his friends gets talks about you the wrong way. They had seen the way Miles looked at the guy who had walked up to and called you pretty. Didn’t ask for your number, didn’t do anything weird, just called you pretty. The problem wasn’t even the compliment, it was how genuinely big you smiled but it wasn’t because of him.

Miles wasn’t going to deny he found you attractive. He had seen you the first day he walked into Vision academy a year ago and couldn’t get you out of his head for week. Hell you were probably the prettiest girl in the school, but maldito eres molestosa. When laying on the bed in his dorm room the nights he wasn’t out doing his prowler work, he could hear your pesky voice ringing in his ears, también pudo ver tu cara hermosa. He hated it. He hated how sometimes your face would pop up in his brain during a mission, and it would make him falter for a moment. Something as simple as hesitating, even for a millisecond, could’ve had him killed mid fight.

He didn’t actually care for you, at least that’s what he told himself. So you can understand why it bothered him so much that he hated weekends now, knowing it was extra days where he couldn’t see you, feel you. Even if it was just a brush on the shoulder when doing partner work, or him shoving you lightly when walking past, glaring at you like you were the one that bumped into him.

It annoyed you to no end you were stuck next to him for the rest of the year. What annoyed you even more was how attracted you were to him. He was so dismissive toward you, and for some reason you would sit in your room giggling with Mei about how his laugh, even though the only reason you had heard it was because he was making fun of you, was the most attractive thing you have ever heard.

…

Luckily today was Friday so you could enjoy the weekend.

It had been a few months since you had been moved next to Miles, a few months since you decided to overstep a boundary you wish you hadn’t, a few months since you’ve been slowly loosing your sanity. Miles had taken it upon himself to mess with you in class, staying for almost the whole period now a days to do just that.

“If you would finish your work then we could be done already” you mumbled under your breath, looking at the shared work you had to do that Miles hadn’t even looked at, too engrossed in his phone. The two of you had been going back and forth since the start of class, now only roughly fifteen minutes left. He looked up to you, squinting from annoyance, “do you ever just, I don’t know, close your mouth?”. You rolled your eyes “If you, I don’t know, finish your half so I can go turn this in then yea maybe I would.” He scoffed, pulling the paper closer to him. A few minutes passed and he slid the paper over to you “don’t say anything else”. You looked at the paper, seeing he had completed his half of the work in record time, you must really annoy him. “Well if you just did that earlier” you said sarcastically, picking up the paper and walking over to the turn in bin, placing the paper in it.

As you walked back to your seat, John started to talk to you. You pursed your lips, walking past him heading to your seat behind him. That didn’t stop him, as all he did was turn his chair around to face you. “So the party is tonight, you can come-” he paused, putting emphasis on the word winking at you, hinting at something else. You looked at him disgusted. “And we can have a lot of fun, perfect chance for you to see how much you truly like me.” You blinked a few times, “yea no” was all you said before looking at your phone. You didn’t fail to hear the small, quiet breathy laugh that fell from Miles lips as he stared at his phone, overhearing the conversation. His laugh alone could make your knees buckle. You quickly brought yourself back to reality, not letting your mind flow with any positive thoughts about Miles. “Cmon’ baby, promise I’ll show you a good time.” “Ain’ I tell you not to call me that?” You said, annoyed that John just couldn’t leave you alone. “You know we locked in, you keep playin.” “John-” “aight hear me out, you come to the party, if you don’t have a nice time -which I can guarantee you will- I’ll leave you alone, how does that sound?” “You’ll leave me alone?” You said, intrigued by the offer. “If you come.” You sighed, “lemme ask my momma.” He smiled widely, happy to have finally convinced you. Miles secretly looked between the two of you with his eyebrows furrowed, thinking how pathetic John was.

A few minutes passed as John sat facing you, waiting for a response. You sighed, causing him to perk up. “I need to be home by 11, and you have to send me the address. My mom also needs your number and your mommas number, comprende?” He nodded quickly, typing all the information into your phone so you could send it to your mom. You sent the message, already regretting your decision.

Sure enough.

You sped walk home, the time nearing 10:45. Wiping the tear that trickled down your cheek, you scoffed. The party started off great, you and John had a great time, initially.

Then things got weird, he tried to take you to a bedroom upstairs, you declined, him being intoxicated, grabbed you forcefully to take you up. You were glad you were taught basic self defense. You kneed him in the bolas and grabbed your bag, quickly leaving. You wondered what would’ve happened if you had dranken something, where you wouldn’t have been fully aware of your surroundings. You hurrying to dismiss the thought, happy to be out the party

Normally you would be much more aware of the world around you, had you not been so lost in your thoughts. “Hey there pretty lady” you heard, you couldn’t catch a break tonight. You started walking quicker, almost jogging with your eyes focused ahead of you, as you just wanted to get home safely. “You ain’t hear us talkin to you?” Your eyes widened at the mention of us, realizing there was more than one. You searched for your switch blade that would usually be inside your pocket, but it was no where to be found. You figured it must’ve fallen out at the party, you silently cursed to yourself. Three men were now matching your speed, and suddenly were next to you.

“What’s a little momma like you doing out here all alone, don’t you know there’s bad guys out here?”

“Don’t worry baby, we’ll keep you safe”, they grabbed you forcefully covering your mouth so you wouldn’t alert anyone, not like anyone would help. They pulled you to the nearest alley. You bit the hand of whoever was covering your mouth, causing them to let go of your face. You took this as an opportunity to scream for dear life, only to be smacked into a state of drowsiness. You quickly shook yourself out of it, feeling the stinging sensation spread across your face. Your ear was ringing lightly, and you could’ve sworn this dude knocked your tooth loose. You spit at the guy across from you, seeing bloody saliva land on his face. The guy behind you who was holding you let go and moved to the side. Before you could react to the new found freedom, you were pushed roughly into the wall behind you. “Tonto puta, all you had to do was cooperate” the guy in front of you said, wiping the spit off his face.

Ready to accept whatever was going to happen, you closed your eyes and scrunched your face, only to hear screams of pain from the three men, followed by an uncanny silence.

You opened your eyes, seeing the prowler standing where the man in front of you once was with a bloody claw. The three men were laying on the ground, damn near lifeless. Your eyes widened, your mouth parting from the sight. The vigilante stared at you, you could see the eye like symbols displayed on the mask slightly widened at the sight of the hand-mark on your face before recomposing into a stoic, neutral setting. You were too shocked, and mostly scared to say anything.

The figure got closer, to which you could work out was a male. You took note of the two braids cascading down their neck behind the mask, as well as the oddly clean Jordan’s they sported. You didn’t have much time to take in their lanky appearance, as they took a final step towards you, making it so you had to look up at their mask. Their presence loomed over you eerily. You gaped at him, your pleading eyes filled with fear. You knew he wasn’t necessarily a villain per say, closer to the flip side if anything. He did just save you. But the thought of an individual being so much more powerful than you, knowing that at any moment he would always in control no matter what you did, threw your brain into a constant state of unease. Feeling your heart beating out your chest, you raised your hands lightly placing it on their chest to stop them from getting any closer, even though you knew they could easily overpower you no matter what you did. His heartbeat was slow, almost calming to feel. “Please” you whispered, voice barely leaving your larynx.

As quickly as he had come he left. You looked around, finally spotting him lurking on top of the building across from you, crouching along the ledge looking at you. You looked at the Prowler one last time, making eye contact with their mask silently mouthing a ‘thank you’. He flipped away to wherever else he goes, not acknowledging your gratitude. You nearly collapsed, sliding down the wall. Your hands aggressively wiped your face before meeting your hairline, resting there as you breathed ruggedly. The adrenaline you had was wearing off, and the bruises the men left you with became more prominent on your skin, as well as more painful. At least your opinion about the prowler was correct, he was a good guy after all, to you at least.

Returning to school on Monday was a catastrophe, news spread like wildfire about you being attacked by the three men, as well as your encounter with the Prowler. Random people were approaching you asking what is what like and other random questions revolving around your attack. No one however, was talking about what happened at the party. But you couldn’t blame them, not many people saw what had happened.

…

It was finally the last period. You wanted nothing more for this to blow over, and for you to be done with the day back in your dorm. You walked in, wavering slightly seeing John leaning on your desk. You noticed Miles sitting in his seat on his phone, eye bags deeper than usual.

You quickly sat down, trying your best to ignore John's attempts to talk to you.

“Y/n please it was an accident-”

You ignored him getting your pencil out of the top zipper of your bag.

“Y/n please just listen I was drunk and I didn’t know what I was doing you gotta believe me” he leaned toward to take your hand, causing you to flinch and pull back. You looked at him angrily “you think being drunk excuses anything?” Your voice was calm and almost at a whisper despite how you felt, trying your best to draw the least amount of attention. He sighed desperately, “No it doesn’t but you gotta see it from my perspective-” “what perspective John?!? The one where you tried to force yourself on me? Or the one where you tried to take me upstairs against my will? I swear if you come near me again, I won’t hesitate to cut your polla off, comprende?” Ms. Reita asked everyone to take their seats, causing John to look at you solemnly before scoffing and turning to his seat.

You huffed, putting your head between your crossed arms on the table. “What happened at the party?” You looked over to Miles surprised. You hadn’t expected him to ask you any questions, but if he did you figured it would be something about the prowler incident. “Nothin’.” You said dismissively. He looked at you skeptically. Before you could even react, he grabbed your phone off the desk and tucked it in his pocket. “You ain’ gettin’ it back til you tell me what happened.” “Why do you care so much?” “Your wrinkles n’ dark circles look worse than usual, wanna know why.” “Could say the same for you” he looked at you blankly. You sighed, “John got a lil’ too handsy is all, don’t worry ‘bout it. Can I have my phone back-“ “mami, how handsy?” His stern voice caught you off guard. He looked at John's direction for a split second, you could’ve sworn you’d seen Miles look at John with a look of determined death. He looked back at you eyebrows furrowed, “he tried to take me upstairs n’ I wasn’t feelin’ it, so he tried to make me” you uttered, a little quieter towards the end of your sentence. “Left before he could do anything” you finished, “can I get my phone back now?” You looked at him tiredly. He let out a simple huh and gave you your phone back, his full attention now on johns figure ahead in the seat diagonally ahead of him.

…

The class had been dismissed, luckily Miles had decided to leave you alone today, you were too tired to deal with his antics anyway. Walking over to Mei dismissing John's stare, you two began walking out of the class heading to the lobby so you head back to your dorm room. As you were walking back Mei stopped at a vending machine to get a couple snacks for the dorm so you two could have a movie night. You waited as she inserted her money, clicking which snacks you both liked to buy them. As she was stuffing the snacks in her bag zipping it up, a student screamed “FIGHT”. You looked over seeing a crowd forming and walked over to see what was happening. Bullying your way to the front you saw Miles on top of John, pounding John's blood stricken face damn near permanently into the floor. Your eyes enlarged at the sight. Miles was clearly irate, and from the looks of it, had no plans of stopping. A security guard quickly ran in and grabbed miles off John's limp body. Miles spit at John, yelling something at him in Spanish that you couldn’t hear over the commotion. You looked at John's body, seeing him look almost unconscious as he coughed violently and rested on his elbows, trying to catch his breath. You gaped at Miles, shock written all over your face. His chest rose and fell quickly as he looked around the room seeing all the people watching. His eyes stopped as they met yours, his gaze softening slightly before he looked away. A huff fell from his lips as he was dragged to the principal's office. He jerked his arm away, muttering something about how he knew how to walk.

John had to be sent to the hospital.

Miles was in the principal's office, sitting silently as John's parents screamed at the principal while Miles’s mother sat next to him upset. “My child is a great kid! And how is he supposed to feel safe in this school anymore knowing this can happen again, huh?” John's mom spewed mindlessly, ranting about how she was going to press charges. Miles scoffed, causing Rio to look at him with a look of “watch your mouth before I watch it for you.” He just looked down at his hands in his lap.

Miles walked out of the classroom to head back to his shared dorm. He couldn’t get out of his mind what John had done to you. As vague as your response was, he knew more had happened between you and John. He didn’t know why it bothered him so deeply, it wasn't even really his business. He knew the thought of someone being touched like that made him upset, but he felt pure outrage from this specifically, and he knew deep in his heart it was because it was because it was you who had gone through it.

As much as he hated to admit it, he knew he felt something different for you when he intervened the night the three men attacked you. He almost added three bodies to his belt, for you.

Usually, as bad as it sounds, he would mostly let people get robbed or thrown around in alleyways. He would help occasionally if it sounded gruesome or of dire need for assistance. But he had to save his city from the sinister six, and petty crimes that were bound to happened weren’t the ideal way to do that. But the voice screaming sounded familiar, kinda sounded like you. The thought of you being in danger offset his nerves, and he knew a you were going to a party that night so he went, just to check.

Sure enough.

He stalked you from above the rest of your walk home just to make sure nothing else happened.

He walked into the lobby consumed by his own thoughts, snapping back to reality as he overheard John talking to his friends about how “y/n finally let me hit, she was so tight-”. He paused in his tracks. Ain’ no way acaba de escuchar lo que pensó que hizo. He turned to the direction of John's voice, this was now his business. He walked over, becoming increasingly irate the more John talked about “how much you loved it”. John turned, hearing footsteps approaching alarming quickly. He saw Miles, John knew Miles had heard about what really happened at the party. John scoffed, somewhat anxious he had been caught in his lie and afraid Miles would try to embarrass him in front of his friends. He quickly spoke before Miles even had the chance to say a word,“You ain’ needed here Miles-” John was cut off by a fist colliding with his face, not what he was expecting at all. Johns friends gasped or yelled in shock, Miles didn’t stop though. Miles didn’t even say anything, small grunts of anger being the only thing leaving his lips as John hit the floor. Miles siguan latiendo la mierda fuera de él.

“What you won't even speak huh?” John's mom said, facing Miles. He furrowed his eyebrows at her. “You wanna send my baby boy to the hospital and have no reason why? Why are you picking on my kid huh? You-” “You think your kid is the best thing on Gods green earth”Miles scoffed, cutting her off. “Cause he is, my kid wouldn’t hurt a fly and you-”“your oh so wonderful kid tried to rape a girl then went around yappin’ bout’ how much she enjoyed it.” The room fell silent. The principal eyes went wide, “Uh-Uhm, how about we resume this tommorow-” “well hold on,” Rio spoke for the first time, “My son intervened and helped someone in danger because their son was making girls unsafe in the school? Why is he being punished?” “Well Mrs.Morales we didn’t know that happened-” “so you immediately assumed my son was the cause of this not even getting evidence before?” “Well he did start-” “uhn-uh, their child is making the school more unsafe than Miles ever did. Why aren’t they being scolded for this?”

The principal apologized, saying Miles would be suspended for the rest of the week for starting the fight, but no charges could be pressed to avoid anybody getting into serious trouble.

Miles sat in the passenger seat of his moms car, the leather caressing his skin as he looked out the window. A hushed silence had fallen over the two a while ago. Silence is always worse than actually being screamed at, the anticipation is always so suffocating. “So.. who’s the girl?” His mom said, looking at the road ahead. Miles glanced at her before looking back out the window, “classmate.” She nodded, humming. Rio knew her son, and she knew Miles wouldn’t damn near end a kids life just just for some classmate.

“Ella tiene un nombre?” He sighed lightly, “Y/n.” Rio nodded and hummed again, looking at miles through the corner of her eye. “At some point throughout the week, I expect her over for dinner.” “I don’t even have her number, how is she supposed to know” Rio clicked her teeth and smirked,

“Encontrarás una manera”.

©axeoverblade

[channieschaoscorner]

New Beginnings - Part Three - Stray Kids x female!9th member

Pairing: Chan x 9th Member

Summary: The aftermath of your final practice leads to a very memorable performance, but how will that impact your friendship now? And what will happen years later when management wants you to perform together again?

Genre: Angst, some small hurt/comfort

A/N: Part Three guys!!! I feel like I’m just going to keep apologising for the amount of angst in this but it’s what I love to write to we all need to make our piece with it lol. The more parts I write to this, the longer I feel like I could make it so who knows how many parts we’ll get out of this? I hope you enjoy, please leave any feedback if you have it!

Also a huge thank you to @mythicmochi for their idea that inspired the very last scene <3

Part Two

Part Four

Masterlist

────୨ৎ────

The final pose always felt like the longest moment in the entire rehearsal. One hand on your waist, the other cupping your face. Your hands resting on his chest. It was choreography, just steps—he kept reminding himself of that—but it never felt like that.

Not tonight.

Chan stood still, the echo of the music fading into the walls of the practice room, leaving only the sound of your breaths mingling with his. His heartbeat was uneven. Loud. You didn’t move. Neither did he.

The tips of his fingers pressed just slightly into your waist, grounding himself in the warmth of you. His palm against your cheek felt like it might burn through his skin. You were looking at him. Still. And he didn’t want to break the moment. Couldn’t.

His throat was dry, lips parted slightly like he might say something, but no words came. What would he even say? That he forgot where the routine ended and real life began? That being this close made his head spin more than any performance ever had?

God you were right there.

His thumb moved against your cheek—he didn’t even mean to, just a small, nervous shift—but even that felt too intimate. Like a secret was about to be whispered without sound.

Your eyes met his. Locked. And then they dropped—just slightly—to his mouth.

Chan’s breath caught.

He shouldn’t.

But he didn’t lean in like someone making a choice. He leaned in like someone being pulled—like gravity had shifted and you were the center of it now. His lips brushed yours, soft, brief, barely anything at all.

But everything in him lit up. And shut down.

He pulled back instantly, stunned, eyes wide. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. He just stared at you, like somehow this was all wrong, like he broke something and didn’t know how to fix it.

What did he just do?

“I—” he started, but the words caught in his throat. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to-”

You looked as shaken as he felt, your hand going to your lips, your eyes darting like you were trying to understand it all just like he was.

“It’s okay. I don’t know what—” you said, but your voice cracked like it didn’t want to finish the sentence either.

And then you stepped back. Just a little. But to Chan, it felt like miles.

“I just… I need a minute,” you said, and his heart dropped.

“Yeah. Me too. I just… I didn’t—” mean to? He didn’t even know what he was trying to say.

And you were gone. Grabbing your bag with shaking hands, your shoulders hunched like the weight of it all was finally crashing in. He wanted to stop you, to ask you to wait, to tell you—

What?

That it was a mistake?

That it wasn’t?

He just stood there.

Frozen.

Watching the door close behind you like it was the end of something he couldn’t name.

The room was cold without you in it. Too quiet.

Chan let out a breath that shook on the way out. He sat down where you’d just been standing, elbows on his knees, hands covering his face. His lips still tingled where yours had touched. That fleeting kiss playing on repeat behind his eyes like a memory trying to etch itself into his bones.

He didn’t know what it meant. He didn’t understand what he felt. All he knew—all he knew—was that the thought of losing you made his stomach twist into knots so tight he could hardly breathe.

You were everything steady in his life.

And now, this... whatever it was, whatever it could become—he couldn’t let it break the one thing that kept him together. But how could he pretend it didn’t happen?

How could he pretend he didn’t want to do it again?

Chan dropped his head into his hands.

He didn't know what this was but he knew it would ruin him if he lost you.

And that was enough to terrify him more than anything else in the world.

────୨ৎ────

The dorm was quiet when Chan got back.

Late enough that the others were already asleep or pretending to be. The silence wrapped around him like a second skin—heavy, suffocating, impossible to shake off.

He slipped off his shoes quietly and padded down the hallway, still in his practice clothes, hoodie half-zipped and damp at the neck. Every step echoed too loud in his head.

He passed your room. The light was off under the door, but he could hear the faint sound of your breathing, the tiny shifts in your bed, like you were turning over again and again, restless. Just like him.

He stopped. His hand hovered over your doorknob.

He should talk to you. Say something. Anything. Just… not let things hang like this.

But what would he say?

Sorry for kissing you?

Sorry for wanting to?

Sorry that it felt like the most right and wrong thing all at once?

His hand dropped back to his side, defeated.

He couldn’t do it.

He backed away slowly, as if any sound might wake the whole building, and retreated to his own room. He sat on the edge of his bed for a long time, elbows on his knees, head bowed. The silence followed him, even louder in here.

His phone screen lit up once. An email from management about filming times for tomorrow. He ignored it.

The performance. Right. He had to focus. Had to forget what had happened. Had to bury the weight of it and act like it was all fine—like the kiss was just a stress response, a one-off moment between two friends caught in something intense.

“You’re her best friend.” he told himself. “Don’t ruin this.”

But when he finally lay down, hours later, his body wouldn’t settle.

He tossed.

Turned.

The second he closed his eyes, he saw you.

But not the way he expected.

You were laughing in the studio, curled next to him on the couch, legs tangled up with his. Your hand was in his hair. He was holding you like it was the most natural thing in the world. And you kissed him—soft, familiar, like you’d done it a thousand times before. He felt your lips curve into a smile against his, felt himself laugh, his hand cradling the back of your neck.

It was warm. Safe. Real.

He didn't want to wake up.

But he did.

His heart was hammering in his chest. The room was still dark. His sheets tangled around his legs, damp with sweat. He stared at the ceiling, throat dry, the dream clinging to him like smoke which was fitting because every nerve of his body felt like it was on fire.

It felt too real.

It felt like wanting you wasn’t just a moment of weakness—it was something buried deep, something he’d been trying to deny for too long. And it scared the hell out of him.

Because he couldn’t feel this way. Not about you.

Not when it could tear everything apart.

You were his best friend.

His safe place.

His person.

And if he let this grow—if he let himself feel what that dream felt like then he could lose all of that.

Lose you.

No matter how much it hurt, no matter how much he wanted to knock on your door right now and ask if you’d felt it too, he couldn’t.

He had to protect what you had.

Even if it meant pushing you away.

Even if it meant burying how badly he wanted to hold you again.

So, he turned on his side, stared at the wall, and promised himself one thing:

Tomorrow, he’d put the performance first.

He’d keep it together.

He’d keep you safe.

Even if it shattered him in the process.

────୨ৎ────

The morning of the final performance arrived, but everything felt off.

You barely slept, the ghost of the kiss and the silence that followed wrapped tight around your chest like a second skin. You hadn’t seen Chan since practice ended. He hadn’t messaged, hadn’t knocked. And now, minutes before you were due on stage, the two of you stood in the dressing room, barely speaking, barely breathing.

He wouldn’t meet your eyes.

You watched him in the mirror as the stylists worked on your hair. He sat across the room, shoulders hunched, staring at his phone like it held the answers to something neither of you knew how to ask.

You’d never seen him like this before.

Not with you.

There was always something easy about the way you were around each other, a comfort you could fall into. Now, that familiarity was gone—like a wall had been built in the night, and you hadn’t noticed until you were on the outside of it.

Why is he being so cold?

You couldn’t understand it. Couldn’t figure out how he could be that distant with you now… and still expected to hold you on stage like you meant everything to him.

How are we supposed to perform like this?

The thought made your stomach twist.

But somehow, you did.

The lights went down, the music cued up, and just like that—you were in it.

His hand slid around your waist, the same way it had in every rehearsal. His eyes met yours, and something sparked between you, sharp and aching. It felt different on stage, like everything was louder.

His touch, your heartbeat, the ache in your chest.

The performance was emotional, raw. Every move you made together was synced like second nature. Every glance, every breath, timed perfectly.

But behind the smooth choreography and aching harmonies, your head was spinning.

Your heart was in your throat as the music faded out and his hand rested ever so softly on your cheek. You would’ve thought he was the perfect performer, able to put on a perfect mask to hide how on edge he was.

Except you knew better.

The hand on your waist, you felt it. His fingers stiffen and then flex, ever so slightly, that if you weren’t so aware of him touching you, you would have missed it. The muscle in his jaw clenched, his eyes looking through you, not at you.

The applause rang in your ears, but none of it sank in.

Chan all but threw himself away from you, shaking his hands out, which to everyone else would look like leftover nerves but to you made your chest ache. Like the slightest touch of you burned him.

How could he look at you like that, sing those words, hold you so gently only to freeze you out the second the music ended?

You bowed with him, your smile tight, stomach in knots.

Backstage, JYP approached you both, pride glowing in his voice. “That was your best yet. Emotional, restrained, exactly what this stage needed. You both did very well.”

You nodded, too dazed to respond.

Chan bowed low in gratitude. “Thank you.”

And then he was gone.

He didn’t even glance your way. No shared smile. No subtle nod like always. Just silence.

You stood there, caught in the aftermath, the makeup team swarming to fix your smudged eyeliner, your mic being removed, people congratulating you but none of it felt real.

All you that was running through your mind was how that entire performance felt like one long goodbye.

Because the performance had been everything. Every unspoken word, every longing glance, every secret you couldn’t say aloud. And if that was the last time you’d ever feel close to him like that, if that was the final moment before whatever this was shattered for good. Well, you didn’t know how you’d come back from it.

You were scared, scared of how many feelings were running through you, scared of the possibilities, but more than anything, you were scared of losing him. The one person who understood you completely.

You couldn’t risk that kind of friendship over something like this, no matter what you wanted to imagine.

It was that thought that sent you in the same direction as him, feet stumbling, hand clasped to your stomach as if that could stop the waves of nausea overwhelming you at the thought of your life existing without him in it.

You found him alone in the hallway, the hum of the building surrounding you but you paid no attention. He didn’t turn to look, but you knew he knew you were there. He always knew.

“Hey.”

His voice was so low.

So distant.

“You did great out there.”

“So did you.”

It was polite. Professional. The kind of exchange you’d give to someone you hadn’t known for years. Someone who didn’t know the very best and the very worst things about you.

Everything about this was cold and unfamiliar. It made you want to run away until you couldn’t feel this anything, until you couldn’t remember the tone of his voice and the way he wouldn’t look at you.

You stared at him for a second longer, watching the slope of his shoulders, the way his fingers curled and uncurled at his sides like he was bracing himself for a blow.

“That kiss…” you said. “We should talk about it.”

You didn’t want to but you couldn’t sit in this atmosphere anymore. It was too harsh, too uncomfortable, too cruel for the both you.

He was still for a moment too long.

And then, “It was just the performance. We got caught up in it. That’s all.”

Your heart stuttered. “Right. That makes sense.”

It did, but at the same time it didn’t. Nothing that could hurt like this would make sense.

Still, you didn’t say that. You just nodded, trying to shove everything back down where it had lived for so long already without you realising.

“I just don’t want this to get weird,” he said, finally looking at you and you wished he hadn’t. Not when his eyes looked like that. Like he was hurting and trying to pretend he wasn’t.

“You’re important to me. I don’t want to ruin anything.”

“Me either.” you whispered. It felt like a lie, even though it was the truth.

Something already felt ruined.

Your friendship teetering on the edge of something, rocking back and forth until someone made the decision.

Chan pushed on, his voice tight as if it hurt him to speak. “We’ve always been good together. As friends.”

You flinched at the word. “Friends.”

It shouldn’t have felt like a cut. But it did.

“We need to stay focused.”

“Yeah.”

Then you said it, the thing you knew he needed to hear, even though it nearly choked you.

“It was a mistake.”

He nodded. Slowly. “It was a mistake.” He agreed. “Let’s not talk about it again.”

You nodded too.

But you didn’t mean it.

When you turned away, your whole body felt hollow. Every step hurt. Like walking away from something that had never even been yours to begin with.

You didn’t look back.

You didn’t need to.

You could feel his heartbreak echoing yours.

────୨ৎ────

*4 Years Later*

“Did you eat?” Chan’s voice floated from the kitchen, half filled with concern, the other half knowingly. You were balancing your phone in one hand and tugging on your jacket with the other, trying to keep up with a group chat while getting ready to leave for the meeting.

“I had a coffee earlier on.” you mumbled.

He gave you a look over his shoulder, the one that said you know that’s not food, the one he’d been giving you since you were teenagers. You rolled your eyes, and he tossed a banana at you without looking. You caught it with a sigh and a tiny, amused smile.

“Eat it.” he said.

“She won’t.” Seungmin said from the couch, scrolling his phone. “She’ll just pretend and give it to Jeongin later.”

“I heard that,” Jeongin shouted from the other room. “And I don’t want your reject banana!”

Hyunjin was already half-dressed for the meeting, dramatic coat draped over his shoulders, posing by the mirror as if they were heading to a runway. Felix was curled on the arm of the couch, sipping iced coffee and humming under his breath, while Han narrated an imaginary trailer for their “album meeting adventure” in a dramatic voice that had Minho threatening violence every five seconds.

It was chaos.

Predictable, beautiful chaos.

And right in the middle of it all was Chan, calm in his usual way. Eyes sharp, energy steady, keeping things on track even when it felt like herding cats. You stood beside him for a moment as he packed his laptop bag, sipping from another coffee. Chan gave you another lecturing look that had you grinning in return.

“This is iced, it’s doesn’t count.”

“Your heart’s going to give out from the amount of coffee you drink.”

“Nonsense. I drink a perfectly acceptable amount of coffee.”

“You get cranky if you have less than three before lunch.”

You gasped in mock horror. “I won’t tolerate this level of judging from you Christopher.”

He shoved a cereal bar into your hand. “Eat something please.”

You rolled your eyes. “Fine, but only because your heart’s about to give out from stress.”

He hummed in response, silently pleased that you were finally eating something, he knew you’d already been up for hours.

“How long do you think this meeting’ll be?” you asked.

“Depends,” he said, glancing at you. “If they ask us about solos again, it’ll take a while. You ready for that?”

You shrugged. “If they want something emotional from me again, I might cry just to get it over with.”

He chuckled under his breath. “You’d still make it look cool.”

You looked at him then, and the warmth in your chest was something familiar. Something steady. Years of friendship had made you experts in these moments—quick glances, casual jokes, easy silences. Everything had gone back to the way it always was.

At least, mostly.

“Come on.” Chan called, voice loud over the noise. “We’re gonna be late.”

Everyone scrambled. Someone spilled something. Minho cursed. Felix laughed. And you fell into step beside Chan without thinking, the way you always did.

He bumped your shoulder with his, like he used to when you were trainees heading into evaluations.

“You’ll be fine.” he said.

You smiled. “So will you.”

And neither of you noticed how the others watched, how they still sometimes wondered about the way you two moved around each other.

Because to you, this was normal.

Even if deep down, nothing about it ever really had been.

────୨ৎ────

The meeting room was too bright for how early it was. The long table stretched in front of you, lined with laptops, notebooks, and water bottles. The members were scattered around, some half-slouching in their chairs, others hunched over their phones while the rest of management shuffled in and set up.

You had another coffee placed in front of you, which had you smiling at Jeongin who had learned to accept your cooing when he did something you liked. He’d never actually admit to enjoying it.

Your eyes met Chan’s across the table, he raised an eyebrow at the cup as if to say he told you so. You hadn’t even realised you’d sat opposite him, you didn’t mean to. It was just a habit, falling into place like always.

“Alright,” one of the producers said as they finally took their seats. “Let’s talk about the new album.”

Everyone’s head snapped up at once.

“The concept’s solid, and we’re excited about the group tracks.” Someone spoke. “But this time, we want to add something more personal.”

Hyunjin leaned forward. “Personal how?”

“We want each of you to write and perform a solo track.”

A collective beat of silence.

“Solo?” Jeongin blinked.

“Wait—like, full solo?” Han added, eyes wide.

“You’ll each have your own moment,” the producer said, grinning at the mix of panic and excitement around the room. “A song written by you, performed by you. Whatever you want to express.”

Seungmin immediately dropped his head to the table with a soft thud. “That’s too much responsibility.”

Felix clapped once, grinning. “I love this.”

Chan glanced around, half-amused, half-leader-mode. “That’s gonna take a lot of work,” he said, but his voice was calm. “Still it sounds like a challenge worth taking.”

Minho raised a brow. “You’re just excited to have a dramatic ballad moment again.”

Chan smirked. “And you’ll do what? A diss track?”

Han grinned. “Please let him do a diss track.”

You tried to stifle your laughter as the table broke into overlapping chatter. Ideas started bouncing around—Han’s plans for a storytelling rap, Hyunjin’s dramatic staging, Felix already thinking of a concept with glitter and softness.

The meeting had gone on longer than expected, voices buzzing with new ideas and half-formed lyrics. The energy was light, playful. Everyone was excited, already spinning dreams of what their solo stages might look like, what stories they’d finally be able to tell in their own words.

You felt it too, excitement edged with nerves, your pen tapping silently against your notepad as you half-listened to the final rundown of schedules and deadlines. Too focused on what your own stage could be like.

You could feel Chan’s presence across the table like a quiet hum, the familiar tension long settled in your bones. Dormant. Tolerable.

Mostly.

You weren’t prepared for what came next.

“Oh, one last thing,” your manager said, casual like it was just a side note. “We’ve also decided to include a duet on the album.”

You barely registered it at first, until his eyes landed on you. And then shifted to Chan.

The room stilled.

”What?” You choked, Jeongin placed a hand on your back but you waved him off.

Chan blinked. “A duet?”

“Yes. Between you two.” The manager smiled, like it was obvious. “The fans have been asking for it for years, and with the solo tracks allowing for individual creativity, we thought it was the perfect time to bring you together again. You know you haven’t performed just the two of you since the survival show.”

Han looked up sharply. “Wait, really? You guys haven’t?”

Minho frowned. “Huh. You’re right. That’s weird.”

You laughed. Too quickly, too loudly. “Guess it just never lined up.”

Chan cleared his throat. “Yeah. Different concepts. It didn’t really… fit.”

No one noticed the way your voice had gone tight, or how Chan’s fingers curled around his pen like he needed something to hold onto. But you noticed. And he noticed. And that was enough.

Hyunjin tilted his head, suspicious. “But you were so good together back then.”

“Legendary,” Felix added. “The fans still talk about it.”

You tried to smile. “Yeah. It was a long time ago.”

Your heart thudded too hard in your chest.

Chan didn’t look at you. Not once. His gaze was locked on the table, his expression unreadable.

“We’re excited.” Management continued. “It’ll be emotional. Honest. We want to showcase how you two have grown, not just as artists, but as people. Your voices have always matched well. We think this is going to be something really special.”

You nodded automatically, your mouth dry. Chan gave a tight nod too, the muscle in his jaw twitching once.

The meeting ended with a shuffle of papers and scraped chairs, jokes echoing around the room again, but you stayed seated a moment longer, frozen in place.

Chan was the opposite. He stood instantly like he couldn’t stay in the room for a second longer. He didn’t wait for you or the others, he left before anyone could say a word to him without so much as a look back.

And just like that, the air between you felt heavy again. Like the years hadn’t passed at all.

────୨ৎ────

You pulled your ponytail tight, rolled your shoulders back, and stepped forward.

The practice room was loud with movement.

Shoes hitting the floor, the base pulsing through the speakers, breaths pushing through effort. The mirrors reflected eight bodies in motion, all slightly out of sync, sweat soaking into shirts, brows furrowed in exhaustion.

You were meant to lead the practice today.

Not just be present, but lead. Correct angles, tighten transitions, keep everyone locked in. And for the most part, you were doing it. Step by step, breath by breath.

But your head wasn’t really in it.

Your eyes kept flickering to him.

Chan moved through the formation a few counts behind, clearly tired but focused in that meticulous way only he could be. He hadn’t said much since the meeting. None of you had. But you’d caught his gaze earlier when the music cut, just a moment too long. Just enough for your stomach to knot.

“Ok guys, take five.” you called out, clapping your hands, forcing a smile.

Everyone dropped to the floor, limbs sprawled, groans filling the space. You walked to the side to grab your water, heart hammering harder than it should have been.

You barely noticed him until he was beside you.

His voice came quiet, meant only for you. “Can we meet later tonight?”

Your hand froze on the bottle cap.

Chan didn’t look at you, not fully. He kept his eyes on the others stretching across the room, pretending it was just another conversation. “After everyone’s gone. Just to start the duet. Doesn’t have to be long.”

You swallowed. The air in your lungs felt thin.

You hated how this didn’t feel familiar anymore. You never would’ve second guessed staying behind with him, it was how you became friends in the first place. The comfort from the building going quiet after hours, just the two of you left working yourselves to the bone. You loved that rhythm with him. The ease. The way no one else ever made you feel more seen, more in sync.

But now, the thought of being alone with him? You couldn’t lie, it scared you.

Because you already knew that it wouldn’t feel the same.

You nodded, your voice soft. “Okay. Just for a bit.”

Chan gave a slight tilt of his head in understanding, and that was it. He stepped back toward the others, already locking back in. Like it hadn’t been a loaded question. Like your heart wasn’t pounding in your chest. Like it was a completely normal thing to ask.

You turned your attention back to the mirrors, your reflection suddenly harder to look at.

“Focus.” you told yourself. “It’s just a duet.”

Nothing’s changed.

But everything had.

And you weren’t sure how long you could pretend it hadn’t.

────୨ৎ────

The halls were silent, the kind of silence that only came when the building had emptied. You could hear the hum of electronics before you saw him. You knew where he would be, like how he always knew to find you in the practice room, you knew you could always find him in the studio.

Chan was already there, seated at the desk, headphones around his neck and his laptop open in front of him. He looked up when you entered, eyes flicking toward yours for a beat too long before he nodded.

“Hey.” he said softly.

“Hey.” you echoed, closing the door behind you.

It was strange how this place still felt safe. The room was small, cozy even, padded walls, dim lighting, the faint scent of coffee and fabric softener still clinging to the hoodie Chan had shrugged off onto the couch.

You sat across from him, folding your legs up on the seat without thinking, the usual position for you. His lips twitched slightly at the sight.

He tapped the edge of the desk. “I was just thinking that maybe we don’t need to go too literal with the lyrics. Keep it emotional, but vague.”

“Right.” you nodded. “We can make it more about feeling than specifics.”

But what feelings?

You shoved the thought aside before you could voice it, choosing instead to watch him. He clicked a few keys on the laptop and let a soft instrumental play. It was a gentle piano, a slow build of strings, something aching beneath it all. Your chest tightened.

“We’ve always worked well like this,” he said suddenly, not looking at you.

“What?”

“Together. Late nights. Empty rooms.”

You bit your lip, a small smile flashes briefly. “I’ve got some of my best work done with you sat down the back of the practice room.”

He finally looked at you then. Really looked. His eyes searched your face, something soft and hesitant behind them, you shifted in the chair under the weight his gaze. Untucking and tucking your legs back, holding your own notebook like it was a tightly like it was a shield.

“We never talked about that night,” he said, barely a whisper.

You froze.

Your throat dried. “I didn’t think we needed to.”

Chan’s lips pressed into a line. “I think about it more than I should.”

The air between you shifted again, the room felt like it tipped and was about to take you with it.

You swallowed hard and inhaled deeply, in a futile attempt to ground yourself. “We said it was the performance. That it didn’t mean anything.” Your voice was tense. You were desperately fighting to keep it stable.

“We did say that didn’t we.”

You couldn’t tell if he was asking or agreeing, so you did the safest thing. You didn’t answer.

You couldn’t.

He nodded, but the tension didn’t ease.

The music looped again in the background, quiet and full of yearning, echoing the words you didn’t have the courage to say. He handed you a pen, your fingers brushing. It was so small, so minor, just a touch, not even, a brush of fingertips but it felt like it someone had shocked you.

You jumped and your breath caught in your throat. He kept his eyes on you, you broke first, you let your eyes drop down onto a blank page and started to write.

For the next while the only sounds that filled the space were the music looping, your pen scratching at the page and the keys on Chan’s laptop as he typed.

He turned the laptop toward you, showing you a half-written verse. His words were raw. Lines about silence, distance, the fear of saying too much. You read them once. Twice. And then slowly looked back at him.

“Is this how you imagine it?” you asked.

Chan’s lips parted like he might say something else but he just nodded. “Yeah. I guess so.”

Neither of you acknowledged the weight of it.

You took the pen and wrote down a line that matched the melody, something gentle, aching.

Something you’d never say out loud.

He read it over your shoulder, his breath close to your skin. “That’s good.”

The room stayed silent, but the air between you buzzed with everything that wasn’t being said.

────୨ৎ────

The practice room was hot, stuffy with effort and frayed patience. Hours of choreography had worn everyone thin, sweat dripping, clothes sticking, tempers shortening. The music blasted in loops, the thrum of bass shaking the walls, but it was nothing compared to the unspoken weight pressing on everyone’s shoulders.

Especially yours.

You and Chan hadn’t really spoken since the night before.

Not about the lyrics, not about the silence afterward, not about the way you’d both avoided eye contact since you left the studio late at night until you stepped into the practice room this morning. His words from the night before echoed in your chest, circling like storm clouds. Every step you hit in time with him felt like it cracked the distance a little more, revealing the thin layer of control you were barely clinging to.

“Again.” Chan said, voice clipped. He hit play before anyone could catch their breath.

You pushed through the steps, muscles aching, mind clouded. The choreography wasn’t hard. It was sharp, clean, something you knew like second nature. But your body felt slower, your chest heavier, like your heart was caught in your throat.

Every time you crossed paths with him on stage, your eyes darted elsewhere. He didn’t look at you either and you were thankful for it. Your focus was already strained, you weren’t sure what would happen if he actually made eye contact with you now.

You danced through the routine, but your mind was miles away, stuck in moments you didn’t want to revisit. It wasn’t just exhaustion running through your body, it was that unbearable weight in your chest, the tension between you two building like an ache you couldn’t stretch out.

Then Felix misstepped a beat too early. It was small, but it was enough.

Chan slammed the music off. “Seriously?”

Felix froze, wide-eyed.

“You’ve done this six times now,” Chan snapped, tone louder than it needed to be. “Are you even paying attention?”

Felix shrank, his lips parting like he wanted to speak, but nothing came out.

“Do you want to ruin the entire performance?” Chan kept going. “Because that’s what you’re doing. If you can’t keep up, don’t stand in the front.”

The room went silent.

Felix blinked fast, jaw tightening as he turned slightly away, one hand brushing under his eye before anyone could catch the shimmer there.

But you did.

You saw it.

And something snapped.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Your voice cut through the silence.

He turned to you, shoulders tense, his eyes dark with something unreadable. “He’s dragging everyone down—”

“He’s doing his best!” You stepped forward. “He’s tired. We all are. That doesn’t give you the right to speak to him like that!”

“Then maybe you should stop babying everyone and hold them accountable.”

You moved in closer, jaw clenched. “Maybe you should stop pretending this is about the group when we both know it’s not.”

That did it.

His eyes met yours, raw and burning, his voice low and furious. “Don’t start this here.”

“Too late.”

Felix wiped his cheek and stepped back, murmuring, “I’m sorry, hyung. I’ll get it right.”

“Felix,” you said softly, reaching out, but he was already moving toward the back, head down, heart clearly cracking with shame at the thought of disappointing you.

You looked back at Chan, your chest burning. “That’s not holding him accountable., That was cruel and you know it.”

He stared at you hard, something flashing in his eyes but he pushed it down and then turned away.

“Take five.” he said through gritted teeth, grabbed his hoodie, and stormed out.

The door slammed hard behind him and the noise echoed through the room.

You swallowed hard, blinking back the sting behind your eyes. You weren’t sure what made you angrier, what he said, or the fact that you knew why he was unraveling, and still couldn’t stop it.

The rest of the group stood frozen, glancing between each other. Jeongin fidgeted with his sleeves, Seungmin looked down at his shoes, and Minho’s expression was a mix of concern and confusion.

You sighed and clapped your hands once. “Alright. Let’s keep going.”

“Are you sure…?” Jisung asked gently, eyeing the door.

“Yeah,” you said, steeling yourself. “We don’t stop because things get hard.”

The practice went on, but you could feel their concern, every time someone missed a beat, every awkward glance when you turned your back.

By the time the sun had begun to sink, casting gold across the floor, the energy had drained from the room entirely. The group finally broke for water, everyone stretching in silence. You spotted Felix sitting on the floor near the mirror wall, his knees pulled to his chest, arms resting on top. His head was down, face hidden behind the fall of his blonde hair.

You didn’t hesitate.

Sliding down beside him, you didn’t say anything at first. Just sat, shoulder brushing gently against his, letting him know you were there.

He sniffled quietly and wiped at his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt. “Sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to mess it up earlier.”

Your heart ached.

“Felix…” You turned to him, voice soft but firm. “Hey. Look at me.”

He hesitated, then lifted his gaze, eyes red-rimmed but trying to be brave.

“You didn’t mess anything up,” you said gently. “You were doing your best. Today’s just… tense. That wasn’t your fault.”

He shook his head, lips pressed together. “Still. I should’ve been better. I don’t wanna disappoint you.”

Your breath caught.

You leaned closer, hands resting on his shoulders to keep him grounded. “You could never disappoint me. Never.”

Felix’s eyes shimmered again, and he gave a little laugh that cracked right down the middle. “You always say that.”

“Because it’s always true.” You smiled softly, letting your forehead rest briefly against his. “You’re one of the most hardworking, dedicated people I know. One off step doesn’t change that. You’ve got nothing to prove to me.”

He exhaled shakily, then nodded. “Thanks you.”

You pulled him into a hug, one arm wrapped tight around his shoulders, and he melted into it like he needed it more than anything.

“I’ve got you,” you murmured, chin resting on top of his hair. “Always.”

You let go as Minho approached. Felix took the silent hint that he needed to speak to you and moved away to sit with Hyunjin, thanking you again before he left.

Minho crouched beside you, handing you a water bottle without saying anything. You took it, nodding in thanks.

Then came the low voice. “You need to go talk to him.”

You stiffened. “Why me?”

“Because the rest of us like having our heads attached to our bodies.”

You didn’t laugh. Neither did he.

“Great.” You muttered.

You pushed yourself off the floor and headed for the door. You didn’t bother explaining to the others where you were going. You were too concerned about what you were supposed to say to Chan once you found him.

────୨ৎ────

You found him where you always do when things get too much. Alone in the studio. The lights were off so the only light in the room came from the soft glow from the hallway, casting long shadows across the walls. He was pacing. Shoulders tight, jaw clenched, running his hands through his hair like he couldn’t quiet the storm in his head.

You stood in the doorway, watching him for a second.

“Chan.”

He froze.

Didn’t turn. Didn’t answer.

“Chan, you can’t talk to him like that. Felix didn’t deserve it.”

His voice came out low, sharp. “I know.”

“Then why—”

“Because I’m losing it, alright?” he snapped, finally turning to face you, eyes wild and tired. “I’m trying to hold everything together and I can’t. Not when—” He stopped himself, breathing hard, words choking off.

You stepped in, closing the door behind you, plunging you both into darkness. You could just about make him out by the small amount of light off his phone on the table. “Not when what?”

He looked at you like you were a loaded weapon. “Don’t.”

“No,” you said, voice trembling but strong. “Say it. If we’re going to survive this duet, if we’re going to survive us, then just say it.”

He laughed bitterly, raking a hand through his hair again. “There is no us. There can’t be.”

The words hit you like a punch, even though some part of you already knew he’d say them.

“Then why are you looking at me like that?” you fired back. “You’re talking about what happened last time and that you think about it more than you should but now you won’t even look at me. Like everything you said means nothing.”

“Because it can’t mean something.” His voice snapped. “Because if it does, everything breaks. You break. And I can’t be the reason you fall apart.”

“I’m not falling apart,” you said, stepping closer, anger rising in your throat like fire. “You don’t get to decide that for me. I’ve been fine without you—”

“That’s a lie.”

You flinched, knowing he was right but too proud to admit it.

“So what, Chan? We just keep pretending?” you said, voice cracking. “Is that your solution?”

“I’m protecting you,” he said through gritted teeth.

“No.” You rolled your eyes, fed up with his sacrificial attitude. “You’re protecting yourself.”

His breath hitched.

You could feel it—how close the edge was now. Years of holding back, of pretending to be fine, of burying every look, every brush of skin, every stolen second that meant more than it should have.

“I hate this,” he said suddenly, voice raw. “I hate that I can’t stop thinking about you. That every time we’re in the same room, it hurts. I hate that I want you, that I—”

He broke off, eyes blazing.

You didn’t breathe.

“I hate that I can’t even say it,” he whispered. “Because if I say it, it’s real. And if it’s real, then I lose you.”

The silence stretched, thick with heartbreak.

And then, without warning, he crossed the space between you in two strides, grabbed your face with both hands and kissed you—hard, desperate, like it was the only way to shut himself up.

It wasn’t sweet.

It wasn’t careful.

It was years of pain and denial and longing, crashing into each other like a tidal wave.

You kissed him back, matching his fire, pouring every unspoken word into it until you both had to pull apart, breathless and shaken.

He stared at you like he didn’t know whether to scream or fall to his knees.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, voice breaking. “I didn’t mean to—”

But he did.

And so did you.

And now, the distance between you had never felt wider.

────୨ৎ────

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[promenadewithme]

Twelve days of Christmas - Chapter 2

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem! reader Word Count: 1.8K words Warnings: sexual innuendo, mentions of sex, slight angst, established marriage, divorce, the holidays, idk what triggers you so tell me if I should add anything else. a.n.: sorry for taking a few days to upload this, i've been christmas shopping and got down with some kind of flu that has me feeling unwell. I promise I'll post more if you guys like this, though.

part 1 part 2 part 3

“He’s getting away, Barnes” Stark reprimanded through the com in James’ ear “Forget to eat breakfast today? Where is that abiding need to keep the streets of New York safe? That unwavering stamina? Don’t tell me you’re getting old.”

The pokes had him grinding his teeth and stomping harder down the stairs. He forced himself to calmly answer “Your mother had no complaints last night.”

A distant cackle came through the com, which he imagined could have only been Thor, before Stark quipped “Then where the hell is your head at, Barnes?”

At my daughter’s recital that started 40 minutes ago all the way across town, thanks for asking. James thought with a moody frown on his face as he started jumping down the flights of stairs.

“Why don’t you do the chasing for a change?” he sassed, catching a glimpse of the assailant’s clothes just as he turned a corner.

Having been in the military as a young adult, one would expect more respect for the boss. But James was cranky, would rather be with his family, and was not in the mood for Stark’s cockiness. Besides, he was the best private detective in the agency and Stark knew it.

James picked up his pace, mere meters away from the target, only for the emergency exit door to slam open into the criminals’ face, with none other than Tony Stark on the other side.

“I don’t do the running.” He answered, smugness written all over his face “That’s what I pay you for.”

With a roll of his eyes and a huff, James bent down to search the man’s pockets. Two guns, four knives and what sure looked a lot like chloroform, were handed over to Bruce – the forensics guy, who accepted them with a tight-lipped awkward smile.

The man on the floor, a stalker that had been chasing one of their clients for the past months, attempted to get up. ‘Attempted’ being the key word considering James handcuffed him in seconds, getting halfway to the vehicle before his boss could reach him.

“Nice work today, kid.” He praised as James closed the door to the police car that waited outside.

Stark had friends in very important places, friends who appreciated the help that his company provided. Both monetary and otherwise. The police force was one of them, despite their motto being ‘doing all the men in blue could not do’.

“Thanks, man.” He replied while nodding at Steve, the police officer they usually worked with and his childhood friend.

“You can go home now; I’ve got it from here.” Stark patted his back as Steve drove away.

“I still have to write up the report and tell our client we caught the guy.”

In all honesty, James didn’t know why he didn’t accept. He wanted to go home, to go to his wife and baby girl. He also knew that he had a job to do, a job that wouldn’t finish itself.

“I’ll do that.” He reassured, earning an eyebrow raise from James, who was sure he had never touched paperwork in his life. With a huff and an eyeroll, he admitted “Fine, I’ll get Pepper to do it.”

“Pepper already has enough on her plate having to babysit you.” James replied, walking to his car.

Tony followed close behind “How about you let me worry about Pepper and you go home to your wife. Unless you want to do it the other way around, I’d be fine with that too. Tell me, how has beautiful (y/n) been - ”

He was cut off by a low growl emitted from James’ throat. His wife was beautiful, it was a fact, one he did not mind people noticing. Except when it came to Tony, the biggest playboy known to man.

“Down boy.” Stark lifted his hands in surrender “You should really let go of all that pent up energy. You know, there’s this reiki place down the street from - ”

“I don’t need to unwind.” He lied through his teeth.

James desperately needed to let it all out, preferably in his wife. The problem was that most days he got home after you were fast asleep and left before you awoke. It was hell, it was torture. It meant jacking off in the shower to the thought of you while being careful to not make too much noise, even though it was never really enough, not the same as you. It meant having way too much sexual energy and lashing out on everyone.

“Whatever you say, Barnes.” He sighed in defeat “But I do think you should take the rest of the year off. You’ve been my top employee of the year, it’s almost Christmas, just… Have a little fun for once. Take your wife on a date, take your kid ice skating, hell go crazy and rent a cabin in the woods. As much as this James is good for business, I miss the old Bucky. Corny and in love as he might have been, he was also a pretty decent guy. Besides, the clients are starting to get scared of that scowl of yours.”

Maybe it was time for a break; to spend some time with his girls, God knows he missed them.

“I’ll think about it.” He nodded, unlocking his car.

And that he did. James thought about it on the slow drive to Olivia’s school, he thought about it when he saw that all the chairs were already stacked, he thought about it on his way home, and when he saw your disappointed face as he walked through the door.

You looked so beautiful, all dolled up and Christmassy. You also looked broken, tired. Bucky had a sneaking suspicion it was because of him.

Closing the door behind him, he measured his next words, but nothing came out. No excuses, no explanations. He knew he was running; he just didn’t know why.

“You missed her recital.” Your voice came out hoarse and he realized your eyes were puffy. The realization that he had made you cry made James’ heart sink to his stomach.

“I know.” He whispered, feet plastered to the floor, unable to move from the door. Like he was ready to bolt at any moment.

“You are never home.”

“I know.”

“You come home after midnight every single day.”

“I know.”

“She misses you, I-” you halted before admitting “I miss you.”

That was when he found it in himself to move, to kneel before you and kiss both your hands while apologizing.

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Left his lips with every kiss he planted all over your hands, before resting his face on your thighs.

Tears filled your eyes again and it took all your strength not to back down, but you said it.

“James, I want a divorce.”

His heart stopped, and it sped, and it broke into a million pieces. You watched as his head slowly rose, his distressed gaze meeting yours.

“What?” he couldn’t have heard you right, could he? There was no way he could have messed up this badly.

“I can’t do this anymore.” You said, voice breaking “I can’t wake up every day knowing you won’t be here, I can’t listen to you coming home in the middle of the night and leaving before I can say goodbye, I don’t know what to do for you to love me. I’ve tried everything and I never seem to be enough for you.”

“No, doll, please.” He looked deep into your soul, holding both of your hands, afraid that if he let go, he would lose you forever, knowing there was a chance he already had “I love you. I love you so much. Please, we can work this out. Don’t leave me.”

“Leave you?” you seethed, untangling your hands from his and standing “No, James, I’m not the one who is leaving. You are the one who left. You are the one who runs away from his family, who overworks, who jerks himself off in the middle of the night instead of having sex with his own wife, who doesn’t even care to show up. If you truly loved me, if you loved us, you would be here. You would have been there today, when Liv needed you present.”

“I know I messed up but let me make it up to you. I can be present, I can come home earlier, I want to have sex with you.” He was on his knees; he did not know what he could say to make you believe him.

“James, it’s been eight months since I had an orgasm.” You said, walking into the kitchen to make yourself some tea. Anything to ease your nerves “I want a divorce.”

He followed you like a lost puppy; it would have been cute if your heart wasn’t weeping. James racked his brain, thinking of anything that could make you stay, that could help you change your mind. You were stubborn, the only person who could ever make you soft was Livvie. It was like a lightbulb went on in his brain. Liv. She was the key, the bond.

“Okay.” He said, even though it was the last thing he meant.

“What?”

It was what you wanted, right? So why did it feel like someone stepped on the already shattered pieces of your heart? Maybe, deep down, you wished he would fight for you.

“We can get a divorce.” He nodded slowly “But I want to give Olivia one last happy Christmas. Think about what it would do to her little mind if we separated during the holidays. It’s what, ten days till Christmas now?”

“Twelve as of tomorrow.” You answer, seeing his point.

“Stark gave me the rest of the year off. Let’s make the happiest memories with her, ones she will remember and not be traumatized by, let her have one last Christmas. Let us have one last Christmas.”

 You considered his words. Liv was six now, she was definitely old enough to remember this divorce and James was right, it could potentially make the holidays traumatic in some way. That was the last thing you wanted. It was only twelve days, right? What’s the worst that could happen?

“Alright.” You conceded and James let out the air he was holding in “Twelve days.”

“We pretend nothing happened, we act happy and in love, we make this the perfect Christmas. Deal?” he outstretched his hand, afraid that any other form of contact would make you push him away.

“Deal.” You took his hand, letting it linger as you looked into his somber grey eyes. Oh, how you would miss those, how you missed them already.

What to Liv would be the perfect Christmas, to you was the hardest goodbye. Would you be able to spend 12 days without changing your mind? Would James be able to spend them without letting you down again? Remember all the times he wasn’t there. A small voice uttered in your mind. It was enough for you to remove your hand from his and say goodnight. Twelve days would go by in a flash, you could do this. For Liv.

taglist: @ordelixx, @julvrs, @milanaasblog, @buckystevelove, @galactict3a , @ilovetaquitosmmmm , @tpwkcaryslizb , @unadulteratedpastazonkpeach

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divider by @bernardsbendystraws

[cloveroctobers]

my man rates my outfits — MULTI [Fall Randoms] 🤎

A/N: just something random I decided to write for fun on my lunch break + slightly influenced by YouTuber: Isimeme Edeko’s recent video she did with her husband lol. I hope you enjoy this mess!

Synopsis: you’re a content creator who has a theme for every occasion and decide to get your man’s reactions on certain fits — OR — your man catches you rocking particular outfits.

WARNINGS: language, suggestive themes, flirting, + x fem reader!

────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ──── ──

[ROMAN] —

You were throwing ass to Ms. Ponytail who appeared on your playlist funny enough as you stood in one of your many outfits in your kitchen. Of course you got side tracked, filming a OOTN (outfit of the night), after your stomach basically told you to feed them before you ended up kissing the floor from lack of nutrients.

“Now what is going on in here?” A voice boomed as the song finished.

Whipping around like a deer in headlights with a truffle chip against your lips, you spotted your husband standing on the other side of the kitchen island, leaning on his elbows as he watched you in delight.

You warn after bringing the chip into your mouth, “You need to stop sneaking up on me, if you know what’s good for you.”

“You are…I was just enjoying the show. Especially that last bit.” Joe flashed his pretty teeth at you.

Playfully rolling your eyes, you finished chewing, “You could have seen it up close and personal if you did the trend with me but you preferred the gym.”

Joe would do very little trends with you, he enjoyed the ones more where you danced and he got to watch from behind…also he liked the ones where he got to show off his strength.

“I mean…with all that movement back there I wouldn’t mind another rep.” The bun wearing man licks his lips, pushing back from his elbows, “And that dress mmm…”

You’re wearing a skinny strapped two printed mini dress that definitely showcased your cleavage and clung to your waist nicely as you explain, “i was filming date night outfits.”

Joe hums again, caressing his facial hair as he starts making way around the counter, which made you step to the other side, earning you a taunting grin, “We can consider what we’re about to do a date night if you want?”

Clapping your hands together, you wagged a finger at your husband who immediately made you his prey, “No, Joe! I have to pick the kids up at four.”

He checked the watch on his wrist, while you tried to tip toe backwards, “Uh, uh, where you going?”

“I got to get back to work.” You tried to convince.

Joe chuckled to himself, “I know we both got something that the both of us can work out…and our main problem is still having seats open at the table so why not fill them up?”

He then charged at you with laughter that boomed from his chest, tossing you right over his shoulder. Honestly you thought five kids was enough but if you asked Joe, he didn’t feel like there needed to be any limits.

“Joe!” You squealed after he slapped a hand to your backside and gave it a nice wiggle after it bounced back against his hand, “We don’t have time—

“We’ll make time. I need to see more of them outfits after I’m done with you…but this one might be my favorite.” He admits as he easily walks with you around the house in search of the bedroom.

Sighing you claw at your husband’s back as he felt you trying to slide out of his hold, “Don’t you tear this shit, Joe. I mean it. The other one you messed up is still on back order.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’ll be alright.” He says, kicking the bedroom door closed before sliding you face to face in his arms, still holding onto you, leaving you to initiate the kiss after staring into his loving eyes.

It was safe to say, this date night outfit got a dick stamp of approval.

[JEY] —

the theme was: thanksgiving, you were already stressing out about some fits to wear a week before the big festivities, whereas Jey was more relaxed about it all. Don’t get it wrong, he likes to show out but he didn’t see the need in stressing over things weeks before they transpired. He would pick what he was wearing the week of or a few days prior.

However he didn’t mind helping you pick out what to wear either. Just based off the first outfit, you showed off as you approached from around the couch, there was amusement in Jey’s dark eyes.

He sings, “Okay, purple rain! Purple rain!”

Immediately your smile dropped as Jey continued grinning at you.

“What?”

Jey licked his lips, pressing his elbows into his knees as he surveryed you in some Metallic purple boots and a lilac blazer dress. It didn’t look bad…he just didn’t think it gave what it was supposed to give.

“Why you wearing purple? Aren’t you supposed to go for darker tones? Mustard yellows, chocolate browns, tans? I heard the color for this season is wine or something along those lines.” Jey explains, as he trails his eyes up the length of your legs.

Your arms are folded now, “That’s boring!” You start, while Jey raises his brows to peek at the wine tortoise colored set on your nails, which you folded behind your back, “I wanted to switch it up with the dark tones and do something fresh.”

Jey slowly nods his head, while he caressed his beard, “I get that ma but you did say the theme was thanksgiving and this got prince written all over it.”

He’s laughing again and it’s working your nerves.

“…It sure does smell like hater in here.” You sass, making Jey scoff.

“What’s with the attitude? You asked me to give you my opinion and this is just the first fit right? Let me see the other ones…as long as they ain’t all purple.” Jey mutters that last bit but you caught it.

Scowling you say, “No, I don’t think i will! You’re not going to get the privilege to see the other options since you just tried to drag me. I didn’t know we had Tyra Uso in the building.”

Jey snickers, not believing that you were this pressed over him not feeling the first outfit for the theme. He never said it was ugly or anything like that, the colors were off if you compared the blazer and the shoes but it still somehow worked. He just didn’t see it for thanksgiving but you were not trying to hear it.

Maybe he should have cut back on the laughing but he stood by his Prince comment. You chuck the gingerbread cookie pillow right at his face on your way out of the living room.

“Aye! There ain’t no need to get disrespectful, alright?” Jey was on his feet now, reaching over the couch in attempt to latch onto your wrist but you side stepped him.

He wasn’t the only athlete in this house!

“Y/N, you can’t be seriously pissed at a jokey joke?!” Jey held onto the edge of the couch as he watched you retreat around the corner to head back to your office/second closet.

Just as he heard the door creaking you yelled, “I’m going to get the opinion of a true fashion head instead because my husband is the worst!”

And with a slam of the door, Jey just shook his head to himself at how sensitive you wanted to be today, letting out a small laugh to himself, followed by a sigh, he plopped down on the couch just to be notified that you were on tiktok live, talking to your supporters instead.

Of course Jey tuned right in.

[TERRY] —

“Ol’ heffa!” You hiss, tossing more clothes behind you.

Terry dodges a heel that could have caught him right in the face but ends up catching a balled up jumpsuit? That was closer to hitting his face.

“Babe, what’s going on?”

You spin to the voice, hands on your hips, and half dressed.

“That heffa.” You balled up a fist, while Terry got closer to you, eyes wide as he glanced at the mountain of clothes that decorated the floor.

“I see you’ve been spending too much time at the salon with the aunties.” Terry attempted to joke, while you appeared as if you just wanted to swing on something or someone, “Alright…take a deep breath for me.”

Peering up into his spring green hues while he rubbed at your bare shoulders, you followed his coaching of breathing before letting out a groan.

“I told you I didn’t like our neighbor to the left but she personally handed me this grand invitation to her Christmas gala, like she does every year.” You begin to tell your fiancé.

Terry slowly nods, not understand what the issue is but keeps quiet, knowing you’ll tell him.

“She threw a jab at us, Terry!” You exasperate, “‘It’ll be nothing like your Christmas party last year, no itchy ugly sweaters and full glam for the greater good. You know what that’s like right?’ She had the nerve to say that to me?! She basically called us tacky like I won’t MINK her brain into a slushie! She don’t know who she’s messing with, T. My mom told me to cast the demon out and my auntie told me to ring around the Rosie that hoe but I heard your voice in my head instead.”

Terry felt a smile tickling its way onto his full lips, “Oh yeah?”

“Told her we’re not attending this year, we will donate to the foundation because that’s what it’s truly about, to help support HIV and aids, not acting like it’s a fashion show.” You respond making Terry nod his head at you taking the high road, “Then I took her invitation, put it in a blender, dumped it into a mason jar, with a red ribbon and put into her mailbox for her barely twenty-one year old boyfriend of the month to bring in for her.”

Terry dropped his head followed by the closing of his eyes, “You didn’t.”

“I told you I didn’t want to move to the suburbs but she keeps messing with me and I refuse to be shaded or bullied. I get along with pretty much everyone, except for her minions and that—

“Heffa?” Terry finished for you, which you pointed into the air with a dip of your head.

You knew your man would just get it.

“They’re just trying to get up underneath your skin since we’re the newbies in town. Don’t let them win.”

Tilting your head to the side you say, “Did you not block our neighbor across the street in with the truck because he kept blowing his leaves across the street into our yard? Even stood in front of his car after he tried to drive over his lawn to get away from you?”

“I don’t recall that.” Terry grinned at you while you stared at him in disbelief, “You just gotta teach people how to treat you.”

“Exactly! And if she keeps it up, I’ll cancel Christmas real quick for her.”

Terry laughs, pulling you into his chest to sooth you, “Relax, Tasmanian Devil. I got something that might uplift your spirts though.”

Gift giving was something Terry often did. It was always, “I saw this and thought of you,” and it could be little trinkets or snacks or anything that you enjoyed. He never missed with whatever he brought home.

It’s his black tux that he planned to wear to a friend’s wedding that was happening the day before Christmas Eve. He pulled it up from the bed and you couldn’t wipe the grin off your face now.

“I’ve been in here nearly all day trying on dresses for Crystal and Sherrod’s wedding and you’ve been holding out on this info?!” You touch the protective bag that contains the suit, “Try it on while I get the wine and the ones.”

Terry chuckles as you start to scurry out of the room, “And for my services of modeling this for you, can I help pick your fit since you seem to be having a hard time?…which shouldn’t be with all these damn clothes you got.”

“Be quiet, Terry. You better be lucky I’m not a bridesmaid, or else you and your little friend to the left might see hell.”

Terry gives you a side eye, “She ain’t a friend of yours so she ain’t a friend of mine.”

“And that’s one of the many reasons why I’m marrying you,” you sigh dramatically while Terry just shakes his head at you, shooing you out of the room, to start unzipping the suit.

When you return with two glasses and a bottle, you make yourself comfortable, glimmering legs crossed over the other while you cheered Terry on in his all black attire.

He sips at the red, carefully putting the glass back down on the nightstand and decides to change back out of his clothes, not wanting to mess anything up, although you both had weeks to go before your friends’ wedding, he still wanted to take precautions, not wanting to cause any more stress to you as well.

“What about this?” Terry questions, pulling up a black lace piece, “We’ll be coordinating.”

You were leaning on one of your elbows and laugh, “I could do a red lip but…If I wear that dress, we probably wouldn’t be attending the wedding.”

It still had a tag on it too.

“Just adds more excitement to spreading love that day and later…” he winks at you, while you feel your body getting hot, even half dressed.

Terry holds it up by the straps with both pointer fingers, “…Get up, it’s your turn to show me why you’re a million out of ten.”

You smirk as you sit up, “You sure know how to make a girl feel special.”

“Don’t I know it,” His eyes followed your movements with ease, as you plucked the dress from his hands, leaning up to let your nose brush against his, and just when Terry was ready to put his hands on your hips, you quickly slipped out of reach and circled around him.

It was his turn to lounge on the ottoman in front of the bed, enjoying his view as you got dressed up for him.

[CANE] —

“The fuck you got on?!”

“Now Lorenzo.”

“Don’t do that.”

“I know you better correct that bass in your tone.”

“And what’s gon’ happen if I don’t?” Cane quizzes, pushing off his knees on the edge of the bed to fold his hands underneath his armpits.

You side eyed him and he had no problem matching your energy.

After a tense silence you sigh, “Stop being extra and rate my fit!”

Cane scratched at his brow as he mumbles, “Was that not what I was just doing?”

You huff, “Your delivery is whack.”

“No, that outfit is.”

Your mouth drops open, as you looked over your shoulder at the mirror behind you before turning fully to look at what you put together. You sported a suede brown frayed jacket, a blue and white pin stripped blouse underneath that was left unbuttoned enough to show cleavage, baggy light-wash jeans, pointed toe boots, a multi colored silk scarf tied over your head, and a suede tote bag to go with it.

“What’s wrong with it? The theme is: bonfire in The West or Midwest.”

Cane sucked his teeth, “We’re in New York, cowboy Carter, in case your ass forgot.”

“Not for long!” You sing song, already excited for where you were spending Christmas.

Christmas’ in the city was of course special but the both of you desperately needed a vacation and Cane already hinted that Christmas would be your next vacation together. He just didn’t tell you where yet or even what to pack, although you kept pushing for some details, he kept that information on lock.

“I ain’t going nowhere where we might turn up buried alive for the buffalo to feast on, that includes: Utah, Nebraska, or at that cult bullshit Kanye likes to chill at.” Cane informed while you rolled your eyes.

“Wyoming, babe.” You sigh before posing in the mirror, “I’m not jumping to those areas particularly but i know I look good and nailed it.”

Cane snorts with a shrug of his shoulders, “If you say so.”

“You still didn’t tell me what you don’t like about it.”

Cane blinked at you, as you turned back around, posing as if that was going to change his mind. “For one I don’t like that jacket and that stupid ass scarf. So you lose points for that. You’re better off wearing my durag than that.”

Scrunching up your lips you respond, “You don’t get the theme. If I wanted to do streetwear then maybe. This is western with a touch of chic, babe. Keep up.”

“You wouldn’t normally wear that shit.” He argued, yanking on one of the fringes, making you stumble forward.

Whacking him with your bag you debate, “Maybe not but if there’s a code, you know I’m gonna body it. Just wait until I get you into some cowboy boots, then you’ll understand.”

“Some what?” Cane felt his own face scrunching up, “You ain’t never catching me in those corny shits.”

“If we’re heading to Utah for Christmas—

“It damn sure ain’t Futah and stop fishing, I’m not telling you shit until December 1st.” Cane told you, making you suck your teeth and stomp your feet.

He laughed at you, loving to see you squirm.

“So?” You urged him to give a score.

Cane went silent, taking his time to see the effort you put in. Although he liked to give you crap, he knew his girl could dress. He wasn’t a fan of this style but he already pointed out what he did like from the outfit.

“…I give you a solid six.”

“A six?!” You exasperated, “you’re supposed to always say a 10 outta 10.”

“I would be lying.”

“Wooow.” You tossed the bag on the bed next to Cane, tongue pressed into your cheek, slightly annoyed.

Your boyfriend chuckles at you, pulling you by the hand so that you’re positioned right in between his knees, “I ain’t say you weren’t cute…just that this ain’t Texas.”

A crooked smile plays on your lips then, as you grip cane’s face, “We’re going to H-Town?!”

“Did I say—

Cane starts but is cut off by your kisses full of excitement, which would soon turn heated.

He was fine in that moment letting you believe whatever you wanted.

[BARRY] —

Barry had to do a double take as you strutted around his trailer, searching for something.

“Aye.”

Your head snaps up as you’re on your knees, looking underneath the kitchen table. “Hey Bear, didn’t hear you come in. Have you seen my swirl hoops? Otherwise I’m just going to have to put my Dr. Pepper ones in.”

You’re bending over again and Barry can’t help but to be a peeping Tom. You’re dressed in a dark pinstriped denim corset, and a white flowy skirt that did not leave much to the imagination when you’re down on all fours. You always did say if anyone could see your birthmark, then that means your bottom half was probably too short. However that didn’t apply if you stood upright!

He didn’t know what earrings you were talking about, at all and he didn’t even care.

“Where you goin’ in that?” Barry ignored your question with a question of his own.

Bouncing back on your feet, you spin, skirt twirling as you did so, sitting on the nook chair to slip your feet into your shoes, “It’s girl night, I’m going out.”

“Oh word? I thought you said that brat girl summer shit was over.” Barry slouches on the couch, exhausted from his day at work.

You laugh, “It’s not just a trend, it’s a lifestyle.”

Barry snorts, “Yeah, whatever that means. You look good as hell, though.”

You smile at him in thanks, heading to the back to swap the one swirl earring for your signature Dr. Pepper earrings that you made (along with other styles) and sold online instead. Barry is behind you, leaning in the doorway as you peek at him in the mirror.

“Can I help you?” You tease while Barry shamelessly runs his eyes over the back of your thighs.

He nods, “Yeah, I’m sure you can. By cancelling your plans to hang out with me instead.”

“Oh no.” You whip around after latching onto the bathroom spray, “Kie already said you would try and pull this in the group chat after the pics I sent. Which is why I hoped I would be gone before you came in. You did this last month and I’m not folding this month so control yourself.”

Barry can’t help the dimple that pokes out as he keeps his arms folded, “I ain’t hear much complaining from you then, baby doll.”

“We deserve a girls night, don’t ruin this, please!” You kept the spray aimed right at your boyfriend, almost sitting on the pedestal sink.

Barry wouldn’t be selfish, although he definitely envisioned what the both of you could get into in this cramped bathroom. The both of you heard the horn beeping obnoxiously but the both of you kept your eyes on each other instead.

“Fine, I’ll let you go.” Barry says, “You gotta give me some lovin’ first.”

Turning your eyes into slits you cautiously step forward, making sure the bathroom spray is pressed into his chest, as you leaned forward to smooch his lips.

Of course Barry let the quick kisses last for only a few seconds before he really latched his hands onto you. He let his hands roam all over your body before pulling back to the point there was a bit of saliva that separated you.

“Have fun but don’t you dare let nobody up on what’s mine, you hear me?” He let go of your jaw and licked at the corner of your swollen mouth, “Well don’t just stand there, go on, get!”

With a slap of your ass, which made you jump, you side stepped your boyfriend who had a smug grin on his face, knowing that he would be on your mind while you’re hanging with your girls.

It was all part of the plan.

Cleo was surprisingly in the driver’s seat of Kiara’s pathfinder and as soon as you got into the passenger side, the girls all peered at you.

“Girl!” Kiara starts.

Followed by Sarah who was sitting on the floor behind the driver’s side appearing a little ill as she motioned to her mouth, “You got a little—

You shushed them with a finger up in the air while you pulled on the drop down mirror, “Not a word.”

Which erupted snickers between your friends before Cleo turned the music up.

────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ──── ──

FIN.

[fanwarriorfictions]

Not Again- Part Four

Summary: With the discovery of a special book, Y/n is one step closer to home. The inner court learns even more about her family back home. And Azriel needs a babysitter of his own

Series Masterlist

-Part Four-

Amren found them in the kitchen, food had been waiting for them on the counter before they’d even arrived, the house it seemed was sick of her not eating as well. She’d simply laughed at the nagging presence and started filling her plate. Azriel had entered moments later, a small scowl on his lips from being left in her dust. He’d huffed and quietly filled his plate, he wasn’t kidding when he said flying worked up his appetite.

“I have use of your stray, boy. Go find somewhere else to be.”

Azriel gives the small female an unimpressed look, “nice to see you too, Amren.”

Y/n pushes her half eaten plate away, waving off the wisps of shadows that angrily dance around her at the action, “Did you find something?”

“I had that insufferable songbird pull any books she could find with your Wyrd marks,” Amren says, snapping her fingers.

A pile of books fall onto the counter, old withered pages that look like they hadn’t been opened in many many years. A plume of dust flies off them and Y/n wisks it away with a small breeze.

“Can you read them?” Azriel asks, eyeing the pages one book that’d fallen open.

“I thought I told you to find somewhere else to be?” Amren snaps, though there’s no threat behind it.

“My babysitter here is vigilant in his task,” Y/n sighs ignoring the withering look Azriel gives her, she takes one of the books into her hands and flips through some of the pages, “My mother taught me what she knew of the marks. Protection, locking, unlocking, many things like that, but we never covered gates, it simply wasn’t possible, and she didn’t want me testing fate.”

“Well to bad, it would’ve been useful to know that now,” Amren sighs, picking a book out of the stack, shoving it towards her, “Gwyn said this one practically jumped off the shelf at her.”

Y/n eyes the title and almost drops the book in shock. Azriel takes a casual step closer to peer over her shoulder at the book, a shadow finds her arm and gently wraps around it, a comforting touch.

“You know it?” Amren asks, giving that wisp of shadow a curious look, “I couldn’t read it, what is it called?”

“The Walking Dead,” Y/n answers breathlessly, “in my native language.”

Azriel couldn’t read the book, but he still looks over her shoulder periodically as she flips through each page. She’d been at it for hours, taking notes on the scraps of paper littered over the dining room table. Amren had taken the remaining books to look over, most had been fae scholars from this world musing over the marks, nothing quite as useful as the book in Y/n’s hands it would seem. Amren would also look over the Book of Breathings, see if anything jumped out at her.

Y/n had barely spoken to him the whole time, quietly mumbling to herself once in a while as she wrote. Azriel noticed that her notes switched between his language and her own in sporadic patterns, sentences switching back and forth, one word in one language then the next in the other. Swirling letters that connected in long strokes of her pen. The words were close together, she hardly lifted the pen as she finished one to write the next, like her brain was moving faster than her hand could keep up.

She was so focused that she didn’t notice Azriel slip out the door, didn’t notice when Rhys had appeared and waved him towards the hall.

“How’s research going?” The High Lord asks, “Amren has yet to find anything useful.”

Azriel turns an eye through the door, at the female still engrossed in that book, “nothing yet, though it seems Y/n may put Amren to shame in relentless focus. I don’t think she’s looked away from that book for more than the few seconds it takes to write something down.”

“I’ll be sure to tell Amren she has the competition,” Rhys chuckles, “I hear you two went for a flight today. All over Velaris people are talking about the almighty Shadowsinger chasing after a bird all afternoon.”

He gives Azriel a shit eating grin and Az scowls back at him, “she was determined to leave her babysitter in the dust.”

His scowl deepens when Rhys just laughs, “what? Don’t like chasing after pretty females?”

“I’m sure his ego is just bruised cause he can’t keep up,” Y/n’s voice calls out from the room behind them, “Big strong males tend to dislike being shown up by us pretty females.”

Azriel glares over his shoulder at the female who hadn’t even looked up from her notes, “I can keep up just fine.”

“Sure you can,” she laughs, turning a page, “I won’t hold back next time if that’s what you wish.”

His shadows laugh in his ears and he turns his glare on them. Rhys next to him grins as he walks into the room, eyes taking in the mess of papers full of Y/n’s half put together thoughts. She finally looks up then, acknowledging the male with a small nod of her head.

Her eyes are tinged red, like she hadn’t even blinked in the time she’d been sitting there. She glances at him, grinning at the scowl still on his lips. He glares harder, shoving his shadows down as they continue to laugh at him.

Rhys looks between them, “found anything useful?”

It breaks their stare and her smile falls. Azriel gets the strangest sense that he wants it back.

“Yes and no,” she sighs, “I recognize a lot of it, this was the book my mother learned a lot of what she knows of the Wyrd marks. She used it to open a gate to the place souls rest once to talk to… a friend. I’m sure it’s in here somewhere, I just need to keep looking.”

He notes the pause, the shift of her tone, whoever Aelin had tired to talk to, it was a sore subject. Take a break, she’s sad again, sad, she needs to rest, working for hours, hours, break. Azriel is half tempted to hiss at the nosey little shadows. They’d been at it for the last hour, as soon as the sun started to dip below the horizon, it’s like they switched into nanny mode. He wasn’t sure why they were so concerned anyway, she was more than capable of taking care of her damn self.

“The gates are the tricky ones,” she continues, grabbing pages of notes, “I’m close to figuring it out, I could probably open a gate, but to get to the right place is the hard part is opening one to the right place. I could just as easily walk right into a hell realm as I could into my own. And as fun as that seems, I’d rather not test my luck.”

“How many realms are out there?” Azriel asks.

“Who knows,” she shrugs, “my mother remembers falling through many, she couldn’t even describe most of them because of how fast she was falling. Give me a day and I think I could figure this out-“

“You’ve been at it for hours,” Rhys cuts in, “surely you could take a break. Maybe join us for dinner? We’ve all stewed up more questions for you, Cassian has a list.”

Yes, yes, yes, dinner, she didn’t eat enough, yes. Mother above, he wished he could get the shadows to shut up.

Y/n hesitantly glances at the papers surrounding her on the dining room table, “I seem to have commandeered the space. I’d hate for it to get stained.”

Azriel could tell that what she really wanted to say was, I need to keep working so I can get home. It was written in the longing glances at the book, in the way she flew towards the horizon like home was on the other side, the way she looked at the sky expectantly, searching for something he couldn’t quite figure out.

“We’ll eat at my home,” Rhys shrugs, “your research will be here, exactly where you left it when you return.”

She looks ready to argue, to deny, to beg to stay, but instead she sighs, “Is dinner a casual affair, or does your lot like to preen?”

Rhys laughs, “It’s whatever you like, preen as much as you wish.”

She hums, “My babysitter and I will be there shortly then.”

Mother, give him strength. She pushes to her feet, giving him that saccharine smile as she walks past him towards her room. Her scent lingers as she leaves, that hint of embers stronger than usual. He can’t help the subtle intake of air, nor the shadow that grazes her wrist like it would wrap around and make her stay.

She’s barely out the door before Rhys is clapping him on the shoulder with a quiet chuckle, “do you need a babysitter? I’m sure Cassian would like to return the favor.”

Azriel snarls at him, “We’ll see you at the house brother.”

Rhys just laughs again, throwing a wink over his shoulder as he moves towards the door, “take your time. I wouldn’t blame you for being a little late.”

“Get out.”

Azriel waits for her in the living room, she’d still been in her room when he’d gotten dressed, which wasn’t surprising since it only took him a few minutes to change into a slightly nicer shirt, he didn’t bother with the preening, Rhys did that enough for all of them.

Heel clicks on the floor alert him to her approach, she turns the corner into the room and Azriel couldn’t stop the way his body goes absolutely still.

He thought night court black suited her but he was wrong, she looked good in it but it didn’t compare to the way she looked in this dress. Deep green of a forest, the silk fabric flows with her body like water, showcasing each of those curves like currents, with accents of silver thread and shining jewels that glow in the light like the stars above. She’d lined her eyes with kohl, giving them that sultry look that could drive a male wild. And her lips, Mother help him, her lips were painted a deep wine red, so dark it could’ve been black.

Gorgeous, she was absolutely gorgeous. He’d known she was pretty, he wasn’t blind, he’d noticed when he’d found her laying in the moonlight, even covered in blood she was beautiful, but it didn’t strike him till now exactly how attractive she was.

“You like what you see shadowsinger?” Her grin is feline and lethal, voice dripping with honey, “I told you I was your type.”

He doesn’t respond, simply continues to look her over. There’s a fire in her eyes that has his shadows whirling around him and when her head angles in that predator way, he’s almost willing to be the prey.

House wasn’t a good discriptor of the giant building that sits before her. Manor maybe, but Azriel had called it the River House. Rhys and Feyre’s personal residence that Feyre had apparently designed herself. The garden in the back had been where she’d fallen into this world, she’d been to frantic to really appreciate her surroundings. It was absolutely beautiful.

Azriel led her through the front door and the interior was just as magnificent as the outside, intricate and elegant, yet it still felt warm and lived in. A multitude of paintings lined the walls as they walked to the dining room. From their conversation earlier, she assumed they were done by Feyre herself. The High Lady had mentioned her art studio, she had a class this afternoon that she would be teaching. Y/n had leaned towards musical arts, but she always loved going to galleries with her aunt Lysandra. According to Rhys, there was a section of Velaris called the rainbow, the artist quarter of the city. She assumed she’d flown through it today with Azriel, the place had been alive, filled with music that she couldn’t help but be drawn to.

As they moved down the hall she could hear the sounds of the Inner Court, as they called themselves, growing closer and closer. Their laughter reminded her of home, of dinners with the cadre and her uncles visiting from Adarlan, or even Nesryn and Sartaq all the way from the southern continent. They were never quiet affairs, always full of laughter and teasing, usually from Fenrys and Dorian on the later.

The last dinner like that had been little over a month ago. She’d dressed up in a gown this exact color. Her aunt Elide had helped her do her makeup, she’d practically had to hold her down in her chair so she could finish, to excited to sit still. It was her favorite nights of the year, these dinners, seeing her family come together all in one place. Sometimes they’d even convince Manon to join them, never aunt Manon, though she’d gotten away with that once when she was a child. It was always magical seeing her and Dorian dance around each other as if they weren’t desperate for the other.

She would sit there and watch her family, watch the way everyone loved each other. How her parents would stare into each others eyes and grin like someone had told a joke. How her uncle Aedion would dance with her aunt Lysandra to music only the two of them could hear. How uncle Chaol and aunt Yrene would bicker together with smiles still on their lips, to the utter annoyance of her cousin, Josefin. She watched them all, and hoped one day she would have someone who would love her just as fiercely

“Where’d you go, princess?”

Her mind drifts back from that far away place across the stars, finding Azriel’s gaze on her. Stoic as always, but she could see the bit of concern behind those whiskey eyes. It warms something in her, just barely, just enough for her to give him a small but genuine smile.

“Home,” she says quietly, “I was home.”

“So you’re telling me, a demi fae is one of your strongest warriors,” Cassian says, throwing quotes around the words, “and the guys power is death, just pure death? And he’s how tall exactly?”

Y/n laughs, “My uncle Lorcan has described it to me as death, I’m not sure what that means exactly, it was a gift from the old God of Death, Hellas. It looks like Azriel’s shadows, though they’re not sentient little creatures more like whips of shadow that he controls. I don’t know how tall he is exactly but he’s taller then you, he’s taller than all three of you males, actually. You should see the height difference between him and Elide.”

Azriel couldn’t help the small grin on his lips as his brother continues to pester Y/n over the apparently giant uncle of hers. It’d started with him asking about her father, and then the rest of his cadre. She’d told them all about the mighty warriors. Fenrys, who she could only describe as very very pretty, he could shift into a giant white wolf, and winnow, though not quite as much as those here could. Lorcan, the giant shadow wielder, who’s name is apparently Lord Lorcan Lochan, to everyone’s utter amusement. And a mysterious figure named Vaughan, who she admits wasn’t around a lot when she grew up, usually away in Wendlyn, he could shift into a massive osprey.

“There’s no way, he’d have to be like seven feet tall,” Cassian argues, mouth opening to ask yet another question.

Nesta elbows him in the side, “I want to hear more about the shapeshifter.”

“Lysandra,” Y/n supplies the name with a warm smile, “Her favorite form is a snow leopard, lethal creatures, but the softest fur you’d ever felt in your life. When I was a child she’d let me cuddle up next to her by the fire to take naps.”

“You’d mentioned a sea battle earlier,” Mor chimes in, “what was the creature she shifted into.”

Y/n’s eyes light up, “One of my favorite stories, I would beg to hear it again and again. It’s called a sea dragon, the companions of the Mycenians of old Terrasen. When they were banished from their home centuries ago the sea dragons all died out and it became legend that once the dragons returned, so would the Mycenians.”

Azriel watches her, enraptured by her stories. It had been like that the whole night. She’d been stolen away by Feyre as soon as they’d arrived, more and more questions being thrown at her throughout dinner. He’d taken a seat across from her next to Cassian, who had by far asked her the most. But she met each one with a story, that look in her eye from out in the hall hidden but not gone. She’d seemed lost, far far away, and so sad. He’d almost turned around and brought them back to the house of wind just so she could keep looking for a way home, just to erase that look. But when she’d smiled at him, all he could do was stare.

“During the war my mother had traveled to Skulls bay.” She talked with her hands, Azriel noticed. “One of the missing Mycenians was there, she’d figured it out a long time before that when she was still an assassin, when she’d wrecked the whole port to free hundreds of slaves. Captain Rolfe, the pirate lord, was not happy to learn the assassin who’d ruined his island was actually the long lost Queen of Terrasen. He refused to send aid, so my mother did what she does best, she schemed. Her and my aunt devised the plan to bring the sea dragon back. The battle didn’t go quite as planned, the valg had sea wyverns, vicious and powerful. But that sea dragon form, huge and magnificent was stronger, smarter. She used them against the valg forces, sending those beasts straight into the hulls of their own ships. My mother tells me that she could barely keep up with Lysandra’s speed, if you blinked she was gone. It was close, she was badly wounded, but she won.”

“Wow,” Elain breathes, eyes sparkling, “That’s amazing.”

“My uncle Aedion tells it better,” Y/n shrugs, smiling at the memory, “He always told me that it was then that he decided he could not live without her. When he saw her bleeding on that beach still in that huge form, half wild from the fight, he wasn’t afraid of her even though she looked ready to bite his head off.”

Cassian laughs, hooking an arm over the back of Nesta’s chair, “I know the feeling.”

Nesta looked half tempted to bite him right then to prove his point. Cassian simply grins at his mate, that telltale look in his eyes that would usually have the pair leaving early at any moment.

Azriel rolls his eyes at the pair, looking towards the female across from him. To find Y/n already looking right back. She’s got that overly sweet smile on her painted lips that she knows gets under his skin. He gets the sense that she enjoys it, the way he glares at her, it’s like a game. See how much she could push before he finally pushed back.

Rhys leans forward, that knowing grin on his lips again, “How fast can you fly in that hawk form? You said you went easy on poor Az earlier.”

She laughs and somehow he doesn’t care that it’s at his expense, “Very very fast, I can shift the air under my wings to go even faster. I could make it to the house of wind in less than a minute if I wished.”

“Impressive,” Azriel says, rolling his eyes.

“Oh don’t be a sore loser, Az,” she taunts.

It’s the first time she’s called him that, he quite enjoys the sounds of it, “Is it really losing if your competitions got a boost?”

“Only using what’s in my arsenal,” she shrugs nonchalantly, taking a sip of her wine.

Azriel’s eyes zero in on the motion, appreciating the way her lips rest on the edge of the glass. He was right, that color stained.

Careful brother, Rhys whispers in his mind, Or I really will send Cassian to babysit you.

He glares at the high lord, I do not need a sitter.

That’s what Cassian said, Rhys shrugs, Now look at him.

And it’s like a timer goes off on his patience, Cassian stands from his chair, taking his mate’s hand in his own.

“Well I think it’s time for us to go,” Cassian declares, he’d lasted longer than Azriel thought he would.

Nesta turns her eye on Y/n, “We train at the house of wind every morning, 8 am sharp, be there.”

Y/n grins, baring those sharp canines, and Azriel has the good sense to be wary of letting those two near each other in a sparring ring.

Tag List- Anyone in white could not be tagged. Let me know if I got your tag wrong!!

@inloveallthetime , @microwaveallthedemons , @nayaniasworld , @thecraziestcrayon , @fightmedraco , @blackgirlmagicforever , @nikt-wazny-y , @fangirlloza010 @fussel9913

[augustjoy]

The Story of Us

Sneak Peek: Three years, seven months and twenty-four days. That is how long you had been with Aaron Hotchner. That also happens to be the same amount of time that Aaron had been lying to his team.

Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Fluff/Angst

Word count: 3468

Warnings: Age gap, pregnancy, mention of divorce, mention of Haley and her death, mention of child abduction case (no details), pregnancy complications, mentions of hospitals. Use of y/n (once I think). I think that's everything - let me know if I missed anything else.

Not edited - please be kind.

I do not consent to having my work translated or reposted to any other site. That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.

Three years, seven months and twenty-four days. That is how long you had been with Aaron Hotchner. That also happens to be the same amount of time that Aaron had been lying to his team.

It really wasn’t that Aaron wanted to hide you from them, he just had to keep you safe. He needed to keep you separated from the horrors the plagued his career.

When he met you, he honestly wasn’t sure what would come of it, you were quite a bit younger than him, only having just begun your ascent into adulthood. It wasn’t until he got to know you that he knew he was hooked. You had him wrapped around your finger and all you had done was be your most authentic self. Something he envied.

On your first official date he’d learned so much about you, you were twenty-five, you owned your own café, you had moved to Virginia just a year prior from Arizona, you were divorced, and you were a single mother. You had explained to Aaron that the pregnancy had been unplanned and ultimately was the beginning of the end of your marriage. Your daughter, Norah, was four and the divorce had been long been finalized when you began dating.

The two of you had agreed to take things slow, seeing as you both had been through so much in your previous relationships. It had taken him some time, but he did eventually explain what had happened to Haley – He had spared you of the more gruesome details, but he explained that his job was dangerous, and it is what had led to their demise, so he gave you an out. Once he had finished his tangent you had caressed his cheek and leaned in and kissed him, explaining to him that you understood and didn’t plan on going anywhere.

You and Aaron have not had it easy over the last three and a half years, after just a year of dating you had moved in together. That hadn’t been easy, you had to adjust to his lifestyle, and he had to adjust to yours. It was hard work finding the balance of your newly blended family, but you had managed – coming out on the other side even stronger than before.

Three months after moving in you had found the ring. It hadn’t been intentional by any means. You were doing the laundry on your day off and while placing his socks in their designated drawer you had noticed the little velvet box. It sat there mocking you as you just gawked at it. You were definitely ready to marry Aaron, but you questioned whether he was truly ready to marry you. You had been together for just over a year and the only family of his you had met was Jack, Sean and Jessica. How could he possibly want to add you and Norah to his family if he was too afraid to introduce you to them.

That night when Aaron got home you confronted him, you had waited until dinner was finished and the kids were tucked into bed, not wanting them to be a part of a conversation of such nature. It started off as you simply explaining to him how you had found the ring – adamant to inform him that you had not been snooping, you had found it purely by accident. That is when the word vomit started, you just couldn’t stop yourself from droning on about how you loved him and you are so excited that he wants to take this step, but you can’t help but feel like maybe you have pressured him into this and that you would stop talking about the future and just take it day by day because you couldn’t live with yourself if you had forced him into this decision and you would never want him to resent you because of it.

Before you could get another word out Aaron had practically shouted your name, it had been the only way to get you to stop talking and listen to him in that moment. He had asked you where on earth you had gotten the idea that he felt forced or pressured from, he was so heartbroken to know that you were feeling this way. This is when you explained your theory about him not being ready to introduce you to his family, let alone add you to it. Aaron’s face fell at your words, everything coming together in his head. He looked into your eyes and the walls he had spent so long building up after Haley’s death, came crumbling down. He reassured you that he wanted nothing more than to make you and Norah a permanent part of the Hotchner family (if you’d let him) and he explained to you why he had continued to keep his personal life so separate from his professional one. This time around he gave you some of the details surrounding Haley’s death and it was your turn to have the pieces fall into place.

Your conversation ended in an engagement as well as an understanding that for his piece of mind and your safety, things would continue to be separate. With the clause that Aaron would at least tell you about his job a little more and he would tell you all about his team (even if they didn’t know about you). You wanted to feel connected to him completely and in order to do so, you needed to know about the other half of his life.

Eight months later you were married, after another six months you had officially adopted Jack and Aaron had officially adopted Norah. The Hotchner family was complete! Or so you had thought. Your family had enjoyed six-ish months of bliss after the adoptions had been finalized before your world had turned upside down. After a night of celebration, (Jack winning his soccer game, Norah’s A+ on her spelling test, your new menu, and Aaron’s completion of his most recent case) the two of you had enjoyed a particularly heated evening which leads to you – three weeks later staring at the stupid digital letters spelling out PREGNANT. Aaron and you had both mentioned wanting a big family, but you had assumed that the four of you were what he meant.

Aaron took the news well, honestly, you’re pretty sure he was more excited than you were. The two of you talked about how you would make the announcement, both to the kids and to your extended family. You also scheduled the first appointment to check and see if this was really happening.

After that first appointment, in which you confirmed that you were in fact pregnant, you and Aaron had begun planning. You talked about potential baby names, and you began looking at houses. At your eight-week appointment (which you’d gone to solo as Aaron had been working) you’d gotten some news that would really change things…you were worried about what this would mean for you and Aaron.

When he finally arrived home five days later, you wasted no time in breaking the news. You were having triplets, and you had officially been labeled as a high-risk pregnancy. Aaron sat stunned for a while, so long that you had started to worry. You knew he needed time to process this, but you really needed him too, truthfully, you were scared. Your pregnancy with Norah had not been easy and that was one baby. Here you were now trying to fathom how difficult this pregnancy and birth would be. When Aaron finally snapped out of the daze he’d fallen into, he reached for you, holding your hands in his own while reassuring you that you guys could do this, and everything would be okay.

Two months later you moved into your new home. Things had been changing faster than you could wrap your head around them and while you were so excited to be in your new home and settled with these babies that were officially four months along, you couldn’t help but succumb to that nagging feeling in the back of your mind. It had been telling you that things would not be this good forever and there was bound to be a bump in this road at some point.

The bump that came was not one you were prepared for.

Three years, seven months and twenty-four days. That is how long you had been with Aaron Hotchner. That also happens to be the same amount of time that Aaron had been lying to his team.

The Hotchner family had been settled in their new home and you were just nearing the end of your pregnancy. Aaron had been called in for a time sensitive local case – child abduction. These cases were always hard on him, having Jack and needing to leave him to work these cases, but now it wasn’t just Jack. It was Jack and Norah and your three unborn babies and you, Aaron had been feeling the pressure of this case and you could see it on his face, in the fleeting moments you’d been able to share since the case had begun three days ago.

It was time and you knew it, that all too familiar feeling, the pain coming in waves every so often. The kids were at school and Jess was out of town. The only person you could call was Aaron, and he wasn’t answering. He had been really good about attending to her calls during the pregnancy but given his current mental state and the pressure he’s under to solve and close this case, you weren’t exactly surprised that he wasn’t responsive.

There was one other person you could call. Aaron had given you his number in case of an emergency. When he gave your number to Dave with little to no explanation, Dave just smiled a nodded his head. The team had noticed the changes in Hotch as your relationship had progressed. He didn’t stay late anymore unless absolutely necessary, he had been happier, smiling more, wearing a ring again. Nobody said anything as they figured Hotch would share when he was ready…they just didn’t expect it to be nearly four years later.

So, when Dave’s phone rang, and it was your contact that had flashed across the screen, he didn’t hesitate to answer.

“Hello?”

“Hi, this is David Rossi, right? Aaron gave me this number in the case of an emergency!” You rushed.

“Yes, this is Dave. You must be Y/N. Is everything alright?” Dave asked, waving off Emily’s look of confusion.

“Umm I’m just trying to get a hold of Aaron and he’s not answering and…I’m not sure how much information he gave you about me or anything, but screw it, now is not the time, I am in labor, and I need Aaron to get here like now.” You were rambling, but at this point you just didn’t care anymore, the contractions were pretty close together at this point and you were in far too much pain.

“Okay, don’t worry, we will get a hold of Aaron. What is your address, I will come and get you and drive you to the hospital. Unless you think you need an ambulance.”

“I don’t think I need an ambulance. If you or Aaron could get here to take me that would be ideal. I’m at our house, the address is 123 West Elm. The kids are both at school, someone will need to pick them up!” You were starting to panic, and Dave could tell.

“Don’t worry about that we will send someone to pick up the kids, I am on my way to you now. Do you want me to stay on the phone with you until I get there?” Dave was being so patient with you, and you couldn’t have been more grateful.

“Um, no that’s okay, I should really get my bag together and ready to go. Have you called Aaron yet?”

“Okay, you go ahead and get your bag, I will come to the door once I arrive. And I have Emily calling Aaron now, okay?”

“Okay, thank you Dave.”

“Of course. I will be there soon.”

Once he hung up the phone, he told Emily to dial Hotch’s number. She didn’t question him but ultimately, she was worried and confused by what was going on. The phone rang four times before Hotch finally answered. When he did, he immediately told Dave that they had a new lead that JJ and Morgan were actively looking into, it had been promising. Dave had to interrupt Aaron’s briefing to let him know that his wife was in labor and that they were currently headed to their house to get her to the hospital.

Aaron felt immediate panic, in more ways than one. First and foremost, his wife was in labor, and she was all alone, second this was a high-risk pregnancy and there was a chance that the four of them might not all make it through this birth, and last, his worlds that he had worked tirelessly to keep apart were officially colliding which meant your safety was now and forever compromised.

Once his brain calmed from the rapid-fire panic, he sprung into action. He’d given clear instructions; Dave was to take you to the hospital in your car while Emily drove the work issued SUV back to Quantico to continue working the case. He told Reid to continue on and if anyone were to ask, inform them that he had a family emergency. While rushing out of work and to his car he called your closest friend/coworker who had been running the café since you’d been on maternity leave, he asked if she could pick up your kids and drop them off with him at the hospital after the shop closes at 2pm. She was quick to agree and wished you a safe birth and claimed she couldn’t wait to meet the 3 peanuts!

Everyone stepped up and went to work on their respective tasks. Dave and you had gotten to the hospital in record time. You were quickly settled in a room and made as comfortable as possible. Aaron arrived with about five seconds to spare. Dave gave him a pat on his shoulder and let him know that he’d be in the waiting room to sit with your kids once they arrived as well as to see his “godchildren”. He claimed it was his right as he was the only one who knew about your relationship. Emily arrived back at Quantico and led the team through the remainder of the case which thankfully was closed within the next hour thanks to that lead JJ and Morgan had been following up on.

The next few hours went by in a flash, the case was closed with families being reunited, Jack and Norah had been dropped off with Dave, Aaron had supported you through what was arguably the most difficult childbirth known to woman (naturally birthing triplets is not recommended nor is it necessarily the safest option – unfortunately you hadn’t had a choice given how far progressed your labor had been when you’d arrived at the hospital), and the BAU team patiently waited for the announcement of your safely completed birth…only that announcement didn’t come. They sat and waited for what felt like hours before Aaron finally came out. He explained that you had hemorrhaged after the babies were delivered, the doctor had told him it had something to do with the placenta having not come out completely. Dave could see how distraught Aaron was…he couldn’t handle not knowing.

Things happened so fast, one minute you were being congratulated on bringing three beautiful babies into the world and the next doctors were scrambling to stop the bleeding. You could feel yourself fading, you had reached out for Aaron, and you were able to hold his hand for a second before he was shooed out of the room. You were taken to surgery so they could effectively stop the bleeding and remove the rest of the placenta. Thankfully surgery hadn’t taken long (to Aaron it had felt like an eternity).

The doctor came out to inform him that you were okay and had been moved to a private room along with your newborns. She explained that you would feel weak for a bit but would make a full recovery. She also let Aaron know that he and the rest of your group could go back to see you as long as they remained at an appropriate volume and that any non-family was gone by 8pm as visiting hours would be over. Aaron looked to his team.

“I know that you are all probably expecting an explanation, and while I do want to give that to you…”

“You want to go see your wife and kids.” Morgan interrupted.

Aaron smiled at how understanding his team was. “Thank you, give us a few minutes alone, then I will come and get everyone.” Aaron said as he reached to pick up Norah with his left arm and grab Jack’s hand with his right.

The team agreed and discussed going to grab snacks and coffee from the cafeteria.

Aaron made his way to your room as quickly as he could with two young children. When he arrived, relief crashed over him in a tidal wave and tears sprung to his eyes. He walked to your bedside, gently placing Norah to sit at your feet. He’d instructed Jack to sit in the chair that was on the opposite side so he would be able to see his new siblings. Aaron leaned in to kiss your forehead all the while he could hear the quiet coo’s coming from the three infants, he walked over to them, and you couldn’t help but smile. As you brushed a hand through Norah’s hair and reached to cup Jack’s cheek, you could hear Aaron whisper to the babies “You just couldn’t wait to meet your family, could you?”.

Aaron and you spent a bit of time just like this, your family, taking turns holding the babies or carefully monitoring your older children while they tried to hold the babies. Norah was elated to have three live baby dolls, while Jack seemed happy that she’d have someone new to bother all the time. Aaron huffed a laugh at their reactions and then looked to you.

“Have you thought about their names anymore?”

“I have…I think after seeing them, and seeing you with them, that they just seem right.”

“Well then, are you ready to meet everyone?”

“Yes!”

With that, Aaron made his way to the waiting room. He could see how antsy his team looked, but he couldn’t delineate if it was from wanting to meet you and the babies or from wanting to hear the story. When he posed the question to them, they had all agreed they wanted to see you and the babies first, then the two of you could explain everything. So that is what led to Aaron leading his six teammates to your room; before entering, he turned to everyone with a finger over his lips signaling for them to enter quietly.

Everyone entered the room, their eyes scanning to see you and the kids chatting quietly. You had looked up and smiled, quietly greeting the group of people you had learned so much about over the last year and a half. Hugs and congratulations were exchanged throughout the room, babies being passed from person to person, chairs being brought in from the hallway. Once everyone was comfortable the room fell silent, you could tell they were waiting for name announcements and more information about you and Aaron. You figured names were an easier start and a much shorter conversation.

“Alright, I suppose it’s time for you all to formally meet these three. Aaron and I have thought long and hard about what to name them and it has proven difficult up until this point. When I saw them for the first time, it all became clear to me. So, without further ado, I’d like to introduce you to David Thomas Hotchner, Millie Joy Hotchner, and Faye Emilia Hotchner.”

There were “ooohs” and “awws” throughout the room and misty eyes (though Dave swears it was an eyelash) There was discussion of who would be the godparents of which baby and plans of baby shopping over the upcoming weekend to make sure they were spoiled by all their new aunts and uncles. The team started to pose some personal questions at you, like if you had siblings or family nearby and what you did for a living and how you met Hotch.

“I guess now’s as good a time as any” you said looking over at Aaron. “The story of us…”

[shadowsndaisies]

dogfighting 101: 05 - sugar and spice

wc: 1.6k

synopsis: hangman leaves everyone hanging... right?

main masterlist

athena-verse master post

a/n: absolutely loving all of your comments!! heres some hangman and then centric stuff which I KNOW people are waiting to see more of. the next update will be the final for dogfighting 101 but will feature an interaction between rooster and athena that probably (very honestly) wont answer your questions (yet)

“Howdy Miss ‘Thena,” is Hangman’s opening as you both enter the range.

“Hangman,” your greeting’s lacking a little luster.

Despite your early success, you’d only managed tone once and this was rotation four for you, and that’s not even taking into account the variations in which you weren’t flying and that no one else had managed to take your dad down yet.

Your arms hurt, your shoulders hurt, your back hurt, and you wanted to shower so incredibly bad. More than all of that though, you were emotionally exhausted. Flying with Bradley had been the gift that kept giving because even though you’d already gone through another rotation, you kept thinking about the blow out, about the before, about Bradley. As you stood on the tarmac again, you took in the little indents in your palms from the gravel being pushed into them during your push-ups, rubbing over one red mark and shaking your head. Safe to say, you could not wait to finish out the final few rotations, and then go home.

“What’s the matter, Honey?” the tease comes over the comms and even though you know he wants an answer all you can do is scoff.

“Getting tired of push-ups is all,” you say simply.

“I was hoping so,” Jake decides and your brow furrows. You don’t need to see him to know he was planning something.

“What are you planning?” you ask seriously, fully aware that your dad and the rest of the detachment was listening in.

“I was wondering, are you still made of sugar and spice and everything nice?” it sounds condescending, and you’re sure Phoenix and Halo are scoffing at the question, but you know better.

Sugar and Spice was a code, a reference to something you’d only ever talked through with Jake during some downtime on the carrier. Unlike Rock and Roll which you’d actually trained for with Harvard and Yale during Top Gun, Sugar and Spice was completely theoretical.

“You’re joking,” you deadpan, turning to glare at him through the canopy.

“You said you were tired of push-ups. I think it could work, especially since two highly decorated and competent aviators came up with it. Unless, of course, you’d rather continue the heavy set arm day you’ve got going on?” he says nonchalantly.

“Why does it feel like you called me a coward while also complementing me?” you scoff.

“Because you know me,” is all he offers.

“That’s a lot of chatter for two aviators who don’t have the bandit in their sights,” Maverick’s voice finally cuts through, interrupting your back and forth with Jake.

“Hangman, you got eyes?” you ask staring around and out the canopy after confirming your dad wasn’t on the radar.

“No, my guess is he’s coming from below the hard deck again,” the other aviator offers and you do a quick roll, inverting like you had on the first run.

“No contact,” you huff, rolling back.

And then all of a sudden you hear a boom and Mav comes zipping down in front of you. Breaking the sound barrier as he drops from where he’d been miles above you and Jake moving faster than you’d anticipated.

“Holy shit!” you shout.

“Oh fuck!” Jake’s curse echoes with yours.

“Fight’s on, Aviators, let’s see how your arms feel after, kid,” your dad teases as he circles around.

“Break left!” Hangman’s shout echoes.

And you do.

You break left and loop around, looking for Jake who’d gone int he opposite direction. He hadn’t ditched you, yet. Not like he had with Phoenix and Bob earlier. You know it’s not entirely fair a line of thought though, he was different with you, he’d yet to break a promise or leave you out to dry, not like he so flippantly seemed to be with everyone else. You hesitate a second longer before deciding, no, I do not want to do more push ups, and yes, I do trust Jake.

“Sugar and Spice,” you finally shout.

“Wait, really?” the surprise is evident, as if despite his cocky attitude he couldn’t believe you were agreeing.

“Yes!” you confirm, rolling your eyes. “Now move your ass, Hangman!”

“My fine ass, you mean,” he shouts back and you can hear the smirk as he loops back to meet you so you could assume the correct positions.

It’s tricky, you decide.

You always knew it would be, but you never thought you’d actually try it out. In theory, Sugar and Spice was supposed to create a gap that was a trap for the bandit. Where Rock and Roll was a distraction and attack, with each aviator having a specific goal, Sugar and Spice held more risk. Here both pilots act as the distraction, while attempting to get tone at the same time. When you’d initially talked it out with Jake there were three possible formations. Option A was the Side by Side, where you fly parallel. Option B was the Stack, where one pilot flies directly above the other. And Option C, which you had succinctly named, the collision course; in which one approaches from the tail of the bandit, and the other nose.

It seemed Jake had decided to run the collision course. It took a few maneuvers, some creative flying in order to lure Maverick into the right space at the right time, but then you were approaching form his nose, while Jake came in from the tail.

“What the fuck?” was your dads response when he realized that he had to make a choice, continue to attempt tone on you, move before Jake got tone on him, or move before you got close enough to get tone on him.

He feigned a left, which you followed, but then he made a sharp turn right.

What Mav didn’t anticipate was the height change. Jake had moved up, just enough to angle himself perfectly, and to ensure that if your dad didn’t move from the game of chicken you were playing with him, you wouldn’t just crash into your own teammate.

When Maverick flipped a hard right, probably hoping to get tone on you, Jake got tone first, having seen the move coming, and prepared accordingly.

It was silent for a moment, as the tone rang out.

“Well I’ll be damned,” Maverick’s voice crackles over the comms as if he hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

When you land Hangman’s already on the ground by your ladder, having rushed out of his jet after landing first.

You’re not even all the way down when his arms wrap around you and he pulls you down, “Holy shit, ‘Thena, that was fucking incredible!” he shouts, squeezing you for just a moment.

This is Jake, you think fondly. You liked Jake, a lot. You liked him a hell of a lot more than Hangman. Unfortunately, you knew that not everyone got to meet Jake, and that, you decided was a god damned shame.

“I mean, I always knew you were smart, ‘Thee but this idea really was something else entirely! And getting to test it out, I’m fucking ecstatic the height change worked….” he was rambling, and there was this twinkle in his eyes that made the green seem alive.

You hadn’t seen him ramble since before the announcement of the detachment, honestly not for a while if you’re honest. Maybe the last time you’d both had feet on solid ground instead of an Air Craft Carrier in the middle of the Pacific. He seemed younger, the southern drawl more evident as he talked too fast to fully enunciate each word.

“Seresin! Mitchell!” the shout from your dad forces Jake to stop, and you notice as his brain finally catches up, how he steps back from you and straightens out, how the excited gleam in his eye dies out a bit, and you frown at Jake, because you watch as he tucks the more authentic parts of himself away.

“Yes, Sir?” you ask, turning to your father who was approaching.

“Hell of a move, where’d you learn that?” he asks, looking between the two of you.

“Lieutenant Mitchell designed it, Sir. After a cat and mouse training exercise on the carrier between our squads,” and if your dad was shocked before, hearing Hangman of all people pay another pilot credit was the blackout on top of the bingo.

“It was a team effort, Sir,” you argue. “Then and now, I honestly wouldn’t have been able to do it with anyone else,” you admit, and something in both your father’s gaze, and Jake’s softens.

“Keep thinking outside the box. It’s a good skill, and you’ll need it,” your father praises you, before turning to head to Hondo for his push ups, giving the next group a bit of a break.

“Hey Maverick!” you shout after him, “Always think the 360!”

A random sentence that no one else would understand, but he would, and based off of the near prideful smile he shoots you before turning back around, you know he understood.

While your dad did his push ups and the next pairing came down, you stopped in an empty hallway. “Hey, Jake?”

“Yeah?” he asks, pausing and then turning back once he realized you were no longer right beside him.

“I’m happy it worked too. Thanks for not leaving me hanging,” you say softly.

He looks down and then back at you, brows furrowed as if something wasn’t adding up for him, “Mitchell, you should know by now, I’d never leave you,” he says in response, green eyes swirling with emotion, too many to place, but his words feel like so much more than just talking as your wingman.

...

everything: @butterfly-skinnylegend

athena’s tags: @omgbrianab @smoothdogsgirl @bazellawriz @sbrewer21 @inky-sun @djs8891 @rory-cakes @geeksareunique @je6291 @kee-0-kee @fanreader75 @whoismurphyslaw @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @thespillingvoid

if your tag is striked it means i was unable to tag you.

[a-killer-obsession]

Whoops, you got hit by a bus, and now you're in the world of One Piece. But not everything is quite as you remember it...

General Tags: afab reader, she/her reader pronouns, isekai, monsterfucker reader, vampire!kid, werewolf!killer, wyrm!heat, minotaur!wire, everyone has a human form, smut heavy, unhealthy relationships, dubious consent, serious violence, spoilers for Wano arc, starts pre-timeskip. There will be a lot of more intense kinks, please check AO3 for all current tags.

Chapter 11 - Two For One Special

The best things come in twos :)

WC: 3.4k

Masterlist | AO3 | Chapter 1

A/N: yes I know this isn't how snake dicks work, but also he's not a snake so 😤

It'd been a few days since Kid had announced your official joining of the Kid Pirates, and the crew had welcomed you with open arms. While you hadn't had much chance to get to know them, you had become decent friends with Quincy, Hip and Emma, who had accompanied you on several shopping trips over the last few days so you could stock up on all the things you needed, like clothes, sanitary items and furniture to be delivered to the Victoria Punk in a few days. Right now the Punk resided in a dry dock, being coated by Rayleigh in preparation for the journey to Fishman Island. It was nice having the guarantee that the crew would make it to the New World unscathed, given the low success rate for pirates passing through. As predicted, Rayleigh had been thankful for Kid's help in getting Cammie out of the auction house, even if it hadn't been his intention. It would take another day for the coating to be finished, and in the meantime the crew had been staying on Sabaody. You'd even had the chance to visit the amusement park with the girls, and Quincy may or may not have fingered you in the ferris wheel, a lady never kisses and tells. You liked Quincy, she was fun. If you were gonna sleep with anyone on your own fruition, outside of the big four, it'd most likely be her. A little bit of pussy, for variety.

You spent the first few nights staying with Wire, since fucking him when you should have been resting did in fact turn out to be a mistake, and Wire was the least likely to jump you when he knew you needed time to recover. You were offered your own room, now that you weren't a prisoner, but you didn't feel comfortable being on your own in a place known for kidnapping and selling people. Kid wasn't happy about being separated from his ship, because it meant he couldn't work on your collar, but it was just as well since you weren't up for being free-used right now anyway. It was nice spending more time with Wire, he wasn't as stuck up as you initially thought, he was actually pretty easy to get along with now that you were a crewmate and not a prisoner. He hadn't allowed himself to get close to you when there was risk of you being a traitor and being disposed of, but now that you were a permanent fixture he was allowed to let himself care about you. He wasn't as cuddly as the others, but he was good company. Last night though Heat had practically begged you to spend the night with him, and pinky promised he would be on his absolute best behaviour, so you'd relented.

Heat had kept to his word, not going any further with you than cuddles and some pleasant making out, and now he slept soundly beside you in his wyrm form, forced on his back by his horns, his long tail hanging off the end of the bed. You were nestled up against him, wearing one of his old shirts with nothing underneath. You owned clothes now, but the boys all had such soft shirts that were so oversized and comfy to sleep in. While he was on his best behaviour, you were feeling a bit frisky. You were well aware that your period was close, and it was making you antsy. You didn't know how keen the boys would be on period sex, so you decided to take advantage of the short amount of time you had before your cycle started. You were already cramping lightly, so it wouldn't be long. Not to mention you usually had quite painful periods, so you usually didn't want to be touched due to how miserable you felt.

You also had a curiosity after the gangbang, after watching Wire toy with the slit that hid Heat's cocks. You wondered what it looked and felt like inside the slit, and since Wire had done it, surely it was okay to toy with - it certainly seemed like Heat had enjoyed it. Quietly you pulled the blankets off him and straddled his pretty mauve tail. His scales were always so beautiful, you loved to run your hands over them and admire the iridescence. He was especially beautiful in the sunlight, when his whole tail sparkled with that iridescence. Heat stirred a little in his sleep as you lowered your weight on to him, but didn't wake yet. You ran your finger over the closed slit, feeling bad for a short moment for invading his privacy, before remembering how many times you'd woken up with Heat's dick buried in your cunt.

You used your thumbs either side of the slit to gently pry the scales apart, a little surprised at what you found inside. It almost looked like a pussy, the tip of the higher cock where you would expect a clit to be, the other tip lower where you would expect the vaginal opening. It seemed like they were laid one on top of another, the shafts going up towards his belly. Pretending it was a clit, you fiddled with the pointed tip of the upper cock, making Heat whine in his sleep. You pushed your fingers in further, between the two shafts, feeling the piercings and bumps that lined the lower side of the upper shaft. It was warm and a little moist inside his sheath, a bit like a pussy. No wonder Wire liked to toy with it, and it made you feel flustered to technically be inside him.

Leaning down, sliding your butt a little further down his tail, you held the slit open and flicked the upper cock with your tongue. You pushed your tongue between the shafts, tasting the musky slick that coated them, a taste you were familiar with whenever Heat was in this form. You sucked on the tip, feeling it move as his cocks sprang to life and tried to slide from the slit. The more you worked at his cocks, the less you could get inside him, until both phallus were proudly presented. You took turns sucking on each one, listening to Heat's quiet whimpers, until his own moan woke him.

“[Y/n]?” He groaned, hips wiggling and fingers gripping at the sheets as he realised the situation, “ohh, fuck, fuck [y/n], that's so good.”

“You're so pretty, Heat,” you cooed before focusing on the lower cock, bobbing your head as your hand worked the other. Heat whined and whipped his tail excitedly against the bed, one of his hands burying in your hair and beckoning you to swallow more of him. You let him guide you, wanting to please him and hear more of his cute little whimpers, gagging occasionally as his tip hit your uvula. You'd had a lot of practice these days, and could almost take all of him in this form, the thinner tip far easier on your throat than a human cock. Your eyes watered as finally you were able to successfully meet his base, and Heat let out a high pitched whine that was your only warning before his grip on your hair tightened, holding you against him as he emptied right down your throat. His other cock likewise spilled out, drenching your face and hand with a stream of cum.

When his grip finally loosened you pulled off with a pop, licking at the cum that dripped on your lips with a fiendish smile. Heat sat up and kissed you fiercely, before licking a wide swipe up your face to clean off his cum. It aroused you to taste his own cum on his tongue, and you ground your bare cunt against his tail and the base of his still exposed cocks. His hand slid down your front, catching the hem of your shirt and pulling it up and over your head. He dipped to suck on your tits, groping each of them and squishing them together, pressing his face against the valley he created. He had to be careful of his horns, but mostly they just pushed flat against your clavicle.

“I could die happy in these tits,” he sighed, “fucking incredible. You're so beautiful.”

One of his hands travelled down your soft front, until it could cup your mound. His fingers slipped between your folds, and he groaned against your nipple as he felt how soaked you were. His cocks were twitching back to life as he heard the wet squelch your cunt made as he pushed two fingers inside you, pumping you deep and slow. You were practically dripping on his hand with how wet you were, bouncing slighting to try fuck his fingers faster. Heat added a third finger and stretched you out more. He focused on pleasing you, using his other hand to rub your clit as he watched your face contort in pleasure, your mouth making a pretty little ‘o’ as you hit your orgasm and shuddered against him with a gasp.

“Heat,” you panted against his chest as he pulled his fingers out of you, “I- I want your cocks.”

“Plural?” He questioned with a raised brow. You'd never asked for both.

“Plural,” you confirmed, nipping at his neck and making him groan until he gave in and pushed you onto your back beside him, quickly rolling to take his place between your legs. He spread your legs wide and rut his lower shaft against your soaked cunt.

“Relax for me, treasure,” Heat cooed, holding both cocks squeezed together in his hand and pressing the tips to your entrance. He was overly excited to bury both of his dicks inside you at once, but didn't want to hurt you by being too hasty. The tips slid inside you easily, the tapered ends meaning that the first quarter or so of his lengths only amounted to about the girth of his human cock. It was when he pushed in further that you began to feel the stretch, and you made a low groan as he bullied his cocks inside you. You gripped his forearms bruisingly tight as he stretched you out, his combined width being even greater than Wire's as he reached the thickest part. It was easier for him to press the rest in once you'd eased enough to accommodate, and Heat let out a stuttered breath as he stilled with his cocks deep inside you.

“Fuck, you're so perfect,” he groaned, “so good to me, my perfect treasure.”

“So.. so full,” you whined, “feels good, hnng.”

“Yeah? You like having both my cocks inside you? Stretching you out, like the good little slut you are?” Heat purred, slowly pulling most of the way out before sliding back in again. You made strained groans as he fucked you slowly, your belly bulging from how full you were, fingernails digging into his arms and back. “Fuck you take me so well.”

Heat was barely moving but you were so full that every inch of your inner walls were being pressed against, and it was driving you to madness. He'd hardly entered you and you already felt like you were going to cum again. Your legs wrapped around his tail at the same time as you grabbed his horns, and you pulled on them to bring his face closer, capturing his bottom lip with your teeth and tugging on it. “Harder,” you growled, “fuck me harder, Heat.”

“Fuck,” Heat groaned as he picked up his pace, the bed underneath you creaking with every thrust as you started to scream like a bitch in heat, the whole inn would no doubt hear you. Let them hear, you were in heaven, cock drunk as Heat fucked you hard, pulling what felt like endless orgasms from you as you cried out. “I wanna see you covered in cum,” Heat groaned, “can I finish on you?”

“Please,” you whined, “wanna- wanna be painted. Paint me Heat, give it to me.”

“You're such a good girl,” Heat cooed as he pulled one last orgasm from you, making you go limp as you panted, dazed and blissed out. He pulled his cocks from you, making you whine at the emptiness, before he held them in one hand and jerked himself off. Heat made deep grunts as he fisted himself, releasing volatile ropes of cum over your belly and breasts as he quivered above you. With a contented sigh he rolled to your side, breathing heavy next to you. Your hand lazily ran through the cum, rubbing it over your breasts as you sleepily groped at them before falling limp again.

“I thought you were taking a break,” Heat asked.

“I was, but I woke up horny,” you explained, “I'm always like this when I'm about to get my period. It'll probably come in a few hours.”

“Boo, that means Kid will want you staying with him,” Heat pouted.

“Oh? He's into period sex?” You asked.

“He likes blood,” Heat replied, in a tone that made you think he was a little confused that you didn't realise that.

“I could just not tell him,” you suggested mischievously.

“He'll smell it a mile away,” Heat sighed, “there's no avoiding it. He'll treat you good though, he's well practised with periods. You'll be spoiled for sure.”

“Well then,” you giggled, “I guess I can't complain about that. Though I get the feeling you'd spoil me too.”

“I'll spoil you after,” he promised, “my pretty treasure. In the meantime…” you giggled and squirmed as he leaned over and licked a long stripe up your belly, cleaning off a lot of his cum and tickling you in the process, “... I've got a few more hours until you get Kid-napped. But I'm gonna have to groom you first,” he made several more licks all over your breasts and tummy, “before I get you all messy again.”

A couple hours later and just as predicted, your period had come. Heat offered you some weed and more sex to help with the pain, which you happily accepted, resulting in a round of dizzying, giggly, shower sex. After that the two of you met up with Wire and Killer, the four of you heading off to do some shopping. Kid had ordered them to find you an appropriate weapon, and for your training to start as soon as the crew were back at sea. You knew you were good with a rifle, from all your hunting trips with your dad, so you were on the lookout for a suitable one. The boys had also noticed that you were decently strong, not to mention the potential of your armament haki, so they were also looking for a close combat weapon that took advantage of those strengths. You weren't very fast or agile though, so they also had to keep that in mind. The boys had high standards though, and it felt like it was going to take all day to find weapons they approved off. They couldn't decide on the type of weapon either - Killer wanted to train you with swords, Wire wanted to train you with something long like a spear, and Heat wanted you to get something that would just look cool and take advantage of your strength, like a battleaxe.

The rifle was the easier weapon to find, your eye caught by a beautiful single shot rifle, the wooden parts made from the blue stripes of one of Sabaody's giant mangroves, trimmed with silver metal that had been delicately engraved with florals. It was a beautiful gun, and close to what you were familiar with using back home. Right now it was slung over Heat's back - the boys wanted Kid to inspect it before you were allowed to use it. You felt a little like a princess with the way they were all treating you like some precious thing, it was nice to feel like they all had your safety in mind. Not to mention it was such a beautiful gun that they were worried someone would try to snatch it from you, and without knowing your fighting capabilities they didn't want to risk that.

Heat and Killer were currently debating a battle axe Heat had found, while on the other side of the store you followed Wire, who was examining the range of polearm weapons for sale. You hummed to yourself as you walked behind him; despite your cramps you were in a good mood, you felt truly special with the care the boys were taking to choose your weapons.

“Someone seems chipper,” Wire noted as he pulled a spear from the rack and inspected it, “have a good morning with Heat did we? We certainly all heard you, and by the sounds of it he either he fucked your brains out or murdered you, and I'm gonna guess it wasn't the later.”

“Actually, I'm feeling quite proud of myself,” you replied with a grin, “I took both of his dicks today.”

“Oh, in the same hole?” Wire put down the spear to give you his attention, this was far more interesting than weapon shopping.

“Yeah!” You smiled, running your hand down the staff of a halbert. Now that you looked at it, it was quite lovely. It was made from that same blue wood, and the silver axe-like blade featured ornate cut outs that could be mistaken for matching your gun. A weapon like this would give you a lot of options; it was long, so you could keep enemies a little further away, it had the blades either side for swinging motions that took advantage of your strength, and it had the long spear tip for stabbing motions. “What about this one?”

“I told you you could do it, good job, proud of you,” Wire pressed a kiss into your hair before looking at the halberd and pulling it from the rack, “Looks well made, I think this would suit you nicely.”

“And it matches my gun!” You beamed.

“It does indeed,” Wire offered a soft smile. He liked how enthusiastic you were about learning to fight, he appreciated someone willing to stand up for themselves instead of relying on others. As much as they were all treating you like some delicate, precious thing, Wire had high hopes for your fighting capabilities, and if you selected the halberd it meant he could train you himself. As much as your pussy was the hot commodity you were kept on board for, he was growing quite fond of you, and he didn't want to always be worrying about your safety when they got to the New World, so he'd make sure you had all the skills you needed to hold your own in battle. “If this is what you want, I'll teach you to use it. Give it a hold, see how the weight feels.”

Wire handed you the halberd and you held it with both hands, Wire gently shifting them to the correct positions along the staff. “Feels good, not too heavy,” you hummed, “I think I could work with this.”

“You look good with it,” Wire noted, “OI, KIL, HEAT, GET YOUR ASSES OVER HERE.”

Heat put the axe back on the rack and the two of them scurried over, playfully pushing each other as they moved. Wire made a gesture with his head for you to hand them the weapon, and Killer took it and looked over it carefully. “Not bad,” Killer mused, before handing it to Heat to look at, “This what you want?” Killer asked you.

“Yeah, I like it,” you replied as Heat handed it back.

“You look good with it,” Heat praised.

“That's what Wire said!” You giggled.

“I agree,” Killer added, “of course Kid will want to check it over, but I think we're good here.”

“Yay!” You squeaked, messing around with the weapon, “Look! I can stab AND slice! It's a two for one special! Yippee!”

“You're fucking adorable,” Heat laughed, ruffling your hair as the men made their way to the checkout counter, “you're gonna look so cute covered in our enemy's blood.”

“Aw, thanks Heat,” you smiled, standing on your tippy toes to kiss him on the cheek. Heat had a cute pink flush for the next hour, every now and then touching the spot on his cheek like he was remembering the feel of your lips there.

[Next Chapter] - coming soon

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[alexisaflop]

Wait on your song - Steve Harrington x Henderson reader

Stranger things rewrite with reader as Dustin's older sibling and Nancy's best friend. When I say slow burn I mean slow burn - sort of enemies to lovers.

Title based on Rock n Roll Suicide by David Bowie

Limited gendered language towards reader

Wider context: character is a nerd first and foremost. An art lover, they work in the Hawkins Record shop, and write their own songs sometimes. They're best friends with Nancy and Barb but know Jonathan from a shared interest in art and music.

Other things to know: I have wrangled the reader to have moved from England when they started middle school because I will probably use Britishisms and i guess this makes it more natural? Also it's a fanfic so why not?

Content warnings: universe app violence/gore, swearing. Use of Y/N.

MASTERLIST

Chapter below the cut - actually finished this time!

Chapter One: The Vanishing of Will Byers

It was unusually still for an early November night as you locked up Breaking Records. Another slow shift finished. You tightened your jacket around you, before pedalling off to the Wheelers.

Dustin had been talking about Mike's campaign all week, so you knew that was exactly where he'd be. That was fine with you, it would be good to check in with Nancy. This week was choc full of tests, and you, Nancy, and Barb had made a pact to hold each other accountable for studying.

Nancy especially has been worrying about her GPA for college applications. But since she'd starting going out on-and-off with Steve, you were concerned she was getting distracted. You knew Nancy would never forgive herself if she dropped her grades for some boy. Especially one like Steve.

The Wheeler's house always felt so inviting. Knowing better than to interrupt Ted's television time whilst Karen put Holly to bed, you let yourself in. After quickly poking your head in to say hello to Ted, you headed up to Nancy's room.

It was weird how much Nancy's room was like yours at home despite being in a much nicer house. Her walls were plastered with film posters (yours with music posters and record sleeves) and pictures of the two of you and Barb or her with Mike. She was criminally neat though, her bookshelf stacked carefully and her bed carefully made.

Nancy herself, however, looked considerably less put together. Her hair was falling out of what had become a pretty scrappy ponytail and her eyes looked strained and tired.

'Nance, you really shouldn't do much more tonight. You need to have enough energy to sit the tests not sleep through them,' you said as she hugged you hello.

She sighed, 'I know, but they're all I can think about right now.'

'Me too, but there's only so much you can do,' you said, secretly a bit jealous that Nancy didn't have to work, and had all this time to use on studying. But also, at least you got paid to work at Breaking Records, and on slow days you managed to sneak in some revision too.

'Mike! Mike!' you heard Mrs Wheeler calling.

'I'm jealous of the boys,' Nancy said, moving the subject, 'they have been down there All. Day.'

You hear some muffled shouting from Mike followed by, 'You mean the end? Fifteen after!'

'I should probably go help your mum,' you say, 'as much as I love you Nance, I'm really here to get Dustin.'

The four boys were in disarray as you came down the stairs.

'Damn guys what did you do? The battles in these games are still fictional right?'

Mike gave you an unimpressed look whilst Lucas and Will whispered something about dice in the corner.

'Come on Dustin we've used up enough of these good people's time,' you said, gesturing upstairs.

Dustin offered around cold pizza before disappearing upstairs. You helped the boys clean up whilst they run you through the campaign so far.

You find Mrs Wheeler upstairs and thank her for having Dustin basically all weekend, and letting him and the boys 'stink up her basement'.

She smiled and said, 'It's nice to see them still being kids. Now Nancy feels all grown up, it makes me appreciate how they won't be this young forever. But I do wish sometimes they wouldn't make such a mess!'

You thank her once again, before heading outside to hear, 'sister is such a jerk.'

You frown at him and he says, 'oh no not you, Nancy, she's got a stick up her butt.'

You shake your head, 'I don't see how insulting my friend instead of me is meant to get me to forgive you, little brother.'

'Yeah she's been like this ever since she started going out with that Steve Harrington,' Lucas says, whilst Mike protests that she's always been a jerk.

'Steve might be a jerk, but that doesn't make Nancy one,' you say, trying not to think of all the lunchtimes she'd skipped on you and Barb for to go and hang out with Steve.

Something must have been showing on your face, because all Lucas has to do is pointedly raise his eyebrows at you.

'Whatever Sinclair, let's go. I'm shattered from work, and I've got like a million tests to sit this week.'

As you head back Dustin and Will agree on a race for the price of a comic. Will races off as Dustin swears.

'I didn't say go yet!' Dustin yells after him, 'I'm gonna kill you!'

All Will has to say to that is, 'I'll take your X-Men 134!'

You watch Will cycle away and wonder, as you do most times, if you should go home with him. But every time you think he'd be embarrassed to have to be escorted home in a way that none of the other boys do. Either way that night you don't sleep easy.

×××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××

The next morning you wake up to your alarm squawking even though it was still dark outside. You stumble out of bed, get dressed and ready to go before hammering on Dustin's door, his room suspiciously quiet.

'Come on Dustin, you're going to be late!'

You hear some expletives through the door and roll your eyes before heading out and pedalling to school.

You find Nancy by the lockers with Barb.

'We just made out a couple times,' Nancy protests.

You and Barb share a look before saying together in airy voices, 'we just made out a couple times.'

Nancy gives us a death stare, which immediately softens as Barb says, 'just please don't start hanging out with Tommy H and Carol all the time.'

You can feel Barb's concern, it feels like the two of you are being left behind.

'I would never,' Nancy says, at least having the decency to make a face.

You smile to show there are no hard feelings, before saying, 'Barb even if she does go for those guys, I would never, ever leave you for them - yuck. Am I not enough for you Barb, without Nancy is our friendship worth nothing,' you mock getting down onto your knees, 'Am I not also worthy of your love?'

Barb cracks a smile at you being so overdramatic and Nancy just raises an eyebrow, slightly shaking her head.

'See how she already turns against us!' you gesture dramatically, 'You have broken my heart Nancy, and more importantly you have broken Barb's.'

'Hey babe, hey Nancy's weird friends,' you hear a voice behind you say.

Steve.

He's looking at you like you're crazy, has he never had a bit of banter before? No, never had to break the tension?

Or at least turn up at a better time?

'They are not weird,' Nancy reprimands him, which you appreciate.

'Seriously?' Steve looks at you and then back to Nancy, 'so did you get my note?'

Knowing you've missed something, you glanced at Barb.

'Ooh the bathroom, how romantic,' you say without thinking, trailing off as you see Nancy flush slightly and Steve glare at you.

'Well you let me know when you have someone to leave notes in a locker for, and I'll give you some tips,' Steve quips.

Fair enough, 'and I'll give you some ideas of how to not get girls to think you're gross' you reply.

He and Nancy are walking away as he says, 'all I heard was, ideas of how to not get girls'.

You're not sure whether you were supposed to hear him or not.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

After school you headed to band practice. You played the flute and had started learning piccolo for fun. At home you played guitar and you were teaching yourself a bit of piano for fun, but for the sake of school band you were on the flute.

You have your dad to thank for learning all the instruments. He loved music and had his own band. He'd always joked that you could start a family band, well family duo. And as you'd got older and you started writing your own stuff he said that he'd always be your Roadie.

You liked Band, it reminded you that music is expression, another way of communicating with people.Unfortunately, as far as you knew it did not allow for communication beyond the grave.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When you got home, Dustin was concerned, rushing about getting 'supplies'. When he finally told you 'supplies for finding Will' your stomach drops.

The bit of hope you had had, is snuffed out. Dustin runs through how the police are involved but the Party don't want to just sit and wait to be found.

'But that's what they told you to do?' you ask.

Dustin nods.

'Then you should stay here, I want you safe.'

'Do you really think they'll find him?'

'Wait here,' you say, 'I'm serious, I'll be right back.'

You return, Walkie in hand, 'channel 6, yeah? I want updates every hour of where you are. I'll have it all night, call me if anything happens.'

Dustin shrugs, but agrees.

'I mean it Dusty! Anything happens I want to hear about it.'

Then the phone rings.

It's Nancy, she's cancelling on you. Thinking it's because she's heard about the boys ridiculous plan to find Will alone, in the dark, and cold, you're about to offer to help.

'Steve just really wanted to see me tonight.'

You roll your eyes. You're happy for her as her friend, exploring new things, going out with someone actually popular and getting that American high school experience.

But Steve's name every time you spoke to Nancy was getting to you. When you first moved here, he'd given you so much crap about your accent whilst his friends made jabs about your self-made clothes and lack of nice hair and makeup or living with your single mum. And now Nancy is into him.

You phone Barb after Nancy gets you to cover for her if her mom calls.

Barb feels similar to you. She thinks the two of you are getting left behind.

'What if we never find someone like Steve?'

'We die happy I guess, I'm holding myself to a higher standard than bullies.'

'Come on, Y/N, you know what I mean. Someone we can be with. Someone who wants us around all the time. Someone who we can go out with and show off to the world, y'know?'

Everything you could think of to say felt cheap. Having moved here halfway through a school year, you'd become pretty confident in just taking things at your own pace. Not like Barb, who had always been able to fit into the background.

'We'll be okay.'

After some quiet, you make up an excuse that you want to keep an eye on Dustin tonight what with everything going on.

So you say goodnight to Barb and head over to the Byers' to check in on them. You triple check you have your Walkie and that it's on before heading off.

You and Jonathan aren't especially close, although you have often bonded over his music taste and photography hobby whilst picking up your brothers from various places.

Jonathan's house ends up to be a muster point for Will's search party.

So they still haven't found him.

It's getting dark as you join Jonathan in the throngs of people.

'You saw him last night?' Jonathan's voice is dry and scratchy.

'Yeah, I went home with all of them from the Wheeler's. I should have taken him all the way home from mine, I'm so sorry Jonathan,' you say.

He shakes his head, 'I should have been home. My mom thought I'd be home, Will probably thought I would be too. But I picked up a stupid extra shift. I let him down.'

You sigh, 'this is not your fault Jonathan. He's a smart kid, I know he'll be okay.'

He looks at you and you know he doesn't believe you. So instead you pull him into a hug, he smells like autumn leaves and vanilla.

You realise you've never hugged Jonathan before, generally opting for a more awkward wave or even more fist bump, so you're not sure what to expect. He reacts slowly, before gripping your jacket tightly, his fingers embedded on the patches you sewed on. His head falls on your shoulder and you think he's crying. Unsure of what else to do, you just don't let go.

You think of Will, and how he will probably cling to his brother like this if we find him. When. When we find him, you reprimand yourself.

Eventually he pulls away, awkwardly apologises, which you wave off. He walks away so you can't see his tears.

The sun has long set now. The trees have a low fog between them and a chill is settling into your bones. You pull your jacket tighter around you, knowing it's going to be a long night.

'He's a good student.. Will he's a good student. A great one. Scott Clarke I don't think we've met. Biology. Middle school.' Mr Clarke is talking to Hopper. You'd always liked Mr Clarke.

'Never liked science.'

'Maybe you just had a bad teacher,' Mr Clarke said. You smiled, he had always put the most effort into his lessons.

'Miss Radcliffe was a piece of work,' Hopper comments.

'Oh yeah she's still kicking around believe it or not'

'Oh yeah I believe it. Eternities. Sarah my daughter understood galaxies and hnivcerked and what not. I always thought there was enough going on down here to worry about'

'What grade is she? Maybe I'll get her in my class.'

'She's with her mom in the city... Thanks for coming out teach.'

And with that Hopper's gone into the mist.

'She died a few years back,' says someone you don't know.

'Who?' asks Mr Clarke

'His kid.'

You feel the guilt again. Will's just a kid. You hope he reappears from the mist.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

After hours in the mist and the damp air sticking your clothes to your skin the search was called off for the night.

You walked Jonathan home in silence. When you got to his house you offered to stay and help with anything but he declined. And it was clear that he and his mum needed some time together.

About halfway home on your bike the rain becomes thunderous. You can barely see as the rain comes in sheets and plasters your hair across your face.

Which is of course when Dustin chooses to start shouting over the radio.

'Y/N, Y/N, why aren't you answering? Where are you? I need your help! Code red!'

Maybe they've found Will? But he sounded so concerned.

Maybe another one of the Party is missing?

You swerve to the side of the road and attempt to seek some shelter under a tree.

'This better be important Dustin it is horrible out here.'

'Just come to Mike's. Please. I don't know who might be listening.'

He refused to answer anything else.

Having only moved in with Dustin and your mum (or mom? You never felt sure) only a few years ago, there were some things with Dustin that you still weren't sure about. Like how to tell if he's being overdramatic.

When you first met Dustin he had only been about 5, you were visiting from the UK. Your dad had had a work thing in Chicago and dropped you off to stay for a week. Dustin had looked up to you straight away, doing a silly English accent and making you read him the Sherlock Holmes books you'd been reading to him.

Going into that week you hadn't been sure what to expect. There had been an ugly fight at the end of it. They were divorced already at that point, and it just sort of happened.

You didn't really care, not as much as you had cared about Dustin anyway. He had gone off to his room to hide the fact he was crying. When you spoke to him he had only said

'We never got to finish our book.'

You had indulged the lie and carried on reading it to him. When it was time to leave, you left him with the book. He still had your copy, you had to borrow it from the library when you got home to find out the ending.

When your dad died and you had to move here permanently, Dustin had done everything to welcome you. And admittedly you had kind of shunned him, he really wanted to spend time with you and you had wanted to hide from the world.

But what surprised you most was when you were finished being angry and having shouting matches with your mum that turned into tears, you apologised to him and he accepted it. He was still excited to get to know you again.

Since then you'd helped him make costumes for campaigns and save up for science kits. You'd done homework with him and even played in the Party when they needed an extra character. It was because of Dustin that you had met Nancy and actually have more than one friend at all.

Now you didn't know what to think, other than he was in trouble and you better pedal faster.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When you got the Wheeler's Dustin grabbed you before you could use the front door and took you straight to the back door to the basement.

Once he'd finally stopped dragging you, you took him by the shoulders and gave him a proper look over.

'You seem fine, just drenched...' you say, mostly to yourself.

'I *am* fine,' insisted Dustin, 'I don't need your help, but she does. We were looking for Will and we found her. We didn't know what to do but bring her somewhere safe and I said I'd call you.'

[cvpiddszn]

𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐤 | 𝐣.𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐬

a/n: sorry for the lack of content. happy to be back posting my favourite couple

summary: having to explain how babies are made to two five year olds isn't easy.

warnings: children

word count: 1.2k

birdie & jack masterlist

Seven months later

"Mommy?" Little Lake was munching on his Cheerios, his eyes trained on me, a full-on question. I nearly brushed my hand through his brown hair, it was well overdue that we needed a haircut (Jack included). Lake’s hair was beginning to curl at the ends, while Lowen’s had taken longer considering the gum that he had gotten stuck in his hair a couple of months before. 

Switching Amara on my other hip as she held her apple sauce drink in her hands squeezing at the package in hopes that she would be able to suck out anything else. “Yes, baby?” I asked, pulling the drink from the little blonde’s hands to which she whined, I shook my head at her and she made grabby hands towards her father.

Jack only smiled at the girl, taking her from my arms before setting her on his lap so that he could finish eating his toast. He held it out to the little girl to which she nearly bit off his finger while eating it. I leaned down kissing the little girl’s cheek whispering a soft, “good girl” watching as Jack gave me a glare.

Jack was sipping at his apple juice, since he loved it so much, claiming that it was better than orange juice (yes, I argued with him multiple times that orange juice was better). Amara watched her Dad and reached for her cup beginning to drink at it too.

“Where do babies come from?” Lake asked, his voice full of concern as his twin perked up at the question eager to also find out. 

Jack spit out his juice at the question, while I paused watching my husband and then the little girl in his arms follow exactly what her father did, spitting out her juice and then giggling but Jack was so stunned that he didn’t notice the spill on his leg. 

“Jack!” I scolded, tapping his shoulder rather harshly, face cloth in hand wiping at our daughter’s face where she decided that she needed to spit out her drink. I pulled her from his lap, to which her bottom lip came out, missing her father’s arms already. 

Jack coughed, trying to regain his breath. The boys looked toward their father who only sputtered, they looked at me next. Wide innocent eyes and I debated on what I should do, whether it was appropriate or not. We had promised that we wouldn’t lie to our boys but we had already played along with Santa, the Easter Bunny and many other mythical creatures, plus were they truly old enough to understand any of it yet?

Within their childhood, I had already had one kid, another one only four weeks old in my stomach. We had told the boys as quickly as Jack had found out, we knew that it was inevitable that the boys would find out, and they treated their little sister so well, what was one more? 

My husband looked toward me for guidance and I shrugged. “They’re boys, J. Mara and I will just understand each other won’t we, sweet girl?” I cooed at her to which she smiled at me at the newfound nickname. I knew that I would take my twelve months leave with the new baby, Amara wouldn’t be with the Nanny for too long if you counted eight more months. 

Amara grabbed onto my nose, squeezing softly, her small nails pressing into the skin and I shook my head at her. The three boys sat at the table, seemingly waiting for me to say something but it was only a couple of days ago that Jack had complained that he wanted more time with the boys, saying that they clung onto me way too much (which was very true). 

I sighed at the silence, my free hand placing itself on my husband’s shoulders. “You boys actually want to know?” I whispered loudly like it was some secret and even Jack gave a confused look eager to hear me out. The twins nodded eagerly, wide eyes and practically on the edge of their seats with how excited they looked knowing some secrets. “Truth is, there are such things as storks that come to drop off babies at hospitals. We sign a bunch of forms, they run some tests on the mommies to make sure that it’s her baby, and we get to go home with the baby.”

My husband raised his brow at me, looking towards the boys whose mouths made an ‘o’ shape as if it was the realization. “That makes a lot of sense, Annabelle was telling me that it had to do with ‘the birds and the bees’. I don’t know what she meant.” Lowen explained, to which Lake nodded along. The two got out of their seats walking towards their lunches to grab them and make their way into the car.

Jack also stood up from his spot, kissing my cheek and then Amara’s, “Nice save,” He commented, and I only grinned in response, tapping my lips gently so he could get the hint. He didn’t waste another second stealing a kiss from me, hoping to make it last but Amara pushed his face away. Pursing her own lips in an attempt. I laughed at the girl, adjusting her higher on my hip watching as my husband kissed the little girl on her lips as she smiled satisfied.

“Did you get a kiss from Daddy, sweet girl? Hm?” I asked her as she gurgled in response. Surprisingly she hadn’t said her first word but there were many bets placed between our families that her first word would be “Dada” or something along the lines but I knew that it was going to be something else. Call it mother’s instinct if you will. I looked towards Jack who had seemed to admire us, “You’re going to make the boys late, J. You’ll be back with your girl right after you drop off the boys.”

“My girls, you mean.” He corrected me and I gave him an adoring look before placing my hand on his back, nudging him forward hinting towards the time. He only nodded in response, kissing my cheek briefly before racing out the door.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

"Mrs, Laurier, we had an incident today.” Lake’s teacher, Miss. Calvin, walked up to me as the boys were ushered into the SUV beginning to talk amongst each other. We had thought that it was best that to separate the boys young, it gave them more to talk about in the car and sometimes twins created more chaos together rather than separately.

My brows raised, motioning her to continue as I closed the car door. “There was an argument that broke out between some kids, including Lake. Something about that storks were bringing his new sibling? Our Principal said that we don’t condone lying so we’re going to need you to tell your boy that he’s wrong.” She explained a nervous smile on her face that told me, she didn’t believe in anything she was saying. 

I barely even paused shrugging my shoulders, “Okay,” Was the only thing I said before walking to the other side of the vehicle. 

She waved at me, smiling, “See you tomorrow!”

“Yeah, we’ll see,” I mumbled pulling out of the pick-up area, biting the inside of my cheek. Holding me back from parking and storming into the Principal’s office and screaming at her. Who were teachers to tell parents how to parent their children? We certainly don’t tell them how to do their job.

There was no way I was going back to that place, and Jack would agree as he always did

[literaila]

mama y/n should be fuckin it up in a club…. but she got three kids at home instead!!! does shoko ever take her out.. do they go drinking till the sun rises?? has y/n ever had the time to go crazy in her 20s?!

need an unhinged totally not sober y/n and gojo.. i know he loves her when shes in that state bc she has got to be more outspoken and bold about her feelings

“s’toru,” you whisper, a delirious smile on your face. “are you listening?”

satoru puts a hand on your back, steadying the slight sway you’ve got going on. so what if you’re a bit wobbly? at least you’re having fun.

or so you told him ten minutes ago when he asked if you were ready to leave.

“yes, baby,” he answers, after a moment, trying not to grin at your pout, or you in general. but a man is only so strong.

luckily you’re drunk enough not to notice. or drunk enough not to comment on it.

whichever it is, satoru is grateful for it.

“what’s up?” he prods, when you don’t continue whatever tangent you were going on. something about the prospects of living in outer space, or megumi’s math homework—he’s not sure.

“where’d everyone go?”

“home,” he answers, hand on his chin, leaning in close enough to hear you. “shoko doesnt like the crowds.”

you laugh, your face is sheen with sweat and your smile is infectious. “she just doesn’t like you.”

“she was my friend first,” satoru says, mock offended. “even wasted, you’re a bully.”

“i’m not wasted,” you frown, and sway, just a little bit more.

satoru nods unconvincingly. “okay, pina colada. drink this.” he moves his glass over to you, your heads just centimeters away.

it’s because he can’t hear you in here, okay? it’s because it’s very loud and he doesn’t want to miss any of your incessant mumbling—it’s got absolutely nothing to do with the proximity or the way the feeling of your breath against his cheek makes him feel.

just to clarify.

“what’s this?”

“water.”

“gross,” you say, but take a gulp anyway. then you sigh, maybe in relief, and look to him. “where’s your drink?”

“you just finished it.”

your eyes waver. “i’m sorry, s’toru,” you tell him, softly. you’re still leaning in and it’s still making him nervous.

but he’s smiling. he can’t seem to stop when he’s around you. “it’s okay, baby, it’s time to go home anyway.”

“no,” you whine, resting your head on the counter. “i’m having fun.”

“you can have fun in bed.”

“with you?”

satoru chokes, just briefly, and looks away—not because he’s blushing, but because… well, for other, private reasons. satoru doesn’t get flustered.

“you’re funny,” he says, and stands up. “i hope you don’t remember this in the morning.”

he pulls you up by your arm and you immediately relax into him, like a cat to the sun. “why?”

“‘cause you’ll avoid me for a week.”

satoru hopes he’ll forget the way it feels to have you like this, without the inhibitions.

“no,” you pout, looking up at him. “i would miss you too much.”

satoru softens. he wishes he could bask in this version of you—let your heart speak its forbidden wishes for a little while longer—but you told him that you didn’t want to stay out too late.

the kids will be home by early afternoon, at the latest, and megumi is a handful without a hangover.

“that’s why you should forget this,” he whispers, “so we don’t have to miss each other.”

“okay. whatever you think.”

that’s also a pleasant surprise—sober, rational you would never agree with anything he said.

“c’mon,” he tells you, holding the door open. “turn.”

satoru leads you to the car—slowly—watching your feet and ignoring the way you’re curling into him, the way you’re so close and so indifferent about it. he buckles you in, the feeling of your sweet breath on his neck, and closes the door softly.

as satoru settles in, he can feel you leaning against the seatbelt, resting your head on the window.

it might be better if you fall asleep, anyway. it might give him the space to breathe—the space to remember the careful boundaries you’ve taught him over the past four years.

not that they’ve ever mattered to him, not that he would push you away if—

“satoru?” you murmur, and he looks over, shocked that you’re not slurring his name.

“hmm?”

“will you stay with me tonight?” your eyes are shut tight, your arms tucked around your body. “when i go to sleep?”

“i…” satoru swallows. you’re not even awake. you’re not even yourself. “of course.”

“will you stay with me tomorrow, too?”

“yes, sweetheart. whatever you want.”

your lip quirks and you become even less visible to satoru. he can see you clearly—like he can see everything—but for this moment, he’ll pretend he’s just a normal man.

and you just a normal woman. just the same girl you were when he first knocked on your door.

“really?”

he nods, but you’re not looking.

and as satoru begins to drive away, he can almost feel the words, can hear them in the still of the car.

a soft, “i just want you,” tumbling from your lips. some wish you’ll never get.

but that might just be his imagination.