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s-brant · 3 years

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Cherry Bowl (3/8)

(gif: @kiekiecarrera) (PART TWO) (PART FOUR) (SERIES MASTERLIST)

Summary: When Kie cancels their plans together, Y/N asks JJ on a date to the Cherry Bowl Drive-In. Unsure of how to navigate his first ever date, JJ seeks out advice. Unfortunately, the night doesn’t go as planned, and both parties are left shaken by miscommunication.

Word Count: 10.6k

Warnings: Smut, public sex/exhibitionism, sexual choking, angst, depictions of mental illness, post-traumatic stress disorder, and implied/referenced abuse.

A/N: Welcome back to Tokens! Slight trouble in paradise is brewing for these two lovers, so buckle up and read because it’s gonna be a rollercoster for a little while after what happens in this chapter. I hope you all like it, and if you did, feedback is very appreciated. Have fun!

"I'm just saying that oatmeal raisin is superior to chocolate chip, why is that such an egregious crime, Kie?"

The lunch room is filled to the brim with students going to town on questionably cooked frozen foods, soggy tater tots, and sugary drinks from the vending machines despite the Obama-era posters on the walls advocating for healthier school lunches that never seemed to make their way to Kildare County High. The extent of their healthy lunches extended to a serving of overcooked canned green beans served with the worst slice of doughy pizza known to human kind, so it was sort of contradictory.

Y/N sits across the table from Pope and JJ, the latter of which being the one who launched into a full-fledged debate with Kiara about which type of cookie was better.

The clear cling wrap sits, unfolded, on the table with one of her stickers neatly placed on the back of it. As consolation for his epic loss yesterday at the beach, she paid an extra .75 cents to get him it when she arrived first to their shared lunch period—one of only two class periods they have together, the other being gym. He was still in line when she peeled a surfboard sticker off of her sheet and placed it at the center of the wrapped up cookie as if to remind him of her triumph over him in the waves.

"Thanks, hot stuff," he said, voice somewhat quieter despite the fact that hardly anyone was in the cafeteria with them. Then his smile dropped into an deadpan expression as soon as he saw her choice of sticker and looked back up at her. "You're never gonna let me live that one down, are you?"

"Never in a million years. I'll be gloating about it until I'm elderly."

"That's my girl."

The sound of the constant chatter surrounding them from at least two hundred other people drowns out the memories of yesterday that threaten to haunt her when she watches him debate with Kie. The mere recollection of their night in the back of the van has her reaching to pull the collar of her cropped tee up to assure that the hickeys remain hidden on instinct, and he catches the action out of the corner of his eye. It has him fighting a smile.

Kie quips, "Maybe on another planet, but, here, I think we can all agree chocolate chip is better, right Y/N?"

Y/N's eyes widen around a forkful of mushy "green beans" at the sound of her name being said bringing her from the depths of her memories.

Usually, she's quick to jump in and give her two cents on whatever stupid back and forth they're all having, but her mind was elsewhere. Unbeknownst to Kie and Pope, she was mentally reliving every second of getting fucked in the van last night, so her attention to detail when it comes to the Chocolate Chip vs Oatmeal Raisin case isn't all too sharp.

"Uhhh," she stops for a second, looking at the half eaten chocolate chip cookie in Kie's hand, "If I say chocolate chip is better, can I get a piece of it?"

Kie's face lights up at her words, and she's already pulling off a generous chunk of the baked good to hand off to her. The sound of a certain someone whose lap Y/N's legs are outstretched onto from beneath the table scoffing distracts her from the first bite.

"I know you prefer oatmeal raisin, you traitor," JJ says.

Their brunette friend's brows scrunch.

"Why is she a traitor?"

They try to keep from making any faces or giving anything away, but Y/N has to stifle the sound of her choking on her mouthful of cookie at the question. You'd think one of them came out and asked if they were dating or something with how she reacts, and she feels JJ squeeze her ankle in a non-verbal way of telling her to hold it together. It was her idea in the first place, yet he's a lot smoother with keeping it under the radar.

Under it all, the aspect of keeping it a secret does unnerve him to a degree. He doesn't think he'd be brave enough to communicate it, especially not when their relationship remains undefined, but the darker side of his mind wonders...

He shrugs, saying, "Cause we were friends first. Duh. Other than John B, I've known her the longest."

None of them stop to acknowledge the identical aches in their hearts at the mentioning of his name. They skip right over it like it never happened. After the funeral a few days ago, they've filled their quota on mushy-gushy sad talk for the next week and a half.

The real reason is something far more complicated than him having a claim staked on her loyalty through having the longest friendship. It's something tied up in days of slowly getting pulled into one another's worlds like the tug of gravity itself, in how he has to refrain from slipping his arm around her waist in the hallway or kissing her goodbye after a sleepover at the Chateau. But until she gives him the go-ahead, he won't let it slip to anyone.

Pope speaks up from beside him, "You literally met her twenty minutes before we did."

"Still counts. Technically, I did meet her first, so her betraying Team Oatmeal Raisin is enough to be tried for treason in Pogue Court."

"Pogue Court isn't a thing."

He crosses his arms after he pops the rest of the cookie into his mouth.

"It is now. You can be tried for treason for breaking the rules. Rule number one is that all Pogues have to admit oatmeal raisin is superior."

He's about to ball up the cling wrap to throw away later when the surfboard sticker catches his attention again. It's the same color as his board, which he'd like to think is a result of her being an evil mastermind that went out to get this sticker sheet for the sole purpose of teasing him, but he's the one who got her the sheet as a gift for her birthday, so he knows it was pure coincidence.

Last second, he peels the sticker away from the cling wrap and looks down to place it over the top of her yellow converse that were once a vibrant, paler color when Big John got them for her, but have since turned into an ugly mustard/dirt-dusted color they heckle her over.

"What are the other rules?" Y/N asks.

One of the hands holding onto where her feet are casually planted in his lap, something that they've done long enough that their friends won't see it as anything odd, slides down to caress the stretch of skin beneath the frayed hem of her dark jeans. Something she didn't know about him before whatever it is they have together started was that he constantly needs to be touching her. She can't say she doesn't love it though.

Pope answers, "The oatmeal raisin rule is not official"—a pointed glance at JJ—"But I'd assume the rest of the rules of Pogue Court would be no lying and no macking."

"So, basically you two break almost every rule except the oatmeal raisin one, and I lie," JJ says and turns to look at her, "How does it feel to be better than everyone, Y/N?"

"Pretty good, not gonna lie."

He keeps caressing little circles and tracing up and down her skin beneath the flared out pant leg of her jeans while he swipes his phone off of the table top without attracting the attention of their friends, who continue on to a new topic. She isn't too focused on what it is. She only picks up that it has something to do with a class they're in that's more advanced that hers, so she promptly checks out of the conversation.

Ever since John B died, she hasn't been performing too well in school. She tries, truly tries, but her mind outright refuses to absorb any of the information. When she reads her assigned reading, she hovers over the same paragraphs over and over until she shuts the book in a huff and hides it in her backpack again. Losing someone you love has a surprising amount of side effects.

Her phone buzzing in her hand brings her away from the impending cloud of doom that often accompanies any thoughts of John B, and when she taps in her passcode, her brother's birthday, a message bubble appears with a banner displaying JJ's contact name.

JJ (Derogatory) ur a good liar. prob could've fooled me if i weren't the one macking on u

Their eyes meet for a second across the table, then he watches her thumbs move to type a response.

Kief Princess Little do they know I break every rule now that I've switched sides on the cookie debate. Kinda impressive ngl.

JJ (Derogatory) triple threat, baby

JJ (Derogatory) thanks for the cookie btw

She smiles to herself, so wrapped up in their own world that she doesn't notice everyone in the room starting to pack up their stuff in anticipation of the bell that is due to ring any second now.

Kief Princess Had to repay you for last night somehow ;)

When she glances up to see his reaction, she watches his chest rise with a particularly large inhale, and he chews on the inside of his lip in thought.

JJ (Derogatory) strategically bringing up last night so i'm turned on in physics? ur an evil mastermind

Kief Princess I try.

Kief Princess Apparently whooping your sorry ass at surfing isn't the only thing I'm good at.

She hears him scoff.

JJ (Derogatory) first of all, ouch. second, u barely beat me

Kief Princess I'm happy to challenge you to a rematch. I have plans with Kie tonight, so I can't till this weekend. All it'll prove is that I am the rightful winner, but we knew that already.

JJ (Derogatory) what r the stakes this time

Kief Princess No sexual favors. If you beat me (fat chance) I'll formally rejoin team oatmeal raisin.

JJ (Derogatory) :( sex makes it more fun but i still accept those conditions

JJ (Derogatory) team oatmeal raisin needs u, even if ur a traitor

Kief Princess Why bet sexual favors if you're just gonna fuck me after anyway?

JJ (Derogatory) good point

The sound of the bell ringing echoes through the cafeteria, and they both pop their heads up from their phone screens to see everyone, including Pope and Kie, already packed up and raising from their seats to scurry off in the direction of their next classes. Meanwhile, their stuff is all bestrewn across the table, particularly JJ's belongings.

The sight of Kie walking away makes Y/N ask after her, "We're still on for tonight, right?

She stops with Pope's hand interwoven in hers. The look on her face when she turns would make you think she got caught doing something she wasn't meant to. Something like forgetting about the plans they made last week to watch Fear Street together. The Cherry Bowl Drive-In is premiering the first two movies as a double feature for the horror movie buffs of Kildare, so they decided to get tickets. Kiara shares a fondness of horror movies with her. Since gory movies make the boys squirm, though JJ pretends they don't, it's their own thing.

"Actually, Pope and I were gonna go to the beach. I'm sorry."

JJ knows she's more upset about it than she lets on, but Y/N simply gives the pair a smile that doesn't reach the eyes.

The sound of JJ behind her makes them laugh on their way out, diffusing the minor tension lingering in the air from the awkward encounter, "Use protection!"

After their friends offer them a goodbye, they gather their stuff quite leisurely, not really caring about being late.

It's something they've talked about before here or there: her feelings surrounding Kiara and Pope's sudden relationship. It's not as if she harbors any ill feelings for them, she doesn't, but the ripple effects of their pairing on the group, and more importantly the girls' own friendship, couldn't be clearer from her perspective. Between the missed hangouts, forgotten plans, and the convenient way she never seems to have time to hang out with her and JJ unless Pope is there too, it's been building up for a month now.

What makes it sting the most is how close her and Kie used to be. They didn't hit it off immediately the way she and JJ did as children until her thirteenth birthday when no one she invited showed up to the party Big John helped her set up in the yard of the Chateau.

She was the one who rallied the boys together to walk to ask their school friends from the year above to come hang out for an hour or two, promising a slice of the wonky-looking but delicious strawberry cake her and John B spent the morning crafting together. She can remember the sound of their high-pitched laughs and the cloud of flour that hung in the kitchen when they high-fived over the finished product like it was yesterday. In her heart, it was yesterday.

That night was when she fell in love with her friends, and that was when she first knew Kiara was her best friend. They wove friendship bracelets on each other that night and wore them for years until they withered away. No one had ever done something like that for her before. Not even JJ.

"You okay?"

Feeling his hand on her arm, slipping down to take her hand for a moment in the seclusion of the empty cafeteria, makes her glance up at him with a distinct sorrow washed over her features.

You know what? Screw this. Why should she be torn up over Kie and let it ruin her excitement for the double feature tonight? There's no way in hell she's letting her best friend ditching her for her boyfriend get in the way of her plans.

"Do you wanna go on a date tonight?" she asks him abruptly, then adds, "To the Cherry Bowl with me instead of Kie?"

The question sparks a pause in his mind, a halt of hesitation in which he worries about her avoiding having to answer what he asked, but he attempts to play it cool and not fuss over her outwardly. There have been times where being treated like that has made her feel suffocated, so he doesn't want to risk it. When she's ready, she'll talk about it, and if she takes too long and buries her feelings, then he'll intervene. For now, he tries to keep his face neutral despite the frown tempting his lips at her disappointment.

JJ looks around once more before throwing his arm around her shoulder to walk her out.

"You bet your ass I do."

What is a person supposed to act like on their first date that's not actually a date cause everything between them is the same, but kinda is a date because they called it one? If you ever find out, please find JJ and tell him because he has no clue.

Pope wasn't too much help in the Instagram group chat he made for it seeing as his and Kie's relationship is too fresh, John B isn't even alive, so he's out of service for advice unless there's Ouija Board he can borrow, and, thankfully, Kiara was his savior.

Their phones began blowing up as soon as he reached his class after lunch period ended. He couldn't under any circumstances let it be known that this mystery girl he had a date with was their friend, but thankfully Y/N already had the alibi of going to the Drive-In alone. All he had to do was make up a fake date scenario and get basic advice.

danknugstickiestickies added kiara-c and popeheyward to the groupchat

danknugstickiestickies named the group HELP ME

danknugstickiestickies i have a date with this chick i met on the beach when i was out with y/n last week. i need ur advice

His phone screen lit up with the notification that both of his friends were typing, signified with the three dot symbol bouncing in the bottom left corner as he thought it through. They couldn't possibly figure it out, right? They'd been careful, he'd been respectful of her wishes, and they'd been too busy together to notice anything new with them. He figured it would work. It was a risk, sure, but it was worth it to him. He didn't want to fuck this up with her.

Knowing her, she probably wouldn’t even treat it differently than any of their other hang outs. It's not like they haven't been romantic or sexual with each other. They've done everything but go out on an actual date, so why was he nervous?

kiara-c ummmm

popeheyward Yeah, I'm gonna need you to ELABORATE!!

kiara-c did hell freeze over? since when does jj maybank go out on dates??

danknugstickiestickies renamed the group hell froze over

kiara-c very funny, I'm laughing so hard 😐

popeheyward Do we know her?

danknugstickiestickies don't think u do. she moved here last week and hasn't enrolled in school yet. her name's steph

popeheyward What about Y/N though?

kiara-c ^^

JJ's chest muscles tightened with the question prompting a rush of anxiety that made his breathing feel slightly harder. He glanced up at his Physics teacher, who was essentially dozing off behind his desk with his hand in a bag of chips and an educational video on the projector as an excuse to not teach, and looked back down at his phone without the added stress of possibly getting his phone confiscated.

Pope's message might as well have been a sucker punch. Forget butterflies, he set a wasp’s nest loose inside of his stomach to tie it into knots and flip it every which way. His neglected textbook served as a prop for his phone to lean on as he set it down to think.

Did they know? As far as he was aware, they were getting away with it. No evidence, concrete or circumstantial, was there to prove it. At least the stress of the situation killed any chance of him being turned on by her reminder of last night in their messages. This shit was boner repellant of the highest degree.

He played stupid. Better to let them volunteer whatever information they had before he went in saying anything incriminating that they didn't already know. If anything would sour the experience of their first date, it would be him accidentally making their strange in-between relationship public behind her back.

danknugstickiestickies ?? what do u mean

Three dots bounced in the bottom left corner of his slightly cracked phone screen.

popeheyward ...

kiara-c I mean, you don't see it?

danknugstickiestickies see what

popeheyward I guess we were wrong, but all of us always thought you two had some feelings going on.

"You don't say?" JJ murmured sarcastically to himself under his breath. "Never crossed my mind, Pope."

danknugstickiestickies bro that's jb's little sister

kiara-c so?

danknugstickiestickies forbidden fruit? making john b roll over in his grave? do those ring a bell or am i speaking in tongues

He was already a proficient liar in real life, but, fuck, it was easy in text messages. There's no chance at deciphering facial expression or tone, just a plain message with no room to budge. Thank God he didn't do this in person with them. He could've survived, but it wouldn't have been as quick and painless as the group chat was.

kiara-c jeez, sorry

Pope didn't voice it, but he noticed something.

He looked up from his phone and stared off at the wall in thought in his AP European History class. It piqued his interest that JJ simply said she was off limits, forbidden fruit as he put it, but did not outright deny having feelings for her. In fact, he didn't even address the question. He made excuses for why he shouldn't have feelings for her, but he never said he didn't have feelings for her.

Kie did not notice. Not because she wasn't smart enough to either, but because she was too busy hiding her phone behind her backpack to think too deeply about it. Her teacher was one of those teachers that would flip shit if they saw a cell phone turned off and faced down on the desk, let alone being used by a student during a lesson.

In his classroom across the hallway, JJ bounced his leg up and down beneath his desk in an absentminded urge to release the built up energy the anxiety produced in an over abundance.

popeheyward Our bad then. Even John B thought y'all were sus lmao.

Since when was that a known fact? Could he tell? Did he talk to Pope about him and Y/N before he died? Either way, it wasn't the time to pry about it.

kiara-c yeah you guys honestly could've fooled me if you wanted to

danknugstickiestickies well thank u, glad ur invested in our friendship but

danknugstickiestickies please help, i have no fucking clue how to act on a date and this girl is too cool for me to screw this up

That was when they finally dropped the interrogation session and started offering up tips. The best ones came from Kie, which made sense to him since women are more likely to know what other women like than two dudes who share one collective brain cell and never had real relationships.

Rule One: Be ready to pick her up five minutes early.

He wasn't ready to pick her up five minutes early. His bike broke down by the time he made it halfway down his street, so he had to push it back up the road and into the yard before setting off on foot to reach the Chateau quickly enough. And by quickly enough, it means he got there five minutes late, not early.

Rule Two: Compliment her after you get in the car.

She tossed him the keys to the Twinkie from across the hood, not giving him the chance to open the door for her, and it wasn't until they were setting off down the road that he remembered the next piece of advice he was given.

Side-eyeing her in his peripheral vision, he tried to find something to compliment her on specifically rather than the general compliments about her being pretty that she never fully believes when he says them. He was intending to say something about the skirt she had on, but when he chanced a glance over at her, she caught him and asked—

"What is it?"

Sent into panic mode, JJ blurted out instead, "I like your shoes."

He could've bashed his face against the steering wheel twenty times right then and there at the utter absence of reaction on her part for the next few uncomfortable seconds. It wasn't that it was a bad compliment. She appreciates any compliments at all...but her shoes were hidden from his view. Not to mention, they were the dirty, mustard yellow converse that the Pogues bash on a daily basis.

She laughed, lifting her leg to expose the sneaker on her right foot, and asked, "These? Dude, you roast me for these all the time. You and John B said they look like Big Bird shit on them."

The skin on the apples of his cheeks scorched hot with embarrassment, and he was never so glad that the overhead lights in the van were burnt out until that moment. He would've died on the spot if she saw him blush like that, face flushed pinker than sunburn. All he could do to save himself was murmur something about the color growing on him and keep driving in the direction of the theater with his hands white-knuckling the steering wheel he fantasized about banging his face into.

Rule Three: Insist on picking up the check.

In this case, it meant insist on buying the popcorn and drinks, and he miraculously managed to drop his wallet somewhere along the way when he ran over to the Chateau, so when he stepped up to the makeshift concession stand with her standing at his side, he felt around for his wallet in his jeans to no avail.

His thoughts echoed back to him, You gotta be fucking kidding me. Seriously? Is this actually happening right now?

"JJ, it's honestly fine," she said softly as he leaned over to search back of the Twinkie for the wallet. "We can look for it on your street right now if you want. It has your ID and stuff, you don't want a stranger to have that. We don't need to stay—"

It took all of his control to not shout it in reaction when he said, "No way. You've been waiting for this, and Kie ditched you, so I ain't ditching you too. We're staying."

His wallet could go kick rocks.

He came too far to be dragged down by the old leathery piece of shit anyway. Would he go out and search for it tirelessly the second the date ended? Hell yeah, that fucker had twenty dollars and his debit card in it, but he couldn't bear the thought of abandoning her or ruining her anticipated movie night by taking her out to search the streets with their phone flashlights for a wallet they might not find. He'd wait till the movies ended, take her home, then haul ass around the Cut searching for it after.

Thankfully, he found a couple bucks crumbled up in his front pocket while she scavenged for coins in the glove compartment, and they came up with enough to buy a water bottle and small popcorn to share together.

Rule Four: Don't have sex on the first date.

And it may sound easy enough to not act like a complete Neanderthal for the length of two movies, but the girl makes it pretty damn difficult if he's to say so himself.

That's what led him here, laying in the back of the sideways-parked Twinkie in the farthest corner of the outdoor theater with her practically on top of him. In any other instance, he wouldn't be opposed in the slightest, but with the cursed fourth rule in mind, he isn't too thrilled with the feeling of her hand rubbing up and down his thigh.

It isn't even meant to be sexual. They're constantly touching one another this way. She'll even slip her hands up under his shirt just to feel the warmth of his skin or when he asks her if she can get an itch on a part of his back he can't reach, but for some reason his brain is short circuiting right now.

The thing is, when Kie and Pope said he shouldn't do it on the first date, they meant it for his and Steph's made up circumstances, not his and Y/N's full-blown relationship without labels. When you've had sex with someone as many times as they have with each other, the hesitancy on the "first date" is nonexistent. It doesn't matter. But JJ, trying to follow the advice given to him to the letter for the sake of being the date she deserves, doesn't think about it that way.

It shouldn't be this nerve-wracking. They've been best friends since they were children, they've been flirting since they found out what basic attraction was in the first place, and they've been forming this relationship ever since John B died. Why can't he relax? Why is this so different compared to how easy it felt between them yesterday on the beach or today at lunch?

Rule Five: Be yourself.

It takes him another few moments of laying here with her before he realizes quite abruptly what went wrong in a quick flash of a thought that brings the fifth rule back to him. The problem wasn't the bike, or the weird compliment about her Big Bird sneakers, or the lost wallet.

The problem is him. The problem is that he's trying way too hard to make this something it isn't. The part about them that he adores so dearly is how they never have to try when they're together. With any other girl or guy, they'd have to fake something or act a certain way, yet when they're together, they can simply exist and everything is runs smoothly. That's not to say they don't disagree or bump heads, they do, but short of those outlier moments, it's easier than anything else they do in life.

His eyes flicker away from the screen for the first time since the movie began, which, by the way, is gruesome enough at times that he had to divert his eyes to prevent himself from seeing it happen. They land on where she lays, completely content with the night in spite of its mishaps, with her head propped up on the pillows they brought from the Chateau.

He wonders if she can tell he's acting differently. Surely she must notice. She's the type of person that typically never misses a thing, perfect for the gold hunt they went on in the summer with picking up the clues and helping her brother unravel the mystery, so maybe she noticed how flustered this date has him. Does it bother her? Does he bother her?

With a confirming glance back up at the movie to see nothing important happening, he can't fight the urge to speak anymore.

"Can I tell you something?"

His voice appearing through the darkness of the shut off van after spending the past half hour in complete silence makes her jolt at first before realizing who it was. Though she loves horror movies, she can't claim to not be affected by them. The night she falls asleep after watching one, she often finds herself compelled to turn a light on and keep her feet from dangling off the edge of the bed. It's worth the fear, though.

When she turns to look at JJ, there's a warm smile on her face. She's cuddled into his side with a hand placed casually atop his thigh, caressing with no purpose or intent, and her movement halts when the light from the movie on the projector allows her to see the expression on his face.

Anxiety has become an increasingly significant presence in his life with the recent events in mind; John B and Sarah, the four-hundred million dollars they lost out on, and dodging his father whenever he sneaks home to switch out the backpack of clothes and personal belongings he keeps at the Routledge house.

It manifests itself in jittery nerves, stomach pains, shortness of breath, and, at worst, panic attacks striking either at random or in response to a specific trigger. It's one of the few things he still tries to hide from her, and she tries not to push him too hard with opening up about it.

She abandons the movie for the time being and rolls onto her side to face him, upper body propped up on her elbow as she examines his face with downturned features.

"Of course," she says.

The words left unsaid are, "You can tell me anything. Whenever you need someone to listen, or to talk to about shit, you can tell me." He's heard her say it enough that he doesn't need to hear it now to know it's true.

There's a pause, then—

"I feel like I fucked this entire date up," he starts to ramble and cuts her off before she can think about saying what she wants to, "and I know it's okay to you. You have way too high of a tolerance for my bullshit, and I've been trying so hard to make this perfect, but all that did was screw it up."

She's left quiet for a second, taking it all in.

Maybe if he hadn't been so anxious about it, he would've realized what was wrong with his bike when he rode it home from school, or he would've noticed his wallet fall out of his pocket. The point is, he wishes he hadn't let the label attached to this freak him out so much. He isn't sure why it does, but it does.

But she doesn't do what he expects. She isn't drowning him in reassurances and, "It's okay's" because she knows he doesn't care for them much. When he, the most stubborn person she knows, apologizes for something he did, he doesn't want it to turn into the person accepting the apology coddling him.

Y/N sighs.

"Is that why you've been acting so different all night? I scared you with the whole ‘date’ thing, didn't I? It doesn't have to be a date if you don't want it to be."

What she doesn't know is that he wants it to be a date. He wants it to be a date so badly, he risked Pope and Kie finding them out for the sake of getting some proper advice on it, and now he's caught up in the same game of tug and war in his mind that always occurs when he wants to tell her the truth about his feelings for her.

Part of him doesn't understand why he doesn't outright say it. With every other girl he once showed interest in, he had no issues in letting them know he wanted them, but this is different. This isn't simply wanting someone, he thinks he's fallen for her. But whenever he says he's gonna grow a pair and tell her after all this time, he chokes. Involuntarily, he's reminded of his parents. Other than his friends saying it platonically, the only people to tell him they loved him were them, and with how they treated him, he sure as hell doesn't think that is love.

From his dad's brutal physical abuse to his mom's abandonment, he's too timid to tell her he loves her because of what could happen if she loves him back. Everyone else that has said that to him has either hurt him, died like John B did, or abandoned him.

He won't let that happen with him and Y/N. What they have, albeit undefined and codependent, is safe. It's the only thing he has left. Maybe it isn't right, and maybe he should open up about it to communicate the correct way, but somewhere in the misshapen logic of his mind, he correlates love to abandonment. And he doesn't want that to happen with her.

There are two sides of him at battle inside his mind. One side, the side that wants to do right by their relationship and actually communicate his feelings for once in his life, wants him to tell her everything. The other side, the side that responds based on the history of his past, wants him to hide it all.

"Will you be mad at me if we don't call it a date?" he asks.

She shakes her head.

The heavy sensation inside of JJ's chest nears a point of vitriolic violence against him as he starts to realize what he's doing to her, clearly letting her down, but he can't stop himself. Like a passive witness watching himself from outside of his body, the instantaneous trauma response to the sudden confrontation of his true feelings for her guides his actions without his permission. It shuts down any protest he has.

The sound of the movie fills the gap of silence between them the entire time. It’s a variety of bloodcurdling screams and disgusting sounds that would've made him gag if he weren't as distracted.

They can make out each other's faces through the darkness, but barely. It takes a flash of bright color from the film or a nearby car's lights turning on for them to fully see one another. Without the other knowing, they both put masks of calm and collected coolness on their faces despite the feelings raging beneath the surface—more so on his part than hers.

"Maybe," he says, pausing, "we should just keep things the way they've been."

As soon as the words leave his mouth, a soul-crushing amount of disappointment weighs her down. She said it was fine if he doesn't want it to be a date—and it is, she would never hold it against him—but that doesn't mean it can't hurt her. Things have been going so well, she almost thought...If tonight went well, she was thinking about no longer keeping it a secret, but if he said he wants things to stay the same, then maybe he isn't as ready for it as she is?

Meanwhile, JJ is on another page entirely.

She's embarrassed of being with you, a familiar voice in the back of his head croons. She's gonna leave just like everyone else does. If she doesn't even wanna tell your friends, why should you pretend you're dating?

The internal comments are the type that cause him to physically grimace when he's alone. Intrusive thoughts are just that: intrusive.

Sneaking into the guarded sanctuary of a person's mind, they set out to convince them the opposite of their reality. The only thing is, where most people's minds are guarded sanctuaries with walls of impregnable defense, his mind is the equivalent of a fortress blown to smithereens. The castle walls lay in rubble, the guards no where to be seen, and the path for these thoughts to slip past and straight to the vulnerability of his mind is left wide open.

In the privacy of his room, these thoughts attack him the most at night when he tries to fall asleep—when things get too quiet. With nobody around, when they get this bad there's nothing he can do except break down. It builds from the mere anxiety of attempting to force the thoughts away to full-blown panic attack mode. The more he resists them, the more aggressive they become. He'll gasp for air with tears streaming down his face, hitting his head with the heel of his hand as if that'd do something to stop his relentless mind.

But he can't afford to react in front of her, so the extent of his reaction is a subtle twitch of his face that she cannot see in the momentary darkness before the movie switches to another scene a second later. In a way, it does make the thoughts go away to have her here preventing him from spiraling alone. Having to focus on her keeps his mind away for moments at a time until the thoughts ease their grip on him.

When she hasn't answered for a while, he asks, terrified that he did something bad, "Are we good?"

The question seems to wake her up, snapping her out of the lonely direction her thoughts went into when he "rejected" her. It takes every bit of common sense she has left to force herself to understand that this doesn't mean he doesn't want her. He does, and not calling this a date doesn't mean they won't be together in the way they have been since John B's death, but she isn't perfect. She gets as unsure and insecure as he does.

As if the cloud of doom was lifted off of her, she makes her face lighten where she lays on her side next to him. Seeing this expression makes his chest feel less heavy, and he could let out a sigh of relief at the realization that he didn't break her heart and stomp on it. He should've known. Y/N is the sweetest person he knows, so she never would've flipped shit over him not wanting to label this as a date. That's not how she is.

And he's partly right. It isn't how she is. She would never hold it against him if he didn't want something further with her since she got herself into this position by pursuing him with his reputation with girls in mind, but she can't ignore it. Whether she wants it to or not, it had its affect on her as soon as he said it.

She leans in to kiss him, their lips meeting in the middle with the faint taste of popcorn salt mingling at the soft peck.

When she pulls away, she brushes the hair back from his face and says, "Don't worry. Nothing can change how I feel about you."

She has no clue what it feels like to hear that from her.

Despite the turmoil they unknowingly share beneath the surface due to this conversation, he could cry hearing her say it. It doesn't feel real to him that she feels the same way he does about her, because nothing could change how he feels about her either. That’s why he manages to work up the courage to repeat it back to her, and, for now, this is the closest he's physically capable of coming to telling her the truth.

"Ditto," he says.

It isn't what she wanted, but it's close enough, and if she dwells on this any longer, she might start getting too emotional and let the urge to tear up become too strong. Why does she have to be this sensitive? It's no secret that it's remarkably easy to make her cry, but this is insane to her. When all of this began with him, she didn't give a shit about him not wanting a label. She understood him, and she understood that he doesn't do this kind of thing, so why has it changed? Why doesn't she want to keep it a secret anymore? Why does she want this to be a date when she knows he doesn't want it to be?

Pulled by an invisible string back to him to silence her mind, she leans in to kiss him again with a hand cupping the back of his neck to guide him the rest of the way to her.

It shouldn't be laced with any sexual intention. She should be kissing him simply because she wants to, and, in a way, she is. Their kisses and touches are never lacking the motivation that is their underlying connection and mutual feelings for one another, but this is not the same. As he kisses her back with as much confidence and passion as always, she is reeling from the conversation that reminded her too much of a breakup.

It takes another minute of this for the kiss to heat up, their breathing becoming shallower in the moments they part to inhale, and she is undeniably the one instigating when she officially crosses the line between casual and sexual by crawling onto his lap. It's not hard for him to pick up on when their innocent moments take a turn. She's easy to read in that regard, and this has happened a multitude of times with them, so the shift of a mini make out session turning into something more is nothing out of the ordinary for them.

If he knew how shaken she is on the inside, he'd never want this. And the same would go for her if she knew what he was thinking before this. Neither of them wants to admit what they're feeling.

With her legs seated on either side of his hips, she kisses him like it's the last time she'll ever get the opportunity to. Her hands wander wherever they can, pulling at his shirt and feeling him up as his hands guide her hips to move against his in a steady grinding that she has no issue partaking in. It's an eagerness he hasn't seen from her in weeks. She's never un-excited when it comes to being physical with him either, but this is another level. The last time a girl was all over him like this, it was desperate touron at a party a few months ago.

In the span of time it takes her to glance over her shoulder to see if anyone could see them and reach to pull her skirt up until it bunches around her hips—no one can see them, by the way, since they got here late and were forced to cram the van into the back corner of the lot with no street lights illuminating the path—his brows raise at her presumptuous behavior. Not that he's one to complain, however, seeing as he's typically the one doing what she is.

Their next kiss clashes their teeth hard enough to make them wince, but he loves it. It makes him smirk into her parted mouth, alive with both the feeling her reassurance provided and the fuzzy-headed high that often finds him when they're together in this way. Incomparable to past flings or the high related to any drugs, she is the peak of everything to him. It's no contest.

His chest stutters against hers with a bout of amused laughter, asking within a brief pause in what feels like the most JJ thing he's said this awkward night, "Two for two in the Twinkie. What's gotten into you?"

Y/N's hand dips between where their bodies move together to unclasp the closed buckle of his belt in one smooth motion that has it falling apart with a clinking noise.

Her features are set with a look that tells him she means business. Whatever it is that sparked this, he wonders how the fuck to make it happen again another time. She's begged for it before, but never taken control so dominantly, and he can't deny what the role reversal does to him. The evidence is obvious in the distinct hardness she feels pressing up against the hand undoing his jeans.

"I was hoping it'd be you," she says, voice breathless and airy from the constant contact in a way that makes it ten times hotter for him.

If there were any chance of him not being in the mood prior to this, which wasn't the case anyway, it's gone now. He never wants to hear her say she doesn't deliberately try to tease him ever again.

He doesn't need to be told twice.

JJ surges forward to capture her mouth with his, this time with no intention of pulling away to breathe or speak again. No, he'll let himself get lightheaded and dizzy if it means he can stay with her for as long as possible.

With the circumstances of it all, them being visible to someone if they happened to pass by the open door of the van, they move at a pace quicker than usual. She's immediately helping him shimmy his jeans and underwear far enough down his hips to free his dick from the confines of his clothes, making him sigh out a breath of relief when her hand brushes against him in the process.

There's no opportunity to slow down, it has exploded into a full-throttle speed race that neither of them can halt.

His hand blindly flies out beside him to grope the floor of the van for the set of keys he tossed carelessly to the side once the movie started, eyes shut in the midst of the hot, messy kiss they share. His fingers find the fabric of one of the blankets they brought in case they got cold, then drifts again and lands on her Big Bird sneakers until he feels the sharp metal of her keys meet his calloused palm.

After the events of last summer, she bought a switch blade to keep on her key ring alongside the keys to the van, HMS Pogue, and Chateau. She may not like violence or weapons, seeing as she was a skeptic of JJ keeping the gun alongside her friends, but she saw it necessary. Between Rafe, Topper, and Kelce, how could she leave the safety of her and her friends up to chance knowing what some of the kooks did to them not long ago? What happened to Pope on the golf course alone was enough to make her skin crawl.

Right now, though, the knife flips out from the pressure of his thumb pushing the button to release it. He holds it out away from her at first to assure it doesn't nick her in the process, then uses his other hand to tug the side of her panties that hugs her hip far out enough to press the sharp side of the blade onto the inside of it.

She can hardly believe what she's watching as JJ cuts the delicate maroon underthings from her body as if he were doing something so normal, like it's something he's done before. Her forehead is pressed against his, her mouth parted both in shock and in a need to pant for oxygen, and she watches the knife ruin her favorite panties. The stitches come apart with a satisfying ripping noise that can hardly be heard over the sound of people reacting to the movie in the background.

Other customers of the Cherry Bowl Drive-In are too glued to the screen as a beloved character is chased down, reacting in shouts when she's seized by the killer and shoved onto the table of an industrial bread slicer, so they remain wholly unnoticed.

The lace, now ripped in half, dangles on the tip of the knife when he lifts it away from her, tosses it aside, and presses the button once more to retract the blade. It clatters to the floor, but is in no way forgotten with them resuming in a desperation to keep going until they both satisfy the need clawing at them from the inside. But her sense of need is different from his, and even with the fresh memory of him with the switch blade in mind, she's still somewhere else the whole time.

Her mind is faraway, muted through layers of sadness, anger, and disappointment as he reaches between them to line himself up to her entrance. The sensation of him running his cock, hard and messy with a few drops of precome, through her dripping pussy to coat it in her slick arousal is enough to make her moan pathetically. Yet when he's about to guide himself inside of her, she stops him.

"Wait, wait, wait," she breathes out rapidly, heart pounding so hard she can feel herself pulsating between her thighs, "Condom."

They were so antsy to get to it, they almost forgot.

"Fuck," he curses under his breath, and his eyes flicker from where they were trained between their bodies to glance back and forth around the van before it hits him. "I lost my wallet..."

But right when he thinks their public rendezvous in the back of the Drive-In is over due to his unfortunate mistake, she shakes her head and slips away from her perch astride his lap to crawl over to her bag.

She fumbles with the old tote bag and plunges her arm in to sift through the hodge podge of things that are purely Y/N in nature—stickers, glitter pens, a half-eaten bag of candy, etc—for the square foil package she decided to toss in before she left just in case. She usually doesn't keep them on her because he never fails to have one, but, thankfully, she had the random instinct to bring it tonight.

The only thing to bring her out of her cloudy, malevolent storm of feelings when she settles back onto his lap with the condom wrapper ripped open for him is him saying, "So you planned this, huh?" with his mouth tipped in a familiar self-satisfied grin.

She didn't plan it. In fact, she threw herself at him the second she sensed him withdrawing from her and can't stop herself despite the fact that she constantly feels two seconds away from letting a tear slip down her cheek. If that counts as "planning it", then sure.

"Maybe so," she answers, cool, calm, and collected—the antithesis of the truth.

They usually don't lie to each other.

They're thrown right back into it without any other hiccups once he rolls the condom on, and he takes in a shaky breath at her hand wrapping around him to align their bodies up. Before she can do anything, though, he takes chance to swipe the blanket he found a moment ago and wrap it around her back to keep her covered in case they get caught.

Y/N sinks down onto his cock with her lip caught between her teeth to stifle the sound that threatens to escape. JJ, on the other hand, doesn't bother concealing the sound of the groan he makes at the sensation of having her wrapped around him like this. The tension in her entire body from the anticipation and the looming threat of being seen by someone has her squeezing him so tightly, he can't help but be a little louder than he should.

Her soft palm slaps over his mouth with enough pressure to force his groan to quiet itself, and she watches his pretty blue eyes widen in reaction to the dominant action. Who is this girl and what has she done with his sweet, submissive Y/N? Don't get him wrong, he is very turned on by it, but it's unlike her to take the lead this way. He can't figure it out.

"What's wrong, angel?" she asks in a whisper into his ear, her hand over his mouth and her hips starting to slowly rock against him, "Watch the movie."

Once the words leave her mouth, she drops her hand, just in case he wants to stop and can't say anything because she had his mouth covered, and JJ is pretty sure he's died and gone to heaven.

He doesn't watch the movie, not at all, because he's too busy watching her. For someone losing their mind internally, she does not let it show, nor does she let it distract her from what's happening. If anything, the distraction in this situation is the sex, not what's going on inside of her head.

There's a moment of adjustment and going as slowly and gently as possible while waiting for the dull pressure of feeling him inside of her to fade away, but, for the most part, she doesn't waste any time. As soon as she feels comfortable enough with the ache between her thighs giving way to a spark of pleasure when she grinds her clit down on his pubic bone, she starts to ride him at a better pace than the initial slow movements of her hips.

She raises herself up and takes him again inch by inch, enjoying the sense of fullness she gets from having to fit him in spite of the slight discomfort at first, and she could swear that he'll leave bruises in the shape of his handprints with how tightly he clutches her hips. It's all he can do to prevent himself from moaning or saying something, ever the vocal lover she's come to know.

Unless his mouth is preoccupied like it was on the beach yesterday afternoon, JJ is usually impossible to shut up, especially in this context. With him always whispering dirty things to her, whether it be praises, pet names, or plans on what he wants to do to her, she has come to find it breathtakingly hot. He could likely get away with saying something if he wanted to, but he isn't sure he wants to risk it. If he opens his mouth to spew something filthy to her, he won't trust himself not to make a louder, different kind of noise that won't fit in the with background audio the other moviegoers are listening to.

The wet sound of their bodies colliding that fills the space of the van is drowned out by the loud and violent sequence occurring on the screen far ahead of them, and hearing it makes her bounce herself on him a little harder. She's fueled on by it all, and, strangely, what happened before she practically pounced on him is the main contributor.

Similarly to the nature of his intrusive thoughts, the harder she resists the memory of how it felt when he told her he didn't want this to be a date, the more forceful it is in its return. Her eyes trail down to watch where they connect with her forehead pressed to his, then she's thrown back into the feeling of helpless disappointment and insecurity. His head tips back against the window with his bottom lip dropped open and his brows furrowed just enough to create a crease on his forehead, and she's bombarded with the look of relief on his face when he realized he didn't have to be tied down to her with a label.

It makes her want to get rougher, harder, and she doesn't even care if it'll make her sore later on. She presses herself down so far every time she slides down on his cock, her teeth draw blood on her lip with how hard she must bite it to remain quiet. The pain of her hipbones rubbing against his doesn't even matter to either of them at this point. They're both too lost in the pleasure that has begun to take control of them to care about something as minuscule as that, or the burn in her thighs from the repetitive physical strain.

She grabs his wrist and brings his hand between them, flattening hers overtop of it and pressing down on the base of her abdomen in the midst of the increasingly feverish thrusts.

"Feel you here," she murmurs to him through a quiet moan, hoping he can hear it over the movie, and pushes down on his hand for emphasis. And if the way he reacts by cursing under his breath tells her anything, it's that he picked up on it. "JJ..."

He reaches out to grab her by the throat with his free hand and tug her forward to kiss him, as if something inside of him snapped in response to her doing that. The motions of her jolting up and down throws the already messy and uncoordinated kiss off-kilter, but they don't mind. It has them separating every time she lifts up, producing this heady little head rush from from them breathing in each other's air without actually letting their mouths meet in the middle.

Though they're trying their hardest not to alert anyone outside of what's happening, it didn't occur to him until now, when his eyes catch John B's old bandana swinging back and forth where it's secured around the rear view mirror.

They're worried about moaning while the entire fucking Twinkie is rocking with their movements. Well, at least it makes good use of the corny sticker he gifted John B last year as a gag gift. He tried to peel it off after JJ snuck it onto the side window to no avail. So, now Y/N is stuck with a sticker on her car reading, "If the van's a-rockin', come on in, we like orgies," rather than the more common phrase.

It almost makes him start laughing, and he prays no one takes that shit seriously, 'cause he is never intent on sharing this breathtaking girl. Ever.

Y/N isn't anywhere near laughing like he is, in fact, she's finding it difficult to keep herself together. She feels her eyes sting with the promise of tears, and she's never felt so pathetic before. Is she seriously about to cry during sex? Is she really that girl that is so ill-equipped to handle rejection, she can't get through it without tears?

She won't cry. Perhaps if he sees how glossy her eyes have become in a rare moment of good lighting, she can blame it on the hand around her throat putting pressure on the sides of her neck.

The worst part about her being near to crying is the timing of it.

The emotion of what she feels mentally mixes with the swirling, building sensation she feels in the pit of her stomach that tells her she's close to going over the edge, and it's so overwhelming. Was she imagining that their friendship had changed? More importantly, is this all she'll ever be to him? Sex is the only thing she's sure of with him, it's the only thing that doesn't require deeper emotions, and when the ground beneath their fragile relationship felt shaky...

He can feel her starting to unravel, and he knows that he'll come before she does if he doesn't do anything now, so he decides to take control.

JJ pulls the hand he had resting on her abdomen away as though he were burned by it, wrapping his arm around her waist to steady her body against his and using the hand around her neck for leverage to thrust up into her, effectively reducing her to a teary-eyed, moaning mess atop him. They both stopped caring about making noise the second he began to fuck her like this.

She cries out in ecstasy at the sudden change in pace and depth that has him hitting all the right places. Every time he thrusts up into her, just as rough as she wished for, the tip of his cock nudges into that perfect spot inside of her that makes her incapable of silencing her moans. This time, it's JJ that puts his hand over her mouth, letting the one he had around her neck move away to keep her from alerting everyone around them of what's happening.

There's nothing she can do to stop her climax as it barrels through her in its initial sweeping wave of bliss to contrast the venomous doubts in her mind. She's never felt such conflicting, yet powerful feelings before—the intensity of the physical pleasure that makes her whine into the palm of his hand, then the part of her mind replaying every word he said in their conversation before this.

Her body is rigid and tense through it all, squeezing down around his cock with the involuntary spasms of her orgasm, and he can't help himself anymore. All it takes are a few more frantic thrusts for him to bury himself inside of her one last time and spill into the condom, uncovering her mouth so he can drown out his own groans into a kiss.

Their skin sticks to their clothes on the inside with sweat from the exertion of their actions, and he can feel her stomach tremble where it presses up against his with each undulation of her hips that meet his as he rides it out.

But even with the added distraction of the sex, she can't rid herself of the feeling that started plaguing her as soon as things went awry. That was why he was acting weird all night. He must have been so worried about her thinking this was anything more than their typical hangouts that he couldn't bring himself to act normally.

She forces herself to look happy when they pull away from the kiss, panting, and JJ, unaware of what she's been thinking, doesn't notice the small deception.

Tag list: @gabiatthedisco

#jj maybank #jj maybank smut #jj maybank x reader #outer banks #obx #fanfiction #obx s2 #uh oh trouble in paradise #anyway that smut #kinda wanna get railed by JJ in the back of the van #don’t we all?

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revui · 2 years

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Quin seems like a fun character but I have nothing to go by beyond Foreverlands and a few memes. I saw on your blog that you're down for talking abt your OCs though. So! Do you have any fun facts about Quin?

what if i [kisses anon on the mouth]

fr this is one of the best things i could've woken up to in my inbox although by the time i finish this it definitely won't be the morning anymore

SO QUIN. Quintilian Holmes. Here's a random fact before I really get going, looking at the posts that I have tagged as Quin, the oldest one is actually referring to a completely different character, and their name was Quindecim. They wound up sharing nicknames by accident. Anyway, from this point forward, this post is now all about Quin-as-in-Quintilian and not Quin-as-in-Quindecim.

So, the thing about Quin is that he's very emotional, he's very artistic, and he's very observant. He's also highkey brimming with rage at all moments in time. When people read "emotional" they sometimes forget that incandescent fury is an emotion, and it happens to be one he wears well. But it's very easy for people to overlook that because he tries quite hard to avoid showing that. He tries to act like a Guy Not Full Of Anger and partially succeeds, but anyone who really knows him is very aware of (and wary of) this part of him.

His major role in the actual story that I've been writing with him (I only post the random episodic stuff I think of) is as someone who's trying to solo the entire government. He pops up a few times earlier but his first big appearance is when he's in the middle of his plan to topple the whole system.

He's from a place called Ivory Ridge, a now-destroyed town which was a safe-haven for demons. "Demon" as a term is very loose in the Foreverlands. It just refers to any humanoid who isn't a human. Actual demons are hard to come by in the present—you'll pretty exclusively find descendants and people with demonic heritage instead of actual full-on demons. Quin is descended from dryad-like demons. After Ivory Ridge got destroyed, Quin got adopted by his moms, Mildred and Emelia Snow.

Switching topics entirely, glyphs. He brings those up quite a lot in the chapter, and the weird thing is that they're kind of a lost art. Quin isn't fully aware of this. Glyphs are essentially tiny symbols that "code" the magical world of the Foreverlands, and when you notice certain patterns (such as a symbol that seems to code for creatures being able to change color), you can mix-and-match different glyph symbols into a whole new glyph. If you mix the symbol that codes for color-changing with a symbol that codes for a lattice-shaped structure in a bush, you can use this new glyph to... I don't know, transmute your blue fence into bright orange lattice.

The reason he uses glyphs is somewhat related to his disability. Sorcerers can use magic because they have a special organ that turns the magic in the world around them into something they can actually wield, and Quin's doesn't work properly, and to put it very very simply, this results in him having "less magic" than other sorcerers. He medicates for this but still has an easier time just using glyphs instead of other focuses because they're smaller, easier to carry, and his special interest. That's right, boys. Autism is about glyphs.

Quin's an artist who is constantly filling his pockets with crumpled papers and pens and looking for new stuff to draw. He likes other arts like sculpting, carving, and pottery, but he's not as good at those and usually doesn't have the tools on hand like he does for drawing.

Colum's also from Ivory Ridge and the two have known each other since they were three. Quin still has a crush on him. Quin knows this fact. Quin hates this fact. His standards are basically "be a person, breathe oxygen" and yet he's only ever been on a single date, mostly by accident, because he didn't realize his classmate was asking him out in a romantic way instead of a friendly way. If ever asked on a date (assuming he actually realizes it's a date), he would dress in his weirdest clothes so that whoever he's dating knows what they're getting into ahead of time.

He's my little skrinkly.

His favorite color is pink, which happens to be his hair color, but he prefers more vibrant shades of pink, especially those that lean closer to purple, while his hair color is a sort of pastel pink instead which he really dislikes. Speaking of his hair. It's very curly and he never has any clue what to do with it, so he just kind of leaves it there to do its thing and hopes for the best. It ranges from "halfway decent" to "I was just in a wind tunnel" and he's stopped trying to keep it under any modicum of control.

He's got freckles. Lots of them.

He's very bad at holding himself to plans and deadlines and has made a habit of showing up to things late, or not at all. He was actually almost ten minutes late to his definitely-not-a-date and agreed to a second one only because he felt bad about that, and then they never showed up to the second date so Quin went home and carved a little wooden bird statue instead. Her name is Toodle.

Alright, insane ramblings over. This was a lot of fun :D

#levi rambles

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preciouspeterbparker · 4 years

Text

i wish i were

inspired by conan gray’s “heather”

warnings: stepsibling incest (not yet but that’s the whole premise), underage masturbation, underage sex, angst. peter’s like 16 and a half, Tony’s almost 18

word count: 2.2k

summary: peter’s in love with his big brother. no biggie. (spoiler alert: it’s a big deal)

(A/N: okay this has been living in my head rent free for over a month. i've written more, but it's not fully fleshed out yet.

i figured i would post this and see if anyone is interested in reading it before i put a bunch more effort in lmao. this is filth. most of the angst comes later lololol (and more filth).

i hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think / if you'd like to read more!

- bloo)

PART ONE

Peter stands at his locker, desperately trying to blend in and remain unseen as he switches out his English textbook for Physics. The school year is basically over, given that it’s the last week of May but he’s still not comfortable in the junior-senior hallway. He’s always been the youngest (and therefore smallest) kid in most of his classes, given that he’s been in the ‘gifted & talented’ track since middle school. (He’s on track to graduate next year, taking his last few mandatory classes and completing an internship for additional credit.) This year, Peter feels even smaller than usual; maybe because most of the seniors are already eighteen, while as a sophomore, he isn’t even seventeen. He doesn’t have many friends this year, because of it. Ned moved away last summer because his dad got a new job, and, well, he’d never really needed more than Ned before.

“Hey Pete-squeak,” comes a voice from behind, making him jump. Rolling his eyes, Peter pivots slightly to face the newcomer. The infestation of butterflies that he's been harboring for the past few months begins to flutter immediately, tickling the walls of his stomach as his cheeks flush lightly.

The voice belongs to a tall (or, well, taller than Peter, anyway), ridiculously handsome boy with dark hair and dark eyes, walking towards Peter with his hands in his pockets. The cheeky smirk on his face is all but permanent, but the small, genuine smile it slips into is something that Peter holds close to his chest, something that is typically reserved for him.

Tony, his older brother, is pretty much Peter's favorite person in the world. Technically, he’s Peter’s step brother. Maria, his mom, and Peter’s dad Richard got married when Peter was a year old and Tony was almost three. They’d essentially spent their whole lives together; neither of them could really remember anything before. They’ve always been close, but that’s changed a little bit this year.

“Hey Tony,” Peter chirps, reaching back into his locker to grab his physics binder. He tries to act natural, even though he feels anything but. His heart’s going a mile a minute inside his rib cage. He feels a little ridiculous, he has for the past few months. Swallowing, he manages to sound relatively calm. “You read the last 2 chapters of Beowulf, right? Mrs. Herrera gave us a pop quiz last period.”

The older teen groans. Closing his eyes, he throws his head back, a metallic thunk sounding as it collides with the locker he’s leaning back on. “Fucking hell. The final paper is due in like four fucking days! Is that not enough?” It’s quiet for a moment as Tony pauses before he opens one eye, cutting it to look at Peter. “What were the answers?”

Peter snorts in response, shutting his locker. “Not happening, T.” He pulls his phone out of his pocket to check the time and lets the left side of his body rest against the cool metal. Three minutes til the bell rings, and Mr. Riley’s class is right across the hall. So he’s essentially got three minutes to indulge himself and the fuzzy warmth that’s running through his veins. He loves any time he gets to spend with Tony. “You’re lucky I told you at all, be grateful.”

Tony wrinkles his nose at him. “Rude,” he scoffs in mock offense. “I know you can remember them,” comes his teasing accusation. (And he’s right. Peter can recall the entirety of the quiz, but he’s still not going to enable Tony.) Then he pauses and raises an eyebrow at his younger brother. “Is that my sweatshirt?” The garment in question is a worn and slightly faded black Led Zeppelin USA 1977 crewneck sweatshirt. Peter’s wearing it over a charcoal and white check button-up. The sweatshirt is one of Tony’s favorite pieces of clothing, he wears it all the time (hence why Peter...borrowed it...without asking).

Having mentally prepared himself to be questioned at some point, Peter’s reply is already on the tip of his tongue. “Yeah, it ended up in my laundry and once I put it on it was too cozy to take off. And it looks good with these jeans and the button-up. And my boots. Trying out a new look,” he finishes, smiling as he pushes his glasses further up his nose. Tony often teased him about the thick, clear-but-slightly-pink frames, but Peter hadn’t wanted glasses at all (he doesn’t need any more reasons to be teased, thank you), but he likes these. They make him look cute, more feminine. More like someone Tony could want.

“You’re right,” Tony smiles. One of his hands comes up to playfully ruffle at Peter’s russet hair. “Looks great on you, kid.” There’s warm affection in his voice.

Peter feels his cheeks go hot again, and he wills the flush to go away. He can’t take compliments from Tony, now- they make him ache and preen simultaneously. He knows that Tony doesn’t mean it the way he wants. Peter knows that Tony would never speak to him again if he knew what was really going on inside his little brother’s head. The thought makes him sick to his stomach.

Speaking of stomachs. “Hey,” he starts as he fingers through the papers in his physics binder, attempting to find the problem set that’s due today. “Did you ever catch up on Hell’s Kitchen? I’ve been rewatching episodes trying to wait for you, but you’re taking too long. You saw the episode where Gordon-” Peter’s heart falls to his stomach and he abruptly stops speaking when he looks up to notice that Tony isn’t looking at him anymore, barely seems to be listening.

It falls completely out of his ass when he sees just what, just who, has stolen his attention.

“Sorry, Pete, gotta go,” Tony mutters once he realizes that Peter’s stopped talking, shooting him a hasty smile and shoving off the navy metal. He skirts past Peter, a slight skip in his step as he makes his way down the hallway.

Peter's swallows and clenches his jaw as he watches his brother walk straight to her, the bane of his existence. The reason he and Tony don’t spend as much time together anymore. The object of Tony’s affections. Pepper. She's...everything Peter wishes he could be, honestly. Tall, somehow a perfect mix of skinny & curvy, bright blue eyes, long strawberry-blonde hair. She's perfect. And not only in looks; she's also ridiculously smart. If Tony wasn’t valedictorian, she surely would be. She even volunteers at the local soup kitchen every weekend, and Peter’s pretty sure she reads to dogs at the animal shelter once a month. He hates that Pepper is so nice; he hates that he can't hate her without hating himself for it.

As if he didn't have enough self-loathing already.

***

Peter exits the bathroom that connects his bedroom with Tony’s after gently flicking the lock on his brother’s door to disengage it, the soft ‘snick’ ridiculously loud in the quiet of the house. He’s the only one home; Mom and Dad are at some sort of event for Dad’s law firm, and Tony went to a party at Rhodey’s house. (Tony had insisted that Peter was invited, but he had to know that the younger would never go- why would he want to be surrounded by drunk, horny, belligerent teenagers? The last thing he wanted to see was Tony and- )

There’s a dark gray towel loosely wrapped around his waist, so loose he has to clutch it in his hand to keep it from falling. He closes his own bathroom door behind him and drops the towel, digging through his underwear drawer to pull out a random pair of plaid boxers.

After sliding them on, the brunette takes a deep breath and lays back against the pillows, arms behind his head. He tries to consciously relax his muscles, the tension of the day not having melted away during his shower like he had hoped. Time for Plan B. It’s never let him down before. Peter reaches for his phone and unlocks it before swiping through his apps to open Spotify. The sound of “Dazed and Confused” fills the air through his speakers, and he sets it to repeat on a loop. It’s a little fucked up, the way he’s conditioned himself to respond to this song, but- Peter knows the whole thing is fucked up; he’s fucked up.

Closing his eyes, he does the only thing he’s been capable of for months: he thinks of his older brother.

He’s growing fond of the new facial hair Tony’s trying out; he wonders how it would feel against his skin. Which areas would be the most sensitive to its touch? His thighs? His neck? Peter’s head tilts back and to the side as he imagines wet, warm lips and the scratch of stubble. Just the thought, the phantom sensation, makes a soft mewl leave his mouth. It’s a little ridiculous how easy he can get himself going, when he thinks of Tony’s touch, of his body. Of his love. In his boxers, his cock shifts against his thigh as it begins to fill out.

The sensual, plucky bassline and wailing guitars of the song drag along, and so does Peter’s breathing as he brings a hand up to pinch at one of his nipples. He imagines the way Tony would tease him until he was whining, begging for release. He supposes it wouldn’t be dissimilar to his older brother’s typical manner of playfully taunting him. Maybe Tony would pin him down like he did when they were younger, climb on top of him and hold him there with the muscles he’s gained from boxing in the garage. The opportunities he’s had to see the older teen breathing heavy, shirtless and glistening with sweat, would be forever ingrained in his mind. The mental image sends more blood rushing south and his dick throbs as it quickly reaches full hardness, drawing a gasp from his mouth.

Peter takes himself in hand, studying the details of his cock. He knows he’s not huge, but he’s at least on the larger side of average. It’s flushed a deep, mauve-y pink, and he traces the line of a vein on the side with the tip of his pinkie. A shiver shoots down his spine. He wonders how similar it is to Tony’s. Is he circumcised like Peter is? Is he bigger? Longer, thicker even? Sure, he’s seen him naked before, when they were younger changing or in the bath, but that stopped around the time Tony was seven or eight.

(Tony and Peter had come home from school one day, and Peter’s head had been reeling over what he heard some older girls saying on the bus. He’d decided to ask Tony about it. His big brother knew everything. ...Mom & Dad caught them kissing in their bedroom. That was the end of bathing together, and Tony got his own room, too. Peter never forgot about the way his big brother’s lips felt against his own.)

A bead of precum oozes out of his tip and Peter rubs his thumb over it, smearing the liquid over his cockhead. Robert Plant’s voice moans over the speaker and Peter echoes the sound as he slowly strokes himself with a loose grip, his hole tightening around nothing. Biting his lip, he hesitates before slipping his left pointer finger into his mouth, rolling his tongue around it sloppily. Once it’s wet, he reaches down and gently presses the pad of his finger against the tightly furled muscle between his cheeks. His breath hitches as the sensation; he’s only touched himself down here a couple of times before.

The tip of his finger begins to breach his opening and a whine leaves Peter’s mouth. It stings a bit so he tries to relax, muscles fluttering, making a mental note to grab some lube next time he goes to the drugstore. He wants to be able to stretch himself out more, to imagine Tony’s fingers, Tony’s cock, splitting him open and stuffing him full. Fuck-

Tightening his grip on the base of his cock, Peter grits his teeth and grunts softly as he pulls his finger from his ass. He can’t cum yet- he’s not done. He reaches under his pillow, pulling out the balled-up t-shirt that’s taken up residence there. The black fabric has faded in some spots, and the Black Sabbath logo is cracked and worn; it’s one of Tony’s favorite shirts. Peter brings the soft cloth up to his nose, fumbling with it to find the area with the strongest smell. There are hints of Tony’s Old Spice deodorant mixed with a scent that’s distinctly Tony, a warm, masculine musk that has saliva pooling in Peter’s mouth. Delirious, fucking his hand to the beat, he wishes he had dug a little further in the hamper, pulled out a pair of Tony’s briefs.

That’s the thought that does him in. Peter cums into his fist, gasping his brother’s name, the sound getting muddled in the maelstrom of guitar and drums. Thick ropes of jizz splatter on his stomach and chest, entire abdomen heaving with his breaths.

He wipes the mess up with Tony’s t-shirt before tucking the fabric back under his pillow for safe keeping.

to be continued???

#starker #starkercest #peter parker x tony stark #peter x tony #bloo writes bad things (tm)

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love-fireflysong · 3 years

Text

yIt's done. It took me waaaay to long to write this piece out but between June and my computer apparently deciding to kick me in the teeth this month, the fact I made it to 5 full squares completed anyways I will gladly take as a victory! And, just fyi, this WILL be the last piece for this month. I know that there is still another four days left of June, but I am sick and tired of dealing with my keyboard so this is the last fic you're gonna see from me until I get a new laptop hopefully fairly soon. (Unless I decide that I'm desperate enough to try and write things out on my tablet of course...)

Anyways, the First Date trope was specifically requested by @jesus-hotsauce-christmas-cake when I let her know that the one she did guess (road trip) was going to be a second chapter of a twoshot. Which you still might get because I'm very likely going to be sharing the short little summary blurbs I had written down for each trope so people can very easily bully me into writing them anyways if people still wanted to read them. And even though it would be like months and months late, still post them under this bingo board because I can and I had a cool idea for what I was doing with the colours and layout before life decided to say 'NO!' in a very firm voice. (Unless of course the three lovely ladies that came up with this idea in the first place say no obviously)

Rambling over though now I promise. Chocolate Covered Confessions can be read over and AO3 of course, with the full fic also under the readmore as well.

Chocolate Covered Confessions

Trope: First Date Fandom: Until Dawn Characters: Ashley Brown, Chris Hartley Words: 8214 Rating: General (though reader beware there is some almost scandalous hand holding and a couple of scandalously public kisses. You have been warned...) Authors Notes: Oh look, more chrashley fluff. Who da thunk it? Pride month? What pride month? This is just me apparently figuring out how many different ways I can get Chris and Ash to confess their feelings. Because you only read like three of them, I still have another two waiting in the wings. Plus at least three others if you count climbing chrash lol.

Something was...weird. It wasn't something that Ashley could put her finger on just yet, but something was definitely off that was for sure. The problem of course was that she didn't even know where to start looking in the first place, because for the most part her day had been extraordinarily ordinary.

She, Chris, and Josh had planned to go and see a movie Saturday morning a few days back and then hang out the rest of the day. But seeing as they were, you know, best friends that certainly wasn't the issue. Not even close. They always made plans to do stuff like that together. And yeah, okay, so maybe Josh had 'coincidentally' texted them just before the movie started to let them know that something unavoidable had come up and he wasn't going to be able to meet up with them. And when her and Chris had brought up just waiting until a later showing when he was free, he had immediately been quick to affirm that nope, he was going to be busy the whole rest of the day actually. So the two of them could continue with their original plans and they could make it up to him another time.

While certainly suspicious, that wasn't what was wrong though. Josh had been flaking out on their plans more and more, especially when it was plans that took up an entire day. Ashley Brown wasn't stupid. No siree Bob she was not! She knew exactly what Josh was trying to do by leaving her to spend the day with Chris. Alone . And she appreciated it (she really did!), but if Chris was going to make a move then he would have done it ages and ages ago, because she sure as hell wasn't going to do it! Ashley Brown wasn't stupid, but she also wasn't exactly what you would call brave either.

Not that Chris had seemed to notice what Josh was pulling though, he had just sighed and rolled his eyes with a grumbled "fucking typical", and then the two of them had entered the theater to watch the movie. And as per their usual shtick when Josh wasn't there with them, Chris paid for the tickets while she paid for the food and drinks. Or, at least, that was how it normally went. Instead, when she had decided to take a run to the bathroom while he held their spot in the long concession line, she had come back to Chris waiting for her with the pop and popcorn already in hand. After brushing off her flustered apologies, he had explained that shortly after she had left, another cashier had popped on till so the line had gone down in half the time either had expected. And it seemed like a dick move to just wait there until she came back so he had just decided to get the food instead.

She still felt a little guilty about it honestly, even after swearing that she would get both the tickets and food next time.

And, to be completely fair to Josh, he hadn't exactly been missing out on a lot by skipping out on the movie. It wasn't a horror flick (he would never even think of skipping out on that after all) so it wasn't one that he would feel the need to make the two of them watch again with him. Which was more than fine honestly, because if she was to describe the movie in a single word, well, that word would definitely have been 'dreadful'. If she was given a few more words, then she would have easily elaborated and stated that it was 'a boring, plot-hole driven mess, with only extremely over-the-top action scenes and explosions every five minutes to carry any semblance of the extremely loosely written plot'. In other words, she had lost interest in the movie barely half an hour in, and considering that Chris had started scrolling through his phone bored, she wasn't alone in this boat either.

Still, Ashley had resolved herself to sit through this over-budgeted explosion fest if only because movie tickets were horribly expensive. Not to mention the fact that Chris had shelled out money for both the movie and the food. But then he had turned to her, asked if she was as bored to tears as he was, and once he got that confirmation, asked if she wanted to just ditch the movie entirely. And she did—she really, really did—but didn't want Chris to waste the money he had spent more. And then yet another explosion...exploded on screen, and she realized that she was wasting precious hours of her life that could be used to do something more fun and less mind-numbingly boring.

Like watching paint dry. That at least had a semi-cohesive plot.

And so the two of them had walked out, continuing to share the extra buttered popcorn between them (the movie may have been awful, but the popcorn certainly wasn't) as they left the movie theater behind and wandered into the nearby mall. That wasn't the strange thing either. The mall and subsequent window shopping had absolutely been part of their day plans after, even if those had been unexpectedly pushed forward a couple of hours.

Admittedly the art show that the mall was running in one of the empty storefronts was unexpected, but it had been simply a nice surprise and a great way to kill time. So after paying the $2 entrance fee, the two of them had continued to share the popcorn as they looked at some of the paintings and sculptures that had been on display, giggling childishly at most of them. And okay, so one of the curators had been glaring at them( or rather, at their greasy, butter-covered fingers) the whole time, but that had just been a little rude and insulting. Not strange. And that had stopped almost the moment they had run out of popcorn, Ashley nudging him in the stomach with her elbow as she licked her fingers clean, and the two of them laughing under their breaths at the curator who had looked exceptionally much more at ease once Chris had crumpled the empty bag into a ball.

The rest of their day in the mall had just been spent following the rest of their day's plan, wandering from shop to shop and browsing at all the things that caught their eyes, and then taking a break after a few hours to have a late lunch in the food court. The two of them checked out another couple of stores, these ones to try and get some ideas for Josh's birthday in another month, before moving onto the small arcade on the top floor. As part of their deal and agreement since it had just been Josh and Chris (Ashey not joining the duo until five years later), Chris bought the tokens needed while she scouted out the various games for an empty console and claimed it until he could join her in another couple of minutes.

They spent the next hour in there, trying to beat each other or work together depending on the game in question. They almost never played a game twice before moving onto the next one, in hopes to both try as many games as possible before their self imposed hour ended and to see if they could beat their previous high scores or make it onto the leaderboard in only a single try. But as the hour came to a close, they both made their way over to their final game: one of the racing simulators scattered around the arcade. And as had been done for ten years now, played to determine which of them would be paying for the tokens next time they came.

And once the race ended, with Ashley winning by photo finish for the third time in a row (and celebrating her winning streak by maturely sticking out her tongue and doing an awkward little shimmy dance in the seat while Chris jokingly sulked and pouted), they had finally left the mall altogether and got into Chris's truck. There, he had surprised Ashley with the novel she had been eyeing in the bookstore (or at least, eyeing closer than all the rest she had picked up) and that he had somehow been able to buy without her noticing. And that certainly hadn't been weird, because it had been so exceptionally sweet of him, sweet enough that Ashley had so badly wished that she could thank him properly. But as mentioned before, Ashley Brown was a coward pure and simple, so she had just clutched the book to her chest and beamed at Chris in heartfelt thanks instead.

He may have said something in reply, but Ashley had already settled into the passenger seat and opened to the first page of the book, so she was already long gone. A fact that Chris had anticipated, if the light chuckle he had let out before starting the truck meant anything. And no, Ashley reading a book while Chris drove them to their usual game store across town was not the strange thing either. If Chris hadn't wanted her to read on the drive over and talk to him, then he never would have given her the book now of all times. He would have waited until he had dropped her off home, or not even bought the book in the first place. After over a half a decade of friendship, if anyone knew what would happen after giving Ashley Brown a new book, it was Chris Hartley.

The drive over is done quicker then she had expected, and even then Chris still hadn't let her know that they had arrived until she had finished her chapter. Yes he had certainly teased her about it the entire time, joking about how she would never find someone as understanding of her reading habits then him (he didn't know how right he was, that she didn't want to find anyone else), but the fact that he had just continued to let the music play in the truck and distracted himself on his phone was so unbearably sweet that she decided to let it lie.

The fact that Ashley and Chris hung around in the game shop comparing dice and looking at new books while wincing over the prices for nearly two hours wasn't what was off either. Hell, if anything the fact that they only spent a couple of hours there before leaving was weird! Her, Chris, and Josh could easily spend almost half a day in there flipping through comics and rolling dice to test them out, only leaving because a tired employee was forced to ask them to leave for making too much noise and taking up a table when they weren't playing anything, especially when there was a group that had been waiting for a table for close to an hour now.

Which brought Ashley to where she was right now, sitting at a sticky plastic table under the shade of a cheap umbrella while Chris had run off to get them some ice cream before dropping her off at home. Her new book was open in front of her, the pages crisp white even in the umbrella's shade, but her mind wasn't on the book anymore. A random line had a character mentioning that something had been feeling off all day ever since they woke up ('like everything had been moved three centimeters to the left, so while it all looked normal, nothing felt right anymore'), and Ashley had also realized that hey, wait a second, her day was also feeling just a little wonky too! But no matter how hard she thought about it, she couldn't put her finger on exactly what it was. Today had just been a normal day hanging out with Chris after all. They went to see (and bailed) a movie, spent hours hanging out in the mall and at the game store, and now they were each going back home. Nothing unusual had happened, so why did it feel like something hugely monumental had been going on all day?

"Oi. Earth to Ash, you okay in there?"

A light flick to the center of Ashley's forehead has her blink in surprise, and she finds herself back into the present once again. Chris is standing next to her, carefully balancing the two cones in his right hand and his left ready to flick again if needed, and a bemused smile on his face.

"Oh, uh, sorry Chris. Got a little too into the book I think." She closes the book, not wanting to get melting ice cream all over its crisp white pages (and she really hasn't absorbed a single word for nearly ten minutes now), but Chris doesn't hand her the cone just yet.

"Yeah, I'm not buying that," Chris says as he snorts in disbelief. "I know your 'praise be to books' look, and that was not it. That was your 'head full, too many thoughts' look."

"Excuse me? What? I do not have a reading look! Or a thinking look for that matter!"

"Oh you do. You really, really do. Trust me. You may have been staring at that book but there was no way that you were reading, I would bet my own ice cream here on it." Chris brandishes his double chocolate cone at her, then seems to reconsider and switches to show off her own dipped soft serve that he still has yet to actually let her eat. "Actually, you know what? I would eat your dipped monstrosity if I'm wrong."

Ashley sighs, but she can't keep the smile from her face. "It's not that bad this time, oh my god. It's chocolate ice cream dipped in blueberry syrup. This is actually a normal combination for people who go out of their way to order more exciting cones then two scoops of chocolate." She leans forward and places her elbows on the table to support her head in her hands. "But I wanna see you do it anyway, so tell me exactly why you're so convinced that I wasn't reading."

Chris opens his mouth, but immediately closes it a second later, as though he didn't realize exactly what he had signed himself up for here until now. Ashley of course takes it as a sign of victory. "I knew it. So let's see this Chris, I wanna see you eat something that isn't—"

"When you read you get, like, super attentive." Chris's face is pink, and not looking at her but at the book on the table as he bashfully continues. "You become so drawn in to whatever you're reading that you ignore everything going on around you, because all of your attention is now on that book. Pretty sure a bomb could go off right next to you and you wouldn't even notice sometimes. And it's always so easy to tell what's happening in the book when you're reading too, cause your face is always so expressive. Like your eyes get big when something exciting or surprising happens, and when you're really enjoying whatever it is you're reading, you start giggling like a loon."

Ashley is too stunned and, quite frankly, her heart is beating too fast for her to even think of a proper response to that . She manages to squeak out a quiet little "oh, um" but Chris doesn't notice. Not when he's still babbling and not looking at her at all.

"But when you get deep in thought, you're not like that at all. All of your attention goes inward, and everything around you disappears cause all the important stuff is going on inside your head right now. Your mouth falls open just a little, sort of like you're gaping at all the information in front of you. And-and sometimes you'll mouth out what's going on inside your head as you try to fit the pieces of everything together so it's neat and tidy like a puzzle. And even though you have the, like, blankest stare imaginable, it's not empty at all if that makes any sense. Cause your eyes narrow and your forehead scrunches just the tiniest amount so you have a small little wrinkle form like right here—" with his unoccupied hand Chris points at the bridge of his nose right between his eyes "—and it's weirdly, insanely cute? But when you finally figure out the puzzle in your head, your face lights up like a kid on christmas morning and...and..." He lets his words trail off and stops awkwardly there, as though finally realizing exactly what he's been saying this entire time.

His face is almost beet red now, and Ashley is pretty sure hers is too. "Oh, uh, wow. I-I didn't realize you paid any attention to me when I was like that..."

Somehow his face only gets redder, and though he mumbles the words under his breath, Ashley can still make them out. "I'm always paying attention to you."

But not close enough attention it seems, she thinks sadly. If you did then you would have noticed something way more obvious than that. But she doesn't want to embarrass him anymore than he already is (then she already is), and she isn't sure what else she could possibly say that wouldn't be her blurting out that she likes him, so instead she pretends that she hadn't heard a single thing and wordlessly accepts the ice cream that he hands to her, accepting her defeat as she takes a small bite of the blueberry covered chocolate soft serve.

...The blueberry covered chocolate soft serve that he had bought for her. Or, you know, the ice cream he had paid for himself. Just like he had paid for everything today. Kind of like it was almost a, uh, date. Like he had taken her on a date.

Oh .

"Oh boy, let me guess: I was right and your ice cream really is a crime against taste buds?"

Ashley comes crashing back down to reality to see Chris, his face still a little red but the playful smile back on his face as he teased her. And yet, that only makes it worse as she can't help but feel the usual gymnastics routine the butterflies in her stomach perform at that particular smile, only they're a thousand times worse now that's she's realized exactly why today had felt so strange. And she can't help thinking how much everyone else would classify what was just a day hanging out with her best friend as a date. And how much she really, really wished it was one.

"Nope," she unfortunately squeaks out, and clears her throat so she can continue in a more normal tone of voice. "Nope, sorry to disappoint Chris, but the ice cream tastes fine." She takes another bite for proof (and to her credit she's not lying, it tastes more than fine). "Just, uh, realized something funny that's all." And the moment the words leave her mouth she realizes just how badly she's screwed everything up, because there is no way in any world that Chris Hartley is just going to let that comment lie.

"Funny? Oho, well now I'm interested. You mind sharing your glorious epiphany with the rest of the class Miss Brown?"

Taking another small taste of her ice cream, Ashley averts her gaze as she gives what she is kicking herself for is obviously an extremely forced laugh. "Did I say funny? I meant boring, just super boring actually."

"Well now I just want to hear it more."

"No, you don't. Trust me, you really, really don't."

Chris's brows furrow in concern. "Ash? You okay?"

She isn't, of course she isn't. She's now realized exactly what a date with Chris would be like, and it would be exactly like this. With them going to all the same place and doing the same things but she's allowed to hold his hand and kiss him when he does stupid sweet things like buying her the book she's been eyeing and talking about all day. She's never wanted something to be so true so badly in her life. And it's likely this thought in her mind that causes her to blurt out "A date." before she even realizes what she's said.

That only makes the confusion on Chris's face go deeper, which is appropriate considering she's sinking deeper and deeper into her chair in a futile effort to hide or escape as well. "What? Are you saying that you just remember what date it is today? Or that you had something you were supposed to do today instead? I'm not really following you right now Ash..."

This is perfect. It's the perfect excuse, she could laugh and say that she totally forgot what day it was and that she had an essay due pretty soon, or that she was supposed to babysit for a neighbour tonight. Anything really, the sky was quite literally the limit. And instead she just bit her lip and stared at the ice cream melting in her hand before weakly admitting "No, a, uh, date. As in, the romantic kind. I realized that today probably looks like a date to anyone else. Funny, huh?"

She's not sure how Chris would react to that. Maybe a startled laugh, and hand wave as he brushes her off. A scoff as he assures her that this definitely isn't a date, cause they're just friends and that's all they'll ever be. Whatever the reaction she expected, it was certainly not the fumbling for his ice cream as he nearly drops it in his shock, and how absolutely flustered he sounds as he trips over his own tongue. "W-what? I-I-I, uh—I mean, th-this obviously isn't—Who would even—? Wh-what would even give you the idea that we could um, possibly be on a date?"

Ashley shrugs weakly. "Isn't it obvious Chris?" She ignores his even more flustered babbling that no, he absolutely did not see what was so obvious as she continued on, still too nervous to look him in the eyes. "You've kind of paid for everything today."

"I wha—? I mean, no I haven't!"

"You kind of have, Chris. The theater?"

"You know I always pay for the tickets, and it would have just been really rude to make the line even longer!"

"The art show?"

"It was just a couple of toonies! And you saw the face of the worker there, they would have kicked us right out if they'd had to break a twenty. It was just easier."

"Lunch?"

"They-they'd had a special on for a two-person meal at that stall in the food court, and they wouldn't let each of us pay half..." he neglected to point out that Ashley could have easily paid for their lunch, and probably should have, but before she had been able to offer he'd already been swiping his debit card.

"The arcade?"

"Okay, that was my turn to buy the tokens, you know that. That one doesn't even count."

Ashley lifted her eyes from the ice cream to the book that sat menacingly and innocently all at one at the center of the table, it's pristine cover mocking her. "The book?"

"T-that was just a gift! You seemed really into it at the store and friends buy each other gifts all the time—"

There was no describing how soft and nervous her voice got as she asked the question that would put the final nail in the coffin. "The ice cream?"

"I, uh, it was just—um..." Chris let out a breath in a weak chuckle. "Shit, I guess I kind of did, huh?"

Ashley doesn't say anything, and neither does Chris, as the table goes silent. She's bracing herself for when Chris inevitably shoots her down and confirms that it doesn't matter. That the two of them will never be anything more then friends and that she never should have hoped for anything more and by revealing this she's ruined their friendship for good—

"Hey, uh, Ash?" He sounds so nervous that it immediately takes Ashley out of her anxiety driven thoughts of doom and gloom, but she can't do anything more than just shakily nod to let him continue. "It's, uh, probably like a really, really, really stupid question but—" he takes a nervous breath "—did you want this to be a date?"

Her head immediately shoots up as she stares at him with wide eyes, her breath caught somewhere in her throat where her heart is currently lodged. She frantically rakes her eyes over Chris's face looking for any hint that he's mocking her, or playing some cruel joke on her and her feelings, but all she sees is just nervousness all over a pale, shaking face with what she thinks ( prays ) is a glimmer of undisguised hope. But it's still too much uncertainty, and she's too scared to risk it all on a mere glimmer that she is likely only imagining because she wants it so badly to be real, so she throws the question back at him instead.

"...would you have been opposed if this was actually a date?"

"Nuh uh, I asked you first."

Ashley realizes that he's just as scared at what the answer might be as she is. She wants to tell him, has wanted to tell him for years and years and years. And maybe this is the chance she's been waiting for her whole life. The two of them sitting at a sticky plastic table under the early evening sun, long forgotten ice cream melting in their hands, and she can finally tell him that she's had such a huge crush on him since she was twelve.

"Yeah." The word is less choked out than it is released. Like it's a breath of fresh air and she feels simultaneously lighter and heavier for it. "I-I think I would have liked that. I would have liked that alot."

Chris snaps his gaze up to meet hers, and the glimmer of hope that she had seen earlier has now nearly taken over his face at the disbelieving smile that's threatening to crack his face in two. "Really? I-I mean, uh, I would have been alright with the idea too. More than alright actually."

She can feel her own smile start to nervously match his, and then the first giggle breaks out. His own ecstatic laughter quickly follows her own until the two of them are both giddily laughing at the table, but too embarrassed and bashful to even look at each other now. The giggling abruptly cuts off when Chris lets out a yelp of surprise when he realizes how much of his ice cream has melted onto his hand and Ashley joins him in trying to finish off their ice cream before it's melted entirely. But there's definitely a change in the atmosphere around them now. The contentness and laid back ease that always formed between them whenever they hung out was still there, but there is a charge that hadn't been there before either. An excited anticipation that only surges higher and higher whenever Ashley shyly glances in Chris's direction to find he's looking at her with the same disbelieving smile beaming on his face.

They never say anything more about it as they both finish off the ice cream, but Ashley knows. With that little agreement, the entire day had changed. This wasn't just them hanging out as friends anymore, this was an actual, factual date now, pure and simple. So when Chris hands her a couple of extra napkins to clean herself off, she may have let her fingers brush against his for just a moment. The resulting blush and dumbstruck smile on his face when he cautiously took his hand back so he could clean up the rest of the mess on the table was oh so worth it. And when he returned from his trip to the garbage can and held out his hand as an offer to help her up from the chair, she accepted it readily.

Once she's back on her feet, the two of them drop their eyes to stare at their still clasped hands, realizing that they could easily hold hands the entire short walk back to Chris's truck if they wanted. And she does want that—horribly in fact—but it seems it's still a little too early for either of them to make that teeny tiny but monumental jump to hand holding so they let go awkwardly and slowly, letting their fingers linger against the others before letting go completely. As though giving themselves a taste of what may yet actually come to pass in the (hopefully) very near future.

The short walk back to the truck is filled with both anticipation and dread alike, but unusually silent. Ashley knows it's because she's now a buzzing ball of nervous energy, terrified that saying anything at all will shatter this dream that's apparently coming true before her eyes, but Chris is different. He looks more like he's trying to work up the courage to say or ask something, and is spending all his energy on that alone. So when he reaches out to open up the passenger side door for her, Ashley can feel her heart pick up speed when he stops with his hand on the door handle and looks at her nervously. His mouth opens and shuts a couple of times as he tries to work up the courage to say whatever it is he wants to say, and all she can do is stare at him expectantly as she struggles to hold back an excited smile.

"Hey, Ash, ca—nevermind. It's, it's stupid. Don't worry about it." A second later, he has the door opened for her and the moment she can't see his face, she lets her smile fall crestfallen. But only for a second before a polite one replaces it as thanks when he closes the door for her and continues to his side of the truck. It's fine, she supposes as she buckles herself in, while the two of them have been hanging out all day, it's only been an actual date now for barely ten minutes. And once he drops her off home in just another few short minutes it's going to be over. The fact that she even managed to get this far is franky mind blowing, so expecting anything more from her dreams would just be extremely selfish. She can't have everything she wants all at once, no matter how long she's been waiting for it.

The drive back to her place is also quiet, filled with only the droning of the radio playing in the background. Ashley's returned back to her book, but she knows that Chris knows that she's not absorbing a single word, hasn't turned a single page even. She keeps glancing at him out of the corner of her eye as he nervously taps at the steering wheel, and then tightening his grasp when it looks like he's going to say something, only to return to the nervous tapping when he inevitably backs out at the last second and returns to the frantic pep talk he's likely giving himself. The air that fills the vehicle is heavy and thick with anticipation and it's taking almost everything in Ashley to not start shaking the question out of Chris at every red light they stop at.

But, eventually, they pull up in front of her place and Chris stops the truck. There's a moment where the two of them just sit there, not wanting to leave because leaving means the end, and Ashley schools her face into a cheery smile in an effort to hide as much of the disappointment as she can when she turns to face him and bid him farewell, only to have it fall to confusion when he starts fumbling at his own seatbelt.

"Chris? What are you doing?"

He struggles further at it, frustrated that the buckle's apparently decided that now is the perfect time for it to stick once again. "Trying to get this fucking thing off."

"Yeah, I figured that much. But why are you trying to take it off, you're just gonna leave right away again anyway."

He slows his fumbling as cheeks start darkening in embarrassment. "I, uh, I just thought that was something you were supposed to do after a date, walk them to their door to stay goodnight. I mean, at least I think this is a date now? And, and only if you're okay with it! I can stay in here instead if you don't want me to. I was just hoping..."

The once forced cheery smile on her face is certainly not being forced any longer, if anything she's trying not to show how much the idea of Chris walking her to her door thrills her. "N-no!" Well, so much for trying not to show how desperately she wants that. The startled look he gives her at the unexpected outburst had her trying to control her voice into something less desperate, but considering she doesn't think she's ever going tame the frantic butterflies that have been flapping around non-stop in her stomach ever since the ice cream realization, she's probably doing a terrible job of it. "I-I mean if you want to, it's completely up to you after all..."

"Cool. Cool cool cool. Just, just give me a second." He continues to struggle with his seatbelt buckle, letting out more and more agitated curses escape the longer the thing continues to stick, and Ashley is getting the feeling that if he was able, Chris would have ripped the entire thing straight out of the seat by now. Broken safety laws and ensuing repair costs be damned. The moment he finally manages to unstick the traitorous buckle it's with a cry of victory and relief so exuberant that Ashley finds herself laughing in disbelief and awe that he had wanted to walk her the short ten or so feet to her front door that badly. Thankfully, for both of them, her seatbelt unclicks easily and much more quickly in comparison, only taking another couple of seconds to grab her bag from the footwell and joining him.

The far too short walk up to her door is over before either of them realize it. One second the two of them had been standing awkwardly and nervously by the truck as she fought the urge to reach out and grab his hand, and the next they're standing just as awkwardly and nervously (if not moreso) in front of the front door. Both of them waiting for the other to say or do something to break the tension, but cleanly aware that doing so would signal the very final end of the day, and the date. In fact, just knowing that Chris doesn't want this to end just as badly as her, is what gives her the courage to look at him with a surprisingly heartfelt and soft smile.

"Today was fun."

Chris lifts his eyes from where they had been staring at the dried leaves on the doorstep to match her smile. "Yeah. It was."

"And thanks. For the movie, and everything else." Ashley raises her hand to give the new and still shiny paperback a small wave. "And, you know, the book too. Of course."

"Yeah, it was no problem. Anytime." There's something with how he says the last bit—not really emphasizing it but making it clear all the same that he means 'anytime'—that causes her face to flush giddily as she pulls her lower lip in between her teeth in a weak effort to fight back against the ecstatic smile that forms anyway. And when she sees his eyes lower just a smidge to follow the motion and the way his shoulders stiffen in reaction, Ashley very quickly also finds she's trying (much more successfully) to hold herself back from just saying 'to hell with it' and throwing her arms around Chris so she can finally kiss him silly and until they're both breathless. But considering that she's too much of a coward to initiate something as innocent as hand holding apparently, there is absolutely no way that something as...as scandalous as kissing him on her doorstep is ever going to happen. Clearly.

And yet, she gives Chris another few seconds to try and work past that blockade in his throat, but when he still can't muster a single word, she decides to just put the both of them out of their misery. Or further into it. It's probably just the same thing really. "I guess I'll see you next time. I'll talk to you later, okay?" She turns away and puts her hand on the doorknob, and tucks the book under her arm so she can dig into her bag for keys, but is stopped when Chris's hand abruptly snakes out and wraps itself firmly around her wrist before she can reach into the bag. And it works—boy does it ever —turning back to him and the hand wrapped around her wrist as excitement just starts to bubble up inside of her.

A second later though, his brain has apparently caught up with the movement he clearly hadn't intended to make, because his face goes beet-red and he's dropped her hand so he can shove both into the pockets of his jeans. He averts his eyes so he's back to staring at the loose gravel and dried leaves under their feet.

"Oh, uh, sorry about that. I didn't mean to..."

"It's fine, Chris." Ashley tries to smile softly at him in reassurance, but it's considering she's gripping the doorknob in an almost vice-like grip in anticipation, it's likely far more eager than she would like. "What is it?"

Somehow, his face goes even redder and he blurts out the question so fast that it may as well have been one word. "CanIkissyou?!"

Immediately, Ashley's gaping at him wide-eyed and her mouth open in shock as her heart's beating so fast that she's pretty sure it's ready to burst out of her chest at any moment. "Wha—"

"I-I mean goodnight. Can I kiss you goodnight? That's what people are supposed to do on dates, right? A-a-a-and I think we agreed that this is a date now, or at least I really, really hope we did. Cause I've wanted to go on a date with you for the longest time and-and-and I didn't want Saundra or-or-or any of your neighbours to see cause I know that would just really embarrass you and me but I've been trying to ask you for the past thirty minutes now cause I've wanted to kiss you since forever but I was scared about how you would react cause I really, really, really like you Ash and I just wanna to kiss you so fucking bad right now you have no idea and—"

Ashley would like to believe that she's brave enough to throw her arms around Chris and drag him down into that searing kiss she's been dreaming about forever and ever, but she doesn't. Even with a confession that is everything she's ever wanted to hear and more. That's not to say that she doesn't want to do it—god does she want to do it—but she's so frozen in place from shock that she physically can't. So instead she just continues to gape at him as he (adorably) rambles on and on, and giggles out an elated little "okay".

His nervous rambling stops dead in its tracks, and he finally looks back up at her, nervous relief evident all over his face. "Really? I mean, are you sure? I'd understand if you didn't want to—"

" Chris ."

That immediately shifts the relief to a different kind of nervousness entirely, one of excited disbelief, but even then neither move to actually initiate this promised kiss for several seconds. Instead just staring at each other waiting for the other to be the first to move, Chris with his hands still in his jeans pockets and Ashley glued to the doorknob with her other hand frozen as it hovers over her bag. Finally, Chris is the first to slowly bend down to meet her awkwardly half turned body, and she unsteadily tries to rock herself onto the tips of her toes without losing her balance completely and falling over. And still, they both pause about an inch away from each other's faces, though whether to give the other an out if needed or just to work through the logistics of how to do this exactly without their foreheads or noses smashing into each other or Chris's glasses getting in the way is anyone's guess.

But finally, mainly due to the fact that Ashley can't lean forward anymore without falling completely on her face, Chris closes that final bit of distance and kisses her. It's a nervous brush of the lips really—a quick peck at best —but they jolt back from each other so quickly that the single action may as well have activated some hidden magnetic repel function that neither had been aware of until this moment. Both of them are staring at each other wide-eyed and breathless as the magnitude of what they had both finally managed to accomplish hit them. The kinda-sort confession and the almost hand holding meant absolutely nothing in comparison to this. Those she could have (and would most likely have) brushed off as her reading too much into innocent statements and gestures when she thought over everything that had happened today in the safety of her room later tonight. But this? This was physical proof .

Looking back, Ashley's not sure which of them moved first. One second they had been staring at each other in disbelief, stuck in the same awkward bent and leaning stature from before, and the next it's as if the magnetic attraction between them reverses its flow entirely. Chris is cupping her cheek with one hand as he kisses her in the way she always dreamed he would, his other hand slowly skating across the back of her neck so he can pull her up closer to him. The book that had once been clutched protectively under her arm was completely forgotten about—fallen to the ground with a sharp crunch as it crushed the dried leaves beneath their feet—as her arms wrapped possessively around his shoulders as she props herself as high as the tips her toes will allow her. She can still taste a hint of the chocolate from earlier on his lips, and the small part of her that isn't being blown away by all of this is wondering if he can taste the blueberry and chocolate on hers as well.

She's not sure how long the two of them stood there on her doorstep, kissing for all the world to see, but she does know that they still separate much, much too soon for her liking. Not that they fully separate of course. She may be back on the soles of her feet, but neither of them have removed themselves from the embrace itself. And with the way that Chris is lightly brushing his thumb over her cheekbone as he just stares at her with the same stupidly giddy grin she's got, Ashley would be perfectly fine if they could just stay standing like this forever.

"So..." she starts, and stops to take a moment to giggle when Chris bumps his nose into hers. "I think that was a perfectly acceptable first date if you ask me."

Chris doesn't let go of her when he leans back to consider her, the comically raised eyebrows in shock doing nothing to take away from the absolutely thrilled beam of his smile. " First date? Why Miss Brown, are you perhaps asking me out for a second one already?"

"I mean, if it's not too presumptuous of me, I suppose I am. I-if you're not opposed to it of course." She can't help the way her nervousness starts to bleed through with that last sentence, already panicking that she's somehow completely misread everything that's just happened and that maybe that kiss didn't mean as much to him as it did to her after all.

His next words completely derail those fears entirely. "Of course I'm not, I would love nothing more than to go on a second date with you. Followed by a third and fourth and even a fifth if you have the time for it."

"I mean, I'm a pretty busy girl but I think I can open up as many days in my schedule as it takes if I need to."

Before she knows it, the two of them are leaning in for another kiss when the sound of pot being dropped in the nearby kitchen through the open window jarringly brings them back to reality and the two of them let go of each other red faced and embarrassed. Oh no, how much of this had her mother heard? Or worse, saw? She wants to leave the doorstep (which is rapidly becoming her favourite place in the whole entire world) even less now, but the longer she takes the worse the excited interrogation from Saundra will be so she starts digging back into her bag to try and find her keys once again.

"I'll text you later, okay? And, maybe, we can talk some more about that second date...?"

The reply from Chris is flustered but eager. "Yeah, totally. I-I wouldn't miss it for the world."

"Cool. And um, the next one's one me. The date that is. It's only fair after all."

"Yeah, right. Only fair. Totally. And, uh, your book..."

She finally finds her keys from where they had sunk to the bottom of her bag, and looks up at him and the paperback book that had fallen during their, uh, intimate embrace. "Oh! Uh, right. Thanks." She could easily leave it at that, but the last few minutes have made her bold so when she reaches out to take the book back from him, Ashley curls her fingers over his and bounces onto the balls of her feet so she can give him one last kiss on his cheek—almost the corner of his mouth really—before finally stepping back with the book and keys in her hand. "I mean it. Thanks . For everything."

"Yeah. No problem. It was my pleasure."

She lets herself have one last glimpse of the stupefied grin on his face just as he turns to walk just a little unsteadily down the path back to his truck. The only sounds being the leaves crushing underfoot and the jangle of metal as she sticks her keys into the door to finally unlock it. A sound that it quickly interrupted by not only the click of the door unlocking, but a muffled shout.

Alarmed, she turns quickly expecting to see Chris having accidentally shut his coat into the door as he is sometimes known to do when the weather gets colder, but instead watches in elated shock as he continues to keep energetically flapping his arms and fist pumping into the air and screaming what she can vaguely make out as 'yesyesyesyesYESYESYES' over and over again.

Suddenly it hits her. Despite the shy confession over ice cream, and then the much more rushed and rambled one only minutes ago, and followed by the kiss(es) that are still sending her heart into rapid fire, Ashley still hadn't believed what all the evidence had been saying. Chris liked her. He really, really liked her. Possibly as much as she liked him even! This wasn't just a one-off event that would now make things awkward between them for the rest of their lives. This was happening. They'd just had a first(!!!!) date and after Chris had kissed her goodbye, she had asked him out for a second one.

And he had accepted .

Ashley fumbled with the door and the moment she was in the house, slammed the door behind her, not even bothering to lock it. She let her bag fall from her shoulder to the floor with a soft thump and slowly slid down the door until she was sitting against it with her eyes wide and breathless. She ignored the surprised clatter coming from the kitchen as Saundra immediately dropped whatever it was she had been doing in and held up the book so she could stare at the once innocuous cover in amazement.

He had bought her this book and the ice cream because he liked her and he had gladly and excitedly accepted to go out on another date with her. And even more if he had been serious about that third date and beyond line.

And not that either would ever know it, Ashley mirrored Chris at that exact moment by placing her head into her hands and screaming as the built up joy and bliss finally exploded out of her.

#pride month prompt challenge #my writing #until dawn #chris hartley #ashley brown #chrashley #take two of trying post this stupid thing!#tumblr deleted the last one >:(#but this one actually copied over the italics so that saves me a shit ton of time if im being honest

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boop-le-snoot · 4 years

Text

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 16

First time reader click here

Summary/TWs: Trouble is brewing. Canon-typical violence, graphic descriptions of wounds and Clint whump. Bad, terrible, no-good medical accuracy. Aliens. Reader is an anxious genius with low self-esteem and PTSD. ✨spicy sadness✨

From now on, chapters will be posted un-beta-ed. She's taking a lil break. 💖💝✨

I liked to think I had made peace with the fact that my boys and girls had one hell of a dangerous job. Natasha, Clint, Steve and Bucky frequently left for missions and while I missed their usual bickering in the background, it wasn't like the tower's common room became absolutely quiet. The fact that they mostly did recon-only missions helped, too, as they would come home unharmed and in one piece. The worry was there but subtle - like setting the table and including silverware for the people who were gone on a mission.

Peter's patrols went less smoothly, usually. He was small and even in his spider-suit, the boy was frequently underestimated by common thugs. Apparently, they didn't know how to read the news - it was blatantly obvious the hero was enhanced. And yet somehow, Pete more often than not sported all sorts of bruises, scratches and tears.

Tony and I routinely tore out our hair over the spiderboy's carelessness. The engineer had a funny way of showing he cared for Peter. Once I got to know him better, my brain dubbed them as Irondad and Spiderson. And it wasn't weird at all, somehow, that I was basically fucking my best friend's dad. Tony never made me uncomfortable, if anything, he went to great lengths to accommodate my whims. Tony continuously found time for me, answered my dumb questions and soldiered through the shenanigans I got up to after having too much caffeine and too little sleep.

Sitting in the quiet, empty common room was unnerving. It was shortly after dinner time - the evening news skipped their usual political debate in favour of the battle that was raging downtown, the reason for my headache and wrung hands.

I missed Tony's running mouth. The aliens the team was fighting looked quite hilarious, murderous intentions aside, and I could only imagine the way Tony and Clint would mock them. Hentai rejects. Tentacle porn knock-offs. The aliens were squid-like, about half the size of a human and very, very slippery, from what I spied on the TV.

An irritated-looking Stephen had me equal parts apprehensive and drooling - one after another, he conjured up a series of small portals, teleporting the aggressive octopods only god knew where. It would have looked incredibly badass if not for the exhausted sheen of sweat I could see on his brow, even despite the camera footage being shaky and grainy.

The news footage showed Tony - Iron Man, soaring contentedly through the darkening skies and taking out the squirmy mass of tentacles with his plasma beam repulsors. Steve and Bucky and Loki appeared too, sporadically, being well-oiled murder machines. Nothing new.

Yet, I worried. The little worm of doubt was squirming full-force. I tried to ignore it, yet pacing, sitting and playing Candy Crush got me nowhere. I pestered Friday to order pizza, the team's usual post-mission order plus a large one for me - stress-eating was better than stress-popping-molly in a tower full of superheroes. It took some courage to admit to myself I'd gotten attached enough to be this much from running away from all that in a blind panic.

And it would be the best option for them, really, because they had much sensible things to worry about than me. Yet every time, my selfishness won against even the most logical arguments I presented. I hated fighting myself but it was all I did - not only I was in love with Tony, I loved him.

Even when he forgot about my existence for five days, to emerge from his workshop with a new piece of tech that revolutionised one or another or something else. I loved him when he annoyed the ever living fuck out of everybody, me included, because I knew that it was hilarious to see people getting riled up over totally trivial shit. I loved Tony Stark when he ran away from his feelings, and everybody else's, because he never managed to run far enough. Or he didn't want to. I loved him, because he was like a multilayered puzzle, complex and captivating and beautiful.

I thought a lot about it, more than people would have noticed. For someone as selfish and goal-oriented as me, Tony lived in my head rent-free most of the time. And nobody would find out if I had the choice because let's face it, I'm a short cameo in his life. I'm a fuckin' catch and even then, I can't expect to hold his attention forever. His genius is too brilliant to settle for one when he could easily have the whole damn world.

Another hour consisted of me pacing and accompanying the pizza delivery boys to the common floor. It was hilarious - they were obviously star-struck about walking the same carpet as their heroes. I could see the faint hope of meeting one of the Avengers in their eyes, their posture. All they got was me - in my sweatpants, Tony's tee and no bra. My tits got the attention they deserved, at least.

My lounging was interrupted by a golden circle noisily appearing in the middle of the room, followed by Clint abruptly falling through it with a pained moan. I froze, the pizza in my mouth turning to ash - Strange poked his head through the hole in space, finding my eyes. He looked exhausted.

"Help him, I don't have much time," He breathed and disappeared, closing the portal behind himself.

The pizza piece flew back in the box as I stumbled, jumped over the headrest, kneeling beside Clint in no time. "Bird, tell me what hurts," I demanded. Not that I had a clue what to do. I mean, I knew basic first aid and...

"My leg," He gritted out, curling in on himself. Fear flooded me, limbs turning to lead. Hawk had a good pain tolerance, I knew he could break an arm and not utter a single syllable until he thought it safe to showcase his vulnerability. "That squid motherfucker stung me, I don't know. My whole body is on fire," His speech was slurred.

I nodded, deciding to limit the touching to only the necessary actions. The leg of his pants was torn and the wound itself was shaped like a whip mark, thin and red and angry. It oozed a yellowish pus-like substance, it smelled bitter, almost like stale water and seaweed salad. I didn't know much about aliens but jellyfish stings, I could work with. A short Google check later, I had an approximate plan.

"Friday, run diagnostics." I ordered, taking a deep breath and filing away the fear, the panic and anxiety for later.

"Mr. Barton has a wound that appears to be contaminated with an unknown chemical that is causing an adverse reaction. The elevated body temperature suggests that his immune system is fighting it. I would suggest a blood test to examine the offending specimens."

A blood draw? I could do that. I definitely, absolutely, could do that.

"Bird, Clint, did you hear that?" I gently touched his shoulder only for him to recoil from my hand, muttering unintelligibly. "Pretty bird, I'm going to help you. Let me." My bedside manner needed improvement - with brain running a mile a minute, I babbled utter nonsense as Friday directed me to the needed supplies. Getting the blood was a feat on it's own - I had to physically sit on top of Clint to get but a tiny vial of the red liquid.

A few tears escaped the emotional fortress I had to build within myself. Clint was in so, so much pain - pain I was inadvertently making worse by touching him. I sprinted to Bruce's lab, feeding the sample to be analysed by Friday, tearing through the room in a hurricane. First aid kit, IV, saline, antibiotics. Restraints, too, just in case.

"Analysis complete. The contaminant appears to be acting similarly to a parasitic infection with a short life-span. Primarily feeds on copper, iron and various metals contained in the human body. Does not appear to reproduce or multiply, my algorithms cannot determine the cause of said behaviour. Calculating..." Friday's mechanical voice paused. "I have calculated the approximate duration of Mr. Barton's symptoms. Onset of critical stage in one to three hours. Complete extinction of parasitic organisms in approximately sixty hours."

"Fri, do you think I have a chance of saving Clint before he goes crazy from pain? And have you figured out what's causing it?" My brain was all over the place.

"I have the best faith in you, miss." The AI sounded almost... Comforting? "I am still running multiple diagnostics. My algorithms suggest the organisms may be attacking the nerve endings - reason unclear."

An idea struck me. A crazy, brash, absurd idea. The pathogen was alien and we didn't have antibiotics to kill it. Even if I gave Clint some sort of medicine, it could go awry really really quickly. Besides, wasn't there a medical team for this..?

"Friday, alert the medical suite."

"Request denied. Per Mr. Stark's protocols, only Sir himself and Dr. Banner are authorized to request medical assistance in case of alien pathogen contamination."

"Fuck. Fuck, that makes no fuckin' sense!" I yelled helplessly. "Okay, do you have blood matching Clint's type laying around?" I asked sarcastically. This protocol pissed me off. What was Tony scared of? That someone would steal alien germs? Too late for that, there were plenty of samples all over the sidewalks downtown.

"A-positive, blue refrigerator, top shelf." Friday's answer was curt.

My hands shook. My whole body shook. Clint was laying in fetal position right where I'd left him and the man wasn't looking better - he became paler, dark circles under his eyes, clammy sweat breaking on every exposed part of his skin. Moving him was out of the question - Clint violently recoiled from me once I tried to touch him.

Reluctantly, I dragged the dining room chairs and piled up whatever heavy things I could on top of them, praying to every god that they would hold a trained man trash around in pain. Then, came the restraints. Belts with clips unlike one could see in a movie with a psych ward. I fumbled with them, then with Clint - very slowly, but I got both of his arms fastened and the man rolled onto his back.

"Wwhat... S'appening..?" Hawk finally slurred, cracking his eyes to see my (probably) disheveled and panicked face.

"This is going to hurt, I won't lie. A lot," I rambled, setting up the tools needed for both a blood draw and a blood transfusion. "I'm not a doctor. I'm not a scientist. You have alien parasites in your blood. I'm going to get rid of em," I announced, not mentioning the fact that I had to Google all the things I was going to do to him.

"S'okay, I trust you," Clint slurred again, moving about much more weakly than before. The tips of his fingers began to turn blue and the blood vessels on his face stood out in a pink-purple web. Not good.

My finest thinking moment: laying out some tarp around the archer and putting on gloves and a mask to minimize the possibility of getting infected. I started with the wound first, carefully wiping away the yellowish goop and immediately sealing it into a biohazard container. Some alcohol around the edges, the wound began emanating a faint wisp of smoke as Clint yelled hoarsely. I didn't even react - man, aliens and their germs were fuckin' weird.

Another biohazard container traveled next to Clint's arm. I had a disposable scalpel in one hand and my courage in another - it was now or never. The vein I was cutting was a minor one, but with Clint's body in total disarray, it was an ugly fountain of pinkish-purple liquid that spurted from it. I was no doctor but blood shouldn't have looked like that.

I stared at the timer on my phone. Twenty seconds, thirty, fifty. Eighty seconds, the blood was beginning to have more of a red hue. Clint's breathing slowed, tremors subsiding by a smidgen. One hundred and eighty seconds, the stream was a healthy deep red colour. With a swift motion, I wrapped up the wound, folded his arm, tied off the blood flow higher up his arm with a spare restraint. Clint wasn't moving much anymore; my hand that periodically checked his pulse shook but dutifully did it's job. His heart was working steady.

Compared to having to drain a friend of his blood, setting up the IV with a transfusion was a walk in the park. My mind was empty of any thoughts but for the actions needed to complete the process.

The container with contaminated blood, closed, sealed and put in a plastic bag, along with the gloves and the tarp. My own exposed flesh, meticulously scrubbed with alcohol until the skin became red and raw. All the instruments, Clint's pants, my clothes - in the bag.

The archer himself was laying still, his breathing steady and calm, face no longer looking like he was one step away from the grave. After undoing the restraints, I wiped down every surface we touched with Tony's vodka - rubbing alcohol had run out and I was too emotionally drained to go downstairs and leave Clint for too long. Whenever the booze collided with a stray drop of blood, a wispy smoke emerged. Such an interesting reaction. Part of me couldn't wait to examine the phenomena together with Bruce. The other part was considering the possibility of having a panic attack in a seafood restaurant.

"Fri, keep an eye- a sensor on Clint for me, will ya? I need a shower and some pants," I denounced tiredly, padding to the communal shower. I found respite, however brief, under the steam for a few minutes. Then I found Tony's old tee and a pair of someone's sweats - I didn't care whose. Post-stress adrenaline shivers had me feeling stark naked in the middle of Alaska despite the room being a toasty, comfortable temperature according to the digital thermostat.

Now I just had to think about what to tell the team.

Propping Clint's head on a decorative pillow and covering him with a soft fleece blanket was the least I could have done for the long suffering archer. The floor was hard but I sat next to him, running a hand through his matted hair, my brain an incomprehensible mess.

✨ TAGLIST OF MY LOVELIES (OPEN) ✨

@another-stark-sub @mostly-marvel-musings @vozit @littlegasps @pilloclock @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads @hermione-grangers-wife @individualistfem @sleep-i-ness @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway @softie-socks @schemefrenzy @letsby

#party favours #bun writes #tony stark x y/n #tony stark x reader #tony stark x you #bruce banner x you #bruce banner x reader #bruce banner x y/n #stephen strange x y/n #stephen strange x you #stephen strange x reader

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that-is-where-they-wait · 4 years

Text

That is Where They Wait Ch 14: The Letter

previous / next all chapters AO3 FFN

[so funny story I actually posted this on FFN and ao3 forever ago but not here. oops. but posting here is a hassle, in my defense. hope everyone is doing okay? also check the notes for some Haha Funny Jokes because I don't want to add them to the. actual post.]

Perhaps the way to answer the present is with the past.

The metal of the hinge was cool under his finger, intricate design branching onto the actual door. It should've been smooth, but instead it was rough and red.

Rust.

Kai frowned. Rusty metal was usually brittle — but the door hadn't come down, even when he and Karlof rammed into it repeatedly. That plan of ripping at its hinges and hoping it came down was starting to look flimsy.

Ech. Well, they had to keep trying and hope for the best. It wasn't like they could stay in the small, dark room much longer. Kai had cobbled together a makeshift flame with pieces of rope and cloth from his gi, but it would definitely not last much longer.

Plus, he was getting really antsy, and it'd be just plain stupid to be so isolated when they weren't safe. When he'd asked about Lloyd and found out he was, in fact, both inside the mansion and unaccounted for, he had been about ready to knock Karlof's helmet off of his head.

… In hindsight, maybe he'd been a little forceful.

But hey, in return, he'd informed Karlof about everything they knew on the mansion and the spirit so far. So he didn't feel too bad about it.

"Psst." He went over to where he'd left Karlof and poked. "We gotta go."

No response.

Ohhhh, perfect. The guy had to go and fall asleep on him. They'd already spent so much time staying put! He was itching to get moving again, and Lloyd and Skylor were still out there, who knew where! Not to mention, if the others woke up and noticed him missing … (It occurred to him, a little belatedly, that they might blame Jay for that. Another twinge of guilt. But he could apologize for that when they went back.)

But it had been an exhausting trek just to get here. Karlof had endured that, and no sleep to recharge afterwards …

Kai sighed, seating himself next to him. Yeah, they weren't going anywhere until Karlof finished his beauty sleep. But then there came the issue of having nothing to distract himself with. Already he could just feel himself tiredly debating whether to indulge the pessimistic trains of thought forming in his head in all their bleak glory.

Abruptly, something slammed against him. Okay, so it didn't slam into him, but it definitely felt that way, because oof! It was heavy. Kai squirmed briefly, but a moment later, he realized he shouldn't even bother. Instead, he hissed an irritated puff of air through his teeth and tried to pull an overly-cuddly Karlof off of him. Why in the name of the First Spinjitzu Master was he—

An exposed part of his bandaged arm made contact with Karlof's for a second, before Kai drew it away and grimaced at how cold it was.

… Oh.

The way Karlof's arm was draped on him, Kai couldn't reach his face with his hand. He settled for a drawn-out groan instead. Just because he was the human toaster … and now he couldn't move!

Oh well. If nothing else, he could totally hold it over Karlof's head later. Blackmail material or something. But what was he supposed to do now?

A bleary yawn escaped his mouth.

There was one idea.

Nope, he thought to himself immediately. No way, José, someone had to stay awake, and he'd already bailed out on that once. But the door was locked, and the whole day and the effects of staying up so long were finally catching up to him …

Kai tried to debate the point a little longer, but as it turned out, he was pretty tired. Too tired to properly argue with himself, and before he could, he'd already fallen asleep.

The tiny flame winked out and left the room engulfed in black.

Lloyd wrapped up a summary of the search he'd just gotten back from.

Considering that depressingly little had changed since the last time they'd looked, it didn't take very long. The ever-encroaching cocktail of panic and despair clawed at his guts and his chest, made his throat tight, and he could feel it radiating off of Jay and Cole near him, optimistic as they tried to remain. At least Skylor had gotten some work in on fixing her bow while they'd been gone, although she hopefully wouldn't be needing it anytime soon.

The light trickling from the windows had become thin, silvery moonlight and long, fragmented shadows streaking across the floor and cutting into each other. Cole glanced at everyone in the room and declared that it was probably about time they slept; both searches had taken quite a while, even with how much of the mansion was still closed off to them. It didn't seem likely that much more would happen that day.

Zane took in everything they said solemnly, then pulled something out from beside him.

"It's disheartening to know that the two of them are still missing. But perhaps I can offer something else to think about before we rest for tonight?"

On closer inspection, it appeared to be a faded eggplant-colored satchel.

"I found this on the mantle while you were investigating in the tunnels. I didn't want to look through it without you …"

"Can I?" Lloyd reached out, opening the bag and peering into it for a moment. Then, as the rest of them watched, he stuck his hand in and, one by one, set its contents onto the floor for better examination.

On the carpet, there currently sat a small black inkwell, a quill stand, a bound book, a faded set of folded purple clothes, an assortment of large and small weapons, and a few loose pieces of parchment with writing on them. Maybe it all belonged to the person that owned the place, ages ago?

Evidently, they were all wondering a similar thing.

Lloyd set aside the empty bag and stared at the various items he'd placed down. "Hm. They were carrying weapons …"

"Whose stuff is all this?" Skylor finally voiced the question.

"It likely dates back to the Serpentine war," Zane said. "The antiquity of all the items would fit."

"Well, then, we should find out, shouldn't we?" Jay grabbed the book, slowly teasing open the binding and riffling through the pages. Lloyd caught a glimpse of inky letters over paper lightly yellowed with time; all things considered, it was pretty well-preserved.

"Careful, Jay, that looks heavy. Wouldn't wanna pull a muscle lifting that thing." Cole's mouth twitched up in a smirk, Jay briefly peering over the book with narrow eyes.

"… I mishandle an empty packing crate one time."

"Yeah, well," Lloyd huffed. "You nearly dropped it right on my foot. I still get splinters from that crate when I'm not watching my step."

"Thanks, Lloyd!" Jay looked supremely offended. "I didn't ask!" Still a little sullen from the disappointing results of the day, Lloyd didn't bother sassing him back. He scoffed when he noticed Jay looking helplessly at Zane — they all knew full well that never worked, so when the nindroid minutely shook his head there was hardly any surprise.

"Silly zaptrap," Cole shook his head and tsked. "Once is all it takes on this team. You of all people should know better."

Jay hmphed and nearly went back to skimming the book he'd picked up, but his head popped up curiously when Skylor spoke.

"Isn't it kind of late? If we're going to look at anything, maybe we should read one of the loose sheets instead. I feel like trying to get into something that long when we need to sleep isn't the best idea. I want to stay in-the-know, but I'm not sure how much longer I can pay attention to anything right now …" She shrugged, looking a little self-conscious. "Sorry."

Oh, right. It was usually Lloyd's job to be one of the voices of reason.

Looking around, he was certain that last sentence didn't pertain to just Skylor, though. The banter was being tossed rather lazily and there was a sluggishness to everyone's movements, even Zane's. As for himself, the temptation to just plonk onto the next piece of bedding he picked up while cleaning up the aftermath of the pillow-and-assorted-accessories fight and sleep on it right there had been overwhelming.

"It's quite alright," Zane reassured her. "You have a point, at that. Perhaps something like this would suffice for tonight?" He held up a messily rolled piece of paper, and pulled it open. Lloyd eyed it and nodded; seemed interesting enough. Most likely, they could learn a thing or two, discuss, and then go to bed without too much further ado.

"Looks good to me," Cole said. "Let's see about this person, then."

Zane's eyes fell to the paper for a few seconds before freezing, glowing ever so faintly brighter, and doing a funny skip between Lloyd and the paper before settling back on the paper. Lloyd frowned, unsure he liked the new furrow in Zane's brow.

"What is it, buddy?"

Zane coughed awkwardly. Amazing how even nindroids did that when they were nervous.

"This appears to be a letter addressed to Garmadon."

Lloyd's eyes widened, breath hitching. Abruptly his heart felt less like it was beating and more like it was trying to break itself out of his chest.

Dad.

It had been, safe to say, a little while since he'd thought about his father. The same father he'd gone through hell and back to finally have by his side, only to banish and then drown for good.

He'd kept himself good and busy, helping the team move base to the abandoned Temple of Airjitzu. Warded off the lingering pain from remembering, during the Day of the Departed, pretty well with dusting and heavy lifting and organizing what needed to be packed.

Lloyd had always done his best to draw strength from his father's memory. Like he'd told his mother during Day of the Departed: "Sometimes it feels like he's still with me."

It sure didn't feel like he was with Lloyd now.

"Lloyd?"

He blinked.

"Lloyd, you good?"

He looked over. Cole and the others were all watching him with concern, trying to gauge his reaction.

Quietly, he took a deep breath. He was supposed to have gotten past this. It wasn't supposed to still sting so much when he'd moved onto something healthier, more bittersweet than the more raw, consuming pain he'd known for a while.

Maybe the mansion's atmosphere was digging deeper than he'd thought, ripping open old wounds on top of slashing new ones.

"Yeah." Then, to ensure they couldn't press him about it, "Are you sure, Zane? Lemme see." Zane obliged, handing him the letter. Lloyd took it and held it up to the firelight, careful not to wrinkle the aged parchment, and skimmed it silently, feeling everyone's eyes still on him.

Having caught his reaction to Garmadon's name, they were probably a little surprised when he chuckled.

"What is it?" Skylor tilted her head. "What did they say?"

"It's just the first paragraph. Listen to this!" Clearing his throat, all too glad to focus on the letter, he read it, the ninja going from attentive listening to confused snickering as he did.

"My dearest friend, Garmadon, it seems fitting to start with the most important subject here—thanks a lot for letting me blunder into that whole mess, you absolute withered honeysuckle. I was delayed two whole days trying to firstly explain how I accidentally deposed a chieftess, and then restore some semblance of normalcy to the village. I don't," Lloyd had to catch his breath, barely managing to stop snickering long enough to finish the sentence, "I don't even know why we're still friends." "What in the world is this talking about?" Cole wheezed.

"Absolute withered honeysuckle," Jay mimicked, cracking up himself.

"Well. They were friends, we've learned that much," Skylor stated, desperately trying to regain a straight face.

"Absolute chums, from the sound of it. Just the best of buddies. Like you and me, huh, Cole?"

"If this whole 'accidentally deposed a chieftess' stuff is anything to go by," Cole said, still laughing, "they were even better."

"I wonder what they got up to if this was forty years ago." Zane set about tidying up the remaining letters and the bound book earlier held by Jay, probably figuring he might as well get it over with while they were all distracted. "Or who this was, to be so evidently close to Garmadon."

"Uh, am I the only one wondering what a honeysuckle is?"

Metaphorical crickets, much to Jay's chagrin.

"Just me? Okay."

A sigh. "They're flowers, Jay."

As the room got quiet enough to hear the crackling fireplace again, Lloyd went back to skimming the letter. The little smile that had lingered on his face fell flat again as he took in the words.

"What's the holdup?" Jay complained after a moment.

"Honestly, with the way this is written, if I read it verbatim you'd probably fall asleep," Lloyd muttered over the page. "Shut up and let me summarize."

"I … okay."

Lloyd squinted at the words. "This is an awful lot to take in. What's a … Shhh … Shuuuuravansha?"

"A what?" A confused chorus met his ears; evidently the rest of the room only knew about as much as he did.

"Maybe the word comes from the local language," Cole suggested. "I did hear a lot of the villagers speaking something I didn't recognize."

"Probably. Zane, you wouldn't happen to have that language in your databases or anything, would you?" Jay asked.

"I'm afraid not," Zane said apologetically. "What is the rest of the sentence, Lloyd? Perhaps the proper context will make it easier to guess."

"'I spoke with the Shuravansha and revised the contingency plans based on the information I got from them, as well as reports from you and our spies on the Serpentine's movement.' How do you even say that?"

"I guess the jury stays out on that one," Cole replied. "But I don't think that's a person. It says 'the Shuravansha'. I don't call Jay 'the Jay'; it'd be weird."

"So a group of some sort?" Jay suggested. "The word 'the' implies more than one."

"But it could be a title," Skylor pointed out. "Like 'the chief' or 'the sensei'."

"Either way, it reveals little about the nature of this Shuravansha," Zane said. "All that sentence gave us is that they had information about the Serpentine relevant to the author of this letter."

"Whatever it is, it's probably important," Lloyd muttered, rubbing his eyes and going back to the letter. "But maybe we'll find more clues about them later."

"Then we should remember it," Skylor muttered. "How do you spell that?"

He spelled it out and kept reading. The room went back to quiet anticipation, until Lloyd sputtered, squinted at something on the page, then looked up at them.

"What the heck, Cole?"

"Huh?" All eyes were now on a flabbergasted Cole. "Wh-what'd I do?!"

"I, it's not you, it's just — since when was the last master of earth a traitor?"

"Whoa whoa whoa, what?" Jay piped up. "That's kinda a heavy accusation to just bandy around!"

"What is this coming from, Lloyd?" Zane asked.

"It literally says right there, 'Earth went traitor on us'! There's only one way to read that!"

Skylor was scribbling like mad.

"Wha—well, don't look at me!" Cole said. "I don't know anything about this!"

"Maybe that's not all there is to it." It was difficult to see Skylor's eyes behind the shades. "My father turned the Anacondrai and the other tribes against humans to start the whole war in the first place. Then he turned the elemental masters against themselves."

"Maybe that was the case here too. Is there anything else about the master of earth, Lloyd?" Zane spoke up.

"Full sentence is 'The Constrictai among them can burrow, and ever since Earth, the weasel, went traitor on us, we lost our best protection against that tactic.' So they're really still talking about the Serpentine."

"Hmm."

"Mmmaybe we should go back to the rest of the letter?" Jay said tentatively.

"I dunno. I kinda wanna hear about this." Cole curiously poked his head closer, wanting to get a look at the letter. Lloyd drew back and immediately felt bad when Cole regarded him a moment before scooting back, hiding a yawn behind his hand.

Right. It was late.

"I mean, there isn't anything else in the letter about them … just the one sentence."

"Fine. What's the rest of it say, then? We really don't have the rest of the night here."

He had a point. Lloyd was pretty ready to be done with the letter and get some rest, by now.

"Wait a sec," Jay said. "'Went traitor on us.' Who's 'us'?"

"Oh." Cole's eyes widened. "Oh my god, you actually have a point. Yeah, that sounds an awful lot like … they called him 'Earth', not his name."

"How do you know that's not his name? Maybe his mom had a weird taste in names."

"... I'm pretty sure that wasn't his name, Jay."

"The word 'us' does seem to suggest camaraderie," Zane mused. "Given that and their knowledge of elemental power, perhaps they were acquainted with the elemental masters, or worked alongside them in some manner."

"That makes sense," Lloyd agreed, not looking up from the paper he held. "Or maybe they even were a master!"

"There's nothing to confirm it yet …" Skylor pointed out. "I'll just write down that they probably knew about the elemental masters. I think that's a safe conclusion."

"Fair enough," Zane said. "I think we should hear the rest of the letter now, before it gets much later. Lloyd?"

"Okay, so. Basically, my dad sent this person, whoever they are, info about Serpentine movement in the area. There were more loose gangs causing trouble than anything, they were just harder to predict because they weren't associated with the Anacondrai commanders. But according to them, the Southern Woodlands were in too strategic a location to risk—"

"Southern Woodlands?" Jay interrupted.

"That's probably what this forest is called. The villagers called it that on our way here."

"Yeah, I think I remember hearing that from someone," Cole said.

"Anyway. Like I was saying." Lloyd coughed pointedly and continued. "The Woodlands were too risky to leave unprotected because the thick plant life would give the Serpentine a naturally-sheltered base to recover and hide in. And they didn't have a lot of time left because … wait." The loopy handwriting in thick black ink cut off abruptly near the middle of the page, the last sentence never to be finished. "It just cuts off mid-sentence."

"Why did I ever think I'd have an easy time of this." Skylor sounded disappointed. "There wouldn't happen to be a name or anything at the bottom, would there?"

Lloyd shook his head. Of course there wasn't; that'd be too easy for them, now, wouldn't it?

"So why didn't they have time, exactly?" Jay said.

"An abrupt end of that nature would suggest some kind of interruption, would it not?" Zane said. "They never had the chance to finish writing this letter."

"If this is from the same era as everything else we've been seeing, then there was a war on. I imagine that'd do it," Cole said.

"Okay, but there's no signs of a fight in this room," Jay pointed out.

"... Ah. That is. Also true."

If he were a little less tired, Lloyd would've chuckled at Cole being caught off-guard without even a witty defense.

"I wonder what they were expecting not to have a lot of time for …" Lloyd wondered. "There's no signs of a fight here, but it's super messy everywhere else, especially downstairs. Maybe something happened there."

"And maybe it's related to the spirit." Cole ran a hand through his thick, messy hair, eyes dark. "There's no way something like that came out of nowhere."

"Given what we know, it is still impossible to gauge exactly what took place in this mansion," Zane said. "It does seem likely that the Serpentine activity this person mentioned had something to do with it, though. The only way to know for sure would be to find more information"

"So we don't know that, either," Jay muttered. "Write that down as a solid 'maybe', I guess."

Skylor nodded. "Anything else I should put down?"

Lloyd shook his head, and Skylor gratefully flipped the notepad closed and set it aside. Her words had actually begun to slur together with tiredness, so even if there were, he wasn't about to put her through writing it.

"Well, if that's all, then." Cole yawned, again. "Let's call it a day. How long's it been?"

"My internal clock is completely frozen," Zane sighed. "And PIXAL says she can't start it up without any connection to the outside world. But according to my timer, it's been approximately 15 hours since Jay woke me and Cole up to inform us Kai was missing."

Yep. Definitely time to wind down.

The mood dipped briefly at the mention of Kai, but Cole determinedly moved on to the topic of keeping watch, and whether they should do it tonight.

Eventually they decided that it definitely needed to stay, but split it up into two equal shifts. Two of them weren't even options to be considered. Lloyd offered to take shift, but given that he'd gotten out of a tough scrape with the spirit earlier and gone on both search expeditions, everyone else refused to let him, arguing he needed the rest. That left just Cole and Jay, but Cole, having gone through the mansion both times, was tired too. Jay would have to keep watch first.

Then came sleeping arrangements, which also worked themselves out quickly enough. Zane, for whatever reason, stayed in a corner to recharge, Skylor was on one bed, and whoever wasn't on shift would be sharing a bed with Lloyd.

"Alright, Jay, don't do anything stupid this time," Cole ribbed Jay, who was shifting around burnt kindling and trying to keep the little bit of fire left alive.

Jay stuck his tongue out.

"You have sooo much faith in me. Come on, I've learned my lesson here."

"Your timer's working, right? Make sure to wake me in … four hours?"

"Four and a half," Jay corrected him. "And yeah, I will."

"Cool. Night." And with that, Cole left him to his current task: striking a match onto a pile of kindling and hoping for a fire big enough to last.

Soon enough, everyone had bid each other goodnight and settled down.

Lloyd pulled his blanket a little closer to himself, still feeling a residual chill seep into his bones. With nothing to keep preoccupied with, ugly thoughts about the mansion, the horrors of its obscure history, their current conditions, his own utter incompetence, the way he'd just let Karlof get lost, Kai came creeping in far too readily. He tried to push them away.

Not now. Couldn't think about all of those things now or he'd never rest. Even tired, falling asleep was a challenge with sore limbs and unceasing nerves scratching away at him and a bitter resentment towards it all beginning to sink into his bones.

Lloyd closed his eyes regardless, trying to empty his mind. He could faintly hear Jay's breathing under the familiar crackle of the flames that were only too reminiscent of their missing piece.

Shadows twisted and danced on the walls.

Exhaustion won out eventually.

#ninjago #ninjago fanfiction #lloyd garmadon #zane julien #kai smith #cole brookstone #jay walker #skylor chen #that is where they wait #I love spamming tags and hoping someone sees them #we also love posting without links and then editing them back in so tumblr lets this post show in tags

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kimlineroom · 5 years

Text

Him And I (21+) c. 1

Before yoy read:

WARNINGS: → incest, matter of life and death, multiple smuts, supportive bts, and many more

Summary: Taehyung comes back to Geongchang for a 3 weeks break and to mend the broken relationship with his dear sister. Suddenly this sick, twisted, unknown feeling pops up in his life and he realize... That he's in love with her.

But there's more to it.

Disclaimer: if you don't like this theme of incest, please do not read it. I will not be responsible if you're triggered although in this chapter there's nothing happening between taehyung and the oc. Although, it'd be best if you read the first chapter to understand the story more, just a heads up. All grammar mistakes is mine to blame bc english is not my first language and i am new in tumblr! This is a new experience to me lol. This fic is also cross posted in ao3 btw. Enjoy!

It was on Saturday.

Miu wants to practice her vocals for her performance for the audition but she just feels so lazy and all she wants is to just roll over and sleep. That's exactly what she wants. But it doesn't go as planned.

She ends up eating breakfast at 7 am with her parents and enjoying the morning air. The window is open, and everyone knows how she loves sitting by the window, so no one dares to take that spot from her. She closes her eyes as the breeze hit her face, humming in agreement. Her parents look at her and stifle a laugh. She seems to notice though.

“What?” she asks, raising an eyebrow at their faces who try to stop laughing at her for whatever reason.

She just stays still and looks out the window. How can people laugh at her? It's very confusing. What's so funny about a girl who's sitting on a chair staring out the window? She waits for an answer as she sips her coffee that morning with a hum of approval. Coffee has always been her favourite out of other hot drinks. In a way, it calms her a lot in the morning. An energy booster, too.

Her mother let out a laugh, “Nothing it's just that you stare out the window and your expression when the wind blows on your face is priceless, honey.”

Mrs. Kim said, patting her shoulder and her father's laugh also echoes as he seems to enjoy his wife's statement. What's so funny about that? She asks in her head, puzzled. She continues to stare out and let them laugh at her all they want. She notices the birds flying together in the distant, making her smile. Nature had always influenced her. It's something she can't describe.

There's something about them that calms her, like this coffee. They made her feel all warm inside while she sips her coffee and connects herself with nature. It felt so peaceful and all her troubles would go away for a reason. She remembers when she was a child, she used to run out on an adventure into the woods at the back of their house. They sometimes went camping there (funny, yeah) so she got used to the forest. She knows the trails and all, and she loved listening to nature. The wildflowers, the tall trees. They're all very heart-warming to her.

Her eyes would light up at the mention of camping because she knows her parents would drag her into the forest because that's their camping spot. She would jump in joy if ever they would go out and camp or visit the waterfall or something. She loves them very much and she'd ditch her phone anytime for nature. Maybe that's also one of the reasons why she has little friends in school; that she doesn't socialize much. But it didn't bother her unlike it bothered her parents or her brother. Brother…

Her hands that were on her thighs under the table slowly inch towards her abdomen and wrap around it instantly at the mention of her brother. Why she did it? She doesn't have an answer. It lingers on her stomach for a while, until she snatches them away and put her hands on the table, snapping herself and letting herself resurface into reality. Her parents talked about their jobs. Mrs. Kim is a writer, a not so famous one but good enough in Daegu meanwhile Mr. Kim is an ordinary office worker. They also own a farm at the back of their house, and when things get busy, she's the one handling them. She and her brother but since he's away for work now, so it's only her, not that she's complaining.

Her brother is Kim Taehyung. The Kim Taehyung of BTS. he is 23 years old, and right now, he is on tour in Japan. She looks down into the black coffee, the colour made her uneasy for some reason as she thought about him. 3 weeks he spent his day off with them and 3 days since he returned to his idol job, away from his break at this house. Taehyung. When one would think of him, everyone would say how easy going, thoughtful, and handsome he is. Yes, it's true, but there's more than that. Taehyung is more than that to her.

She could see her mother taking the newspaper on the table. It's today. Mr.Kim had retrieved them earlier when her mother cooked breakfast.

Her mother turns to her. “Look, it's your brother. The tour is a success as usual.” She says, sipping her coffee and letting Miu grab the newspaper, reading it. Or rather, looking at the headline that has pictures of her brother and his bandmates.

She stares at the now blue-haired man on the stage, a little too long that she doesn't realize how bizarre it would look to other people if they see her, staring at her own brother's picture like this. Creepy. She didn't mean to linger her eyes too long on his recent picture, but she can't help it; she misses him very much. The headline is about the Love Yourself tour that's starting again. The excerpt of it is saying about how BTS had become international and over millions of tickets being sold and clean. They're performing in Nagoya tonight. Nagoya...she always dreams to travel to Nagoya.

“You ok there, buddy?” Her father asks, looking at her with warm, kind eyes.

His face reminded her of her brother. Well, Taehyung is his son after all. Why wouldn't she think of him when she looks at her father? She smiles at him and set aside the newspaper and lean on the table.

“Nothing. It's just that...I miss him.” She said, meant every word.

Everyone knows how close they are. How the two Kim siblings were inseparable until Taehyung chased his dream as an idol that his parents approved of. Taehyung is lucky, he has parents who support him no matter what decision he makes and a sister who loves him no matter what he does. It was hard for her when Taehyung walked out because he's the only friend she ever had; no one, except for her best friend Nayeon could make her feel accepted.

Taehyung is her everything. Her brother, her friend, her companion, her…

“No need to be sad, kiddo. He'll come back soon. Besides, three weeks off is kinda long for an idol and I'm sure your time with him before he left for the tour is well spent, right?”

Yeah. It was well spent indeed. She smiled bitterly and nod her head. She looks out the window again, and her eyes scan the small hut that she, Taehyung, and their father built when she was only 7 years old and Taehyung was 11. Her eyes linger on it, remember the day Taehyung gently take care of her, making sure she doesn't get hurt when she's helping while their mother makes them hot chocolate and watch as her family works together in harmony and peace.

It was a peaceful day and it stays attached in her head. How can she forget? It was one of the most precious moments to her. The memory of her and Taehyung. She remembers Taehyung's sweating face as he lifts the woods and helped their father. She remembers how it felt so right to be laughing, to be helping, to be side by side with her brother. True, that she's very close with her brother and she will always be, according to him. Taehyung, even when he lives in Seoul, would always call them every day without fail.

She remembers how Taehyung and herself would hang out at that old hut that they built, lying on the wooden floor and looking at the trees, the breeze pampering their faces. When Taehyung had his weeks off before he left for the tour, he stayed with her there and hang out with her, listening to each other's crackhead culture talks. The way her brother hugged her, the way his head rested on her shoulder lovingly, the I love yous that they delivered to each other…

“Hey, since it's a day off, how about we go somewhere?” Her father says, snapping her out of her daydream.

He's now standing beside her mother, a steaming cup of coffee in his hands as he looks at his wife and his daughter. Her mother seems to be in sync with her husband, so they are waiting for her answer. To be honest, she doesn't mind. Even though she supposed to start her practice for the audition, that usual lazinesslingers in her body. Ever since Taehyung left, her body had been in a lazy state. Why? She gulps, remembering such an event and quickly cast it aside to answer her parents.

“Sure. Where?” She asks lazily, stirring her coffee then sipping them slowly. It's still hot.

Her father thinks for a while, leaning on the counter and think of where their destination would be today. Suddenly, he claps his hands together which resulted in her mother to flinch. Mrs. Kim has always been a scary cat, just like her. They laughed at the woman.

“You scare me!” she screamed, hitting her husband in a playful manner. Perhaps, it has been too hard of a hit because he jumped and let out an “ow.” They all laugh again, and Miu wonders about what would today be like if Taehyung is by their side. By her side. It would've been even more fun. What could he be doing, right now? Miu wonders, her laughter still lingers with them, but it dies as she stares at the black, steaming hot coffee. It's like staring at a hole. A hole in her heart that is.

“As I was saying,” Mr. Kim pause, eyeing his wife in a flirty manner and look at his only daughter with a smile as he continues. “I think it'd be fun to drive off to that favourite waterfall that you love so much. It's only 30 minutes’ drive there.”

He says with a smile as he realizes how much his daughter loves that place and as her eyes lit up with excitement at the mention of the waterfall. Good choice indeed. All her troubles are forgotten at the mention of the waterfall that she loves so much. She stands up, fixing her dress immediately and walk out of the house to their car.

“I'll be waiting in the car. Hurry up!” She ushers them, sprinting to get outside leaving her parents in the kitchen with a smile on their faces.

“Well, let's go.” Mr. Kim said, beaming at Mrs. Kim.

#taehyungsmut #taehyungfanfic #taehyung #bts smut #btsarmy #taetae #bangtanseonyeondan #angst #taehyung angst

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another-sonic-blog · 5 years

Text

The Dark Prince: Chapter One: Team

I am tired. Truthfully I am.

No matter how long I popped my back, it will still hurt. My eyes would close themselves and my body will not respond to my commands. The room I was in wasn't helping either. The dim lights, the soft whisper of people talking between each other, the delicate yet strong aroma of recently made coffee made everything almost too perfect.

"A large cup of black coffee please"

I heard his voice clearly enough to not recognize it. "Hey there Dark Prince."

I collected all of my strength to keep on going and at least bring the best customer service to my number one client.

"You too? I don't know what's with people calling me that."

"Well, it just fits you... or do you prefer to be called 'Dark Lord?"

"Well it indeed reminds me of Star Wars so..."

"Well yeah, we are not changing it."

Shadow showed me those small yet powerfully cute fangs as he smirked. There were good intentions behind his annoyance with his nickname. Shadow always liked to be secretive when it came to him. So many people calling him Dark Prince wasn't on his plans, meaning people knew what he was doing in secret wasn't so secret after all.

"Are you feeling alright?"

I recognized an honest look of concern in Shadow's face, I must have looked at my worse because it was rare to see Shadow with such face.

"Yes, I am just tired. It's been a long day."

I received Shadow's black coffee from my co-worker. Shadow's eyes lift up in excitement, it was one of the few moments where I could appreciate him fully. Although he was the ultimate life form, he still acted like one of us. He was one of us.

"Well...Thank you for coming to Momo Cafe."

"My pleasure."

Shadow took the coffee from my hand and our fingers touched lightly. It was normal for it to happen, but I had to admit that it made my heart flutter when it shouldn't.

I still don't know why I became addicted to coffee. Maybe because Amy was crazy about it too or because I had the opportunity to see her every time I buy coffee.

I had to admit that she had me at her will. The reason? To be honest, I still didn't know. Maybe I wasn't in love with her but just appreciated her deeply. Rouge says that I am, that the fact alone that I became addicted to coffee because Amy was good of enough proof that I am indeed in love with her.

But I am not sure.

I had never experienced love this way before. It wasn't like the family love I had for Maria, but more... intimate. To be honest, I am still learning the ways in which the world works. Sometimes I can come off as "rude" or "empathic" but I think it's because I still don't know how to communicate properly.

Which is why I let my actions speak for me. Or at least I try.

I am really trying, really I am. But sometimes I get tired.

And today I am tired. Truthfully I am.

I showed up to G.U.N in my motorcycle and the guard let me in as soon as he saw me. He was a good guy, last time I spoke to him, he had fixed his problems with his wife and everything was even better for him when the news came that he was going to become a father.

Sometimes I wonder, what it feels like to be part of a family.

But maybe that's just not for me.

I walked through the doors of G.U.N as the cool of the A.C hit my face. It's been fresh these days so I really wonder why they keep the AC on times like this.

"Oh, the Dark Prince arrived"

"Ah, if only I had the courage to tell him how I feel"

"He is just so dreamy"

The same as usual. It seems like they tend to forget that I have better hearing than the average person. It's not that I mind the compliments or the quiet love confessions. It's that it's just the same, you may think that being a secret spy would be an exciting life full of adventures but it's honestly not that easy. Yes, we do go in missions, but not as much as I would like it to be.

"Why does it have to be so cold in here!?

I am freezing! I am going to get a cold...."

Ok, that was my call, that wasn't the first time I hear a complaint about the temperature in the building. I was going to have to talk to the commander directly.

There's a lot of things that fail at G.U.N but the worst one was the thermostat for the whole building was located at the Commander's office. "To prevent fights between our individuals and most importantly to prevent a higher cost of energy in our building. It is already high as it is Agent Shadow...."

Well, that's what he told him. Nonetheless, in cases where it was 0 Celsius degree outside, changes needed to be made.

I knocked on his door twice, there was no answer. I knocked again and waited for an answer. Nothing happened. Usually, I wouldn't enter but since must G.U.N members can probably get frostbite by how cold it is, I decided to take my chances. I opened the door to find the Commander sleeping, face directly resting on his desk, hands laying next to his head.

I walked around next to him but my nose was already telling me something that mind didn't want to admit.

I didn't want to touch him, I didn't have the need to. Nobody visits the building over the weekend, his dead body could have been laying down there since then, we just didn't know.

His killer was a smart one too, raising the temperature of the building so his body would decompose at a slower pace was a smart move.

Way too smart.

"Commander was murder on Thursday night of last week at 3:00 AM. Witnesses claim-"

When I heard the news from Shadow that the Commander, our Commander had been killed, I... didn't feel much. Even now after a couple of hours of this announcement, I still couldn't find myself to feel anything.

But Shadow was feeling something. I could tell that he was hiding his own dissent. He was standing over the window looking to nowhere in particular. Shadow had been partners with the Commander for a couple of missions now, and it was speculated that over time they grew a bond. I'll say even develop something like a friendship.

"Can you cut it and tell us who did it already?"

If looks could kill, Shadow would of have killed one of his co-workers right now. The young lady cleared her throat and took a deep breath before responding.

"Amy Rose, age 20, owner of the famous Momo Cafe that is located in Chaos Street."

The room went silent, I looked at Shadow, his eyes shaking while watching the video that incriminated our pink friend.

"No! There must be a mistake-", I stood up, offended by the fact alone that Amy's name was mentioned.

"Rouge, no...let them finish"

The day was done and finally, I was free from the addictive smell of coffee. I closed the crystal door with my keys and as I looked up I realized there was a very familiar figure behind me.

"Hey, Shad-"

I didn't even have time to greet him because as soon as I turned around, Shadow had already Chaos Control us out of the street.

Next thing I knew was that there was grass in my feet. Bushes and trees around me, Shadow standing next to me watching the sunset sent on the city.

"Alright, you have thirty seconds to tell me what's going on or I'll start screaming."

"You are being convicted for the murder of G.U.N's Commander."

"What?!"

"They must be looking for you...for us right now."

"Wait, Shadow, go slower what happened?"

I was panicking, but Shadow looked as calm as ever. He took a few seconds to show any sign that he was still there.

"G.U.N's Commander was found dead at this office today. Witnesses and a very clear video of you committing the act are undoubtedly proof that you are indeed the one who murder him."

"No! That wasn't me, Shadow I swear, there must be a mistake-"

"I know.", Shadow looked at me, and the blaze of his red eyes made my heart skip a beat. He was always so confident about himself, but this time was different. It's like as if he was completely, irrevocably, sure about what he was doing. I felt safe and knew that everything was going to be alright by just looking at him.

"Can't you help me? You have worked for them for years. Can't you just explain-"

"I tried already and it ended up badly. Look, Amy, you just didn't 'kill' a random person. You 'murdered' G.U.N's Commander. He ended hunger in Vijayanagar, he freed slaves in Mohenjo-Daro, he has saved the president of this country multiple times and stopped World War Three five times...he has allies all over the world who look for revenge and they have sent their top spies to look for you and kill you."

Shadow made a pause, noticing that it was too much information for me to take in. After a few seconds, he got closer to me and I felt a great warm coming from his body.

" and I'll protect you."

The sun went down just like the flow in my blood. I could feel the heat going to my cheeks and I could bet that I was as red as Shadow's eyes.

"I am involved as well now and whether I want it or not, finding the true assassin is the only way to clear our names now..so until we find him..."

The city lights glow as the sun was no longer visible, the wind was moving softly and the tweets of the late night birds arose. Amy didn't want to admit it, but she was completely charmed by the Dark Prince.

"let's be a team"

Previous Chapter: https://another-sonic-blog.tumblr.com/post/185966563480/the-dark-prince-prologue-the-dark-prince

The Dark Prince: Prologue: The Dark Prince

Next Chapter: https://another-sonic-blog.tumblr.com/post/185966809995/the-dark-prince-chapter-two-the-way-he-is

The Dark Prince: Chapter Two: The Way He Is

#Shadamy #shadamy fanfiction #shadamy boom #shadow the hedgehog #shadow and amy #shadowxamy #amyrose #sonic the hedgehog #shadow

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my-keyboard-did-it-not-me · 5 years

Text

The Storm That's Brewing

Summary: morning in Spain, breakfast

Warnings: food/eating

(first, previous and next chapter links at end)

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Chapter 9- A Morning Of Chocolate, Charging And Charming

Waking up was always hell, Virgil thought. Waking up to the smell of burning chocolate, and the sound of faint cussing from another room, though? Virgil wasn't sure how he felt about that.

Of course he was mad about waking up, and if it were up to him he'd nestle back under the covers and sleep for another week, but he was already on his feet before the thought crossed his mind.

Out of habit he checked his phone before anything else: one message from Patton, reading 'Okay! See you tonight!' followed by a heart, cat, and tea emoji. He replied a simple 'ok' emoji and shut off his phone. Then he did what his instincts told him and followed the chocolate.

Stepping out into the hallway, Virgil pondered over why he wasn't completely freaking out right now. For once, he had plenty of reason to: he'd just discovered that his roommate could teleport, meaning that he and Patton weren't the only superpowered ones out there and there could be countless others, that his life was probably going to get a lot more complicated very quickly, and also that he was in Spain. He was sure a breakdown was inevitable. Yet, walking barefoot towards a stranger's kitchen, in a stranger's house, in borrowed clothes, he felt completely fine. Probably because of shock. Or denial. Either way, he preferred it to stressing.

As he neared the kitchen, the cursing stopped, and he noticed quiet music playing from Roman's phone on the table. Behind, Roman stood, frantically jumping between the tasks of mixing bowls, setting the table and presumably not burning the place down.

Roman hadn't noticed Virgil sit down at the table, until he went to place a cup next to him and jumped out of his skin.

"Heckedy heck! Five abs and a peck! Warn a guy before you sneak up on them."

Virgil laughed. He'd never seen Roman so disgruntled before- dressed in sweats and an oversized Disney tee, hair unbrushed and face bare, discounting the line of flour he had across his cheek. Virgil rarely caught Roman in the mornings before either of them left for work, or for social purposes in Roman's case. He liked plain Roman- he seemed less like an annoying preening peacock, and more like an annoying, cute robin. Not like Virgil had any issues with Roman looking dressed up though, both were very pleasant sights.

"Well that's... An image. But yeah, good morning to you too Princey." He said, aiming for sarcastic, but just sounding tired (which he was). He glanced behind Roman, where he could see smoke. "Uh, something's burning."

Roman quickly turned the oven off, scowling into the previously smouldering bowl. He placed it, as well as another onto the table.

Virgil peered into one of the bowls and saw a mass of clumpy, charred chocolate. He bit his lip. "This looks... Good?"

Roman sighed and flopped into the seat opposite Virgil. "I know, I know. It's burnt. It's inedible. It's unsalvageable." He draped an arm across his head. "You've found my weakness- it's chocolate."

Virgil laughed under his breath. "What were you even trying to do? Burn the house down?"

Roman titled the other bowl for Virgil to see; inside were a load of piped, yellow-y shapes.

"Churros?"

Roman nodded solemnly.

"Why is this one shaped like a deformed dinosaur?"

"I was trying to make some Mickey mouse shaped."

Virgil tried to hide his smile. Of course he was. "Alright well the chocolate is salvagable. Did you make the sugar dip thingy?"

Roman perked up. "I was just about to but..." He poked the chocolate lump with a spoon. "Really?"

Virgil stood, "Is there a kettle?"

"Why, of course!"

Roman outstretched his hand and, with a slight pop, a kettle appeared.

"Dude. How do you do that?"

"I don't know, I just-" He looked suspiciously up at Virgil, "I usually can't do it with people watching."

Virgil raised an eyebrow.

"Here." Roman handed Virgil the kettle.

Virgil placed it underneath the tap and filled it. A silence fell over the cabin. Virgil realised that he and Roman hadn't actually ever spent that much time together since their first day in the apartment. He reckoned, now that some new secrets had come to light, that was going to change. Was that a bad thing?

Once the kettle was almost boiling on the stove, and Roman had (manually) found a spare bowl and several types of sugars, Roman tried to initiate a conversation. Unfortunately, it wasn't one that Virgil wanted to have so early in the- morning? Afternoon? What timezone should he even go by?

"So uh... Do you just do lightning or are you like Storm?" Roman tried.

Virgil glared at him.

Roman summoned a white flag into his hand. "Alright, alright, Lightning McQueer, we'll talk about it later."

Virgil narrowed his eyes. Did he hear Roman correctly? He huffed out a small laugh despite his best efforts not to.

Roman beamed. "Virgil smiling within an hour of waking up? What magic is this? "It's straight out of a fairytale."

Virgil shook his head. "Yeah right, as who, the villain? The evil witch?"

Roman gasped. "Of course not! You are clearly the princess. The damsel in distress." He lifted Virgil's hand and tried to spin him.

"I have a kettle full of boiling water in my hand, you dolt!"

Virgil gently pushed Roman away, careful not to

Roman chuckled. "You certainly have the distressed part of damsel in distress going on."

"Dream on Princey." Virgil poured some water into the closest mug. He looked around for a second, then at Roman, "Spoon?"

"Me?"

"Do you have a tea spoon?" Virgil asked impatiently.

Roman smirked and handed Virgil a spoon he'd gotten from seamingly nowhere. Was he creating them or bringing it from another place? If so, where? Virgil would've asked if he hadn't already waved away Roman's question about his lighting/Storm powers.

Virgil muttered a "thank you" and poured a spoonful of boiling water in the charred chocolate and began mixing.

Roman quietly mixed some sugar and then began to reheat whatever oil he'd been using to cook the churros.

It didn't take too long for Virgil to revive the chocolate.

"How did you save it?" Roman asked incredulously. He placed a plate of freshly cooked churros, and a bowl of mixed sugars, in the centre of the table. He tried to pick up one of the churros but dropped it, blowing one his fingers to try cool them down.

Virgil grabbed Roman's dropped churro. He dipped it in the sugar and stirred it idly in the chocolate.

"If you somehow hadn't noticed, Patton likes to bake cookies, like, all the time."

"Uh-huh."

"Well he doesn't like to read recipes and we both get distracted pretty easily- plus, neither of us have any sense of time- so we've burnt a lot of chocolate. And we did this one time at the apartment and Logan came out of his room for once and got all Lecture Mode and told us that when you burn it you basically remove loads of moisture or whatever so you just re-moisturize it." Virgil took a bit of the churro then reconsidered his words. "That sounds weird. But... Yeah."

"I guess the know-it-all does know some useful facts after all. Let the record show, I always had full faith in him."

"You just called him a know-it-all."

"Unimportant." Roman said, dismissing the statement with a wave of his hand. He reached for a churro but they were still steaming hot. It was possible he'd overheated the oil a bit.

To Roman's surprise, Virgil grabbed and ate another churro without issue.

"How are you not burning yourself? These churros are hotter than Hades' hair."

"They're not that hot." Virgil shrugged.

"Virgil, they're steaming hot." He poked one. "Like me but in a less fun way."

Virgil suppressed a laugh. "Drama queen."

"Emo nightmare." Roman retorted.

Virgil began to think of a witty reply but found that 'emo nightmare' was really more of a compliment. He instead replied, "Thank you."

Roman summoned a fork and stabbed a churro. He did his best to fully cover it in sugar and chocolate without dropping it and, somehow, did so successfully. It was a truly heathenly way to eat a churro, he knew, but he was hungry.

After several churros (which never seemed to cool down, by the way), Virgil finally worked up the courage to ask, "So... When are we going back to America?"

Roman wiped some chocolate off of his chin. "What's the rush? Do you have work? A date? Some emo band concert tickets?"

"Ha-ha." Virgil deadpanned. "But no. No plans. Just... You know... America?" Smooth.

"Alright, My-Chemically-Imbalanced-Romance, as you wish. How about I escort you home after we both get ready?"

"Both get ready? God, we're never leaving." Virgil sniped.

"Ha-ha. I don't take that long to get ready-"

"You're the reason Logan made morning bathroom schedules."

"-But I have no plans today so I have no need for makeup. Just a quick shower. I'll use the en suite in the main bedroom if you want to use the main; I know you prefer to shower at night but since you were a little busy last night..."

'A little busy' was an understatement, Virgil thought, but he agreed.

Despite Roman's promise to be quick, Virgil was ready a whole half an hour before Roman, who sauntered in at 5:30pm (Spanish time, which Virgil didn't know how to convert to his normal time), a whole hour after breakfast.

"Dude."

"Alright, it took a smidge longer than I'd previously anticipated- outfits and all- but I'm here now. You ready to go?"

Virgil ended his conversation with Patton, who'd been texting him from work, and slipped his phone is his hoodie pocket. He stood up. Roman walked over and took him by his hands. "What are you doing?"

"We need to be touching, apparently."

Virgil recoiled. "Apparently?"

Roman laughed nervously. "I've never teleported with someone else with me."

Virgil sighed and offered Roman his hands, "Great."

Roman accepted. He held Virgil's hands tightly, which sent sparks up and down his spine (possibly literally, it was hard to tellwith him) and closed his eyes for a second, then let go. He proposed, "Why don't we for a walk first? There truly are some splendid views around here."

"Roman."

"It must be almost sunset, very picturesque-"

"Roman."

Roman collapsed onto the couch. "It didn't work."

"What do you mean 'It didn't work'?"

"I tried to take us back to the apartment, back to my room, your room, behind the apartment, backstage at the Mind Palace... Nada."

"Why?"

"I can't do it when people are watching," Virgil raised his eyebrows. "Or cameras. I guess somebody's home."

"You don't say."

"No need to fret, though, we can try again a bit later. Somewhere's got to be empty eventually."

Virgil flopped down onto the couch next to him.

"Actually," Roman turned to Virgil, "I have another solution. May take a while though. Need to send a few texts. Want to go for a walk?"

Virgil bit his lip. He hated having no control. "Okay."

"Curses, my phone's dead. Please spare me a second."

"Give it here." Virgil said, already regretting it.

Roman handed over his phone with very little hesitation. Virgil's phone was his lifeline; he doubted he could hand it over as easily as Roman had.

Virgil placed the phone between both of his palms, like a sandwich. He glanced towards Roman then back at the phone. Energy coursed through his hands, like constant static shock, although a lot less painful. He watched as the minute switched over to 17:29, and as the battery percentage steadily increased. He stopped at 20%, which took a minute, as it was 17:30 when he was done, although Virgil hadn't noticed the time passing, too focused on his task.

He could've charges the phone up fully, or a little faster but if he'd learnt anything from the seven phone batteries he'd killed within a week, it was best to take it slowly. The last thing he wanted was to ruin Roman's nice phone.

"There." Virgil handed the phone back to Roman.

Roman desperately wanted to pepper Virgil with questions about his (awesome) powers, but he'd been raised a polite gentleman and opted to only thank Virgil, no questions asked. He knew both of them were equally curious of the other's abilities, but perhaps it wasn't the right time. He'd let Virgil ask the first question.

Roman sent a series of texts and received a response almost instantly. It was technically part of her job.

Plans were made- which Virgil knew not of, for no reason other than that he didn't ask, and this wasn't something Roman paticularly wanted to be known- for an hour's time. That left plenty of time for a nice walk, and hopefully an enlightening chat, Roman thought.

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Taglist: *insert audio of the zoe 101 oOh*

Chapter 1:

Chapter 8:

Chapter 10: in progress

#the Storm That's Brewing #tstb #tstb chapter 9 #i finished it like 10 mins ago so i cant spam your dadhboard for a while dw #virgil sanders #roman sanders #sanders sides

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