#Is my Will Wood tag in case ya wanna go looking

[strange-creature-222]

checking out your blog and the first thing I see is a Will Wood lyric

Epic ✨

I have lured you into my trap

Welcome aboard

[deansapplepie]

Who’s the one staring now?

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Hovarth!Reader

Warnings: mention of adoption, mentions of parents death, first little fight of our staring couple. 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

A/N: third part to my series of shorts The Staring Contest, continuation to Watcha lookin at? and Looking good, Dixon!

You were bored. Pretty and deeply bored, so when you heard the younger Dixon was going to hunt without his brother, you thought… why not going with him? You asked him and he tried to find ways of not taking you with him without saying ‘no’.

“Do ya have a weapon besides that shitty knife?” You didn’t, but in a minute you got a riffle with your father and he ran out of excuses, or maybe he just wanted you to go and see how it went.

And that’s the reason why you were now following him on the woods, eyes on his broad shoulders, shamelessly staring every time his arms flexed and contracted to put a new arrow on his crossbow. “Did ya come to hunt or to stare at me?” Even if he couldn’t see, he could feel the weight of your eyes on him. Don’t get him wrong, he liked this staring game between both of you, but hunting was basically his job and it annoyed him not having it done seriously and efficiently.

“Can’t I do both?” You answered trying your luck.

“You can, if ya were actually hunting something. Do you even know how to use that thing?” He stopped and pointed out your riffle.

“Think my dad would have lent me if I didn’t?” You answered challenging.

“I have no idea what yer dad would have done or not, sunshine. What I know is we’re here to hunt and that’s what we’re doing, if yer not taking it seriously you’d better go back.” His eyes burned on you and somehow you knew this time you had really pissed him.

“Who’s the one staring now?” Even your guts telling you to stop you just kept going and that’s it, you managed successfully to reach his boiling point.

“Everything is a joke to ya, isn’t it? Not everyone was born with a silver spoon on their mouth and in case you didn’t notice the world went to shit and there’s people depending on what we hunt to survive.” Here he was jumping to assumptions.

“Wow, you really made a research on me. Even in the middle of the apocalypse, I’m impressed. Can you please share where this silver spoon is? I wouldn’t know cause I never met my biological parents.” Here he was was taken aback, you were adopted. “Even if… if my father had money and was rich, do you think we would be hiding in a quarry?”

“I… ok, I’m feeling like an asshole now.” He confessed unable to take his eyes from you as it has always been since he landed them on you.

“You should, cause you were one. Did your mom never taught you to not judge a book by its cover?” And here there were you stepping on unknown lands and risking your neck.

“No, she died when I was 8.” He simply answered letting you without a single word to say back to him. “Who’s the asshole now?

Wanna be added to my tag list? Let me know. (Please tell me if you want to be tagged on everything or just specific series) Everything Taglist: @lilyevanstan1325 @hayley1998 @vaniniweenie @cupidelocke @avabh12 @whore4romance @dixondystopia @dixons-sunshine @bigbaldheadname @negansbestie

The Staring Contest Taglist: @diffidentphantom

Mdni banner by @anitalenia

[nyxnightshade7656]

Hooked(Pt2)

I'll be honest. I have no idea where this is all really going. But it's fun to write. Hope you guys enjoy, any ideas/constructive criticism, by all means. Help. Also, prerequisite "I don't speak Cajun or French" and I'm sorry if Google Translate makes you mad, but it's kinda all I got. Writing in accents is hard, despite speaking with a deep southern drawl my whole life XD And if ya wanna be tagged, I guess let me know? I think I'm doing it right.

She sighed and made her way back to her window, which was a little more difficult to find in the dark. Then she just stared up at it for a long moment. She had not thought this through, clearly. From the ground to the window was a five-foot gap. There was nothing to really put her fingers or toes into for grip, curse the perfect maintenance on the building. And she hadn’t thought to just drop a rope, of which there was a disturbing amount to be found, or something similar to be able to climb up. And with her phone dead, she couldn’t exactly ‘phone a friend’ for assistance. She rubbed her hands over her face in annoyance at herself.

Just as she was about to give up and turn back to the forest, it wouldn’t have been the first time sleeping in a tree, a voice called down from above, “Now, Petite, what’chu doin’ out here, huh? Gon’ an’ gotcha self locked out? Good thin’ Ol’ Gambit was out patrollin’. Lemme help ya up.” She looked up, eyes wide, to see Gambit looking out the window above her own. He had a smile on his face and looked like the cat that had gotten the canary. Which was to say, entirely too pleased with himself.

Normally she would deny help, just because she hated to bother other people with her problems, but this time she was willing to make an exception. She just nodded. Gambit smiled again, “Hang tight, be down in a jiff.” Then he was gone from the window and she was left with her thoughts. Thankfully, he didn’t leave her outside for long. Soon enough, he was walking up to her.

“So, how’d ya en’ up ou’ere, huh? We all thought you was hol’up in yer room.” He said with a grin as he motioned back the direction he had come from. No doubt, the front doors. She sighed as she turned to follow him, but not before she glanced up towards her window one last time. Gambit caught her glance easily and followed her gaze. It didn’t take much for him to put two and two together, “Ah, jumped out t’window, hm? Cleaver. T’oh a good teif knows to leave a proper ‘scape route. Or return route in dis case. Why not call’er text ta be let back in?”

She grabbed her phone out of her back pocket, showed him the dark screen, then drew her finger across her throat in the universal sign for ‘dead’. He shook his head, “I see. Well, guess you lucked out wit me bein’ a night owl, huh Petite?” She nodded, just once, and gave him a grateful look. Because he had saved her, even if it was just from a minor inconvenience of having to find a tree to sleep in for the night.

His emotions tasted like cinnamon, vanilla and bourbon on her tongue. Warm, soothing, and with a slight spice. Comfort, care, curiosity, and something light and airy that she couldn’t put a name to. She couldn’t read minds like Xavier or Jean, though she had heard even if she could it would be pointless since Gambit seemed to be able to counteract telepaths. She hadn’t gotten the details on the how, just overheard that he could. But whatever it was that enabled him to escape a telepath’s abilities didn’t seem to help him escape her Empathic abilities, because his emotions were like an open book to her.

They made it to the front doors; that Gambit had left propped open which allowed a warm inviting light spilling onto the stone steps from inside. Not many people realized it, but it wasn’t just living creatures that could have emotions. Wood and stone held residual emotion, particularly strong ones. She could feel the emotions that had seeped into the wood and stone of the mansion over the years of it being occupied. It was yet one more reason why she would hide away or try to escape as much as possible. Her first day in the mansion had nearly driven her to insanity before Xavier had managed to place a temporary shield around her mind to help dull the intensity. Now she was able to create her own mental shields that were almost as strong. Still not enough to be normal, but better.

 “Here ya’re Petite, even left th’ light on for ya.” Gambit teased. The playful teasing tone of his voice perfectly matched the happy-joy-warm-citrusy taste of his emotions. They were so strong that she could feel her own lips pulling into a smile against her will. And of course, he picked up on her smile instantly, “Aww, dat fer me? Should smile more, looks good on ya.” He stepped to the side and, as if he were a prince from a fairy tale, bowed with his arms motioning towards the door, “After you, Chaton.”

She shook her head, unable to stop the smile that seemed almost permanently etched on her face, and stepped inside the mansion. Once inside, she closed her eyes and took a breath. It was something she had to do anytime she walked into a place not one hundred percent her own. She allowed the emotions to flow through her, hateangerfearlovejoypeaceexcitementconcernprotectiveness; but she did not hold on to them. She processed the feelings, acknowledged them, and then released them back into the room. It was the only way she could maintain her sanity.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt a hand on her shoulder, “Ya alrigh’? Ya always quiet, but rarely ever see ya be still as death.” Concern, worry, anxiety; it all tasted like the bitter pith of citrus. She hated it instantly. She shook her head and forced a smile. She had taught herself ASL years ago, about two years after her Siren Song had reared its ugly head and all but forced her to be Mute. But she had learned that nearly no one knew ASL unless they had a loved one that was Mute or Deaf. Which, in turn, relegated her to notebooks or her phone’s talk-to-speech function. Her phone was dead, and she was clearly without a notebook, so that left her with the world’s worst rendition of charades as her only option of communication. So for now, she just went with a simple, unmistakable, hand sign. She held her pinky, ring, and middle fingers up; while her thumb and pointer made a circle. The universal sign for ‘Ok’, followed by pointing to herself.

Gambit chuckled, “One’a dees days, gonna hear that voice a’yers. But alrigh’, you’re good. I hear ya, loud and clear Petite. I’ll walk ya t’yer room.” Before she could physically protest, he placed his hand on her lower back and started to guide her. His emotions made it clear that he didn’t think she couldn’t take care of herself, which she would have taken immediate offense to, but he still felt protective. Curious, and was that affection? She bit her lip, suddenly shy and unsure of herself. She wasn’t sure what to make of those emotions.

“Here ya’re Petite. How’s ‘bout you head on in and get some shuteye, yeah?” He waited until she had opened her door and stepped over the threshold before he leaned into her space, crowding her against the doorway, yet leaving her a clear escape if she so chose, “And Petite? I happen ta be fond of chats. Da kitten ya made Stormy was cute. Still waitin’ fer my lil’ surprise.” He pressed the words against the shell of her ear, making her heartrate kick into triple time. And when he pressed a fleeting; barely there to the point of making her think she might have imaged it, kiss against her jaw, just under her ear, she almost felt like the world as a whole had come to a screeching halt.

He leaned back and gave her a playful wink and casual wave, “Fais de beaux rêves, Petite. Sweet dreams.” And like that, he was gone. And she was left to try and figure out if she had imagined everything that had happened, or if it had been real.

[sofiiel]

There & Back Again : xreader addition (fem/afab)

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐄𝐍: 9.4k words: (CW: some angst. mostly fluff. mentions of being lifted general corny/cliche themes.)

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"Rick!" Eddie's voice called as he entered the cabin near the lake in the woods.

He held a grin on his face with his metal lunch box in tow.

"I got your half," He said.

Rick gave him a smile, "Eddie, my boy! Can always count on you!" He called cheerily.

Taking a long drag from a blunt, Rick coughed lightly and held it out to Eddie.

"Um, no, man, I'm good for now." Eddie laughed, setting his box down on the coffee table and taking a seat in the armchair.

Eddie pulled money out of the box.

"Whoa, you sold your little ass off, junior!" Rick called with a grin, taking a seat on the sofa.

"The Hideout is good for business. Anyway, I've completely sold out, so I need a full restock." Eddie boasted.

"Yeah, I got you. Got some good stuff came all the way from California," said Rick, reaching under his sofa pulling out a case, and starting to open it.

Eddie eyed him carefully, "ah..." he hummed, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I was wondering if you could kick me a bit more stock than usual?" Eddie asked carefully.

"Oh, wanna work overtime, do ya? What for? It's a risk on me, you know, if I let too much circulate around town." Rick said.

"I know, I know. I'd be careful it's just um. The Band and I kind of have a trip planned and -"

"No, nope. No way, this isn't just about your boys." Rick pushed, with a sly smile. 

Angel stirred in the guest room, hearing Rick and Eddie's voices, he quietly got out of bed and tipped to the door. Cracking it open slightly with one eye, he looked about, his eyes falling on Eddie, who started to fiddle with the ends of his hair.

"There's um, a new friend of mine, we got an extra ticket, and she's going to tag along," Eddie said.

"She's never been out of Hawkins before, not even one town over. There's so much she hasn't seen. It's her first real concert and I-"

Rick leaned back on the sofa, "you want to blow her away and paint the town red." He said.

Eddie gave a half-shrug, "yeah, you can say that. I want her to remember it." Eddie spoke in a low, shy tone and couldn't hold Rick's gaze any longer.

"I want her to think back and possibly tell her kids and grandkids about it, that time she snuck off to Pittsburgh with Eddie the Freak to see Motörhead for her very first concert." Eddie rambled.

"Jesus" Rick sang, setting down his blunt.

"How long have you known this girl?" He asked. 

"I dunno...about…a couple of weeks I guess," Eddie said.

Rick chuckled, "she must be one hell of a girl, junior, you're sprung like a bear trap." He laughed.

Eddie slumped over and ruffled his fingers through his hair, "I'm well aware, thank you." he sang in annoyance.

Angel's eyes narrowed as he remained quiet.

Eddie smiled to himself, "she likes the band, she saw us play the other night and called us amazing." he said.

"Don't gush at me kid, Here I'll double your usual stock," Rick said in false irritation.

A grin eased its way across Eddie's face, he tilted his head to one side and his eyes twinkled gratefully.

"Thanks man, see I told you, you're a great big softy." Eddie teased Rick.

"I'm no softy, I'm just a sucker for young love." Rick grumbled, taking back up his blunt and taking a long drag.

"That would be called a softy," Angel spoke dryly, stepping out of the room and coming up the short hall.

"Hello, runt." Angel called to Eddie, an icy, mocking smile faintly present on his lips.

"You feel you have to haul her all the way out of town to keep her out of my way?" Angel teased.

Eddie's smile vanished in an instant and was replaced with a frown.

"Hardly Pete." Eddie answered, voice void of emotion to match the dryness of his gaze.

"You know what they say. I have a kiss of death, Munson. No girl looks back." Angel smirked with pride, his eyes falling on the chain around Eddie's neck.

"I see you've kept it, you know what I want in return." Angel hummed. 

"She's a person dipshit, I can't just hand her over. That's her call." Eddie snapped.

"I agree with you on that one." Angel said, taking a step forward and smiling coyly.

"And what was her first impression?" he asked.

Eddie's gaze on Angel wavered slightly, "she called you a pretty boy." Eddie grumbled.

Angel rested a hand on his chest as if moved, "how sweet of my little fairy." He hummed. 

Eddie's eye twitched at Angel's words, "your little Fairy?" Eddie grumbled, looking up at Angel.

"Guys, hey! This is a zone of zero drama! Read the sign! Giant smilie face!" Rick shouted, pointing his finger toward the wall.

"A chill-only zone," he stated.

The two boys locked into a stare-down again, and the smug, snide smile on Angel's face was making Eddie's skin crawl.

"Sorry about that, Rick." Angel murmured, leaning against the wall.

"But for the record, I think ____ and I shared something rather electrifying between us." he said quietly. 

"I can feel a bond in the works, so whisk her away while you can. She's bound for me." Angel sang, pushing off the wall as he strolled past the living room and into the kitchen.

Eddie sat quietly, looking down at his hands.

"Don't worry, the boy is just full of himself." Rick sighed.

Eddie shook his head, "no, he's right. He's hard to compete with on a bad day." Eddie said with a nod.

"But I'm not known for quitting," he said, tossing a halfhearted smile at Rick.

Rick sighed and started to fill Eddie's box with new stock.

"Just try to keep me out of it. I don't play favorites, regardless of who my goddaughter chose." Rick muttered.

"Ok so... You were just listening to the band and all of a sudden you felt weird, glowy and things started to break?" Amy asked, sitting across from you in the sheet fort in the Creel basement.

You nodded slowly, "yes, but I'm not so sure that it was so much the Band as a whole. It fell in line with the guitars specifically." you recalled.

"And then all the lights busted?" Amy asked.

You nodded again, "A thick bolt of lightning struck outside the building, and then when Angel kissed me, it felt like a small shock, like static."

"It was probably from the lightning." you reasoned.

Amy studied you carefully and was worryingly quiet.

"What?" you asked with caution.

"You also said it felt like this Angel guy took the weird feeling from you?" she asked.

"It left me after the kiss. If it was because of him, I'm not sure, but he also knew taking me outside would make me feel better," you explained.

"He wasn't wrong?" Amy asked.

"No, but it could have just been that talking with Eddie made me relax and not think about what happened," you murmured.

"How long before you go on this trip?" Amy sighed, rubbing her temples.

"A handful of days." you answered.

"Well then go, I'm going to keep hunting, I'll go back to the lab and snoop around The Hideout. Maybe try and find Angel." Amy sighed.

"You shouldn't be doing all this alone," you cautioned.

Amy smiled faintly at the concern on your face.

"I'm better on my own. Fewer people to worry about. Besides, I have an ace up my sleeve should I need help." Amy said.

You looked off to the side, "we've got to find someplace better than this for you." she sighed, looking around the basement.

"It's quiet, and nobody comes around. I like it here." Amy said, kicking back on her pile of pillows.

You turned to her with an unsatisfied gaze, Amy gave a roll of her eyes.

"Anyway, come on, less talk about our possibly strange circumstances and tell me. How was the kiss other than the weird?" asked Amy.

"Angel has cold lips, for them to be so rosey." you confessed.

"Ugh, cold lips are like fish lips." Amy grimaced.

You touched your lip and could feel your heart race again, it was easy to remember what Eddie's face looked like from so close.

"Well, it obviously wasn't too awful." Amy teased.

"Huh?" you asked.

"You're clearly thinking about it, reliving it...you look like a you're doing everything you can not a smile." Amy laughed.

That smile came through timidly, "not Angel's." you whispered.

Amy sat forward, "someone else kissed you?" she asked wide-eyed.

Your smile grew, "Rughead?" asked Amy.

You gave a vigorous nod of your head.

"Holy shit, that's bold." Amy laughed.

"Not really, He was trying to remove Angel's cooties." you sighed.

"Cooties? That's a lame excuse." Amy laughed.

You sighed, "I'm glad for that excuse. It was nice." you murmured softly, fiddling with your fingers.

"Go on and gush. I'm used to it, my sister was boy crazy." Amy said, gesturing for you to continue.

"It's just," you gave a shrug, "no man ever really treated me as softly as Eddie does. I'm afraid I'm just mixing signals. I've never dated, and I've never had guy friends. It's just...the older men my dad needs me to blackmail and bribe." you confessed.

"And they are all, rough and...hungry. A kiss feels like being smothered by a pillow, and they touch you like you're not human." your voice became small as you hugged yourself. 

Amy sighed, "I wouldn't know about mixed signals, but....you should see the way he looks at you."

"Anyway, it's summer. Summer has its own sort of magic. You're going out of town with him-"

"And Jeff, Gareth and Scott." you added.

Amy rolled her eyes, "details," she scoffed.

"He's kissed you, he takes any chance he can get to be close to you." Amy reasoned.

"And your point is?" you asked.

Amy raised her brows, "you may get a date out of this." she said.

"Or a boyfriend." Amy added.

You shook your head and went to climb out of the fort.

"You're thinking way too much into this, Amy." You sighed.

"I could be, but my family, we're born matchmakers," Amy said, walking you to the window and giving you a boost out.

"You need something like this. Someone who can show you what things could be like, it might get you to fight for yourself." Amy spoke with genuine words as she peered up at you, who lingered knelt on the ground outside the window.

"I'll see you tomorrow sometime Amy, please be careful with your hunt for information," you said before getting up and going back to your car.

The following day, you exited Chrissy's house.

"Are you sure you can't stay for lunch?" Chrissy called, walking you to your car.

"I'm sorry, today's my first day for my babysitting gig and I don't want to be late." you said.

"Considering it's the test run before the real job within a few days." she added.

"No, I completely get it! Well, good luck." Chrissy said, she waved goodbye to you and headed back inside her house.

With a light frown on her face, Chrissy exhaled. It was nice to have someone else around besides her mother. Her mother didn't lay so many hurtful comments on her when she had company around.

You stopped just shy of getting into your car and watched Chrissy's back as she lingered at the doorway.

"Um hey!" you called out.

"Yes?" Chrissy answered quickly.

You gave a wry smile, "They loved the dress you helped me pick. Maybe you can help me out again. I'm going on a short trip soon, and I could use some fashion pointers." you said.

Chrissy's face lit up with a bright smile. "Of course!" she said happily. 

"I start packing in a few days," you called out.

"Just call me up then," Chrissy said, waving one more time before walking through her door.

You gave a satisfied nod, "I don't need too much help, it's only two days, and I'll probably wear one outfit, but..."

You couldn't shake the feeling of loneliness that came from Chrissy. 

"And then I unpacked the box to find my old board from 4th grade had been broken in two. I know it was Billy, but mom won't tell Neil until I have proof." Max ranted from the passenger seat of your car.

You kept your eyes on the road as you listened.

"Why'd he break your board? I thought you said it was one of your favorites?" you asked her.

"He hates me and he's mean. Billy doesn't need reasons to be a jerk, it's how he is all the time." Max complained.

"Sounds like my brother. Some guys turn into assholes when they hit puberty." you sighed.

You turned to offer Max a smile, "but that doesn't mean they really hate you."

Max shook her head, "well, Billy does. I bet your brother doesn't break anything of yours." Max shot.

You sighed, "they can break things that aren't objects. Like feelings."

Max looked up at Myrtle with a hint of pity.

"So you do have a jerk brother," she murmured.

You gave a strained smile, you didn't, not truly. Patrick had very viable reasons for his mood switch the past year or so. Unfortunately, those reasons were not something you could explain to anyone - let alone this preteen girl.

"Hey, look, let's stop talking about stupid brothers. They're clearly ruining everything," you changed the subject.

"You like to board, right? Hawkins doesn't exactly have a skate park but, I can show you where the kids go." you offered.

"Really! Awesome. Because I've been looking, and the only place close was some parking lot full of potheads." Max said.

You giggled, "Yeah, no, you have to go to the older parts of town. But be sure not to go alone, there aren't many people around, which can be a bad thing." you warned.

"I'll ask you then," Max said, turning her eyes to the road.

"I don't have any friends yet." she sighed.

"Mom's busy, Neil's is always busy and Billy is just - no." Max added.

"That's ok with me, maybe I'll learn how to board myself." You hummed.

"You?" Max laughed.

"I could, I do ballet, so I have pretty good balance, can't be any worse than ice skating." You reasoned.

"You ice skate?" Max asked with a grin.

You smirked, the look of impression Max gave you reminded you of when Patrick was little and every little thing made you 'the coolest' big sister.

"I do, for about seven years now," you said.

"Can you do any cool tricks?" Max asked as if a challenge.

You laughed quietly. "One or two."

You sat on the rubble of what was left of the old community pool. Watching Max skate her heart out in the small emptied pool.

The girl had a grin on her face a mile long and seemed to be having the time of her life.

"That one is called an Ollie!" Max called to you.

"Is that safe?" you called with concern.

Max laughed and shrugged, "As safe as skateboarding I guess." she called back.

You shook Your head, "at least she's having fun." you thought, looking up at the sky.

The sun was starting to set. "Fifteen more minutes ok Max!" you called.

Having taken Max home, you headed home yourself. Coming through the front door, you nearly dumped into your father.

"Sorry." you said quickly as he glared down at you.

You searched his face, asking, "something happened?"

"Something came up at the plant." He said pushing past you.

You blinked a few times and stared at the front door as it closed. 

"Was it just me or did dad seem....fearful." you thought, recalling the look in his eyes.

You bit her lip, "maybe Amy was on to something." you sighed, heading for the stairs.

"At least it's all giving me time off from my usual role." you thought.

After a shower and changing into pajamas, you sat on your bed drying your hair, which had turned into a wild mess as the cold water washed away any styling.

Picking up your brush, you slowly combed it through small sections. Closing your eyes to gather your thoughts as they traveled back to remember the current events of your life.

"So much is happening." you sighed.

A knock against the window caused your eyes to open.

"No way." you breathed, getting to your feet.

Setting the brush on the dresser, you walked to the window and opened it. Below, was a bright smile that put butterflies in your stomach.

"Hey, mind if I make this a habit?" Eddie called up to you.

He pointed over his shoulder, "I saw your dad leave so..." he hummed.

You shook your head and reached down to grab the rope ladder, tossing it over the window. Eddie wasted little time as he started to climb up.

The closer he got, the faster your heartbeat in your chest. Your eyes locked into his, and the memory of his kiss filled your brain.

You quickly walked away from the window, giving him space to climb inside. Eddie pulled the rope ladder back in and quietly shut the window.

"I ugh...just got back from work and wasn't exactly ready for bed." He said, turning to face you. 

"Work?" you asked, lowering a brow, "you mean your hustle?" you asked.

Eddie laughed, "sounds way cooler when you say it like that." He said.

Looking you up and down, he could see the water still glistening faintlyon your damp skin.

"Sorry, was this bad timing?" Eddie asked, slowly averting his eyes as he dropped the backpack free from his shoulders.

"N-no, I just um," you cleared your throat to fix the weird sound your voice was creating.

"Got out the shower. It's fine really." you said, reaching past him for your brush.

Eddie followed your hand and took up the Brush before you could. He held it up and smiled innocently.

"Mind if I help?" he asked.

You sucked you lips in nervously.

"It's kind of a tangled mess." you muttered, touching your hair.

"To be honest, so is mine half the time." He said, sitting down on your bed.

Eddie gave the place in front of him a pat.

"Come on, I promise I won't make it any worse." He spoke playfully.

Calming the butterflies, you walked over and took a seat. Eddie combed his fingers through your hair to move it toward him and then parted a section to brush.

It sent chills down your back as he brought the brush through your hair.

"Oh, my hair is in far worse shape than this." Eddie laughed.

"Is it?" you asked.

Eddie rested his chin on your shoulder.

"Here" he called taking your hand in his, he placed it on the top of his head. you slowly and carefully worked your fingers through his slight curls.

Eddie's eyes closed, and you could feel the quiet sigh he gave.

"It shouldn't feel that good." Eddie thought to himself.

Your fingers snagged a little, but as if used to it you instinctively worked the knots away with wiggles of your fingers, and eventually, your hand found its way free.

"It's not so bad," you said.

Eddie smiled in contentment.

"I've had worse days." you hummed. 

Lifting his head away, Eddie sat up straight and went back to brushing your hair.

"So, are you excited for the concert?" Eddie asked you.

"A little....just anxious." you answered, looking down at your hands. 

"You aren't afraid, are you?" Eddie asked.

"no...." you peeped. Eddie silently chuckled. 

"It's ok if you are, it's the biggest rebel moment you've ever had, isn't it?" He said.

You quietly sulked.

"You'll be fine, we've got you." Eddie laughed, moving to another section of hair.

You gave a nod, "that's why I'm not too worried, at least not about what's going to happen out there." you said, turning back to look at Eddie you offered a smile.

His heart beat a little harder as his eyes zeroed in on it.

Eddie looked off, and a timid smile wandered onto his face. Your smile dropped into worry.

"But I hope you don't regret my dad's wrath afterward." you sighed, turning back around, and taking the brush from him.

"I'm not afraid of your old man, ____." He huffed, watching you walk to the mirror of your vanity and start braiding your hair.

"You should be, he can be dangerous to a person's future here in Hawkins," you murmured.

Eddie drew his head back and squinted, "Well, it's a good thing I don't plan on being stuck in Hawkins forever, isn't it."

Then holding his head high with the smirk of a young lion he leaned over your shoulder whispering, "And Faithless is he that says farewell when the road darkens," into your ear.

"Maybe....but have you seen the nightfall?" you asked him back, looking up at him from the corners of your eyes.

Eddie's smile faltered as he spoke quietly, "more of it than you'd think."

The heavy forlorn sound made your heart ache for him.

Eddie was quick to put on another smile and back away, "I'm here now aren't I?" he asked holding out his arms.

"Your old man could walk through at any given minute," Eddie pointed at you.

"But for you, milady. Oh, for you, I will laugh in the face of danger." He said dramatically.

You couldn't fight the smile trying to force its way on your face

"Ha, ha, ha. You're a clown, Eddie Munson." you sighed, setting the brush down.

Eddie smirked, "Your pops wouldn't happen to have a fear of clowns, would he?"

You shook your head.

"Damn." Eddie sighed with a snap of his fingers.

Seeing something crawl in the tank on the dresser, Eddie did a double take.

"Holy shit, you have a spider?" Eddie said rushing over.

Stooping a bit, he peered into the glass, and Shelob peered right back.

"It's huge," He murmured.

You smiled, "that's Shelob." you said, walking to Eddie's side.

He chuckled, "of course it is." before tapping lightly on the glass.

"She likes people...would you? Would you like to hold her?" you asked. 

Eddie stood up quickly and waved his hands, "Oh no, no, no I'm good." he said.

You laughed, "oh come on, don't tell me Metalhead Eddie is afraid of a sweet fluffy spider?" you teased.

Eddie rolled his neck slowly to look at you, and his voice deepened.

"Bite your beautiful tongue, babe." He said with a slight squint of his eyes.

You found it hard to keep your breath.

"Then hold her." you pushed, reaching down into the tank.

Shelob happily scuttled into your palms. Holding Shelob out to Eddie, you smirked.

"She's waiting." you dared him.

Eddie's look of dark confidence faded fast, and his eyes filled with nervousness as he looked down at the fuzzy little creature. Many eyes locked onto him.

"Shelly, this is Eddie... He's our friend." you whispered down to Shelob while Eddie held out his palms.

Laying your fingers over his you created a bridge for Shelob to walk. Eddie stood, afraid to move as the spider made her way into his hands.

She nestled into place and continued to watch him, this caused you to giggle as you watched the two stare at each other. Each waiting for something to happen.

"You're a big girl, Shelob," Eddie murmured, cautiously petting the spider's back.

"She's oddly soft." He said, looking up at you with a smile.

"I know right!" you called happily.

"She's my best and trustiest friend. I don't know what'd I do without her around," you confessed.

Eddie looked down at Shelob, "I'm jealous. You're a lucky spider, Shelly." Eddie whispered and then carefully transferred Shelob back into her tank. 

You sat down on the edge of your bed and Eddie walked to his bag, pulling a walkman out he turned to you and grinned.

"I brought you something to listen to." He said, taking a seat next to you.

"It's um…to prepare you for the concert. It's a mixtape, of Motörhead and some songs by others, so you can get a feel for the music." Eddie stammered.

He looked down at the walkman nervously. He wanted you to like the music that inspired his life. Music held a special position in his life, it was like blood in his veins.

"It's a chunk of me." He thought, and it was a nerve-wracking thought, that you might reject it.

You walked your fingers across his hand holding the walkman and pressed the play button. Leaning his head closer to yours, Eddie stretched the headphones as wide as they could go.

You could scarcely listen as you were keenly aware of your head pressed next to his, though you tried your best.

"What do you think?" he asked.

You closed your eyes and listened, the sound of the drums made your adrenaline flow, and the strings of the guitars recharged your heart, the Vocals tapping into emotions you'd never voice.

"Straight through the Heart. Shout to the wind, How can you hurt me this way" 

They said.

You froze as Eddie's hand took yours, you wished you could see his face as the air around him felt wounded.

You looked down at your entwined hands, speaking in a hushed tone, "um... I like it, who is this?"

You needed to break whatever thoughts he was having, you couldn't stand it.

"Dio." Eddie muttered, his voice seeming far away.

You turned your body slightly and slipped your hands under his arms and hugged him lightly. 

Eddie let out a strangled scoff but welcomed the gentle embrace and the song changed. He rubbed the side of his head against yours like a kitten and returned the hug.

"You don't play fair." He sighed, closing his eyes.

"Yeah? You've got no business thinking you can be sad here." you whispered back.

Eddie smiled faintly.

"You came here for this." you thought to yourself, squeezing him lightly, "I know you did."

Eddie leaned back, causing you both to fall backward onto the bed. 

"Just for a while, can we stay this way?" Eddie whispered, never opening his eyes.

You gazed up at your ceiling, the position you were in was hardly comfortable, bodies half twisted into a hug and heads made to face the sky.

You knew eventually your legs would go to sleep hanging over the edge of the bed. However, you couldn't protest, you didn't want to.

"As long as you need us to," you replied, the music roaring in your ear and coursing through your body. 

You watched the baby spiders crawling about the ceiling in the small hole that'd become their home. Your eyes briefly glanced toward the bedroom door.

"At any moment, someone could walk in." you thought, your arms tightening again around Eddie.

You could hear something quiet inside daring them to try it, and that quiet little something was baring its fangs.

The thought made your pulse quicken. Looking towards the lamp, you grimaced.

"Should have turned it out." you thought, and no sooner had it come to mind, the room fell into darkness.

"Oh." you whispered, "How'd..."

"Hmm?" Eddie hummed sleepily.

"Oh, n-nothing." you stammered.

"It's just the faulty lights," you told yourself.

You awoke to find your head resting on something far firmer than your pillow. Subtly rocked by a gentle rise and fall. Your eyes fluttered open, and took in the arms latched around you.

"So much for a little while," Eddie mumbled groggily, his half lidded eyes peering down at you. 

You quickly rolled away, "sorry!" you gasped.

Eddie watched you from where he lay, "don't be." he said simply.

Reaching out Eddie hooked his index finger around your pinky.

You looked down at your hands before rolling one over to show your palm, letting Eddie draw aimlessly across your skin; youtwo continued to sit in silence.

"I should probably go before everyone wakes up." Eddie sighed, slowly sitting up.

You covered your mouth to quiet a giggle as you noticed his terrible case of bedhead. You leaned towards him and smoothed out his hair as best you could.

"Not looking like that, it's daylight. People will see you." you laughed.

Eddie smiled softly content in accepting the small moment. 

"There" you announce once done,

Eddie shook his head before flinging it back and forth as he had any time before during a show.

"What are you doing!" you gasped as quietly as you could.

Peering through the wild mop of brown tangles, Eddie glanced up at you. With his head held low, Eddie flashed an impish smile.

"Oops, looks like you'll need to fix it again," he sang.

You pushed him lightly, "nope, you'll have to leave just like that." you said, to which Eddie pouted.

"That's not fair, Eddie." you murmured, narrowing your eyes.

"What's not fair?" He asked, making his lip tremble, you winced as you tried to ignore the sad puppy look in his eyes, turning your head away from him.

However, Eddie moved back into your field of view, getting down on the floor he leaned against the bed to stay within your sight.

"Stop it, you brought it on yourself." you shot.

Eddie smiled briefly, "so did you." he said quickly, falling into his pout again. 

You groaned in defeat, "fine."

Eddie climbed back onto the bed and held his head down towards you with a grin, feeling like putty as your hands fussed with his hair.

He kept his gaze in your eyes, and your couldn't dare to look away. Eddie felt his heart fluttering, sucked into your pupils and under the spell of your touch.

A knock came to your door.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit." Eddie whispered, sliding off the bed like an eel out of the water and rolling under the bed.

You sat stunned for a moment at the scene, choking back a laugh.

"My parents don't usually knock." you thought, getting off the bed, you quickly kicked Eddie's bag under it as the door opened. 

Standing there was your brother.

"Pat?" You questioned as he glared at you.

"You were at Chrissy's house again? I thought I told you to stay out of my life." He raged.

"That's what you're here so early for?" you exhaled.

"I was just teaching her some Ballet. That's all," you added.

"Jason says, Chrissy's excited about her new friend, says she's trying to help you out with fashion advice?" Patrick said eyes squinting.

"I mean.... I can't help, my new friend happens to be your friend's girlfriend." you murmured.

"Yes you can, you ignore her." Patrick hissed.

"You stay away from her." Patrick ranted.

Eddie lay on his stomach under the bed, fists clenched as tight as his jaw, reminding himself to stay hidden. 

You bit your lip, "Alright, if it matters that much to you. I'll tell her... I'll find a reason as to why we can't hang out anymore." you sighed.

Patrick scowled down at you, "Why do people have to get mad at you for you to listen." he growled, leaving the room with a slam of the door.

You looked at the door and covered your face with your hands. You wanted to scream in frustration, but managed to calm yourself, turning around to face the bed.

"It's ok to come out now." you said weakly.

Eddie pulled himself from under the bed, bag in tow.

"Does he always talk to you like that?" Eddie asked, pointing to the door.

You shook your head, "no just recently, it's a phase."

Eddie glared, "Where the fuck does he get off telling you who to be friends with?" He asked, eyes on fire as he raged as quietly as he could. But still, he found his voice steadily rising.

"He wouldn't have a single one himself if he wasn't kissing Jason up the ass crack and spit shinning his shoes with what's left of his pride." Eddie went on.

"Teenage hick town wastoid tras-" you rushed forward and held a finger to Eddie's lips, silencing him. 

He released a slow huff of hot air and nodded.

"Sorry," he muttered, fully realizing he had gotten fairly loud.

You smiled faintly, "I appreciate it."

Eddie looked back at the door, fingers uncurling from his fists. He looked down at you, shaking his head.

"You don't have to take that." He murmured firmly, "You shouldn't take that shit." Eddie said, speaking as if words might shatter you.

"He's just upset." you reasoned.

"He didn't deserve your excuses either," Eddie grumbled, taking his bag he headed for the window, tossing the ladder over himself.

You leaned on the window as you watched Eddie climb down.

Looking up at you one last time, he sighed.

"If he ever pulls some shit like that again, and I'm so much as in earshot." Eddie shook his head, "I'll tell him just where he can stick it." he warned.

"See you later, Eddie." you called, unsure of what else to say.

"Yeah, take care of yourself." Eddie sighed, hopping down the rest of the way, allowing you to pull the ladder back in.

From that morning on, the days passed quickly. The quiet and lack of tasks from your father had you unsettled. Not that you would ask for it, your mind and body were thankful for the break.

However, with him rarely returning home until the small hours of the morning and then gone as soon as the day broke, you started to worry.

No word on the mutant dogs, no word from the cops. An uncanny calm seemed to be looming over Hawkins, as if silently waiting for its moment to sound off. 

You sighed, inward jitters refused to let you stand still.

You stood in the shade, waiting patiently by the Palace arcade, with Amy at your side.

"Relax," Amy said with a tiny smile.

"You need this, and by the time you get back. I bet we have lots more answers who whatever Hawkins seems to want to hide." Amy reasoned.

You looked down at her, "I never would have thought you're so level-headed." you said.

Amy smirked, "I know it's pretty scary, huh?" She laughed.

You pulled your car keys out of your pocket and held them out to Amy.

"Only drive it if you absolutely need to, otherwise. I parked it near the station.  Should you ever need a place to hide." you said. 

Amy took the keys, "bet, thanks." she said.

Looking up, Amy nodded towards a Van that pulled up to the sidewalk.

"They're here for you." she said.

You exhaled and tried to shake your remaining nerves. An overwhelming mixture of excitement, anticipation, uncertainty, and self-doubt. 

"Will you tell Chrissy I'm sorry for not calling to tell her. That I said nevermind?" you asked.

Amy gave a nod before smirking. "Who do you think told me what to do when you had me advise you on what to wear?" Amy laughed.

You looked down at Amy surprised, "the girl knows about troublesome family and your whinny little shit of a brother." Amy hummed, giving you a light push forward, seeing Eddie hop out the back of the Van.

"He's waiting on you," she whispered.

You nodded and started walking to the Van

"You ready?" Eddie asked you, grinning wide as he took your backpack.

"That's seriously all you've got?" Jeff asked, having hopped out to help.

"Um yeah, it's just two days?" you questioned. 

Jeff held out his arm and brought you into a stiff hug, "best girl ever." he said before returning to the van.

"You bring her back in one piece, Rughead, or I'll hunt you down like one of those damn dogs." Amy called out.

Eddie rolled his eyes, "later. Much. Weird girl." Eddie called back dryly.

You waved goodbye to Amy and climbed in the van, Eddie behind you.

"You're gonna love the show, ____." Scott said with a pleased grin from the backseat. 

"The seats are super close too." Gareth said, abandoning the passenger seat, while Eddie lead you by the hand to the front.

"Really?" you asked taking the seat.

"Yeah we aren't right up to the stage, but it's in the standing area." Jeff said, clearly excited about it as well.

Eddie started the van up and pulled away, You waved one last time to Amy.

"Yeah, you'll have to be careful though, stay close, wandering into the center can be hectic." Scott said.

"Why?" you questioned.

"That's uh…where the circle is." Eddie explained.

"Circle?" you asked again.

"It's for moshing, it's where fans go dancing," Gareth said.

Your eyes sparkled, "I like to dance, what's so bad about it?"

"They do so very roughly." Jeff muttered.

"Trust me, for your first concert, if a mosh circle forms you stay close to me and stay off to the sides alright." Eddie warned.

"People sometimes get hurt, it's usually not on purpose, it's just very…contact orient, thrashing about to the music, the harder the music goes the harder the fans go." said Gareth. 

"Oh" you exhaled.

"Then there's always some guy who snuck booze in, got pissy drunk, gets mad that someone bumped him a little too hard, and starts swinging," Eddie said.

"Punching?" you asked wide-eyed.

"It's rare that he doesn't get escorted out or have the crowd push him out instantly." He added.

"You'll be ok, just stick with me, or find the guys. There are ways to get out of the pit if you need to in a hurry." Eddie reassured.

You gave a nod, "don't worry, I'll be as close as a shadow the whole time." you said.

Reaching past you two and up to the stereo, Jeff turned the music up, til it shook the van.

"WHOO!" he called out.

"Road trip baby!" called Gareth.

You laughed at the boy's excitement.

"Pittsburgh, here we come!" You called out.

"That's the spirit, lady Tinúviel." Scott chuckled.

Before long, you could see a signpost up ahead, and the words painted onto its brown surface made your heart beat faster.

"Wait, wait, slow down," you murmured to Eddie, almost drowned out by the three rowdy boys in the back seats.

Eddie pulled the Van to a crawl and turned to you.

"What's wrong?" He asked.

You kept your gaze on the sign and Eddie followed it. 

"Leaving Hawkins." it read.

Eddie smiled, "I knew it." he hummed, leaning in your direction. "You're scared."

"I-I'm not...I just." you sighed heavily,

"If I cross that invisible line up there, It'll be the farthest away from my family. From this place, that I've ever been." you murmured.

"What's this? Cold feet?" Gareth chimed, turning his attention to you both.

Scott laughed and rested a hand on your shoulder.

"Come on guys, be easy on her, it's a big step." Eddie said.

"Of course it is, very dangerous business, isn't it?" Jeff hinted.

Scott gave your shoulder a pat, "You'll step out unto the road, and if you don't keep your feet, there is no knowing where you might be swept off to." Scott said.

You gave a sheepish smile as you turned to Eddie, "You told them?" you asked.

"It's not every day you find a girl who's into nerd shit openly around here, of course, he did." Jeff chuckled. 

"The greatest adventure is what lies ahead!" Scott sang.

Eddie chuckled quietly.

"Today and tomorrow are yet to be said" Gareth jumped in.

"The chances the changes are all yours to make!" Jeff belted dramatically, causing you to laugh. 

"The mold of your life is in your hands to break." Eddie sang, sweeping his hand out towards the Hawkins sign.

The Van lingered on the brake, inches away from the crossing.

You shook your head, "Alright, fine, go." you laughed.

Eddie smirked, pleased with himself and his boys.

"Great job guys!" Eddie called back to them.

"Onward!" Jeff called out.

"We ride!" Gareth hollered as Eddie lay his foot heavily on the gass tearing up the road. 

You desperately griped your seat, "Wait, not so fast! Eddie! My seatbelt!" your cries echoed into the dark early morning with the laughter of the boys.

You stirred, unure when you'd fallen asleep.

"Good, I was bored as sin." Eddie said, eyes glued to the road ahead.

You sat up in the seat and rubbed your eyes.

"I haven't slept that good in years." you yawned, stretching out your arms, an arm going out the window to feel the breeze as the van moved up the open road.

"Actually...that's a lie," you murmured, recalling how peaceful the night in Eddie's arms had felt. 

Eddie glanced at you, "you just needed to get away. Some room to breathe." He said, eyes stuck to the horizon.

"Breathe the fresh air, my friend. No more lung-crushing pressure, Because out here nobody knows you, nobody knows how much you can take, or how much they can take from you. No expectations, no requirements." Eddie lulled as he glanced at you briefly.

"Outside that hellhole, you're unknown for now, you can be anything and anyone you want to be." He said.

You watched him as if entranced.

"I'm the girl who rolls with the leader of the band." you said with a smirk.

Eddie laughed, "That you can be." He said.

"I'll be happy to have you as my little dancer." He chuckled.

You smiled and turned to look at the sky, bright blue with thick white clouds cruising by. 

You exhaled and rested your elbow out the window.

"I'd love to just go and chase the skyline wherever it leads me someday. Walk, ride, sail, fly it wouldn't matter just following it in whichever direction calls me," you confessed quietly.

"New people, cities, places, sounds. Collecting memories." Eddie said, "Touring is the perfect way to see it all." He said to you.

"That's why I hope Corroded Coffin can really go places," Eddie said.

"You guys have a real passion for your music, It shows in the way you play." you stated.

"All of you just get lost somewhere when you play, but you're lost together. I've not seen or heard a band so in tune with each other. Your instruments are like extra appendages, you play them like your vocal cords. They speak for you." you went on.

"You're gonna make me blush at this rate," Eddie said in a bashful laugh, he relaxed against the steering wheel.

"But it's true, and you're still in high school. Can you imagine, in two or so more years, where you'll be?" you asked.

"I know you don't hear yourselves the way the audience does. I wish you could." you said with a smile.

Eddie made a small noise as he held a fist to his mouth, hiding his face in his hair.

"Well, shit." He hummed before laughing.

You looked at him, eyes crinkling into a smile, "oh my god are you blushing?" you asked.

"Shut up, alright, I told you didn't I?" Eddie said, his voice flustered.

"Aw" you sang.

"Stop it." Eddie playfully grumbled.

Reaching out you lightly swept his hair out of the way, and behind it, you spotted the rosiness of his cheeks.

"Oh, you are!" you gasped.

"Shut up, you'll wake the others," Eddie said quietly.

"Too late, I wanna see!" Jeff called, peeking around the driver's seat.

"You look like a strawberry, man." Gareth yawned.

"Nobody asked you, man!" Eddie nearly shouted, the blush only getting worse.

You giggled quietly, slipping slowly into a laughing fit as you held your stomach.

"Oh god, she's gonna turn blue soon," Scott called.

"Seriously, ____, air take it in!" Jeff called out.

You waved a hand as if to say you couldn't as your laughter continued.

Eddie looked at you quickly with a playful leer. With his eyes back on the road, he leaned over as far as he could and planted a kiss on your cheek.

With a gasp, your laughter twisted into a series of coughs.

"Oh my god." you gasped.

Eddie back in his seat held a victorious smirk. "That serves you right." He said.

You glared at him as your cheeks started to warm up and your stomach swirled with a whirl of fluttering.

"Nice" Gareth said sharing a high-five with Eddie.

You continued to leer at Eddie.

"You enjoy it, I-I've got a secret weapon for payback, and you won't know when it's coming." you stammered.

"Oooh payback you hear that Eddie?" Jeff teased.

"I did," Eddie said leaning towards you whispering "and I'm quaking in my boots."

"Be that way." you shot, crossing your arms and turning to face the window.

Eddie chuckled, "alright, alright, we'll lighten up." he said.

"Alright guys, hurry it up, we don't have long before the concert." Eddie called, shepherding the group into a convent store. 

"Stocking up on munchies!" Gareth called, rushing to the snack aisle.

You stood behind Eddie quietly clutching your backpack to your chest.

"I need to change," you said, eying the bathrooms cautiously.

"Well now is your chance," Eddie said, holding his arm out towards the bathrooms.

"Um..." you murmured, "is it ok? I mean....this place looks a little...suspect." you whispered, to which Eddie laughed.

Grabbing your shoulders, he pushed you over to the bathrooms playfully.

"Nothing can happen to you here, alright. There's four of us on guard. The bathroom might be kinda nasty, but that's it." He said.

You glanced over your shoulder at him.

"For real, if someone bothers you, just call. You're fine here." Eddie reasoned.

You gave a nod and went inside.

Only one of the two stalls was in working order, you quickly seized the stall, hanging your backpack from a hook inside the door, and pulled out a fresh shirt.

You looked at the shirt you'd picked up from the printing press the day before.

"I hope it's ok, I'm not exactly an expert on Band shirts...." you thought while slipping it on.

You then pulled on a leather vest Amy had pinched and zipped it up to hide the shirt.

"I hope this surprises them." you thought, taking hold of your backpack and walking out of the stall.

The bathroom lights flickered and your heart dropped.

"No not here too," you thought biting your lip.

The light flickered off and you stood in the darkness, clutching your bag.

"This isn't happening," you whispered, shutting your eyes tightly.

"Please." you hummed.

Opening your eyes and looking around, strange particles floated around you, and vines slithered slowly across the ground.

"Shit." you whimpered, backing away from the door as the vines reached from under it.

You backed up until your back bumped into something strange, it moved along your back like worms but stood solid as a wall. Holding your breath, you turned slowly to face it, eyes locking with a haunting milky blue gaze.

Dead or alive, you couldn't tell what he was, but his gaze kept you frozen, your throat tightening as if being strangled.

The thing's large, spindly hand reached out and lightly held the side of your face.

"She will lead you back." He said.

"T-that voice." you stammered.

"You aren't the boy, but..." you cried out in pain as your head felt as if it would implode as if being filled with air like a balloon.

A sharp shock flew up Eddie's spine as he turned to the Bathrooms, "____?" he questioned, a faint scream lingering in his ears.

Looking around, it seemed as though no one else had heard. Walking with careful steps towards the bathroom, Eddie knocked lightly.

"You ok in there?" He asked.

With no reply, Eddie knocked again, "____ come on you in there?" He asked, but silence lingered.

Eddie looked up at the door and then back at the others before entering.

"Jesus, McKinney!" he exhaled, rushing to you, finding you kneeling on the floor clutching your head, your body trembling faintly. 

At his touch, your eyes flew open, filled with tears as you looked up into Eddie's face.

"Eddie?" you questioned.

Eddie nodded and opened his arms as you fell into them, gripping at his shirt as you hid your face in his shoulder.

"Y-yeah, I'm here...what happened?" Eddie asked quietly.

"I don't know, it- it happened again." you choked.

"My head..." you whispered.

Eddie grimaced as an odd tingling sensation seemed to radiate from your body. 

Rather than pull away, Eddie held you tighter.

"It's ok. you're probably just overwhelmed by everything right now." He reasoned.

You shook your head, you wanted to tell him of the things you saw, of the flickering lights and how the world around you turned into some infected thing. Of the walking corpse.

"He'll think I've lost it." you thought to yourself. 

Eddie knelt there with you, quietly stroking your head until you settled down.

"You know..." you mustered, trying your best to be convincing.

"You're probably right. I-I'm sorry for being such a basketcase." you apologized in a quiet murmur.

"Don't be, it's that cesspool household of yours that did it." Eddie spat, helping you to your feet. 

With his thumb he wiped away the tear under your eye and smiled down at you.

"It'll be nothing but a bad memory once we get you to the show, alright. Just hold on." He said.

You smiled and nodded, letting him lead you out of the bathroom as you stole one last glance behind you, expecting the thing to return.

"Hey, what happened?" Jeff asked, looking between you both with concern.

"Ah, nothing," Eddie spoke carefully.

"Let's just pay for the stuff and go, or will be late." Eddie said, the boys let it go but shared glances with each other following the two of them.

"Aren't you hot with that jacket zipped up that far?" Scott asked you as you all waded up the long line into the concert venue.

"Nope" you hummed, rocking back and forth on your heels, hands on the vest collar. 

Gareth looked between his friends, "anyone else think that 'nope' was kinda ornery?" He asked chuckling.

"Kind of? Totally." Eddie laughed, but he was happy it seemed as though you'd shaken what had happened to you.

"Whatever it was..." He thought.

You let Eddie handle your ticket as you entered in, your hand lightly holding his sleeve as he led the pack down halls and stairs to the floor behind the security escort.

He and the boys seemed very hyped, and you held a large smile as you watched them talk animatedly among each other.

The floor was crowded in the dark room, "stay close," said Eddie speaking into your ear.

You gave a nod and looked curiously around, your eyes eventually wandering off to see the stage. you were close, but there was still a good number of people in front of you.

Lost in the new sights and sounds, you were taken by surprise as the room fell even darker and the stage lights flashed on, smoke covered the stage and the amps sang before the guitars did.

Around you, the boys roared loudly with cheers, as did the rest of the room.  The band welcomed the audience and thanked the city of Pittsburgh before starting to play.

It didn't take long for the crowd to lose it, singing along and moving about.

You giggled as Eddie and Gareth sang the song at each other while hopping around near where Scott and Jeff air-guitared.

You swayed to the music and found yourrself watching them more than the stage. 

Eddie stole a look at you and smiled.

"Like this." He instructed, kneeling in a wide stance, he flung his head back and forth. His hair whipped forward and back along with the music.

You shook your head, "I can't, you look cool, I'll look silly." you called over the music.

Eddie flipped his hair back and grinned at you.

"Oh come on," he said.

Jeff came up next to you and he and Eddie headbanged together. Soon all the boys were doing it.

"Come on ____! You have to!" Scott called.

You shook your head no again, and Eddie sighed.

"Fine, then do as I do." He called out and began to jump up and down to the music, his arms and legs doing whatever came naturally as he bopped his head to the beat.

"Not that bad, right?" He asked.

You hesitantly did the same.

"There you go!" Gareth cheered for you.

"Ok, this isn't too bad." you confessed.

But for all your protesting by the time the third song came around,  you stood at Eddie's side shaking your head about.

"Yeaaah! go!" Jeff cheered.

Eddie laughed from next to you, once more playing his guitar out of air and singing.

The group suddenly felt the crowd pushing towards them.

"Oh... Eddie! Eddie!" Scott called, Eddie stopped his thrashing about and looked around, he pulled you to him as the crowd became slightly aggressive. 

"We aren't near the middle, are we?" Gareth asked, watching as a mosh circle was starting to form.

"I think...we're far enough away." Eddie said.

"Just keep a patch clear for her." He added.

The boys made sure to circle around you.  She watched them keep up well with the crowd and felt safe between them.

All was well until, "wait...wait, where'd they go?" you asked yourself.

You felt that you'd been slowly pushed about, but you never noticed you had been pushed away.

You could see a slight clearing in the middle of the floor and tried your best to keep out of the way of the wildly flailing and jumping fans. 

Your eyes grew wide as one man had a slightly busted lip.

"Ouch, that's unfortunate." you thought.

"Watch the elbow man!" Eddie called, slipping between you and another fan, blocking their elbow with his hand.

"Sorry!" they called.

"All good." Eddie replied.

Turning to you, he gave you a smile.

"How'd you manage to end up here?" he asked you.

"Hell if I know." you said with a shrug.

"Don't worry, let's hitch you a ride to safer ground." He said.

You blinked, asking, "h-hitch a ride?"

Eddie turned to a group next to him, "Hey it's her first concert, mind helping us out?" He asked them loudly, pointing his finger upwards. 

"Yeah man," one of the group called happily.

"Whoa!" you yelped as you found yourself hoisted into the air, mind screaming madly as you could feel hands holding you high.

"Strange hands on my ass! Because that's what I want to relive!" your mind shouted.

Turning your head, you saw the crowd push Eddie into the air as well. He laughed at the expression on your face. 

"Relax, they've got you!" He called as the two of you started moving across a sea of hands.

"It's like being stuck in an ocean!" you called wide-eyed.

"That's why it's called crowd-surfing!" Eddie shouted.

"Relax, together they're strong, you won't sink. Enjoy it!" He added.

Once you relaxed, a large grin came to your face.

"This is kind of fun!" you giggled watching Eddie air guitaring once more gliding across the hands of the audience, and you joined him.

Being lowered back to the ground at the back of the circle, Eddie held out his hands to help you down to your feet. Back on solid ground, you peered up at him with an amazed smile.

"That was a little amazing!" you called to him. 

Eddie took your hand and you both started to hop around to the music again.

It didn't take long for the guys to find you again, once you were surrounded once more you looked between them and unzipped your vest, revealing the shirt.

At first, neither of the guys took notice.

"Wait, wait.....what does that say?!" Gareth nearly shrieked.

"No fucking way!" Scott shouted.

Jeff and Eddie turned to see what the commotion was about.

"Holy shit. Where did you get that?" Jeff asked wide-eyed.

You smiled with pride, "I had it made."

Eddie threw his arm around you and leaned his forehead against the side of your head.

"Looks like we got a number one fan now, gentlemen!" Eddie cheered. 

"I can have more made for -" your words turned into a yell of surprise, Eddie swept you up.

With the help of Jeff and Gareth you found yourself sitting up on Eddie's shoulders.

"Oh, too high!" you screamed.

Eddie held tight to your legs, "I got you." He laughed.

"This girl is fucking amazing!" Eddie shouted to the sky.

It was as if every once of embarrassment, fluster, and emotion gathered up to ache in the apples of your cheeks.

"Sh-shut up!" you warned.

"It's not supposed to backfire!" you shouted down at him.

"what, this was supposed to be payback?" He snickered with a smirk.

"You just put me on cloud nine, what kind of revenge is that?" he asked, swaying with the music as he bopped you around on his shoulders happily.

You sighed in defeat but smiled to yourself.

"I can see the stage better up here." you stated.

"Eat your heart out up there." Eddie said, watching his friends dance about as well as the band perform on stage.

You threw your hands into the air and started to move, throwing metal signs you'd seen the guys use.

Looking up at you, Eddie shook his head, a content smile on his face.

"This isn't actually happening." he thought to himself.

"I'll wake up sleep at home, surely." he thought.

You looked down at him and stuck you tongue out, "am I doing it right?" you teased.

Eddie chuckled, "not even close, but it's perfect." he said.

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[thegamingcatmom]

Uhh...y´all know you can just...not read it, right? It´s still up to you to actually click on that work and see what it´s all about. Which you´ve done, apparently. Because why else would you sit here and call ppl (who you´ve probs never met irl) all sorts of things for enjoying such fictional content? Which brings me to my other points:

...how are you gonna sit here and say that just because something is fiction that ethics and morals and values don't fucking matter?

Because that´s exactly the point. Do you think that just because someone writes about certain situations, they wanna be in those situations?? Or would enjoy putting others in those situations?? By that logic, I´m looking to get fucking chased through the woods in the middle of the night, only to get kidnapped and dragged to god knows where in Alaska.

(I mean-)

The main difference between fiction and reality is that, in fiction, you can go absolutely bonkers without hurting anyone but your own sanity.

...you're enjoying consuming that media that in real life would be harmful to other people.

Exactly. It would be harmful in real life. So I don´t see the problem here, tbh.

The argument that these characters do other crimes that are bad. It doesn't matter.

I absolutely agree. It doesn´t matter if a character has committed previous crimes or not - you can still turn them into the worst kind of monster. You can take the nicest character and transform them into your worst nightmare. That´s the thing about fiction:

The only limit is your own imagination.

It is so unbelievably disrespectful to the creators of any media...

...Huh? Are you talking about Capcom or?

If so, how exactly is it "disrespectful" to sit your ass down for hours on end to feverishly write about your favorite characters and put your own spin on them? Writing is still art, and art isn´t always pretty. Sometimes, it´s meant to be horrifying and disgusting. And, to be brutally honest with ya-

...I don´t think Capcom really cares what kind of stuff the fandom produces, as long as the hype´s still going strong. But you´re free to disagree with me ofc. ✌🏻

Honest question though: Do you know of any cases in which Capcom has openly complained about the way their fans portray these characters? I´m honestly curious about that one. 👀

Because if you said that shit to a person Irl you'd get your shit rocked, you'd get Swiss cheesed.

...Yes: In real life. Do you realize you keep debunking your own arguments?

Y'all ain't had conversations with real people in a minute. Get off the damn phone.

I mean...you dedicated a whole ass post to other ppl´s online activities. Maybe it´s you who should get off the "damn" phone? Get a breather, stop concerning yourself with the things other ppl do online. You´ll be much happier, trust me. (And I do mean that, btw.)

I don't wanna see no r@pe/noncon, no incest, no underage shit...

THEN STAY AWAY FROM IT. Why is this so hard to understand for some ppl?? 😭

It really comes down to the following:

Don´t like, don´t read. 🤷🏻‍♀️

Listen, this isn´t me attacking you or anyone else. Everyone who really knows me on here knows I´m not that type of person. I´m merely responding to what I´m seeing. And, honestly?

I´m fucking tired of seeing this witchhunt.

I´ve never experienced this kind of calling out and bashing in any other fandom. This shaming other ppl for their fictional likes and dislikes.

What gives you the right to decide what´s "suitable" for OTHERS to enjoy??

I absolutely understand that some topics just aren´t for everyone. That´s totally valid. 100%. I´m not saying you´re wrong for finding these things horrifying and appalling. Sometimes, that´s exactly what these works want to evoke in you.

But what I don´t understand is this need to stop others from enjoying that content. Content that is, in most cases, properly tagged. And that´s the thing:

Most of these work do have those tags and warnings, and y´all STILL openly complain about them? Just stay away if you can´t stomach these topics. End of the story. Problem solved.

I´m sorry (not really), but I just had to get this out because this is getting ridiculous.

Ya'll goofy mfs piss me off. Cause how are you gonna sit here and say that just because something is fiction that ethics and morals and values don't fucking matter? The reason that it's problematic is because you're enjoying consuming that media that in real life would be harmful to other people. That is why it's problematic because you are enjoying something that inherently is harmful and unethical. The argument that these characters do other crimes that are bad. It doesn't matter. It is so unbelievably disrespectful to the creators of any media to take their work and make the characters in a way that is NOT just ooc. It's you making a character who is like a morally grayer, arguably bad person and then making them commit atrocities that genuinely are some of the worst things someone can do to another person. That's what I don't understand about you guys. You need to hop off the internet and go talk to people in the real world. Because if you said that shit to a person Irl you'd get your shit rocked, you'd get Swiss cheesed. That's what's wrong with y'all. Y'all ain't had conversations with real people in a minute. Get off the damn phone. I don't wanna see no r@pe/noncon, no incest, no underage shit and yall defend it cause you're weird. They need to check y'alls hard drives istg. If you all disagree with this, please block me cause we are not for each other, Bro. I will never understand you.

[crazylilad]

Red-Chapter 15

AN: Just an Fyi, this is a TWD fanfiction, meaning there are a lot of TWs, including loads of violence (of all kinds)

No smut!

Please make sure to reblog, like, or whatever you wanna do! That helps me want to continue writing these kinds of stories and to figure out what people want

SUMMARY

I ran through the woods, Matthew right behind me. 

My breaths came in harsh and my legs were screaming in protest. Just a bit farther. I promised myself. 

Matthew stumbled out of the underbrush and doubled over, his cheeks red and mouth open as he huffed for a breath. I moved his arm around my shoulder and kept going. 

I flinched as a bullet ricocheted off a tree to my left. It was too close. They were too close. 

But this was only the start 

Taglist

If you'd like to be tagged or removed, please let me know!

@fromsamsdiningtable @thefemininemystiquee @infectedbydaryl @ellablossom @azanoni @shadylilac @fuseburner

Chapter 15

Daryl

I climb off my bike, my crossbow already up. We had just made it to the meetup spot Rick and the Governor had agreed on. I didn’t like it. The area had enough coverage that, if they wanted to, we could be ambushed at any minute. 

Rossary jumped off the bike, her hand touching her knife as she looked around. It took a little convincing to get her to ride on my bike. I hid my smirk. The fearless Rossary was afraid of motorcycles. I shook my head. Once we were done with this Governor BS I would make sure to take her riding some more. If only so she’s used to it.

I’ll stay with Hershel,” Rossary offered.

My smile grew. “Ya good?”

She didn’t answer, and instead took Rick’s spot in the passenger seat, her eyebrows furrowed.

I walked toward the silos, Rick behind me, covering my back. It seemed like we were the first ones to show up. I stopped at a corner, holding my hand up. We were nearing the feed store where Rick and the Governor are supposed to meet. The windows were high enough off the ground I wasn’t able to see inside from where I was. It seemed too risky to be here so vulnerable. 

My knees stayed slightly bent as I ran for another building, using it as a form of cover. When we finally reached the feed store, Rick went in alone and I ran around the side. I didn’t like having him in there with The Governor, but I knew he could take care of himself. 

I squinted. The windows were covered in dust that took some force to remove so I could see inside.

 I cursed. The Governor was already here. My face contorted into a scowl as I went around toward the front. I shouldn’t have let him go in alone.

Hershel stopped the car not far from me. Rossary was leaned forward, her head peeking over the driver seat so she could see me. I gestured to the building. “He’s already in there. Sat down with Rick.”

Rossary huffed and stepped out of the car. She stood like she was ready for a fight to break out at any minute. I watched for a few more seconds as she pulled out one of her hunting knives, twirling it around like it was a toy and began looking around the building.

“I don’t see any cars.” Hershel said. He was right. There weren't even tracks.

I shook my head. “It don’t feel right.” 

Rossary turned around to look at us. “Keep it running.” she told Hershel. “In case we need to make a break for it.”

Her brown hair was braided back and lay on her shoulders. She wore a leather jacket she had found on our run. It covered two of her knives. She was smart to hide her weapons. If things went wrong and she lost the gun and dagger at her hip, she would need the extra weaponry.

She stepped closer to the feed store. Unlike me, she was too short to see through the windows unless she stood on her tiptoes. 

The sound of a car approaching caught our attention. “Heads up!” I hit the bumper. 

Rossary made eye contact with me, subtly shaking her head before she took out her gun and hid from view just around the building’s corner. 

I kept my crossbow up as Andrea and two others stepped out of the car. “The hell? Why’s your boy already in there?”

Andrea turned towards me, shocked. “He’s there?” 

I nodded. My shoulder stung from holding up my crossbow. The gunshot wound was healing up well but it still hurt. I grit my teeth.

One of the men, a Mexican in his late thirties, smirked at her. Andrea scoffed before opening the building's door and walking in.

I paced in front of the car. Rossary's eyes were narrowed as she watched me pace. She was leaned up against the car in a nonchalant way, making herself known. Her eyes moved toward the new people, watching the Governor’s men like a cat watching its prey.

Hershel spoke. “Maybe I should go inside.” 

A man with glasses hummed disapprovingly. “The Governor thought it best if he and Rick spoke quietly.”

Rossary looked him up and down. “Who the hell are you?” she asked, her brow raised. She touched her dagger, as if making sure it was still there.

“Milton Mamet.” the man said before continuing to write. 

“Great. He brought his butler.” I muttered. Rossary let out a snort, a cocky smile gracing her features. She was beautiful.

“I’m his advisor.” Milton interjected. 

“What kind of advice?” I mocked.

“Clothing choices probably.” Rossary added. I raised a brow at her, a small smirk on my face. 

Milton sighed. “Planning. Biters… Uh, you know, I’m sorry.” He looked at her, a challenge in his eyes. “I don’t feel like I need to explain myself to the henchmen.”

Rossary took a threatening step forward her smile gone. I took a closer step toward her. Milton shrunk back and looked at his paper. She smiled victoriously.

“Better watch your mouth, sunshine.” I chuckled.

The Mexican finally spoke up. “Look, we’re gonna be out here pointing guns at each other all day, do me a favor: shut your mouth.”

I took a step forward and stared him down. I was taller than him by a few inches and could easily beat his ass in a fight. He didn’t back down. 

Hershel intervened. “We don’t need this. If all goes south in there, we��ll be at each other’s throats soon enough.”

The man looked Rossary up and down, a suggestive smile on his face. My stomach turned and it took everything in me not to punch the smile off his face. I could tell his demeanor made Rossary uncomfortable, but she didn’t let it show for anyone else. Instead, Rossary smiled back and pulled a knife out of its sheath

.…

Rossary

I watched as Daryl paced once more, his tension radiating off him. He let out a tight breath. Out of all of us he was the most worried this would go wrong. He held his crossbow with both hands, his jaw clenched. I bit my lower lip. His shoulder had looked better than it did, but it was still at the beginning of healing meaning he was putting a lot of stress on his body than it needed.

Milton stepped up nervously. “There’s no reason not to use this time we have together to explore the issues ourselves.”

Daryl leaned against the car next to me. The other guy, Martinez, looked up. “Boss said to sit tight and shut up.”

“Don’t ya mean The Governor?” Daryl growled.

No one spoke as Milton rambled on. I tuned him out. I don’t think I can survive the whole day listening to Milton’s voice. Still, it was nice to be outside the prison walls, even if I had just spent days away from them. 

“They're gonna work it out. Nobody wants another battle.” Milton finished.

“I wouldn’t exactly call it a battle.” Daryl said, his voice gruff and unfriendly. He shifted feet, his hand on his crossbows strap.

I looked over at him. I still hadn’t thanked him for taking me out. He seemed to understand how uneasy the place made me feel. There was something about being in the quiet nowadays that made me uneasy. 

I didn’t realize I was still staring at Daryl until he made eye contact with me. His hair had grown out a lot since I last saw him and it began to cover his eyes. Still, I could tell he wanted to ask if I was okay. 

I nodded. Now wasn’t the time to get caught up in my own thoughts. Besides, I’m the one who should be asking him.

I guess Milton didn’t seem to realize how worked up he was getting Daryl because He continued, “I would call it a battle, and I did. I… recorded it.”

I raised a brow, slightly intrigued. 

“For what?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Somebody’s got to keep a record of what we’ve gone through. It’ll be a part of our history.”

“That makes sense.” Hershel said. I nodded absently, wondering if someone on our side should do the same.

But in reality, there was no reason to. The world wasn’t going back to how it used to be, no one would read it and care. It would just get lost in the dead world. 

I jumped when I heard a loud banging and pulled out my knives. I followed behind Daryl. 

We made it to the silos where we had spotted a group of walkers. I took out a walker coming from the other side before silently hiding behind Daryl. He gestured to Martinez. “After you.” 

Martinez smiled. “No way. After you.” 

Andrea scoffed before shoving past the two of them and stabbing a walker in the head. I followed her lead. My knife flew and embedded into the head of a walker. I stalked toward the body and pulled it out, taking out another walker once I stood. I watched as Martinez swung his bat and took out another one.

Daryl shrugged. He walked forward a bit and shot one with his bow. 

I watched as the man's bat swung and hit another walker, spewing guts onto the silo wall. Andrea backed up until she was standing next to me. I looked up before pulling my knife out of another walker's head. 

I scowled as I walked away from the two men, not wanting to watch their pissing contest. It was bad enough Daryl was over working himself on purpose. Andrea caught up to me. She shook her head, scoffing.

“I will never understand those two.” Andrea muttered.

I chuckled and spoke in an overly exaggerated tone. “Men,” 

…

I stared at Daryl. After an hour, He was still talking to Martinez, and despite knowing everything was still okay, something felt off. 

None of this was worth it. We were out here with our heads in the air as we waited for our leaders to stop their conversation just so we could get back to killing one another. 

I rolled my tense shoulders. I couldn’t care less how this ended, I just wanted it to end. 

I touched my leather jacket. I had originally begun to wear it to hide my weapons, but now I wasn’t sure if that was a good idea. Despite the protection it gave me when fighting walkers it was unbelievably hot. 

I twisted uncomfortably. I was now sitting with my body leaned up against our car, watching the building Rick and the Governor were in. 

I turned as Daryl stood next to me, looking forward. I turned my head to the silos, trying to take my mind off of the ongoing negotiations happening in a building a few feet away from me. 

Daryl bumped my shoulder with his. “You good?”

I gave him a small smile. I crossed my arms, feeling safer with him at my side.  “Yeah, you? How’s your shoulder?”

This was what we did now; checking up on one another was part of our routine, even if the other wasn’t willing to speak. 

He nodded, seeming lost in thought. “I’m alright,” his southern drawl was more gruff than usual as he spoke in a low tone. “We should add another guard up in one of the towers.  Just in case.” he said quietly.

I nodded. “I’ll take watch again tonight.”

“Nah, rest up some more. Let Matthew take watch with Merle.” He murmured.

I chuckled. “Lord knows they need to get used to one another.”

Daryl grunted and absently nodded along. 

I watched him go get his bike, leaving Hershel and I out with The Governor’s men until he came back. I watched him go. I was still on guard, yet not as tense. I realized more and more that I trusted Daryl with my life. 

Not long after Daryl left Rick came out. I watched him, trying to read his body language. His brows were drawn together in concentration as he got in the passenger side of the car. Daryl rode up next to me and jerked his head to his bike.

My eyes caught Andrea. 

She stood between the cars,trying to decide who to go with. Despite not knowing her well, I wanted her on our side. For her to realize the prison was her home. 

I frowned when she walked toward The Governor’s car and watched as they rode off. 

The world was life or death. And if it came down to it during a fight, as much as I didn’t want it to come to this, I would kill Andrea and anyone else I needed to in order to keep us all alive. 

I hopped onto Daryl’s bike and wrapped my arms around his abdomen. If he, or anyone else knew just how ruthless I could be… I shook the thought off, suddenly feeling sick. 

…

“So, I met this Governor,” Rick said. “Sat with him for quite a while.”

“Just the two of ya?” Merle asked, his raspy voice loud amongst the group. 

Rick nodded. 

“Shoulda gone when we had the chance, bro.” Merle grumbled as he passed those who stayed. He stood next to me near the back of the group, slightly hidden, a gun across his back. I looked at him, a brow raised. What the hell were they up to while we were gone?

“He wants the prison. He wants us gone… Dead. For what we did to Woodbury…” I clenched my teeth and rolled my bare shoulders back, ready for the next sentence I knew was coming. “We’re going to war.”

[pascalpanic]

Fixer Upper PART THREE (Frankie Morales x f!Reader)

Summary: Now you’re faced with an option after Frankie left a tool at your house. How do you make your feelings for Frankie known?

W/C: 2k

Warnings: language, Benny is a menace, fluff :)

A/N: THE THRILLING CONCLUSION! Thank you all for tagging along!

You hardly slept last night. Your mind was filled with the handsome repairman, his smile and his laughter and the fact that he left a vital piece of his equipment in your house. It had to be a sign, right?

Whether or not it was a purposeful move is the question that tormented you until the early hours of the morning. He was a great man, most definitely, but did he mean his jokes and assistance in a way beyond the professionalism he had to have? You couldn’t figure out, and it left you tossing and turning like you had when the air conditioner was broken.

In the morning, you still aren’t quite sure what to make of it. You’d thought that sleeping on it might bring some sense of clarity, but it really hasn’t. Enjoying the cold air of your newly fixed air conditioner, you stare at the wall as you sip your morning coffee. Is there even a solid answer? You’re not entirely sure.

Well, whether or not you’re going to make a move, you suppose he’s going to need that wrench. Lifting your phone, you dial the shop’s number, which is now saved into your speed dial list.

“Standard Oil and Heating,” a man’s voice sounds from the phone, “this is Benny.”

“Hi,” you say with a somewhat cheerful voice. “Uh, is Catfish in today?” You ask the man.

“Gimme one second,” the man murmurs. You can hear paper flipping, as he looks through something on the desk. “Uh, can I ask why you’re calling?” He clarifies.

“Oh, of course. He fixed my oven yesterday and he left one of his tools behind.”

The man- Benny- chuckles. “Oh, you’re the one with the fucked-up house! We’ve heard about you.”

That makes you laugh, but more importantly, makes your stomach flutter nervously. Frankie’s mentioned you to his coworkers. Whether it was in passing or in depth, you don’t know, but he’s mentioned you. Talked about you. “Yeah, that would be me,” you shrug and sip your coffee.

There’s another shuffling of paper and the man makes a small noise of discontent. “Well, it looks like he won’t be in today for whatever reason, but he’ll be here tomorrow. If you wanna bring it in, I can give it to him.”

You pause, then shake your head. Even though he can’t see it, you’re sure he can figure it out. “That’s alright. I’ll just bring it in tomorrow then.”

Benny chuckles a little. “I think he’ll like that. Do you want me to let him know?”

“No, that’s okay. I’ll just pop in when I have the time,” you say casually, as if you’re not about to rearrange your entire day around to do so. The note from Benny- I think he’ll like that- makes your smile widen.

“No problem. We’ll see ya then,” he tells you and nods before hanging up.

Well, now you have about twenty four hours before you have to return that wrench. The decision before you still hangs heavy in the air. There’s a good chance he likes you, especially if the man who answered the shop phone was right. His words were subtle but hinting, and the idea was that Frankie has talked about you.

But what if he hasn’t? What if he just mentioned that you have a chronically disastrous house and that was the end of the story? God, there are so many questions, and it makes you annoyed to no end. You groan aloud, grateful to live alone, and drop your head to the cool wood of your kitchen table.

Love is too complicated. Can you even categorize it as love right now? Maybe it’s more of an affection situation. There are too many labels for things, too many variables and ifs and whens. Too many reasons things can go right or can go very very wrong.

Worst of all, if Frankie doesn’t feel the same, you lose a damn good repairman. Well, he’s a good guy. You’re sure he’d still help, but that banter and laughter would certainly be gone. The relationship you have now would be thrown out the window, which you may one day need him to fix.

You have a job, and you do your work as the day progresses, but Frankie’s face takes up permanent residence in the back of your mind, unable to let you focus well. Even as you snag a spare monster cookie during your lunch break, you think of him and how warmly he helped you after you burned yourself.

Your decision wavers back and forth. You have periods of definitiveness, moments where you’re certain you’re going to make a move and moments where you decide you’re going to do nothing at all. It’s agonizing, your inability to make a decision.

Finally, you reach the best conclusion you think you can have. When you drop off the wrench tomorrow, you’ll just read the room. You’ll carefully observe his body language, the way he speaks, and try to take the clues you can find in person. Yeah, that should work. It’s probably the best option too.

Settling in bed, you take a while to fall asleep, pondering possibilities. Eventually, you fall asleep and even your dreams are filled with confusion and twists, a theme of uncertainty filling your unconscious mind.

Then the morning comes. You get dressed into something you’d normally wear to go out running errands. You don’t want anything too cute, anything too casual or sloppy. Even then, you change t-shirts three times until you remind yourself it’s nothing of consequence.

You drink your to-go coffee as you drive to the shop, which you’ve surprisingly never been to in person. For as much as you use their services, you’ve never seen the building. Walking inside, you peek around and find no one. Taking a deep breath and making yourself relax, you ring the buzzer on the desk that sounds in the back.

A man comes to the front, wearing working clothes and a tool belt. His outfit is similar to Frankie’s, but he’s omitted the ball cap. “Hi,” he comments, slightly confused.

“Hey, I’m here for Catfish?” You ask, looking through the window behind the desk that shows the back of the shop. You hold up the wrench, hoping that gives a little indication.

“Oh! You’re her!” The man nods, blue eyes brightening and blonde scruff moving with his smile. “I’m Benny, the one you talked to yesterday.”

He offers his hand and you shake it, smiling and introducing yourself. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too! Fish loves when he gets sent to your place,” he chuckles. “Are you here… just to drop off the wrench?” He asks, implying the very thing that you spent the whole night pondering.

“Hopefully not,” you shrug nervously, an awkward smile on your face.

Benny nods and shoots you a knowing smile. “Fish really likes you.  I’ll just spoil that one for you,” he laughs. “The guy’s like a brother. I can read him damn well. Okay, enough of that. I’ll send him out here, or do you wanna come on back?”

“I’ll come back with you?” You say, half-questioning and half-stating. The man waves you along and you follow him into the back.

“Fish,” Benny calls, and Frankie’s head pops up from a tool bench. He’s facing away from the two of you.

“What do you want?” He grumbles, not turning. He’s too focused on whatever he’s tinkering with, using pliers and wire and tape.

“God, you’re an asshole, Frank. Sure you don’t wanna leave?” He asks you jokingly.

At the question being directed elsewhere, Frankie turns and his eyes widen as he spots you. “Hey, what are you doing here?” He asks.  Benny respectfully backs out of the room without saying anything, allowing the two of you to have your conversation.

“You left your wrench,” you chuckle and awkwardly hold it up.

“Oh, that’s where I left it,” Frankie says, though you learn that he’s a terrible liar through the tone of his voice. “Thanks for bringing that back.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you assure him and smile.

There’s a beat of silence before the both of you try to speak. Neither of you manage to get anything out before you realize the other is speaking. Then you stumble over your words, each of you assuring the other that they go. Then there’s more of that, letting the other speak, and silence, then he breaks it.

“I, uh, left that on purpose,” he admits, face reddening beneath the brim of his blue ball cap.

“Well, I wanted to bring it back specifically to say that I really like you,” you admit and fold your arms awkwardly.

His face practically lights up, looking up at you with a mixture of love and shock and excitement. “Really?”

“Really,” you nod and place the wrench down on the work table in front of him. “What time do you work until tonight? Would you like to come back to my cursed house and I’ll make dinner?” You offer, leaning against his table.

Frankie grins. “I’d love that, yeah. I’ll bring my tool belt just in case,” he chuckles, which makes you genuinely laugh and in turn widens his smile. “You don’t have to make anything though.”

“I will though,” you shrug, your body loosening now that the tension is gone. He feels the same. “Now that my oven is working, we’re all good.”

He chuckles and looks down at the wiring piece he was working on before looking back at you like he’d look at a gorgeous work of art. “I work until 5. Sometime after that?” He offers.

“Seven it is. Do you have any food restrictions?”

He shakes his head. “I eat anything and everything in massive amounts,” he chuckles. “I’m sure anything you make would be great.”

“Well, I’ll text you what I’m making if I can have your phone number,” you offer, a little confidence boosting from the fact that he clearly reciprocates your feelings.

“Yeah,” he grins and takes your phone when you hand it to him, entering his contact. Fix-it Frankie: cell, 589-283-1975.

“Fix-it Frankie?” You laugh and beam at him. “God, you’re a dope.”

He shrugs and blushes but he’s still clearly happy, more than willing to take your teasing. “Alright, I gotta keep working on this, but I’ll walk you out,” he offers and stands.

The two of you walk to the front and Frankie opens the door for you. You walk outside and he follows. “Well, see you tonight,” you grin at him.

“See you then,” he nods.

The two of you go for the hug, but awkwardly dodge to each side, trying to figure out the proper angle. When the gap between your bodies finally closes, you realize neither of you considered your faces. They’re awkwardly smushed together, lips on lips. You’re kissing.

“Oh no,” you laugh and back up, cupping Frankie’s face and softly scratching at the stubble.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Frankie mutters, embarrassed but laughing as he looks into your eyes.

Your face is still close to his, your bodies in a hugging position. “Well, we better do that right,” you giggle.

Frankie nods, his cheeks hurting from how much you’ve made him smile. It falls as his face closes the distance to yours, kissing you gently and sighing into your lips.

The moment is short, soft and sweet. You’re in public and fully conscious of it, and you don’t want to seem weird. When you break away, you kiss his cheek, admiring the scratch of his beard against your lips. “See you tonight, Fix-it Frankie,” you tease and walk off to your car.

“See you!” He calls and raises one large hand in a wave. He’s still flustered as you drive off and wiggle your fingers at him in a similar wave. His eyes follow your car until it’s out of sight.

Frankie walks back inside and rolls his eyes at the sight of his blonde best friend staring at him. “Don’t you even-“

“Hell yeah!” Benny whoops and holds up the wrench as if it were a victory prize.

“Shut the fuck up,” he frowns and snatches it from his hand, tucking it back in his tool belt.

As annoyed as he is by Benny, he can’t be mad. He has a date tonight with a woman he already knows can cook and hold her own in such a shitty house- well, aside from repairs. Thank God for faulty air conditioning.

-

taglist:

@remmysbounty @mishasminion360 @blo0dangel @binarydanvvers  @sleep-tight1 @apascalrascal @randomness501 @spideysimpossiblegirl @notabotiswear @pedro-pastel @sanchosammy @lv7867 @greeneyedblondie44 @hunnambabe @astoryisaloveaffair @emesispo @pedritobalmando @magikfanatic @a-court-of-feysand-and-elorcan @princess76179 @starless-eyes-remain @tacticalsparkles @queridopascal @sugarontherims@floraandfrost @donnaa @heythere-mel @sharkbait77 @mrs-ghuleh @ubri812 @punkerthanpascal @booksandcoff-ee

[hyenahunt]

Beast Survival - 8 [END]

Writer: Nishioka Maiko

Season: Summer

Proofreading: royalquintet (JP & ENG)

Hiyori: After all, Jun-kun, you had the ambition to haul yourself up from that bottom rung, the spirit to stand up against those above you, and the determination to cling onto that opportunity.

[Location: Starmony Hall Courtyard]

Leo: Munch, munch, chew—

Aira: Nom, nom — this is the best ♪ It's delicious~! I never knew food could taste sooo good~ ♪

Tatsumi: I wouldn't have thought you'd be able to fish up a sea bream of all things, Jun-san. Impressive work.

Jun: Oh no, it was all luck, honestly. Right back at you, Kazehaya-senpai — thanks so much for handling all the food prep right away.

By stacking up some rocks together, you managed to make us all a simple stove ♪ [1]

Tatsumi: I read about it in a book once, some time ago. Who would have thought it'd come in handy as an idol?

And all that aside, you really went above and beyond in trying out a real-life survival game for the sake of getting into your role.

Jun: Nahhh, at first I just got swept up in the whole thing, really.

But if I'm gonna take up this stageplay role as a professional, I can't give 'em some half-assed work, so I decided to take this chance to really get into character.

Tatsumi: Hmm. Jun-san, you're truly diligent.

Jun: Mmm. Rather than diligence... you could say it's something like pride, maybe.

This is gonna be my first time performing in a stageplay, but that makes no difference to the audience.

Whether it's a big name or a newbie up there performing the lead role, guests still pay the same amount to come and see 'em...

So I believe it's only right that an actor shouldn't betray their level of experience to the audience.

Well, even if I say all that, my lack of experience is gonna jump out in some way.

It'll take time to build up experience, no matter what. There's no way I could rack it all up in a day, right?

But when it comes to learning my role, there's at least something I can do. That's what I figured, anyway.

If it really was something I couldn't do anything about, I would've resigned myself to it, but I don't wanna say something's impossible without even trying it first.

That's the pride I have as a pro in the making, after all.

Tatsumi: Heheh. That sort of attitude is most befitting of an actual professional, and to continue holding onto it is truly a challenge.

So, how did it go? Have you gotten a better grasp on your role?

Jun: Mm, well... Thanks to this experience, I've gained a newfound appreciation for things I normally have around me and my own abilities.

I feel like I now understand what it's like to be in a situation where I've no choice but to do everything with my own two hands, but I don't think I can really say I've completely gotten a grip on my role yet...

Since I'm no prince, much less one who's gotten exiled from his kingdom, I can't quite wrap my head around the sheer weight of responsibilities someone like that's gotta deal with.

Though my old man's a former idol, I grew up in a pretty average household, after all.

Tatsumi: ...Hmm. Jun-san, aren't you overthinking this a little?

Jun: Am I?

Tatsumi: Yes. You took such an impossible mission upon yourself, faced it squarely, and even accomplished it without ever throwing in the towel.

That kind of tenacious spirit and resolve would stay with you no matter what shape or form you take, don't you think?

Jun: ...!

Leo: Hey now~! You two over there! Quit floating off into your own little world and get over here~!

I've just had a flood of inspiration burst forth! Let's sing a survival song with everyone!

Aira: That's riiight! The veggie foil packs are gonna get all burnt, y'knooow!

Tatsumi: Ahh, so they are. I'll be right with you.

Jun: (I get it now... I'd thought I didn't know anything about the animal kingdom, but I was only judging things by my own standards.)

(Though I didn't realise it at first, all the things I felt today could be the very same things animals living out there in the wild experience, huh.)

Leo: Heeey! Namiii~! Hurry up and get over here, toooo~!

Aira: What he saaaid! Sazanami-senpaiii~!

Jun: (Maybe the Hyena Prince would feel all these things, too.)

(What a rag-tag, fun, and reliable group. If this band of merry men is the one I'm gonna be taking back my kingdom with, then well, I guess things aren't so bad after all ♪ )

I heard ya clear as day~ I'm comin' over now—!

✦✦✦✦✦

[Location: ES Breakroom]

Jun: Heya, thanks for all your hard work today. Huh? Are you the only one here, Ohii-san?

Hiyori: It seems Adam's running late at their current gig. Work is work so there's no way around it, but keeping me waiting is unacceptable!

Jun: Now, now. I'm sure they're gonna come by soon. Want some tea while you wait?

It looks like they've brought in that black tea you've been wanting to try, Ohii-san. Shall I brew some for you?

Hiyori: Yes, yes. But of course, you shouldn't even need to ask. It's a given that you brew tea for me, yes? It should be as natural as breathing for you!

Jun: There's seriously something wrong with your personality... Ohii-san.

Hiyori: What's this? Jun-kun, you seem like you've made some kind of breakthrough. That's a fine weather! A little while ago you were going around looking like you were dead inside. Did you manage to master your role?

Jun: Mmm~ Well, you could say I'm finally standing on the starting line.

Right, speaking of which. Ohii-san, you told me the other day that I was a good fit for this hyena role, didn't you?

And that I'd just have to remember why. What was that all about?

Hiyori: Hm? — Ahh, yes.

Jun-kun, you were a non-special student, weren't you? As a result, you had no more merit than a pebble on the roadside.

After all, that's the kind of system that school had, but...

Like a messiah, I extended my hand of salvation to you and lifted you up from that place. That's why you should be all the more grateful towards me, of course.

Jun: You really don't have to be so annoying about it, but I mean, it's true. I'm always telling you how grateful I am, aren't I?

But what does that have to do with what you said, Ohii-san?

Hiyori: Well, it's not like I chose you on a complete whim, of course.

After all, Jun-kun, you had the ambition to haul yourself up from that bottom rung, the spirit to stand up against those above you, and the determination to cling onto that opportunity.

That's the very Jun-kun I chose... and with a role like an exiled hyena prince, returning to reclaim his kingdom with the help of his friends — there's no way it wouldn't suit you, right?

Jun: ......!

Hiyori: As I've told you once before, you're a noble beast who can't tell lies. [2]

And you see, that's why I extended a hand to you. Isn't my foresight incredible!

Jun: Can you stop flattering yourself with everything you say? It really doesn't feel like I'm the one being praised at all.

Hiyori: I'm just saying it as it is, of course!

Now, if you just think back to those days in Reimei Academy, to when you'd first met me, then that alone would be enough for you to play the Hyena Prince better than anyone else.

Jun: ...So that's what you mean. If that's the case, then I feel like I could keep playing him all the way until the end. Those days are carved right into my soul, after all.

Hiyori: Exactly! That's why out of everyone out there, you're the one who has to play him! Jun-kun, no one else would understand the Hyena Prince better than you!

Jun: Well then, I should know just how to reply, shouldn't I?

"I'll swallow up all the fruits of your charity, and all the days I've lived through up 'til now — and then I'll show you how I've grown strong enough to hunt my own prey!" [2]

✦✦✦✦✦

Translation Notes:

[1]: Specifically a kamado, a traditional Japanese wood/charcoal-fueled cook stove.

[2]: These lines are a direct reference to quotes in Saga - Release 4 (which will hopefully be back up soon!)

✦✦✦✦✦

← prev ✦ all ✦

[waywardimpalawriter]

Could you do a Bucky/Reader fic for 16 on the smut prompts?

The intimacy of shaving

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader, Sam Wilson x Reader

Bucky Bingo Square: New haircut square

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, Sarah Wilson

Setting: three months after the end of Falcon and the Winter Soldier

Rating: M (Mature), E (explicit), NSFW, +18 only please

Warnings: fluff, angst, bickering, smut, oral female receiving, yearning, pining, unrequited love, smutty dreams, broken bones, mention of torture, Bucky’s old memories,

Word count: 10,800

Summary: Frustrated with being left behind, worry taking hold after finding out just a fraction of how bad your boys are. Making you start to search your feeling's for both men. Especially with the intimacy of giving Bucky a hair cut and shave. Unexpected emotions surface on all parts.

Notes: Sequel too “My own worse enemy," filling in a bingo square for #buckybingo and also an Anon request asking for smut prompt #16 “I’m going to die if you don’t let me cum.” Hope you don't mind me adding Sam into the mix sweetie. Also for my head cannon Sam uses Delacroix LA for his base of operation. Wanting to help take care of his family while taking on the mantle of Captain America. Hope you enjoyed doll.

Tag list’s: Are open

@buckybingo

Forever’s: @jedi-mando @chickensarentcheap

Bucky Barnes list: @learisa @eclipses-and-moondust

Story list: @sammyissassy @feelmyroarrrr

Wearing a path from the kitchen to living room ignoring Sarah’s stare, thumb nail damn near nibbled to the bed with how much your chewing the poor abused finger. Cell phone pressed to your ear, listening to Sams deep baritone, “What’d ya mean three places Samuel? How the f-ing hell did you both managed to get so banged up?”

“Explanations will roll out once we touch down Y/N for now know at least he didn’t break his funny bone that’s still none existence,” glancing towards Bucky stretched out over the metal helo bench. Right arm in a sling snug to his body, thick plaster cast covering from mid bicep to mid palm, fingers still visible.

“I heard that and I do to have a sense of humor just not your brand of stupid jokes bird brain,” deep voice unmistakably Bucky’s catching a wobble in the cadence not there when last they spoke.

Swiping a hand over your face wanting to kill them both for leaving you behind. Plans to do just that forming in your mind while snarking, “Remind me again why exactly you chose to leave me behind?”

Staying home you could’ve possibly worked with, the unknown danced on your nerves more than you’d give credit to. Having grown even closer to both men over the last six months, always brushing those pesky feelings and thoughts away that surface during weak moments of worry or sleep.

“To dangerous and I’m not arguing with you on those semantics it’s bad enough cyborg got the shit beaten out of him,” quickly pulling the phone from his ear at the high pitched sound from down the line. Forgetting a moment your attachment to both men, “You finished?”

Low growl in answer, biting off the curses you wish to fling at both Captain America and the Winter Soldier. “Don’t worry you’re in for it once you get home. ETA?” Checking the watch strapped to your left wrist, “I’ll come pick y’all up, gotta stop in town for supplies anyway.”

“No worries my trucks at base I’ll get Buck and myself home.” Glancing at his watch, “Landing in about two hours, think you can grab a couple of Miss Bridgette’s pecan pies?”

Too many years working with that man not to know what he likes, “For the shit you and Barnes pulled get your own pie man.” Soft chuckles lets you know Sarah heard you. Eyes locking with her’s for a moment seeing the worry in those warm browns matching as you knew in your own. “Just bring you asses home so Sarah and I can roast them.”

Almost feeling the deep groan from over the phone line, “What did you tell her?”

“Nothing since that’s what I got,” shaking head tips to the side picking up on Sam’s easy breathing and the helo’s engines in the back ground. “Just get home dumbass,” affection in your tone. Ending the call, slipping the cell into your front pocket to flop down into the worn out but still comfortable couch.

“They get hurt?” Anxiety tainting her voice from across the room.

Peeking through your fingers at her, dropping them to your thighs to run the length of denim covered skin, “Don’t know really, Sam sounds fine but a concussion or another type of head injury wouldn’t show it’s self right away. From what I did gather they finished up the mission a little over four hours ago, in flight for the last two.”

“What about Bucky?” Meeting your eyes having confided in her years ago about the crush harbored for a certain metal armed ex-assassin turned Cap’s left hand man. Always leaving out the other part of your secret crush. “Speaking of which you ever gonna tell them how you feel?”

“Busting chops about that again Sarah?” Exasperated sigh marches passed barely parted lips, “Something’s broke in three places that’s all Sam ‘Stubborn ass’ Wilson would say. Just not which one of them or what body part exactly.” Firmly ignoring her last question and not picking up on the fact she said them instead of him. To stand hands to hips, leaning back to stretch and possibly pop your spine. “I’m going to town you wanna come or need anything.”

“And you call Sam stubborn,” head shaking with a fond smile tipping her lips upward. Picking up the subtle shift in your demeanor as relief floods your system with knowing they're coming home at least safe. Having guessed your feelings for her older brother not long ago however, keeping that little tidbit to herself. “I’ll come with, give you company and grief along the way. The boy’s won’t come home till later anyway.”

Eyes roll you reach for the car keys on the coffee table, patting your back pocket to check for wallet and the front for cell phone. “Ready to roll?”

Hour and a half later arms loaded with grocery bags, making sure to hide Miss Bridgette’s pie’s from Sam, you and Sarah set to work putting everything away. Setting to work fixing dinner efficiently dancing around each other like a well oiled machine working together in tandem getting each task done. Back door quietly trying to open, Sam poking his head around the well loved oak wood door. Showing a face littered with cuts, a busted bottom lip and dark shadow of a black eye around his left. But his smile still widens flashing pearly whites at seeing the two of you. Entering, Sam places a large locking suit case and round leather carry case not far from the door.

Soft gasp leave’s Sarah’s lips, quickly moving towards her brother to look him over, “You were ugly before now it’s just worse bro.”

Snort existed through his nose, stepping fully into the house with a limp on his right side, accepting the hug she gives him carefully. “You should see the other guy.”

“I’m the other guy,” voice slightly strained but still light almost playful unlike the Bucky of months ago. Though seeing him coming around Sam, arm cradled close in a black cloth sling. Peeks of plaster noticeable making you groan, head shaking at the very sight of him. Assortment of bruises littered his face, his own busted lip, and a three inch cut circling just above his collarbone. Seeing the storm brewing in your eyes, “No we didn’t fight and Sam didn’t cause these wonderful souvenirs.”

“Stupid ass got captured, wouldn’t listen to my plan…”

“You didn’t have a plan Sam not a logistical one…”

“Oh, so you bulldozing in like a raging bull in a China shop worked so well. Who got capture?” Pressing a finger behind his ear to lift the shell listening for Bucky’s answer. “I’m sorry I can’t hear you. You’re gonna say you right Robo soldier cause that’s the correct answer.”

Exasperated with them both, “Shut it and sit down dinner’s ready. I swear the two of you fight worse than Cass and AJ.” Authority ringing through Sarah’s tone cutting eyes at both men.

“Oh sweetheart Cass and AJ have nothing on these two bone heads, more maturity in their little bodies than both of them put together.” Rubbing your temples trying to fend off the building migraine behind your eyes. “Listening to constant bickering I wanna put them in a ‘Get along shirt.'”

Scowl in place while giving them a full once over. Cataloguing the damage you could see and wondering about that which you couldn’t. Noticing the length of Bucky’s hair almost a shaggy just falling a little over his ears and brushing the collar of the black t-shirt he’s wearing. Full beard dusting his cheeks and chin reminding you of those days long gone back in Wakanda. In contrast to Sam’s neatly kept mustache and goatee, close cropped haircut smartly framing his handsome face. Looking much like the day he and Bucky left three months ago on their reconnaissance mission. Knowing better as looks deceive and clothes cover up places eyes can’t see without stripping them naked. The very thought peeking interest but pushing those thoughts back with a frown. Of course it doesn’t stop you from wanting to hug them both mindful of injures unseen that brings a scowl to your features.

“You wouldn’t?” Traces of fear slicing through those deep russet browns. “I thought you loved me Y/N?”

Speaking over Sam, “What’s a ‘Get along’ shirt?”

Caught between wanting to roll her eyes and chuckle, “It’s a big shirt we’d put the two of you in till ya stop bickering like children and actually get along.” Dishing up dinner, Sarah looks towards both men. Trying hard not to burst out laughing at the sour look on Sam’s face nor the still slightly confused one on Bucky’s.

“I see smoke coming from his ears,” snarky quip receiving a back handing smack to his arm.

Bowel’s placed at the table, “Aim for the head next time Sar.” Taking the seat on Sam’s right offering him a cheekily smile, “Might actually knock the few brain cells he has left around and jump start the hamster running the wheel.”

“You both wound me,” clutching his chest dramatically. “With friends and family like this who can you trust.”

“Dramatic’s must come with handling the shield,” cerulean eyes rolling edged with teasing tone. Glancing towards Sam first then you beside him, going to explain for Sarah’s benefit. “Steve could put on some high melodrama back in the day. Much like Samuel here.” Scratching at his chin with vibranium fingers, a low hiss only you catch sounds when the plates catch the little hairs.

Scoffing, “Only Sarah calls me that first off, second look who’s talking Mr. Bionic Staring machine scaring off everyone who comes within two feet. Dramatics run through your veins just as well. ”

“Children,” both women exclaim hands coming down to slam the table at the same. Before time digging into dinner as the back door opens with Cass and AJ storming inside with excited chatter upon seeing both Sam and Bucky.

Each asking about what happened, how’d the mission go and why exactly Bucky’s sporting a sling and cast. All questions peeking the interested of both women with brows raised and narrowed eyes.

“Settle in first and eat dinner,” Sam intones wanting to keep most of what happened from his family. “For the most part the mission went successful.”

Very unladylike snort leaves your nose hidden behind a glass of sweet tea you sip from, “At least you came back in one piece or three in someone’s case.” Eyes narrow even farther on Bucky who has the good graces to look sheepish and divert his eyes.

“But the super serum why didn’t it help like that,” AJ snapped his little fingers for emphasis on the quickness the serum should work or so he thinks.

“Doesn’t quiet work that way AJ,” Bucky starts running a hand through his longer than usual hair. Giving a short frustrated tug before returning to the topic at hand. “Yeah the serum helps speed up the healing process it’s not instantaneous and,” pausing to side eye you not wanting to admit there’s more injures than just his arm.

Scowl returning having a feeling you know why he’s paused in explaining, “Takes longer to heal when multiple injures are involved.”

Dinner finishes with other questions, skirting the full truth about the mission, discussing the coming week with work and school. Sam’s boyish smile appears when Sarah brings out the pie, cutting out slices to pass around with Reddi-whip, coffee for the adults, milk for the kids. Silence settles for a moment the enjoyment of pie more important to savor and only once done do you raise to start cleaning up.

“I’ll,” shooting Sarah a look with a shake of your head.

“You got paperwork to catch up on babe I’ve got this, besides Sam volunteered to help. Didn’t you Sam?” Shooting a look his way, clearly speaking volumes if the answer comes back no.

Brow arched in question but thought better then to ask, though he flips the script on you, “Of course, Bucky volunteer’s.” Quickly moving away from the hand threatening to land a hard punch to his right thigh. Almost toppling to the floor in his hast to move Sam tweaked his hip a twinge of pain slicing through his features.

“Serves you right Wilson,” thought a slice of regret skates across your thoughts. Head shaking you stand gathering plates as the boys excuse themselves to play video games.

“Homework first or I’m taking those games away,” Sarah yells after them looking in your direction for a second. “You got these two?” Pointing at each of them in turn with her own frown dropping her lips downward.

“Sadly yes,” exasperation clearly written in the rigidness of you stance and narrowing to slits of your eyes. “Blissfully unaware or want to know everything?”

“Unaware I’m just happy their back whole,” nodding Sarah takes her leave, heading for the home office.

Times flown, six months in fact since Karli’s death and Sam taking over the mantle of Captain America. Going above and beyond to change how the worlds become and see’s the shield. Using Delacroix as home base to keep himself grounded and around for his family. Surprisingly enough including you and Bucky the house feels a touch over crowded but wouldn’t want things any different.

“Care to explain what that means?” Limping with hands full towards the sink, Sam places his arm load down watching you move around the kitchen. Putting leftovers up, setting to work on the dishes, the familiarity you exude warms a place in Sam’s heart. Always pushing those thoughts from his mind, your his best friend and wouldn’t see him in any other way. Especially with your heart firmly filled with Bucky.

Giving your back to both men and only acknowledging their presence when Bucky comes over with a bowel. “Thanks,” leaves your lips with a nod.

“We’re sorry for leaving you behind Y/N, but Sam and I agreed things were to dangerous neither of us wanted you to get hurt,” trying to reason Bucky leans his back against the counter beside you. Tugging once again at his too long hair that gets slightly tangled in the plates of his fingers.

“You actually agreed on something?” Catching his actions, your head shakes grabbing for the towel to dry soapy hands and help with his dilemma. “Instead you both come back looking like train wreck’s all beaten, broken and bruised. With a busted arm,” finished with untangling his fingers to point at his arm. Whirling around to assess Sam who’s trying not to put weight on his right leg, “Banged up hip and God know what else internally. Neither one of you are spring chickens for heaven’s sake.”

“Don’t know what your talking about Y/N? I’m not a day over twenty-five,” taking an aim to make you smile and ease the tension in your shoulders. Frown appearing when your countenance doesn’t change but deepens, “Talk to the resident Centurion who got his ass captured and tortured for over a week.”

Low growl leaves your lips pursed together in a grim line, “Do either of you think about the consequences of your actions? Of what’ll happen without either of you in this God forsaking world?” Tossing your hands up and turning back to dish washing, something to keep from chocking the life outta the two of them, or spilling your inner most thoughts. Afraid to loose either man the very thought making your heart clinch painfully in your chest, breathing picking up as tears gloss over your eyes. Plates clang loudly, forcefully slamming them into the drying rack making both men wince at your actions.

“Y/N,” coming up behind you large warm hands carefully rest on tense shoulders. Aware of your feelings for a certain cyborg the thought a little bitter to take but Sam resigns himself to the role of best friend. “We’re sorry really,” taking a breath and clearing his throat wanting to make amends and explain. “We thought, planned, things just…”

“Went to shit around us, it’s not like Sam or I wanted to get the crap beating out of us doll it just,” shrugging vibranium hand coming to rest on your shoulder beside Sam’s. “Got complicated.”

Taking a deep breath drawing in the scents of Sam’s citrus and cider wood cologne you couldn’t put your finger on naming, mixing with Bucky’s old world sandalwood base cologne of 4711. Eyes close for a moment blinking back the tears, and to gather thoughts, righting them in an order that makes sense. Trying to keep out the feelings currently jumbling up your brain. “I know,” body sags back against Sam’s strong chest while unconsciously leaning towards Bucky’s hand. “Neither of you will do that shit again. Do I make myself clear?”

“Not if things go dark side like this time, we’re not putting you in harms way,” feeling you stiffen Sam steps back, Bucky’s hand drops back to his side when you whirl on the man behind you. Stance ridge and firm, Sam crosses his arms adding his own glare and not backing down. “My decision is final on the matter and no amount of arguing will change that.”

Understanding Sam’s position, however the thought of staying behind, waiting to find out if… no you push those thoughts aside. “Mine, that’s who makes the choice not either of you,” heat of annoyance flaring to life as you look between the two men. “Knowing what I signed up for, choose to stick around and help put this broken blue marble we call home back together. I won’t sit out the next mission we clear on that?”

Rubbing the back of his neck, barely audible hiss leaves Bucky’s lips at having hair yanked out by the roots. Though his voice is steady when asking, “Why did you stick around? Thought once Walker handed over the shield, the Flag smashers agenda crashed and burned you’d skip out on the next train back to normal.” Not that he minded of course, in fact Bucky rather enjoyed your company, reminded him of those first months out of cryo getting to know each other. Plus his questions distracted you from getting an answer that won’t satisfy.

“I have my reasons,” giving a half hearted shrug you turn back to finishing up the dishes not really wanting to explain. Not fully sure yourself why you’ve stuck around though deep down you know it has to do with both men. “Reasons neither of you need to know.”

Sharing a look with Bucky, “Don’t pull that shit with us sweetheart you demand answers now we ask the same in return.”

Sure they still argued like an old married couple but a begrudging understanding has built between the pair, coming to an almost friendship neither would fully admit to. Both wanting to protect the small family friend’s circle patched together like grandma’s old quilt. Tattered, frayed and a few wholes but well loved and always cared for. Eyes landing back on you to watch the forward slump of your shoulders rounded inward along with your chin dropped to your chest.

“I have the two of you house broken,” idea forming to steer the conversation away. “Don’t need that headache on repeat and I wouldn’t leave the two of you bone heads alone to kill each other or drive poor Sarah crazy,” quicker than either can react you’ve scooped up hand fulls of soap bubbles to smash into both their faces. Deflecting the conversation away from having to answer and lightening the mood. Or so you hoped with the playfully murderous looks both men shoot you. Skirting Sam’s grabby hands heading to put the kitchen table between yourself, Captain America and the Winter Soldier. “Now boys that’s just all in good fun and your both hurt so I suggest you think about your actions before retaliating.”

Wiping the remains of soapy bubbles from his face, thick fingers making wet tracks over denim to dry hands. Sam edges a little closer intent on trying to snag your arm. That ghosts through his fingers, “For now but remember paybacks a bitch sweetheart.” Bright smile tugs his full lips, head shaking though he knows there’s so much more your hiding from both he and Bucky. One day he’ll crack that secret you hold so dear, for now Sam lets you cling tightly.

Watching him go you turn towards Bucky who’s smirk sets you back a moment. “I don’t think I like that look Barnes,” arms crossed mustering a half glare. “Sam’s right you really can see the smoke rising from your head.”

“Hahaha that jokes getting old,” light hearted quip falling from his lips, eyes raking your form as you near the sink. Catching you looking between finishing the dishes and making sure Bucky’s not going to retaliate. “I come in peace promise besides I’m too old for revenge I’ll leave it to you young whipper snappers,” throwing his voice to sound like an old man.

Laughter rings full and deep from your parted lips, soapy hands gripping the sink to keep from toppling over in mirth. His own chuckle exists on a grin, cerulean eyes taking in how carefree you look. Tension and worry melted away with his well played grandpa joke. Making Bucky wish he got to see you like this more often but then he remembered why he never searched. Why he left you alone and only within the last ten or so months managed to reconnect the missing dots in his life. Sure there’s still blood on his hands he tries to scrub clean with each mission, to make those amends and not just avenge. But truly help people in ways that didn’t require lead or blood.

Still wondering, so he gives voice to those thoughts, “Why didn’t you go back to your life doll?” Feeling he’s perpetuated a grave error in asking the question but a part of him wants. No needed the answer to know why you’d give up a happy life for one of danger and uncertainty with him and Sam.

Sobering, his question hitting you like a ton of cement bricks keeping you from turning to face him. Wincing when another hiss echos around inside your head from your right side. “Tell you what Buck you let me cut that hair and beard of yours I’ll answer your questions.”

“I get you don’t… wait… what?” Not sure he’d heard you right. Pain making a return to fog his brain for the moment as throbbing radiates across his broken clavicle to the dislocated shoulder, dancing along the fractured radius and painfully tingling his fingers. Soft curse exists his lips reminding himself to take Sam’s suggestions next time though he wouldn’t let the other man know. “Don’t happen to have any pain meds do ya doll?”

Eyes narrow, “Which parts did they break?” Holding up a hand to stop him from answering while you head towards your room. Grabbing up the small med kit Sharon gave you months back for times like these. Pausing to scoop up the hair scissors and trimer, along with a shaver and cream, both of which belonging to Sam. “Now you were saying?”

Placing everything on the table, unzipping the medium size unassuming black bag pulling out a small bottle to pop the top and wiggle out two pills. Handing those over to Bucky who just stares at them resting in his metal palm.

“Trying to kill me doll?” Teasing tone to the cadence of his words while popping them into his mouth and excepting the glass of water. Downing in one go and handing it back, “Never did like pills reminds me of Steve.”

Resting a gentle hand on his bad shoulder, “If I tried to kill ya Buck you’d see it coming,” snickering at the wide eyed look he gives you. Sobering with understanding filled eyes that stay locked with his, “I’m sorry it”s not my intentions to bring up the past.” Moving to put the glass down, you stay at the sink looking out over the backyard, orange and reds dancing over the rippling surface of the bayou. Sinking sun creating a cornucopia of color heralding the on coming twilight and the end of another day.

“You didn’t Y/N,” coming to stand next to you watching the golden ball of life giving light slowly sink into the horizon. On the tip of his tongue to speak about Steve, the abandonment he felt acutely with the absence of his best friend. Slowly filled by your present, that of Sam’s and his family. “I guess ‘Till the end of the line’ meant just till he could get back to who he really missed.” Anguish heard loudly through soft spoken words not meant for your ears but once uttered there’s no going back.

Out of your peripheral vision you study Bucky for a moment heart breaking for the man who’s lost so much to then fully face him. His own gaze staying straight ahead staring unseen out the window with tan lace curtains framing the coming twilight. Over head light casting shadows in the hallows and angles of his features, bringing out the bruises highlighting the cuts, making your heart ache for this man in ways you’ve tried to push aside. Ways you didn’t want it to feel in case of rejection but couldn’t help the tightening in your chest nor the want to embrace and hold Bucky close.

“Come on,” without thinking your hand slips into his vibranium palm tugging till he follows and only dropping to scoop up trimmer, combs and scissors before heading out the back door.

For a moment Bucky stood there thankful to Shuri for the ability to feel warmth and the weight of your hand in his vibranium limb. The very thoughts your simple gesture conjures damns his heart making it beat triple time. When your head pops back around the door sweet smile crossing those kissable lips. Bucky has to remind himself you’re off limits friends nothing more and to breath. Your beauty stealing the air from his lungs, making it hard to focus on anything except your present.

Catching the out of focus look in his cerulean eyes mind swirling with questions as to what he’s thinking about. “You gonna stand there taking root or get your silly ass out here,” motioning with a jerk of your head over your shoulder smile still firmly in place. Making sure he’s actually moving before existing to place a stool about middle of the back porch. Patting the hardwood barstool then reaching up to tug on the pull string as light floods the area casting a bright glow.

Transfixed for a moment in the doorway with the peek of skin allowed to his eyes. Your heather grey band shirt riding up teasingly tormenting him. Cursing internally, tongue trapped between indenting teeth to keep the sounds at bay. Till the hard slap of your palm against wooden seat draws his attentions and he robotically takes the seat. Stiffening with the fluttering of a barber’s cape hating to have things around his neck. Only to settle once you have it in place and buttoned reminding him your not there to hurt or torture him. Fingers brushing lightly over the exposed skin of his neck, creating goosebumps to dance across his flesh.

“Not too tight?” Gently running nimble fingers through his hair, blunt nails scratching the scalp. Finding it hard to keep from rubbing into your hands and fighting the urge to purr with each pass. You work the larger knots out carefully, pulling a comb from the back pocket of your jeans to run through his hair. “You with me Buck?”

“Hmm?” Simple noise issues from the back of his throat lost in the tingling sensations your fingers bloom across his body. Wanting to chase the feeling bringing peace to his mind much like the soft cadence your voice takes on with the intimacy surrounding the two of you. Sweet chuckle music to his ears and snaps him back to now, noticing you’ve paused your hands waiting for a response, “Sorry no I’m good.”

“Enjoying yourself Barnes?” Teasingly quipped while adjusting the cape to cover his back. Making sure all his hair lays over the edges and carefully combing out the smaller knots your fingers missed. Secretly enjoying the soft chestnut strands as they curl around your fingers. Massaging his scalp hoping to relax his tense posture when a particularly stubborn knot has you accidentally giving a not so gentle tug. Garnering a low moan from the man in front of you. “Sorry Buck,” working the knot out with a little more care taking the sound as one of pain.

Throat clearing, thankful his crotch is currently covered to not give away the secret he’s concealing. Praying to all the heavens you’ve taken the moan as one of pain instead of pleasure that’s surfing through his veins with a simple hair pull. “Yes, and it’s fine,” words pushed passed lips held taunt to keep from letting any sound out. Searching his mind for a topic to settle on, willing his body to stop reacting to the warmth of yours.

Each brush of fingers sends heat flaring to life along his nerves. Knowing the pain killers don’t worked through his system that quickly. Yet, the throbbing ache once present has diluted to a low annoying thump with the heat of your hands on his cotton covered shoulder. Wanting to lean back into your body but holds himself ridge from doing something stupid like enjoying the moment. Therefore clears his throat, “You’ve got me at your mercy doll ready to answer my questions?”

“Should I worry what you’ll ask?” Moving from behind him to head back into the kitchen. Grabbing the empty spray bottle to fill with warm water and head back out.

Eyes close with the first spritz of water, chin dropping to chest as you work to wet his hair. “Why?”

“Why what?” Knowing what he’s asking, your distracted for a moment putting the spray bottle’s trigger through a belt loop incase its needed once your satisfied with the wetness of his hair. “I’ll need more specifics than just why. Why’s the sky blue? Why’s it so damn hot? So many why questions you gotta stop wasting your breath Buck.”

“Cheeky doll very cheeky you know damn well what I mean,” keeping his head still to prevent you from severing an ear.

Smirking, setting to work on trimming up the top back portion of his head, trying to keep from childishly making faces. “Sure don’t Sarge.”

Groan slipping passed before he’s able to trap and swallow the sound at the off handed use of his military rank. Wondering which deity had it out for his ass today. Cursing the fact he’s let you so close to breath in the flowery scent of your body. Gentle use of those skilled fingers through his hair not making things any better for the growing problem tenting his jeans. Returning to himself when you move to his left shortening the hair over his ear. “Why’d you stay with us? I thought,” remembering those painful words back in Madripoor. “I thought you had a happy life to go back to.”

“Ear hustling Barnes?” Switching sides and glancing down with a raised brow you know he doesn’t see.

Looking up to try and catch your eye your focus on cutting his hair makes the attempt impossible. So he settles on, “Don’t know what you mean doll. Just asking a question,” trying to hold the shiver at bay when your fingers brush over the shell of his ear.

“Since your asking it means you didn’t hear everything Sam and I talked about,” thankful that’s the case or things would get a whole lot complicated. “I lied.”

Head whipping to the side so quickly you fear he’s damaged his neck with the wince taking over his handsome features. “Lied why?”

“Reasons,” ‘Ones I won’t tell you James,’ speaking the last words in your mind, careful probing fingers check for anything popped out. Garnering a hiss of pain when you’ve found the break in his clavicle. “What did you break besides the hamster running your wheel brain?”

Bitting off the curse as pain flared over his right side. Gritting out, “Clavicle, dislocated shoulder, fractured radius, you can see the cuts and bruises so take it a little easy on this old man.”

“How… Why did you get captured?” Worry fights fear both dance with anger marching through your veins as a Thanksgiving Day parade band would down the streets of New York City. The very thought of both your men hurt and so far away from home torn a hole in your heart. Thoughts you try to push away and focus on the job of cutting Bucky’s hair.

Finishing up what you could on the back of his head, Bucky feels you come around to the front. Knees spread to accommodate your body, closing his eyes to keep from staring at your breasts. Licking suddenly dry lips with having you extra close, he tries to gather an answer to your question. “We needed an in so I made a decision.”

“One I’m sure Sam disagreed on,” carding your fingers through the top, snipping pieces checking length. Jealous over how soft his hair feels between your digits. Woodsy pine scent reaching your nose that twitches in pleasure at the fragrance matching what you always thought he’d smell like.

“Yeah well we ran out of time doll. Couldn’t let what remains of LAF get away,” eyes quickly open only to slam shut again with having you still too near for his own good.

Every brush of your fingers, thighs brushing against his with every move, your flowery scent wrapping around his heart to squeeze tight. Breath punched from his lungs when your knee makes slight contact with his erection. Shooting pleasurable fireworks off behind his closed lids. Wishing for your hands on his body, wondering what they’d feel like over bare skin. If you’d shy away from the scars littering his flesh or… he wouldn’t, didn’t need to think about the alternative.

Unsure why he gasped you move from between his legs and look upon his face confused as to his ridge posture eyes held tightly closed. Insecurities rushing through your mind, setting up shop to remind you no man let alone someone as handsome as Bucky would ever want to look at you. Shoving back those thoughts to ask, “You okay Bucky?”

“Fucking fabulous doll,” bitting out the words while trying to reign in the need to grab hold of your hips, bringing you back against him. Wanting to find out if you’d fit as good or better than what he’s imagined during those dream filled nights he doesn’t talk about with anyone. “Finished?” Praying you’ll say yes, the temptation becoming almost unbearable.

Unconvinced by his words but pushes that aside and stepping farther back to round him, grabbing up the trimmer on the way with a numbered comb. “Almost but then I still have your beard to do.”

“Fuck,” low gravely voice intones the single word hoping you’ve not heard and cursing the heaven for this test of his will and desires. In another life Bucky wouldn’t have hesitated to ask you out, wine and dine with dancing till midnight. Taking you home with a simple kiss of promise with more to come. But he’s different now and you don’t deserve to have a broken man on your hands.

Swallowing harshly to cover your growing need to escape and bury yourself in another program or book to distract from those awful thoughts running around in your mind. Replaying all the brush offs and look aways as rejection shattering your heart. Pushing you to finish his new hair cut that much quicker. “Done, now how short you want your beard?”

“Gone,” knowing exactly what he’s saying and damning himself to the torture of a different kind.

Coming back in front of him, you slip between his parted knees so easily a thought you try to push away while switching the trimmer combs and flicking the on button. Carefully cupping his left cheek while shortening the right for a closer shave once your done. “Surely you didn’t just let them capture you.” Returning to a safer subject other than how good his bearded jaw felt in your warm palm. Wondering how it’d feel in other places.

“Offered myself up for a little bloody torture and a few broken bones. I’m here to tell the tale instead of those guys Y/N. They're off the streets and we have the information needed to finish taking down LAF.” Teeth gritting to keep from rubbing his jaw into your palm, from turning to kiss the center and devour you with his mouth.

Pausing a moment, “But you could’ve gotten killed James.” Sorrow coloring the cadence of your tone, eyes filled with fear at what could’ve happened. “You should’ve called me, I could’ve helped.”

Heart stopping, never had you spoken his first name, always Bucky or Buck, Barnes when your angry but never James. Opening his darken cerulean orbs breath trapped somewhere between lungs and mouth at the sorrow written deep in those eyes he never could not stare into. Heart hammering back to life with the subtle brushing of your fingers over his cheek, “Would it have matter?”

Confusion tips your head to the side, “What you dying or me helping?”

“Dying,” single word dropped like a bomb destroying everything in the path.

“James,” softly spoken with so much emotion held within the countenance of your features. Watching the ghosts float through those beautiful cerulean eyes, memories of a time he couldn’t control, of deeds done to people who didn’t deserve the pain and death he dealt out as the Fist of Hydra. Tears gloss over your eyes once again trying to blink them away to keep them from clogging your emotions filled throat. “It matter’s Barnes, matters to a lot of people you’re just too stubborn to realize that.” Shaking your head to clear the fog and get back to work.

Speechless Bucky just sits there letting you finish up trimmer the hair away as if trying to erase the past months, the torture he let happen with no regard to his personal well being. During this time your words chase around his mind, combined with Sam’s out right demand of him to never put himself in harms way like that again. Adding more questions added than any true answers. Delicate fingers brush over trimmed facial hair bringing him back to the present right as you move to take the barber’s cape from around his neck. Missing the warmth of your touch, heat radiating from your body, your scent filling his nose and making him drunk on you.

Folding the cape to drape over your arm, “I’ll shave you as well come back inside.” Voice slightly rough with unshed tears avoiding looking directly at Bucky and missing the longing written in the ocean pools. Mistaking his lack of response for rejection of your words and feelings. You enter the house placing the small hand load down and moving a chair over towards the sink. Returning to grab up the shaving cream and razor, pulling a fresh wash cloth from the draw by the sink too wet it hot.

“You don’t have to,” entering and closing the back door with the heel of his boot. Bucky leans against the counter watching you with a closed expression. Pain dull but still worming its way through his veins along with so many thoughts.

Glancing his way, “I know,” motioning with a wave of your hand, “but if I don’t that beard’ll come back in short order and we’ll have to do this all over again.” Going for playful to ease the tension built from the lingering words of out on the porch, “Bring your ass over here Buck.”

Your change in mood has a confused frown pulling his mouth down but complies with the order. Taking up the seat with spread legs and turned up face watching you wring out the wash cloth. Using your elbow and tipping his head back to gently place the hot cloth around what’s left of his beard to soften the hair and wake up the pores. Catching the small muffled groan, “To hot?”

“No, perfect,” faintly hearing the two simple words you grab up the shaving cream to put a generous amount in your palm before pulling the quickly cooling cloth from his face. Tossing it towards the sink and applying a layer of cream to his skin. Left overs rinsed from your hands quickly before drying and grasping the razor with steady hands. “Just a little off the top if you please,” boyish smirk slips over his lips tipping cream covered cheeks up while trying to be funny.

Eyes rolling, “To late for that one top’s already taken care of.” Using the pad of your thumb to push the skin of his cheek taunt. Carefully dragging the razor over his flesh intending to keep your gaze directed towards working the blade over his check. However, you’re unable to do so while cleaning the razor as your eyes dart up catching the fact Bucky’s gaze firmly rests on your face. Heat blooming across your body, eyes drop back to his cheek intent on getting finished quickly to avoid any farther embarrassment.

Meanwhile Bucky maps every feature of your face, the slant of your nose, set of your eyes, cupids bow of your top lip. Visions of drawing the plump flesh in for a bite and pull before letting go with a wet pop, filter through his mind. Finding himself in a rather precarious predicament, thighs spread to accommodate your body, his palms itch to grasp and tug you into his lap. Bitting back a moan each touch brings, the gentleness tearing a new hole in armored covered heart. Wanting to keep you out but finding it harder to do every time you show the kindness his life lacked for decades.

Minds eye drawing the curves of your cheeks, lips twitching to caress, fingers tapping trapped in plaster and cloth against his body. Wanting to brush his knuckles over your throat to gently grasp the back of your neck and bring your lips against his for a slow sweet drink of the tempting cavern of your warm mouth. Only snapping back to reality with the soft brush of your fingers along his jawline.

Searching for any hairs left behind, soothingly palming his cheeks with cool hands desperate to taste his skin. Drag your lips over the same spots the razor just graced. Teasing the tip of your tongue along the hard edge of his jaw to place a kiss just below his ear. Tempted to even suck a mark for everyone to see. You swallow harshly removing your hands from his cheeks to rinse and warm up the cloth to clean off any residual shaving cream from his face.

“Finished,” clearing your emotions clogged throat, stepping towards the sink, your profile the only side Bucky sees as you work to clean up the mess.

Feeling rather than hearing him stand heat radiating of his body just a few inches shy of brushing against yours. “Thank you doll,” impulsively leaning forward to brush his lips over your cheek. Lingering longer than he should but unable too stop himself from pressing soft slight chapped lips to the corner of your mouth. “Next time I need shavin’ I know who to come too,” breathing the words before pulling away, taking his leaving quickly to keep from doing something even stupider. Like wrap you up into his arms and actually kissing those pillow soft lips. Backdoor swinging closed a little harder than he meant in his bid to get away from your warmth and tempting body.

Frozen in place, skin tingling from just that slight press while your heart beats almost out of your chest. Pounding against your rib cage so hard fear it’ll crack a rib any second now. White knuckles grip the sinks edge, heat flaring across your body to pool low and throb through your lady parts. Thighs unconsciously rub together needing friction to alleviate the ache growing between your legs.

“Did you cut him or take a hunk of hair out and now he looks like Frankenstein monster?” Teasing tone to his quip, Sam enters the kitchen still staring at the back door. Having watched the exchange from the darkened hallway. Reverting his eyes to your back, taking in the ridge posture of your spine with a slight very subtle shake. “Y/N what’s wrong?” Swiftly coming up behind you, hands gripping your shoulders to turn you around. “Did Bucky say or do something wrong?” Worry creasing his brow the want to hold you close growing with each second your not in his arms.

Looking up into the kind russet eyes flashing with concern and worry, “No,” head shaking, “no he didn’t Sam just…” unable to stop yourself from burying your body against Sam’s firm chest. Trying to figure out how to explain what’s running around in your head. The indecision, thoughts you know shouldn’t roll through your mind doing just that as your arms wind around his trim waist.

“Just what sweetheart?” Wanting to help smooth things over between his two best friends even if it meant swallowing his own feelings.

Keeping your eyes closed, breathing in his cedar wood and citrus scent, burying your nose against his collarbone. Always able to calm the raging storm of emotions boiling through your veins. Confusion setting in with those same tingles you feel when Bucky touches you now dances across your body at the warmth of Sam’s arms cradling you close. Reminding you of earlier when his chest pressed to your back strong hands gently placed on your shoulders. The shiver you suppressed at the touch of both men. At the memory your eyes pop open and you quickly push away from Sam as if he’s burnt you. Needing to escape and figure out what’s going on.

“Nothing, it doesn’t matter, I’m sorry,” feet quickly taking you from the kitchen into the safe arms of your bedroom.

Missing the confused look marring Sam’s face that turns into hurt at the way you’ve shoved him aside. Body sagging against the counter, hand rubbing at the back of his neck searching for what’s changed in such a short period of time.

“Men, blind and just plain foolish,” landing a hard hit to his shoulder, which he rubs to alleviate the pain. Sarah comes up beside her older brother with a raised brow. “Still don’t get it? Searching for exactly why she reacted so strongly? Think Samuel use that big brain you have and actually put it to good use.”

Frown creasing between his eyes and drawing his lips down, “Left behind sucks Sarah that’s all it amounts to. But we… I couldn’t have her along, wouldn’t risk her life like that.”

“Has nothing to do with leaving her home Sam,” giving him a meaningful look that still bewilders him. “Why didn’t you want her along but you took Bucky with you?”

“He’s a super soldier Sar he can take the hits not that I want him hurt either. Shit when he let himself get captured,” moving towards the abandoned chair to plop down heavily. “He scared the living shit outta me, I thought…” hard to swallow the memories of watching those men pulling an unconscious Bucky into a van. Driving off before he could plant a tracker and barely able to get up with bruised ribs making breathing painful. Sam runs a hand over the short hair unsure when things got so complicated between the three of them.

Pulling up a chair in front of Sam, “You’d lost him?” Seeing the nod Sarah’s features softened knowing from the tell’s she picked up watching the three of them for so long. “You love them?”

“What?” Head whipping up so quickly making Sam wince. “Of course I do but not like that I mean their family, you know I’ll do anything to protect my family.”

Hand resting on his shoulder, “You keep telling yourself that big bro maybe one day you’ll actually believe it and able to push those feelings away good enough to keep them at arms length.” Looking up at her, “Just a word of advice,” seeing him nod, “don’t push those emotions away, you deserve that love they both would readily give you.”

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

Softly closing the door behind you heading towards the ensuite bathroom for a nice cold shower, preforming your nightly routine, and shutting off every light except the one beside your bed. Falling into the soft mattress with your current book keeping you company for the rest of the night. Eyes start to droop, words blur and you read the same sentence half a dozen times. Book falling against your chest as a yawn takes over your features.

Body stretching out against cool sheets jumping when a soft knock echos around your room, eyes darting towards the clock to see its just a little passed mid night. Slowly getting out of bed, pulling the extra long dark blue with little pink flowers dotting the sleep shirt down to cover your ass and thighs. Thinking its Sarah checking on you, eyes shocked wide with the small crack you open the door to spy Bucky standing there fidgeting.

“Everything all right Buck?” Opening the door wider to lean against the casing arms crossed just under your breasts.

Swallowing, glancing from your eyes to lips repeatedly. Trying to form the words he wants to speak when the decision makes itself clear and Bucky surges forward. Gently wrapping vibranium fingers around the back of your neck and bragging you against his strong chest. Slanting his lips against yours, nipping your bottom lip to make you gasp and slipping his eager tongue passed into the warm depths of your mouth. Leading the kiss and praying he’s not wrong.

Rewarded by your arms winding around his neck careful of his injures. Fingers tugging at the now shorten strands thanks to your expect hands. Garnering a low moan from the depths of his chest, one that rambles with a pleased hum as you return the kiss. Tangling your tongues together making nothing soft nor gentle about this melding of mouths. Only breaking apart for both of you to gasp for air.

“No, nothing’s all right doll. I can’t stop thinking about you,” resting your foreheads together sharing common air. Fingers at the base of your skull massaging the tension with surprisingly easy pressure. “I’d done fighting, done pushing you away, I need you Y/N.”

“James?” Lips tingling from a kiss you’ve only dreamt about as confusion marring your tone, eyes blinking a few times to make sure you’ve pushed the sleepy haze from your mind.

Soft groan issues at hearing you whisper just first name, hand slipping down to wrap around your waist and pull your taut to his body. “If…” trying to push the next words past his lips, “if you don’t want…”

“Us, we need to know now sweetheart. We won’t push you into anything you don’t want,” Sam’s voice full of desire and longing cuts across Bucky’s for a moment.

Making you look up from eyes locked with Bucky to stare at Sam trying to process his words, the look in those beautiful russet eyes you can’t pull yours away from. Till Bucky presses a kiss to just below your ear, “We know it’s a lot to take in doll and you can say no…”

“I,” gulping like a fish out of water, heat thumping through your veins at the unspoken promise both sets of eyes show. “I don’t know what to say.”

Stepping forward to push you back a step so Sam can fully enter your bedroom and close the door. He comes behind you sandwiching your body between two walls of muscle and masculine warmth. Pressing a kiss to the opposite cheek, lips brushing over the shell of your ear, “There’s no going back sweetheart you’re ours if you say yes. But if the answer is no I’m not going to lie things will change. Awkward as hell yes especially at first but I,” Bucky clears his throat to which Sam nods, “we would work through that with you. Loosing your friendship can’t happen no matter what.”

Removing yourself from between their warm bodies to collapse at the end of the bed, head in your hands. Mind so confused, a jumbled mix of desire and lust touched with a heavy dose of love that scares the living shit outta you. Feeling the bed dip on either side, removing your hands to glance at both men. Seeing the reassurance in those cerulean and russet orbs you swallow to wet your parched throat. Gaining strength to finally speak, “I don’t want to loose either of you,” looking between both men. Taking each hand within your own, “But this last mission taught me I don’t want to deny my feelings any longer.”

“What feelings doll?” Giving your hand an encouraging squeeze.

Looking into Bucky’s cerulean eyes, “I’m in love with both of you.” Switching to Sam’s russet orbs seeing the blatant want shining only boosts your confidence to lean over. Cupping his jaw and bringing your lips against his. Different from the kiss you shared with Bucky. Who’s bottom lip begs for a nibbling, Sam’s fuller lips press against your own in tender caresses.

Gentler too, a soft slant of his mouth against yours, pressing twice at different angles before tracing over your bottom lip. Gaining entrance on a sigh of need to check in with your tongue before tangling together. Heated palm cupping your cheek, thumb brushing over the apple twice while he artfully pillages your mouth. Drawing out a low moan squeak following when a set of lips slide over the side of your neck nibbling a short path to suck a mark behind your ear. Making you weak and boneless against Sam, who releases your cheek and hand to grip your hips, having you straddle his thighs.

Kiss breaking for air, “I’m to heavy Sam, your hip.”

“You’re prefect baby girl no arguing understand?” Cupping your ass in both hands to roll your hips against the hard bulge of his erection. Teeth gritting at how good you feel in his arms, the damp heat of your core only serving to make him grow harder with each brush against your cloth covered pussy. Sam reclaims your mouth, this kiss much different. Desperate and demanding taking no prisoners this time as he immediately slips his tongue back into your mouth. Pulling a groan from deep within your chest, arms going around his neck to help move your body against his. The delicious friction sending jolts of pleasure radiating out over your body, clit throbbing with a need you’ve never felt before.

Hissing at the cool sensations of Bucky’s vibranium fingers drawing circles across your back. Pushing your sleep shirt off your body arms raising, breaking the kiss to accomplish the task. Looking over your shoulder at the bare chested Barnes, mouth salivating at the sight eager to touch and kiss every inch. Brought back to Sam with the heat of his mouth connecting to your pulse, adding his own mark to your body while his callused fingers dances across your back.

Cursing his rotten luck for not having use of one hand, Bucky steps forward lowering to his knees carefully. Brushing his lips along your spine while cool alloyed fingers sweep around your body between you and Sam to trace a line between your breasts. Head dropping back to Bucky’s shoulder and baring your breasts to Sam’s hungry glaze and Bucky’s questing fingers.

“So beautiful,” words whispered reverently from Sam’s lips against the damp column of your throat. Mouth tasting each inch of your skin he can reach. Till moist heat circles your nipple, wet tip of his tongue coming out to flick the tightly budded peak before sucking harshly. In contrast to the cool patterns Bucky draws, taking the time to tug before pinching just hard enough that your back arches into Sam’s mouth.

Pushing into Bucky at your back a whimper parting your gasping lips. Needing more of both men surrounding you, slick coating your trembling thighs as you clinch around nothing. Dragging a whine of desperation from you soul,“Please,” single word escaping your mouth.

“What doll? What do you want?” Drawing his lips up to your ear, nipping the lobe bringing it between his teeth giving a sharp bite at the same time Sam flicks his tongue over your nipple.

Letting go with a wet pop, smiling at the whine exiting your heaving chest, “I think out girl needs more Buck. Any thoughts on how to please her?” Brow wiggling over your shoulder at Bucky who just smirks.

Fingers sliding down then under the band of your panties to find you soaked and pulsing. Cool metal meeting heated flesh makes you jolt in Sam’s arms. Grinding down into those wonderful fingers and against the thick ridge of Sam’s cock.

“Don’t stop please,” gasping head lolling back, your eyes close as sensations crash through your veins. Tight coil starting to form with just the brush of his fingers.

Maneuvering closer to slip two fingers into your clinching channel. Deep groan vibrating through his chest and into your back, “Fuck Sam she’s tight and so wet for us. I bet she tastes just as good as she feels.” Rocking your hips, fucking his fingers desperate for that high traveling up from the bottom of your spine. Tickling your tummy with jolts of pleasure only to have it diminish when Bucky pulls his fingers out.

Frustrated whine leaving your lips only to choke on air when Bucky offers one of the fingers perviously buried inside your cunt to Sam. Who doesn’t hesitate to wrap his lips around the single digit, groaning at the very taste of your essence. Circling the tip with his tongue, making sure to clear every drop off while keeping eye contact with Bucky. Mimicking with his mouth how he’d suck Bucky’s cock, garnering a growl from deep within his chest. Letting go with a smirk, “Even better Buck and I bet from the source it’s simply heaven.”

“Only way to find out,” answering grin firmly in place he raises from the floor. Helping you stand on shaky legs turning you to face him. Capturing your lips in an open mouth kiss, flicking his tongue against yours, teasing your bottom lip and drawing out another frustrated groan making him chuckle. “Don’t worry doll we promise you won’t go unsatisfied we’re going to take care of your every need.”

“Don’t tease her Buck it’s not fair,” glint of mischief sparking through those russet eyes that only Bucky catches since your still face him. Sam comes up behind to pressing his bare chest against your back, hands resting on your hips, tugging and letting the band of your panties snap back against your skin. “You can still say no.”

Wiggling back against Sam then pressing forward to feel the hard line of Bucky’s erection against your lower tummy. Knowing why he’s asking, seeing the same sentiment mirrored in Bucky’s eyes that warms your heart filling with love for both men. “Now who’s teasing Samuel,” reaching behind you to slide your palm over his ridged cock giving a squeeze at the same time you palm Bucky. “I’m sure my loves,” enjoying the answering growls from both men. Before another word leaves your lips Sam tugs down your panties letting them pool at your feet as Bucky moves you towards the bed.

Swiping the book from the mattress to lay on the nightstand, smile on his lips at finding the well loved copy of The Fellowship of the Ring. Bringing you to sit then lay back against the cool sheets, trailing his vibranium fingers from your cheek down between your breasts. Circling each nipple, giving the right a light pinch that has your back arching and a gasp existing your paired lips. Distracted till Sam gently grips your left ankle, spreading you open to slide between your legs. Pressing kisses alone the inside of your leg towards your thigh. Soft bread tickling your skin making giggles erupt from your mouth.

“I think she likes that Sam,” the comment spoken against your ear. Placing a kiss to your cheek, “Have to remember to let my own beard grow back out.”

Whimpering softly at the thought one hand fisting the sheets as Sam draws his tongue over the crease between thigh and groin. Purposefully avoiding the spot you want him most, “Payback is a bitch boys,” words growled out right as Bucky envelopes your left nipple into the heat of his mouth.

“Teasing half the fun sweetheart have patience,” looking up from between your legs. Stiffen tongue drawing up from your entrance to clit, circling the little throbbing nub and making your back arch, gasping for air.

“Fuck,” single word breathed from deep within your body. Sweat starting to bead across your forehead. Head tossed back into the pillow free hand carding through Bucky’s chestnut hair tugging the strands harshly till he lets your breast go with a wet pop. You guide his mouth up to yours, demandingly taking the kiss over, slipping your tongue into his mouth this time. Swallowing your moans of delight with each thrust of his tongue. Matching the pace Sam sets against your dripping cunt.

Rutting into the mattress to find the prefect friction hoping to ease for a moment the throbbing of his cock. “Stop stealing all those pretty noises Barnes I wanna hear our girl,” reaching up to smack the other mans thigh hard enough to break the two of you apart.

“Sorry not sorry,” giving him a smirk while licking his lips from the heated kiss.

Filing away the fact Bucky knows what means only to have any thought fly from your mind as two thick fingers enter your quivering channel. Slowly thrusting, his mouth suctioned onto your clit, drawing little short patterns making your thighs shake around his head. Slacking off to lazily place kisses over those thighs but still pumping his fingers, crooking them into a come hither motion to brush over that special spongy spot.

Blooming stars behind your tightly closed eyes, “Watch him doll, see how much you loves devouring that pretty cunt.” Voice rough with arousal against your ear, Bucky’s metal fingers dancing over your chest only adding to your heighten state of desire.

At his command you eyes open to lock with Sam’s passion blown blacken eyes. Moaning at the picture he presents you with, panting breath as you keep drawing closer to your orgasm. Only to have Sam back off creating frustrating tension in your body. Gritting out, “I’m going to die if you don’t let me cum.”

Smirk showing in those beloved eyes as he doubles down on your clit. Lips puffy but forming a perfect O too suction and flick his tongue over the engorged nerve bundle. Fingers, third added to stretch you open and picking the pace up as your mouth drops wide in a scream Bucky devours with a deep kiss. To keep from waking the kids or Sarah, his own body on fire with a need to have you both.

Tingles quickly dancing through your veins, breath panting as you break from Bucky’s mouth, one hand gripping the sheets below the other still buried in his hair. Body on fire as you near that perfect orgasm Sam’s intent on giving you.

Denial’s not just a river in Egypt as your eyes pop open at the knock on your door. Reminiscent of what your sluggish brain comes to understand as just a very vivid dream. One that makes your heart drop with the book that’d lay on your chest now face down on the carpeted floor. You stand checking the time of mid night before heading to the door and finding Sarah on the other side with ice cream in hand.

“Figured you might need some cheering up,” letting her in and taking the bowl of your favorite ice cream.

Vivid dream lingering though you don’t share feeling a TMI moment she doesn’t and most likely wouldn’t want to know about her big brother. You steer the topics away from the non existent love life to plans for tomorrow and the coming weekend.

[fallingappleshurt]

hi! Have a quick little writing prompt that you can do if you want for the fd!au. Wilbur noticing that something is wrong with Tommy and Techno and going full detective mode and taking care of it. You don't have to write if you don't want, just thought it might be fun :D

This was fun! Thank you for the prompt!! :DDDD

Also this AU is created by antarctic bay but I do not want to tag her again my anxiety is going Brrrrrrrrrr

So please remember my writing isn’t canon!

My brain is on fire and I proof read this like once

  Taking Care of Two

“I thought you were more careful about these things!” Techno hissed as he dabbed a disinfectant cloth against a nasty scrape on Tommy’s face.

“I am! They never get my face cause I’m so good, expect this time I was just not expecting that dude, I mean, he came out of nowhere!”

“Uh huh,” Techno grumbled, he pushed Tommy’s head to the side and pressed a bandaid on the wound.

“It’s not that bad! I don’t need a bandaid for that!” Tommy reached up , pulling at the bandage, Techno slapped his hand away.

“Leave it, it’d be more suspicious to not cover it,”

“No it wouldn’t! This makes it more noticable!”

“If they ask just tell them you tripped, or got hit in the face by a locker or something.”

“No way!” Tommy looked appalled, “That’d never happen to me!”

Techno rolled his eyes, “What? Are you telling me that you can’t be affected by gravity?”

“No! Well, I- I didn’t say it like that!” Tommy stood up from the bathroom counter while Techno shoved the first aid supplies back into their rightful drawer.

“It was implied,” He said dryly, opening the door. Tommy shook his head, “You’re a, you’re a dick, ya know that?” His voice was playful, a smile dancing across his lips, Techno grinned back lightly.

“Why were you two in the bathroom together?”

Techno and Tommy yelped at the new voice, Wilbur was standing in front of them, backpack and work uniform still on, he raised an eyebrow.

Techno‘s hand grasped at his shirt, he took a deep breath, “What the hell?” While Tommy laughed nervously, “H-hey Big man! What’s up?”

“I want to know why you guys were in the bathroom together,”

“You make it sound so weird when you say it like that!”

“That’s because it is weird!”

Techno tapped Tommy’s shoulder, trying to make his movements as discreetly as possible. If Wilbur knew sign language, and Techno was pretty sure he didn’t, he wouldn't be able to decipher this. He quickly signed, ‘Run to room. Lock door.When I say go.’

Tommy nodded, Wilbur rolled his eyes, “You guys can do your little hand signs all you want, I still want an answer.”

Both boys stared at their brother for a minute, muscles tight, Tommy’s eyes flickering between his older brothers nervously, waiting for the sign.

“Now!” Both Tommy and Techno tripped over each other trying to get to their room, scrambling inside they slammed the door, locking it. Both pressed up against it, just in case.

“What the fuck?” Wilbur said loudly, “What was that?” Neither of them responded. He groaned, “You guys are so dramatic!”

“You’re one to talk Wilbur!” Tommy yelled through the door, face squished against the lightly colored wood. Wilbur groaned again,

“You guys can't hide in there forever!” The floor creaked as Wilbur stepped into his and Phil’s room and closed the door. Techno let out a sigh of relief.

“That could have gone better.” Techno said, he slid down the door, sitting on the floor. Tommy laughed nervously, pushing his face in his hands.

Wilbur absentmindedly scrolled through his phone, his brothers were hiding something, that was obvious. He could bring Phil, with his incredible bullshit detector, but where was the fun with that? He could do some detective work, it wouldn’t be that hard.

Wilbur ran his hands through his hair, he could do this, he knew a lot of people so it wouldn’t be too hard to find anything out. He pulled up his Twitter and went to one of his friends' DMs, ‘Have you seen anything weird going on with either of my brothers?’ He sent a few messages like that to his other friends.

“No but I have noticed a huge decrease in bullying, there still is some but I don’t see it as much,” One responded.

“Nothing, sorry.” From another.

“I saw Tommy beat the shit out of one that one guy who kept taking the band kids equipment! It was crazy!” That caught Wilbur’s attention, he knew Tommy’s friend Deo had a dojo and that he spent a lot of time there.

His phone buzzed again, “Tommy saved my little brother! He was getting picked on, someone took his stuff and Tommy swooped in like an eagle and knocked the guy down and got his stuff back!” Wilbur smirked then had a shocking realization, he rushed into the bathroom, looking through the trash, finding gauze, antibiotic wipes and bandaid wrappers.

Was Tommy trying to take down bullies?

It was possible, Wilbur’s phone buzzed again, “I was at the library and saw Techno getting books about medical care, I think that’s what they were, they looked like my sisters textbooks and she’s in medical practice.”

Was Techno in on this? Most likely, Tommy wouldn’t be able to pull it off by himself. Looking back on the past few weeks, Techno had been covering for Tommy a lot recently, ‘He’s with Tubbo,’ or ‘He’s at the park or library,’.

Techno was definitely in on this.

“So, Tommy’s a vigilante and Techno is helping him out,” Wilbur muttered to himself, smiling softly. He stood in the bathroom doorway for a moment then knocked on his brother's door.

“Hey! Open up, I wanna talk to you guys!”

No answer.

“I know what you have been doing! Tommy basically being a secret superhero and Techno, you helping him out!”

The door swung open, Tommy stood there, “No no no no no, you got it all wrong- It’s- its nothing like that-”

“Give it a rest Tommy,” Techno said tiredly, he set a hand on his shoulder,“He’s been snooping around, I can tell, it’s no use.”

Tommy groaned, “Please don’t tell Phil!” He begged, “I rarely get hurt, someone just got the jump on me this one time! I almost always kick ass-”

“Tell Phil? Oh no, I want in,” Wilbur grinned, “I want to help you guys.”

Tommy gasped then let out a shrieky laugh while Techno’s face dropped, “Heeeaaahh?”

“Yeah, I want to join you guys, I could be your guy in the chair! I have connections.”

“Alright!” Tommy laughed, “This’ll be great!” Techno dragged his hands down his face, “I have to take care of two of you now?!”

[jazminebrightxx]

LIKE MAGIC

°l||l°l||l°l||l°l||l°l||l°l||l°l||l°

SHOW: Teen wolf

CHAPTER FOUR: Poetic

EPISODE: 3x02 “chos rising” part three

later that night, Kaitlin sat in Derek's place with Stiles and Peter. She had insisted they would need her and her magic but the older alpha protested, saying they needed her to keep her strength In case something goes wrong. She didn't get that logic at all but just agreed. In her short time of knowing the Hale, she's come to one agreement with herself, don't question his ways.

She now lay across a couch, staring out the window Stiles was stood at. Her eyes went to him occasionally, thoughts ran through her head of him, he was still the same sarcastic spaz even after everything he has been through, she respected him for that. She had always respected the pale boy, losing your mom at such a young age was bound to affect you, and it did. She had seen it happen and was there for him through it. She just wished she had been there for him and Scott when they were going through the things they did, the kanima, peter, she glanced at said alpha, well... beta now I guess.

Something about him was familiar to Kaitlin, of course she could see auras and could tell what type of person you were, but something about peters aura felt odd to her. She couldn't place her finger on it. But it was there.

"I can't take waiting around like this, ya know, it's nerve-wracking, my nerves are wracked, severely wracked, wracked" he complained, bringing Kaitlin back from her thoughts, she eyes him curiously

"wrecked" she corrects him, he turns to look at the redhead, a confused expression on his face

"What?"

She moves to look at him better, hanging upside down slightly on the chair.

"It's pronounced nerve-wrecking" she continues, stiles face scrunches up, shaking his head

"No, it's not"

"Stiles, literally no one says wracked" she states, stiles looks at the girl for a second before sucking in a big breath

"That is not the point, Kaitlin!" He explains, waving his hands around, his sudden outburst causes Kaitlin to raise her eyebrows, though she wasn't quite dazed by his skittish behavior "my nerves are wracked or wrecked or whatever you wanna freaking call it"

"Wrecked"  Kaitlin interrupts him, muttering, which he ignores and continues

"The point is that I can't stick waiting around like this" he finishes

"I could beat you unconscious and wake you when it's over" peter speaks from across the room where he sat opposite Kaitlin on a couch of his own

Stiles sighs, walking around the table with a hand on his chin

"You think Erica's dead?" He questions which spark concern inside Kaitlin, while she didn't know the girl personally, she vaguely remembered her from her childhood and didn't want the blonde getting hurt

"You think I care?" Stiles ignores peters words continuing

"It's just, I don't understand the bank though? Why not chain them up in some underground lair or something, their an alpha pack, right? so shouldn't they have a lair?" Stiles rambles, Kaitlin looks at the boy dumbfounded, she chooses to remain quiet.

"Their werewolves, not bond villains" peter states, not looking at stiles

"Wait a sec, wait a sec! Maybe their living there, you know?" Kaitlin's ears perk up, she eyes the boy questionably, not moving from her place on the couch

"Maybe the bank vault reminds them of their little wolf dens!" He exaggerates, Kaitlin sighs, the little spark of hope in her mind gone.

"Wolf dens?" Peter looks at Kaitlin who shrugs, stiles turns back around

"Yeah wolf dens, where do you live?" He questions the older hale who's Demeter doesn't falter, he keeps a straight face when talking to stiles

"In an underground network of caves hidden deep in the woods"

Kaitlin's snorts, holding back a laugh as she waits for stiles reaction, Peter keeps his face blank, trying as hard as he can to make the pale boy believe him

"Woah really?" Stiles beams

"No, you idiot, I live in an apartment downtown" Peter laughs, his hands folded in front of him

"Okay, fine, still that just proves that there's something up with the bank, and why wait around for the full moon, huh?" Kaitlin rolls her eyes

"Stiles why doesn't it matter, maybe they think it's poetic and maybe their poor and can't afford an apartment" she states, waving her hands around, she turns to sit up straight, her back becoming strained from the position she was in

"They've already had three full moons to be poetic, Katie"

"And here you've only had one full hour to be so annoying.." Peter complains, resting his head back on the couch and closing his eyes. He had grown tired of stiles rambling on and wondered if the girl in the room would mind if he killed him-

He stops, opening his eyes abruptly and staring at the ceiling, the two teens eyes him curiously "no go-ahead finish what you were saying, I'm annoying...what were you gonna say there?"

"what are the walls made of?" He sits up, looking at stiles, who furrows his brow, looking around the room

"What? Uh... I don't know like, wood and brick or..." Peter stands from his seat moving over to the blueprints, Kaitlin glances at stiles before following

"I think he means the vault, stiles" she states, gaining his attention, he nods making his way over to the table

"Yeah, the walls what are they made out of, where would it say that?" The three gather around the blueprints, Peter flicking through the pages

He stops at one page, glancing around looking for it

"Doesn't say anything, where would it say the materials, the type of stone?" He turns to look at the two teens beside him

"Oh, hang on" stiles turns and rummages through a bag, pulling out a bunch of paper and placing it in front of peter quickly

"Here, it's gotta be in there"

Peter places down the papers and begins flicking through them, skimming through the words looking for the type of stone

Peter sighs after a few pages, growing impatient before stiles stops him from turning the page

"There, that's it" he points to the materials on the page

When Kaitlin sees the material the walls of the vault were made out of her heart stops

"Hecatolite." Peter quietly mutters

"Is that awful? It sounds awful" stiles keeps his eyes on the paper, glancing up once at peter

"Call Scott, Stiles." Kaitlin states to the boy when she doesn't see peter move

"Why?" He moves to pull out his phone

"They're gonna rip each other apart" she explains, stiles clicks on Scott's name and places the phone to his ear

"They're gonna kill Derek and Scott" peter finally says, looking up from the paper, Stiles looks at Kaitlin with worry, her mirroring his expression

****

Scott and Derek had succeeded in infiltrating the hidden bank vault, Kaitlin watched as Stiles frantically explained the problem over the phone. the brunette worried for her friends.

"look, Scott, you gotta get out of there. the walls of the vault are made of a mineral called hecatolite. it scatters the moonlight" the pale boy explained over the phone, Peter stood close to the pair of teens and the phone which was now on loudspeaker

"what does that mean?" Scott questions through the phone

"look it keeps the moonlight out, okay? they haven't felt the full moon in months." Stiles shouts down the phone

"think of it like the gladiators in the roman colosseum. they used to starve the lions for three days, making them more vicious, more out of control. Deucalion has kept them from shifting for three months, three full moons" peter added, Kaitlin's heart raced in her chest.

"Guess they were really going for the poetic theme" the ginger added, earning a slightly annoyed hiss from Stiles, she sheepishly smiles at the boy

"Scott they're gonna be stronger..." Stiles starts, before peter buts in again "more savage, more bloodthirsty. Scott, they're the lions, they're the starved lions and you and Derek just stepped into the colosseum"

Kaitlin zoned out slightly, mentally cursing herself for letting Derek convince her not to go, Scott talked to Derek, explaining the problem to him. after the line is silent for too long Stiles calls to Scott before the sound of growling is heard, Kaitlin's heart takes a jump

"Scott? scott! Are you hearing this?" the line goes dead

"Scott?!"

hello! sorry for the unexpected break. i’m gonna try get more chapters up for here but it’s hard! hope you enjoyed

tagged : @linkpk88

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

GET IN THE RING.

Angel Reyes x Reader

Anon asked: angel reyes x reader in which a fight (you two are like frenemies) leads to sex

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: NSFW, smut.

Thanks to my lovely beta reader @starrynite7114 💘

Author comments: This is the first part of Get In the Car. I hope you all enjoy. Gif credits to: @angels-reyes

Tag list: @starrynite7114 ​ @chibsytelford ​ @dazzledamazon ​ @mara-mpou ​ @sammskellington ​ @gemini0410 ​ @1-800-imagines ​ @briana-mishell24 ​ @sassymox @whyisgmora @aquamento @sadeyesgf ✨ (if you wanna be tagged, send me a message!)

You break in laughter because of one of the bad jokes that Tranq usually does. You're sitting on the couch with your legs over the next table with a beer between your hands. Taking a break from car scrapping. Bishop and Taza are playing pool talking loudly about the last trip they did, cause they almost fucked up but, as always, they safely made it home. Some motorbikes ride the front yard, parking next to the others. And you don't give it any importance listening to the boys laughing, till you hear a hard crash. Your heartbeat stops for a while. Everyone inside the clubhouse is staring at you. Your blood starts to boil, jumping off of the sofa to run towards your car.

Angel is pale. So pale, trying to cover whatever that happened. EZ, Coco and Gilly don't know where to hide themselves. You notice the strange way his motorbike is parked.

“I swear I'm gonna fix it!” Angel is terrified, and you can see it on his face.

You two have never been best friends, more like co-workers who respect each other. But sometimes, you want to kill him. For example, right now, you definitely want to kill him. The rest of the crew is behind you, shaking their heads while Bishop rubs his temple. Your car is the most precious possession you have, being the last present that your father gave you before he died. You love the car as you could love your own child. So, a tear is running down your cheek when you push him away.

On the left side of the bumper is a dent without paint and the headlight is smashed. You kneel with your trembling hands trying not to touch the bodywork. Your Mustang is an old model, so fixing it is going to cost you a lot of money and time. Especially for the painting. You could destroy his bike as payback, but even if you know it is an accident, you need some kind of revenge.

“Get in the ring.” You say in a whisper, with your eyes fills of tears and a hoarse tone of voice in your throat.

“What?” He asks, chuckling.

And that only makes everything worse. Getting up, you tangle your fingers on his shirt.

“Get. In. The. Fucking. Ring”. You repeat. Slowly. So close to him that you could touch his lips with yours.

“He said he's gonna fix it, mami.” Coco intermediates, trying to calm the situation.

“I'm not gonna fight with ya.” Angel says, removing your grip on his shirt.

You smile softly, licking your inner lip, before hitting his nose with your right fist. The oldest Reyes falls to the floor, and even if Taza and Tranq try to catch you, you're faster than them. Practically jumping on top of him to continue hitting him. And Angel tries to defend himself, punching you on your abdomen, to make you fall by his side. There's blood on his face and you can't breathe well, coughing for a second, before the Mayans manage to get you up and separate you from the other.

“I’m gonna fucking kill you, Reyes, I swear!”

“It was a fucking accident, you’re fucking crazy! You broke my nose!”

“‘I’m gonna break you something more! Let me go! Let me go!” You yell at him, squeezing under Tranq's strong arms.

Two shots in the air have your attention, freezing your blood and moves. You turn to Bishop, with an arm raised up and his gun in his hand. He looks upset and you understand him. But they should think about how they would feel if someone crashed their bikes. Tranq finally lets you go, fixing your shirt when he does.

“Angel you're not gonna ride till her car is fixed.” Bishop declares.

“What?”

You chuckle in silence because, at least, it's something.

“And you...” The president points at you, while you cross your arms and lift your chin with some pride on the gesture. “You're gonna fix him up.”

“What? He has two hands, what the hell, Bishop? He can do it by himself!” You claim with a frown.

“Don't yell at me again, you hear me? Shut the fuck up and do it.” His voice is so calm that it scares you more than anything.

You swallow, cleaning your tears with the back of your hands, full of anger. With a simple nod, you walk towards the clubhouse through the open door. And you can hear the heavy steps of the oldest Reyes following you cautiously, in case that you try to punch him again. Crossing the hallway to the main bathroom and opening the medical kit, you grab some cotton, two stitches and a bottle of surgical alcohol.

“Sit.” You just say, pointing to the toilet.

“Hey, I'm truly sorry.” He replies as he follows your instructions.

“Shut up.” You try to breathe, long enough not to hit him again.

Kneeling again and making you some space between his legs, you wet the cotton in alcohol breaking it into two pieces, for every hole. Angel growls closing his eyes hard, and you could have been more careful but it's part of your revenge. The nose isn't broken but, even so, you stick one of the stitches on the bridge of it pulling the skin closer, hoping that it also helps with cutting the bleeding.

After it, with some more cotton you clean his face. He sighs for a moment, grabbing your wrist to grab your attention.

“Coco pushed me and my bike fell on your car. I know, I know what it means to you, and I'm truly sorry, (Y/N).” He says then with a soft tone.

You let go of his hand, shaking your head as if you wanted to downplay it, because it doesn't have much more solution. Getting up, you clean your hands with water and soap in the sink, drying them on a towel. But, when you're about to leave the bathroom, Angel closes the door on your face.

“Could you please talk to me? Say something. Whatever.” He demands, sounding... desperate?

“Like what? Like that I'm fucking tired of all your foolishness and your actions without thinking?”

“It. Was. An. Accident.” He defended.

“Then fix it, and stop pissing me off.” You try to open the door again, but he closes it. “You're still doing it.”

“'Forgive me?” He asks, starting to make you lose the little patience you have left.

“No.”

“Then, you're not going anywhere”. Angel rests his back against the door, locking it, cross-armed.

“Fine! You got it! Now, let me go. I have work to attend to.”

“A kiss.” He says pointing at his cheek while he leans towards you.

You snort rubbing your eyes with two fingers, shaking your head for a while.

“If you turn your face, I'm gonna rip off your balls.” You threaten him, before holding his chin to press your lips over his beard. “Now, let me go.”

“Another one.”

“Angel, I am not in the mood to play one of our ga...”

He interrupts by kissing you. At first, you can't move. You don't have any reaction. Only your mouths pressed against the other. And you want to run away when your cheeks start to redden, but he locks you between his body and the closed door.

One of his hands travels to a side of your neck, with his lips tasting yours slowly, and his free arm surrounding your waist. No, you can't run away from him, and you're not even sure if you want to do it. Your mouth and your desire betray you, falling into his claws. He puts the hand on your nape wrapping your throat, straining one leg between yours. His knee pushing you to the limit, rubbing your crotch, while you fight against yourself to not moan, drowning every one.

“I bet you're fucking wet.” He whispers against your lips.

“I'm more dry than the desert, Reyes.” You say back, pushing him away with both hands on his chest.

You're trying to recover your breath, resting your weight against the door. But you're not gonna open it.

“Okay... Plan ‘b’.” He nods chuckling, before lifting you up, hitting your back to the wood and his fingers nailed on your ass.

His lips are now attacking your neck, sucking, biting and licking your skin till you finally set free a heavy gasp with a hand on his head, pushing him closer. His waist is moving between your legs, looking for more friction to satisfy his hunger. One of Angel's hands travels to the aperture of your work jumpsuit, straining it inside the clothes. Sliding his middle finger in you, making you growl, he laughs against your lips.

“You fucking liar.” He mutters fingering you faster, with the clear intention to make you scream out his name. “Don't be so fucking proud, mi dulce... Ask me to fuck' ya.”

His orbs are burning with lust, as are yours. You swallow your saliva, with your mouth next to his, looking how much he's enjoying pounding you and adding a second finger.

“Shit, Angel.” You leaned your head back against the door.

“What'? You wanna cum, huh?” He asks playing with your mind, dragging his teeth over your collarbone.

Yes, you want to cum. You need it. His hand are fucking you so hard that you can't fight against your body and every reaction he provokes on it. Devouring his lips desperate, moving your hips above his fingers feeling more needy than ever, while his tongue finds yours pressing it.

“Cum for me, mami... C'mon.” Angel begs with his forehead resting against yours, shaky breath and eyes closed. He really wants it, and you too.

“Harder, papi... Do it harder.”. You ask him, taking it as a command.

His fingers moving deeper, pounding you as hard as you ask 'cause your wishes are an order to the oldest Reyes. Your legs trembling, his darkest gaze on yours and you biting your inner lip. Moaning louder, Angel has to cover your mouth with his free hand, feeling the orgasm running all over your body.

“Oh, god, Angel!” You drown against his palm.

He laughs in silence, sinking his face on your neck, satisfied with the result. You hate him. You hate him so much, and he's gonna pay for it. Three knocks on the door push you two out of your own atmosphere, claiming for your attention.

“This is not what I meant when I said ‘fix him’. Get back to work!” Bishop says between laughters, before walking away from the bathroom.

“I'm gonna fuck you inside your car, when I fix it.”

“You better do, Reyes.”

“Fix your car, or fuck you, mi dulce?”

[sofiiel]

There & Back Again | Ch.19

Quiet Little Something

↰ ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ | ᴛᴀʙʟᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛꜱ | ɴᴇxᴛ ↱

"Rick!" Eddie's voice called as he entered the cabin near the lake in the woods. He held a grin on his face with his metal lunch box in tow. "I got your half," He said. Rick gave him a smile, "Eddie, my boy! Can always count on you!" He called cheerily. Taking a long drag from a blunt, Rick coughed lightly and held it out to Eddie.

"Um, no, man, I'm good for now." Eddie laughed, setting his box down on the coffee table and taking a seat in the armchair, Eddie pulled money out of the box. "Whoa, you sold your little ass off, junior!" Rick called with a grin, taking a seat on the sofa.

"The Hideout is good for business. Anyway, I've completely sold out, so I need a full restock." Eddie boasted. "Yeah, I got you. Got some good stuff came all the way from California." said Rick, reaching under his sofa pulling out a case, and starting to open it.

Eddie eyed him carefully, "ah..." he hummed, rubbing the back of his neck, "I was wondering if you could kick me a bit more stock than usual?" Eddie asked carefully. "Oh, wanna work overtime, do ya? What for? It's a risk on me, you know, if I let too much circulate around town." Rick said. "I know, I know. I'd be careful it's just um. The Band and I kind of have a trip planned and -"

"No, nope. No way, this isn't just about your boys." Rick pushed, with a sly smile. 

Angel stirred in the guest room, hearing Rick and Eddie's voices, he quietly got out of bed and tipped to the door. Cracking it open slightly with one eye, he looked about, his eyes falling on Eddie, who started to fiddle with the ends of his hair.

"There's um, a new friend of mine, we got an extra ticket, and she's going to tag along," Eddie said, "she's never been out of Hawkins before, not even one town over. There's so much she hasn't seen. It's her first real concert and I-"

Rick leaned back on the sofa, "you want to blow her away and paint the town red." He said. Eddie gave a half-shrug, "yeah, you can say that. I want her to remember it." Eddie spoke in a low, shy tone and couldn't hold Rick's gaze any longer.

"I want her to think back and possibly tell her kids and grandkids about it, that time she snuck off to Pittsburgh with Eddie the Freak to see Motörhead for her very first concert." Eddie rambled. "Jesus" Rick sang, setting down his blunt, "how long have you known this girl?" He asked. 

"I dunno...about…a couple of weeks I guess," Eddie said.

Rick chuckled, "she must be one hell of a girl, junior, you're sprung like a bear trap." He laughed. Eddie slumped over and ruffled his fingers through his hair, "I'm well aware, thank you." he sang in annoyance.

Angel's eyes narrowed as he remained quiet.

Eddie smiled to himself, "she likes the band, she saw us play the other night and called us amazing." he said. "Don't gush at me kid, Here I'll double your usual stock," Rick said in false irritation. A grin eased its way across Eddie's face, he tilted his head to one side and his eyes twinkled gratefully, "thanks man, see I told you, you're a great big softy." Eddie teased Rick.

"I'm no softy, I'm just a sucker for young love." Rick grumbled, taking back up his blunt and taking a long drag. "That would be called a softy," Angel spoke dryly, stepping out of the room and coming up the short hall.

"Hello, runt." Angel called to Eddie, an icy, mocking smile faintly present on his lips. "You feel you have to haul her all the way out of town to keep her out of my way?" Angel teased. Eddie's smile vanished in an instant and was replaced with a frown. "Hardly Pete." Eddie answered, voice void of emotion to match the dryness of his gaze.

"You know what they say. I have a kiss of death, Munson. No girl looks back." Angel smirked with pride, his eyes falling on the chain around Eddie's neck. "I see you've kept it, you know what I want in return." Angel hummed. 

"She's a person dipshit, I can't just hand her over. That's her call." Eddie snapped.

"I agree with you on that one." Angel said, taking a step forward a smiling coyly, "and what was her first impression?" he asked. Eddie's gaze on Angel wavered slightly, "she called you a pretty boy." Eddie grumbled. Angel rested a hand on his chest as if moved, "how sweet of my little fairy." He hummed. 

Eddie's eye twitched at Angel's words, "your little Fairy?" Eddie grumbled, looking up at Angel. "Guys, hey! This is a zone of zero drama! Read the sign! Giant smilie face!" Rick shouted, pointing his finger towards the wall. "A chill-only zone," he stated.

The two boys locked into a stare-down again, and the smug, snide smile on Angel's face was making Eddie's skin crawl. "Sorry about that, Rick." Angel murmured, leaning against the wall. " But for the record, I think Myrtle and I shared something rather electrifying between us." he said quietly. 

"I can feel a bond in the works, so whisk her away while you can. She's bound for me." Angel sang, pushing off the wall as he strolled past the living room and into the kitchen.

Eddie sat quietly, looking down at his hands. "Don't worry, the boy is just full of himself." Rick sighed. Eddie shook his head, "no, he's right. He's hard to compete with on a bad day." Eddie said with a nod. "But I'm not known for quitting," he said, tossing a halfhearted smile at Rick.

Rick sighed and started to fill Eddie's box with new stock. "Just try to keep me out of it. I don't play favorites, regardless of who my goddaughter chose." Rick muttered.

"Ok so... You were just listening to the band and all of a sudden you felt weird, glowy and things started to break?" Amy asked, sitting across from Myrtle in the sheet fort in the Creel basement. Myrtle nodded slowly, "yes, but I'm not so sure that it was so much the Band as a whole. It fell in line with the guitars specifically." Myrtle recalled.

"And then all the lights busted?" Amy asked. Myrtle nodded, "a thick bolt of lightning struck outside the building, and then when Angel kissed me, it felt like a small shock, like static." Myrtle said. "It was probably from the lightning." she reasoned.

Amy studied Myrtle carefully and was worryingly quiet. "What?" Myrtle asked with caution. "You also said it felt like this Angel guy took the weird feeling from you?" she asked. "It left me after the kiss. If it was because of him, I'm not sure, but he also knew taking me outside would make me feel better." Myrtle explained. "He wasn't wrong?" Amy asked.

"No, but it could have just been that talking with Eddie made me relax and not think about what happened," said Myrtle.

"How long before you go on this trip?" Amy sighed, rubbing her temples. "A handful of days." answered Myrtle. "Well then go, I'm going to keep hunting, I'll go back to the lab and snoop around The Hideout. Maybe try and find Angel." Amy sighed.

"You shouldn't be doing all this alone," Myrtle said, Amy smiled faintly at the concern on her face. "I'm better on my own. Fewer people to worry about. Besides, I have an ace up my sleeve should I need help." Amy said. Myrtle looked off to the side, "we've got to find someplace better than this for you." she sighed, looking around the basement.

"It's quiet, and nobody comes around. I like it here." Amy said, kicking back on her pile of pillows. Myrtle turned to her friend with an unsatisfied gaze, Amy gave a roll of her eyes. "anyway, come on, less talk about our possibly strange circumstances and tell me. How was the kiss other than the weird?" asked Amy.

"Angel has cold lips, for them to be so rosey." Myrtle confessed. "Ugh, cold lips are like fish lips." Amy grimaced. Myrtle touched her lip and could feel her heart race again, she could remember what Eddie's face looked like from so close.

"Well, it obviously wasn't too awful." Amy teased. "Huh?" Myrtle asked. "You're clearly thinking about it, reliving it...you look like a giant Roma tomato over there." Amy laughed. Myrtle gave a timid smile, "not Angel's." she whispered. Amy sat forward, "someone else kissed you?" she asked wide-eyed. Myrtle's smile grew, "Rughead?" asked Amy. Myrtle nodded. "Holy shit, that's bold." Amy laughed.

"Not really, He was trying to remove Angel's cooties." Myrtle sighed. "Cooties? That's a lame excuse." Amy laughed. Myrtle sighed, "I'm glad for that excuse. It was nice." she murmured softly, fiddling with her fingers. "Go on and gush. I'm used to it, my sister was boy crazy." Amy said, gesturing for Myrtle to continue.

"It's just," Myrtle gave a shrug, "no man ever really treated me as softly as Eddie does. I'm afraid I'm just mixing signals. I've never dated, and I've never had guy friends. It's just...the older men my dad needs me to blackmail and bribe." Myrtle confessed.

"And they are all, rough and...hungry. A kiss feels like being smothered by a pillow, and they touch you like you're not human." Myrtle's voice became small as she hugged herself.  Amy sighed, "I wouldn't know about mixed signals, but....you should see the way he looks at you." Amy said.

"Anyway, it's summer. Summer has its own sort of magic. You're going out of town with him-"

"And Jeff, Gareth and Scott." Myrtle added. Amy rolled her eyes, "details," she scoffed. "He's kissed you, he takes any chance he can get to be close to you." Amy reasoned. "And your point is?" Myrtle asked. Amy raised her brows, "you may get a date out of this." she said. "Or a boyfriend." Amy added.

Myrtle shook her head and went to climb out of the fort, "you're thinking way too much into this, Amy." Myrtle sighed. "I could be, but my family, we're born matchmakers," Amy said, walking Myrtle to the window and giving her a boost out. "You need something like this. Someone who can show you what things could be like, it might get you to fight for yourself." Amy spoke with genuine words as she peered up at Myrtle, who lingered knelt on the ground outside the window.

"I'll see you tomorrow sometime Amy, please be careful with your hunt for information," Myrtle said before getting up and going back to her car.

The following day, Myrtle exited Chrissy's house, "are you sure you can't stay for lunch?" Chrissy called, walking Myrtle to her car. "I'm sorry, today's my first day for my babysitting gig and I don't want to be late." Myrtle said, "considering it's the test run before the real job within a few days." she added.

"No, I completely get it! Well, good luck." Chrissy said, she waved goodbye to Myrtle and headed back inside her house. With a light frown on her face, Chrissy exhaled. It was nice to have someone else around besides her mother. Her mother didn't lay so many hurtful comments on her when she had company around. Myrtle stopped just shy of getting into her car and watched Chrissy's back as she lingered at the doorway.

"Um hey!" Myrtle called out, "yes?" Chrissy answered quickly. Myrtle gave a wry smile, "They loved the dress you helped me pick. Maybe you can help me out again. I'm going on a short trip soon, and I could use some fashion pointers." Myrtle said. Chrissy's face lit up with a bright smile. "Of course!" she said happily. 

"I start packing in a few days," said Myrtle. "Just call me up then," Chrissy said, waving one more time before walking through her door.

Myrtle gave a satisfied nod, "I don't need too much help, it's only two days, and I'll probably wear one outfit, but..." Myrtle couldn't shake the feeling of loneliness that came from Chrissy. 

"And then I unpacked the box to find my old board from 4th grade had been broken in two. I know it was Billy, but mom won't tell Neil until I have proof." Max ranted from the passenger seat of Myrtle's car.

Myrtle kept her eyes on the road as she listened, "Why'd he break your board? I thought you said it was one of your favorites?" Myrtle asked. "He hates me and he's mean. Billy doesn't need reasons to be a jerk, it's how he is all the time." Max complained. "Sounds like my brother. Some guys turn into assholes when they hit puberty." Myrtle sighed. She turned to offer Max a smile, "but that doesn't mean they really hate you." she added.

Max shook her head, "well, Billy does. I bet your brother doesn't break anything of yours." Max shot. Myrtle sighed, "they can break things that aren't objects. Like feelings." she said.

Max looked up at Myrtle with a hint of pity, "so you do have a jerk brother." she murmured. Myrtle smiled, "hey, look, let's stop talking about stupid brothers. They're clearly ruining everything." she said. "You like to board, right? Hawkins doesn't exactly have a skate park but, I can show you where the kids go." Myrtle offered.

"Really! Awesome. Because I've been looking, and the only place close was some parking lot full of potheads." Max said. Myrtle giggled, "yeah, no, you have to go to the older parts of town. But be sure not to go alone, there aren't many people around, which can be a bad thing." Myrtle warned.

"I'll ask you then," Max said, turning her eyes to the road. "I don't have any friends yet." she sighed. "Mom's busy, Neil's is always busy and Billy is just - no." max added. "That's ok with me, maybe I'll learn how to board myself." she hummed. "You?" Max laughed.

"I could, I do ballet, so I have pretty good balance, can't be any worse than ice skating." said Myrtle. "You ice skate?" Max asked with a grin. Myrtle smirked, the look of impression Max gave her reminded her of when Patrick was little and every little thing made her 'the coolest' big sister.

"I do, for about seven years now," Myrtle said. "Can you do any cool tricks?" Max asked as if a challenge. Myrtle laughed quietly. "One or two," Myrtle said. 

Myrtle sat on the rubble of what was left of the old community pool. Watching Max skate her heart out in the small emptied pool. The girl had a grin on her face a mile long and seemed to be having the time of her life. "That one is called an Ollie!" Max called to Myrtle, "is that safe?" Myrtle called with concern. Max laughed and shrugged, "as safe as skateboarding I guess." she called back.

Myrtle shook her head, "at least she's having fun." Myrtle thought, looking up at the sky. The sun was starting to set. "Fifteen more minutes ok Max!" Myrtle called.

Having taken Max home, Myrtle headed home herself. Coming through the front door, she nearly dumped into her father. "Sorry." she said quickly as he glared down at her, She searched his face, "something happened?" She asked him. "Something came up at the plant." He said pushing past her. Myrtle blinked a few times and stared at the front door as it closed. 

"Was it just me or did dad seem....fearful." She thought, recalling the look in his eyes. Myrtle bit her lip, "maybe Amy was on to something." she sighed, heading for the stairs. "At least it's all giving me time off from my usual role." Myrtle thought.

After a shower and changing into her pajamas, Myrtle sat on her bed drying her hair, which had turned into a wild kinky mass as the cold water washed away the hot press. Picking up her brush, she slowly combed it through small sections. Closing her eyes to gather her thoughts as she traveled back to remember the current events of her life.

"So much is happening." she sighed.

A knock against her window, caused Myrtle's eyes to open. "No way." Myrtle breathed, getting to her feet. Setting her brush on her dresser, she walked to the window and opened it. Below, she was a bright smile that put butterflies in her stomach.

"Hey, mind if I make this a habit?" Eddie called up to her. He pointed over his shoulder, "I saw your dad leave so..." he hummed.

Myrtle shook her head and reached down to grab the rope ladder, tossing it over the window. Eddie wasted little time as he started to climb up. The closer he got, the faster Myrtle's heartbeat in her chest. Her eyes locked into his, the memory of his kiss filled her brain.

She quickly walked away from the window, giving him space to climb inside. Eddie pulled the rope ladder back in and quietly shut the window. "I ugh...just got back from work and wasn't exactly ready for bed." He said, turning to face Myrtle. 

"Work?" she asked, lowering a brow, "you mean your hustle?" she asked. Eddie laughed, "sounds way cooler when you say it like that." He said. Looking Myrtle up and down, he could see the water still glistening in her hair and on her faintly damp skin. "Sorry, was this bad timing?" Eddie asked, slowly averting his eyes as he dropped the backpack free from his shoulders.

"N-no, I just um," Myrtle cleared her throat to fix the weird sound her voice was creating, "got out the shower. It's fine really." Myrtle said, reaching past him for her brush. Eddie followed her hand and took up the Brush before she could. He held it up and smiled innocently, "mind if I help?" he asked.

Myrtle sucked in her lips nervously. "It's kind of a tangled mess." she muttered, touching her hair. "To be honest, so is mine half the time." He said, sitting down on her bed. Eddie gave the place in front of him a pat. "Come on, I promise I won't make it any worse." He spoke playfully. Calming her butterflies, Myrtle walked over and took a seat. Eddie combed his fingers through her hair to pull it back, and then parted a section to brush.

It sent chills down Myrtle's back as he brought the brush through her hair. "Oh, my hair is in far worse shape than this." Eddie laughed. "Is it?" Myrtle asked. Eddie rested his chin on Myrtle's shoulder, "here" he called taking her hand in his, he placed her hand on the top of his head. Myrtle slowly combed her fingers through his curls.

Eddie's eyes closed, and she could feel the quiet sigh he gave. "It shouldn't feel that good." Eddie thought to himself, her fingers snagged a little, but as if used to it Myrtle instinctively worked the knots away with wiggles of her fingers, and eventually, her hand found its way free.

"It's not so bad," Myrtle said. Eddie smiled in contentment. "I've had worse days." she hummed.  Lifting his head away, Eddie sat up straight and went back to combing Myrtle's hair. "So, are you excited for the concert?" Eddie asked Myrtle. "A little....just anxious." she answered, looking down at her hands.  "You aren't afraid, are you?" Eddie asked, "no...." Myrtle peeped. Eddie silently chuckled. 

"It's ok if you are, it's the biggest rebel moment you've ever had, isn't it?" He said. Myrtle quietly sulked, "You'll be fine, we've got you." Eddie laughed, moving to another section of her hair. Myrtle gave a nod, "that's why I'm not too worried, at least not about what's going to happen out there." She said, turning back to look at Eddie she offered a smile. His heart beat a little harder as his eyes zeroed in on it.

Eddie looked off, and a timid smile wandered onto his face. Myrtle's smile dropped into worry, "but I hope you don't regret my dad's wrath afterward." she sighed, turning back around, and taking the brush from him. "I'm not afraid of your old man, Myrtle." He huffed, watching her walk to the mirror of her vanity and start braiding her hair.

"You should be, he can be dangerous to a person's future here in Hawkins," Myrtle murmured.

Eddie drew his head back and squinted, "Well, it's a good thing I don't plan on being stuck in Hawkins forever, isn't it." He said, then held his head high and with the smirk of a young lion he leaned over Myrtle's shoulder whispering "and Faithless is he that says farewell when the road darkens," into her ear. "Maybe....but have you seen the nightfall?" Myrtle asked him back, looking up at him from the corners of her eyes.

Eddie's smile faltered, "more of it than you'd think." he spoke quietly, the sound made her heart ache for him. Eddie was quick to put on another smile and back away, "I'm here now aren't I?" he asked holding out his arms, "Your old man could walk through at any given minute," Eddie pointed at Myrtle "but for you, milady. Oh, for you, I will laugh in the face of danger." He said dramatically.

Myrtle couldn't fight the smile trying to force its way on her face, "ha, ha, ha. You're a clown, Eddie Munson." she sighed, setting her brush down. Eddie smirked, "your pops wouldn't happen to have a fear of clowns, would he?" Eddie asked. Myrtle shook her head. "Damn." Eddie sighed with a snap of his fingers.

Seeing something crawl in the tank on the dresser, Eddie did a double take. "Holy shit, you have a spider?" Eddie said rushing over. Stooping a bit, he peered into the glass, and Shelob peered right back. "It's huge," He murmured.

Myrtle smiled, "that's Shelob." she said, walking to Eddie's side. He chuckled, "of course it is." he hummed. Tapping lightly on the glass. "She likes people...would you? Would you like to hold her?" Myrtle asked. 

Eddie stood up quickly and waved his hands "oh no, no, no I'm good." he said. Myrtle laughed, "oh come on, don't tell me Metalhead Eddie is afraid of a sweet fluffy spider?" Myrtle teased. Eddie rolled his neck slowly to look at her, and his voice deepened, "bite your beautiful tongue, babe." He said with a slice squint of his eyes.

Myrtle found it hard to keep her breath, "then hold her." Myrtle pushed, reaching down into the tank. Shelob happily scuttled into Myrtle's palms. Holding Shelob out to Eddie, Myrtle smirked. "She's waiting." she said.

Eddie's look of dark confidence faded fast, and his eyes filled with nervousness as he looked down at the fuzzy little creature. Many eyes locked onto him. "Shelly, this is Eddie... He's our friend." Myrtle whispered down to Shelob while Eddie held out his palms.

Laying her fingers over his Myrtle created a bridge for Shelob to walk. Eddie stood, afraid to move as the spider made her way into his hands. She nestled into place and continued to watch him, this caused Myrtle to giggle as she watched the two stare at each other. Each waiting for something to happen.

"You're a big girl, Shelob." Eddie murmured, cautiously petting the spider's back. "She's oddly soft." He said, looking up at Myrtle with a smile. "I know right!" Myrtle called happily. "She's my best and trustiest friend. I don't know what'd I do without her around." Myrtle confessed.

Eddie looked down at Shelob "I'm jealous. You're a lucky spider, Shelly." Eddie whispered and then carefully transferred Shelob back into her tank. 

Myrtle sat down on the edge of her bed and Eddie walked to his bag, pulling a walkman out he turned to her and grinned. "I brought you something to listen to." He said, taking a seat next to her. "It's um…to prepare you for the concert. It's a mixtape, of Motörhead and some songs by others, so you can get a feel for the music." Eddie stammered.

He looked down at the walkman nervously. He wanted her to like the music that inspired his life. Music held a special position in his life, it was like blood in his veins. "It's a chunk of me." He thought, and it was a nerve-wracking thought, that she might reject it.

Myrtle walked her fingers across his hand holding the walkman and pressed the play button. Leaning his head closer to hers, Eddie stretched the headphones as wide as they could go. Myrtle could scarcely listen as she was keenly aware of her head pressed neck to his, though she tried her best. "What do you think?" he asked.

Myrtle closed her eyes and listened, the sound of the drums made her adrenaline flow, and the strings of the guitars recharged her heart, the Vocals tapping into emotions she'd never voice "Straight through the Heart. Shout to the wind, How can you hurt me this way"  they said. Myrtle froze as Eddie's hand took hers, she wished she could see his face as the air around him felt wounded.

Myrtle looked down at their hands, "um... I like it, who is this?" Myrtle spoke quietly. She needed to break whatever thoughts he was having, she couldn't stand it. "Dio." Eddie muttered, his voice seeming far away. Myrtle turned her body slightly and slipped her hands under his arms and hugged him lightly. 

Eddie let out a strangled scoff but welcomed the gentle embrace and the song changed. He rubbed the side of his head against hers like a kitten and returned her hug. "You don't play fair." He sighed, closing his eyes. "Yeah? You've got no business thinking you can be sad here." Myrtle whispered back. Eddie smiled faintly, "You came here for this." Myrtle thought to herself, squeezing him lightly, "I know you did." she thought.  Eddie leaned back, causing them both to fall backward onto the bed. 

"Just for a while, can we stay this way?" Eddie whispered, never opening his eyes. Myrtle gazed up at her ceiling, the position they were in was hardly comfortable, bodies half twisted into a hug and heads made to face the sky. She knew eventually her legs would go to sleep hanging over the edge of the bed. However, she couldn't protest, she didn't want to.

"As long as you need us to," Myrtle replied, the music roaring in her ear and coursing through her body. 

Myrtle watched the baby spiders crawling about the ceiling in the small hole that'd become their home. Her eyes briefly glanced towards the bedroom door. "At any moment, someone could walk in." Myrtle thought, her arms tightening again around Eddie. She could hear something quiet inside daring them to try it, and that quiet little something was baring its fangs.

The thought made her pulse quicken. Looking towards the lamp, Myrtle grimaced, "should have turned it out." she thought, and no sooner had it come to mind, the room fell into darkness. "Oh." Myrtle gasped. "How'd..." she whispered.

"Hmm?" Eddie hummed sleepily. "Oh, n-nothing." Myrtle stammered. "It's just the faulty lights." she told herself.

↰ ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ | ᴛᴀʙʟᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛꜱ | ɴᴇxᴛ ↱

[dwaynepride]

baby, it’s cold outside

summary: a snowstorm would put a damper on most people’s vacations. but you, pride, and gibbs find a way to make the most of it.

words: 9,122

warnings: smut, PWP, female reader, light cumplay, slight OOC

tags: @stanathanxoox​ @pageofultron​ @fairytale07​ @jrenn10​ @f4nboi​ @purplestarsr5​ @ladyzombiielove​ @littlemiss3ma​ @minikate--24-05​ @consultingdoctorwholock​ @6adb0y​ @thegoodlonelydalek​ @dressed-up-just-like-z1ggy​ @ms-allenbrown​ @ikbenplant​ @dylpickles1267​ @diaryofafan17​ @specialagentlokitty​ @starryrevelations​ @thebeckyjolene​

author’s note: it’s finally here!! thank you all for your patience and support while i finished this monster of a fic, and i really hope it lives up to the hype

Red and orange flames, small as they were, flickered from the charred remains of the fire that Gibbs had started upon arrival. And you were sitting as close to the fireplace as you could, without the risk of going up in flames. The heat it provided was a necessity to the frigid cold in the rest of the cabin.

Even the cup of coffee gripped in your hands, which had once been a lifesaver, was starting to lose its heat.

It was difficult to believe that, just last week, you and Pride were excited for this vacation. Coming up to Virginia for a weekend of solitude in the woods. Three old friends enjoying each other’s company; reflecting on old times and taking the much needed time away from the stress of work. It’s been much too long since the three of you have had actual time together.

That was before a snowstorm rolled in the night before. Froze up half the state.

You set the coffee mug aside, blowing into your numb fingers. Just as you were starting to mentally complain about the lack of a good fire, the door to Jethro’s cabin was kicked open. He and Dwayne stumble inside, snow clinging to their clothes, arms full of wood. The wind is loud and bitterly cold and blows in a fresh icy breeze before Pride kicks the door shut behind him, and both men drop their loads by the door.

Though, you were keenly aware that the firewood they’d collected wouldn’t last long. Not with how cold it is. “That’s all you got?” You ask them, eyeing the logs before looking to Gibbs.

“Snow started coming sooner than we thought. We’ll just have to make it last,” he answers simply while toeing off his soaked boots.

“Will it be enough?”

“Hopefully.”

Hopefully?

You huff at his answer, but your attention wavers away from Gibbs picking out the driest logs of the bunch to look at Pride, who had plopped down next to you by the fire. He scoots closer to the last lickings of the flames, hands reaching out in hopes of warming them up. And it occurs to you that the man has lived in Louisiana his entire life. He’s traded swamps for snow, and the weather must be killing him.

So you move a little closer until your shoulder nudges his. And when Pride glances over, you offer a little smirk. “You okay?”

He lets out a shivery exhale, mimicking your smile. “Cold,” Dwayne answers simply. His shaky voice proves that.

There’s still snowflakes clinging to his hair, which you reach up and brush away before motioning toward the bathroom. “You might wanna change into something drier. You’ll catch your death.”

Dwayne’s reluctant to leave the warmth of the fire, but he knows you’re right. He can feel his clothes sticking to his numb skin, further sapping away his own body heat. So, with another shivering sigh, Pride stands, grabs his bag, and quickly enters the bathroom to change.

You turn back to the flickering flames in the fireplace - happy, at least, that the two men were able to bring back some amount of wood for the duration of the snowstorm. In the silence, you can heard the wind pick up outside. It’ll probably get stronger. The walls of the cabin may creak, and you’ll be wishing you were somewhere much warmer.

A tap on your shoulder brings you out of your thoughts. Glancing up, you meet eyes with Gibbs, who’s handing you a mug. That’s when you show him yours. “I got coffee,” you tell him. And you leave out the fact that it’s lukewarm.

“It’s not coffee.”

He gives no other explanation, only motions the mug closer until curiosity prompts you to take it. The contents are hard to make out in the lowlight, so taking a sip is the only way to find out what it is. The taste of the mystery liquid burns and you didn’t expect just how strong it’ll be; strong enough to make you gag and glance over your shoulder to Gibbs as he chuckles and takes a seat beside you. “What the hell is this?”

“Whiskey,” he answers simply. “Found it in the cupboard. It’ll help keep you warm.”

Gibbs takes a sip from his own mug, and there’s no hint that the strong whiskey affects him in any way. So you scoff. “I got my coffee. And the fire,” you tell him. Though, his eyes don’t leave the orange light. Gibbs simply shrugs, and you end up taking another sip of the whiskey.

Pride comes out of the bathroom moments later, looking much more comfortable in a dry pair of jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. He thanks Gibbs when the Marine hands him a mug and, like you, Pride’s nose wrinkles harshly when he gets a taste of the whiskey. The sight makes you smirk before turning back to the fire.

A comfortable silence settles between the three of you. All huddled around the fire, quietly sipping at the harsh liquor and listening to the groan of the wind outside. It reminds you why you’d been so excited to take this trip; the moment reminds you of old times. Sure, you’re all older now. More worn out. Been through hell and back so many times and it’s left you all scarred. But this was like better times, and the sentiment of it all brings a soft smile to your face.

It takes Pride all but a few seconds to notice, and his eyes narrow curiously. “What’chu smilin’ at?” He asks, voice much more lively than it was just minutes ago.

You shrug at him, both hands clutching the whiskey mug tightly. “Nothing. I’m just glad we’re here. Even if we’re snowed in and facing hypothermia.” you answer, playful eyes glancing over when both men start laughing.

Then the night devolves into nostalgia. Bringing up old cases and old memories that haven’t seen the light of day in years.

Remembering Pride’s first winter in Virginia - when he fell into a snowbank and had a cold for damn near two weeks.

Remembering when Gibbs had a pistol leveled at his crotch by a very angry woman because she didn’t appreciate his little joke about blondes.

Despite the nip in the air, Gibbs was right; the whiskey was warming you right up. Made your face blush to chase away the numbness of your nose. Plus, it made your head light in a way that had the three of you laughing your asses off. Even Gibbs had a dopey grin on his face. 

Time passed damn quickly. It was Pride who settled down first; his face squished against his pillows, which thankfully muffled his soft snores. And you follow not long after, sighing once you hit the middle bedroll. Gibbs was the last to go, after throwing in another log so the fire doesn’t go out while you slept.

The three of you had decided to sleep close together, by the fire. Straying too far would mean waking up shivering, and the warm glowing light was too good to leave. Still, even on your bedroll with two grown men sleeping on either side, it’s pretty chilly. You have to pull the blankets up to your chin and curl up into yourself, wondering how you’ll get to sleep when it’s so cold. But eventually, it’s the whiskey that puts you to sleep.

Along with the snores of the men beside you.

-

The next time you open your eyes, it’s considerably darker.

But that was only the second thing you noticed. The first was the fierce, bone-chilling cold that cut right through your blanket. You wouldn’t have been surprised if the frigid air is what pulled you from your slumber. Instantly, you let out a shaky exhale, breathing into your fingers so they weren’t so numb.

Your warm breath alleviates the numbness for just a moment, but it gives you a chance to focus on the sounds bouncing off the wooden walls of the cabin. Shuffling around and frantic whispers. Whispers that you recognize as belonging to your old friends - Pride and Gibbs were awake, as well. And it sounds like they’ve been for a while; Gibbs’ hushed voice rises a little in frustration, while Pride’s stays low. Shushing him before he can wake you.

Despite the little warmth that the blanket provides, you pull your face away from the shelter. It’s propped up on the pillow, squinting through the darkness toward the hushed whispers. And you quickly find out why Gibbs sounds so frustrated; the fire had gone out during the night. Burned right through the wood he set in there and left faint embers behind.

Gibbs and Pride were trying to cultivate those embers with more wood. Trying to grow a new fire to chase away the cold, but it doesn’t seem like they’re succeeding.

With a huff, Gibbs tosses his old lighter on the floor and glances to your bedroll. Likely to check if you’re still asleep, but he sees your groggy eyes blink at him questioningly. He huffs again. “Yeah, I know it’s cold. We’re getting the fire started up again.”

Pride’s head whips up, blinking to Gibbs before noticing you’re awake. Even in the dark, you can see his hands clenching and unclenching. And it reminds you of your own numbed extremities. “Well, hurry up. I can’t feel my hands,” you respond, sinking back into the warmer shelter of your blanket.

Gibbs just grumbles something, but he remains by the fireplace while Pride returns to his bedroll next to yours. With him much closer, you can see his breath lightly billowing, reflecting the pale moonlight. It was fucking cold. “Hey,” he greets lightly.

“Hey.”

He’s quiet for just a moment, sitting on his bedroll before shrugging his broad shoulders. “Ya know, until the fire’s back up, you outta use my blanket,” Pride says. And just as the sentence ends, he’s tugging the fleece cover from his bed to yours.

It covers your legs, and honestly, the thought of having an extra layer was tempting.

But not tempting enough to fall back asleep to the thought of Dwayne freezing his ass off in a dark cabin. Despite the chill in the air, you sit up and toss his blanket back at him. “No, you need it,” you tell him firmly.

Dwayne tries to give it back. “Oh, I’ll be fine.”

“I’m not stealing your blanket, Dwayne.”

“It ain’t stealing if I’m handing it over.”

“Quit it. We’ll all need our blankets,” Gibbs cuts in. And when the two of you look over, the Marine is moving back to his bed. There’s a small fire going, thankfully. But not enough to give off any real warmth or light. “It’ll still be a little while until the fire’s back up.”

He’s moving back under his covers, seemingly unaffected by the bitter cold, but you can also see his breath. Notice how his nose and cheeks are just a little more pink than usual. And beside you, Dwayne shudders and exhales into his numbed fingers. It prompts an idea - perhaps a little silly, but damn better than freezing all by yourself. “We should share blankets,” you blurt out.

From his bedroll, Gibbs turns his head and squints at you. “What?”

“We’d be warmer. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to try to fall asleep when I’m shivering cold.”

“I agree,” Pride chimes in. Though, judging by the shudder in his voice, he’d be down for just about anything that would provide some warmth. “Sharin’ body heat and all that.”

Gibbs doesn’t reply. You barely make out his expression, with only the faint moon and firelight to see him by. But he must be thinking it over, so you just have to nudge him a bit more. “What? Afraid to share blankets with two of your oldest friends?” You ask him teasingly. Then you glance back to Pride, whose eyes are crinkled with amusement.

The teasing worked, evidently. Gibbs breaks his silence with a cross huff, disbelieving that you got to him too easily. But, he concedes - you do know him pretty damn well.

He pushes his bedroll over until it connects with yours, and Dwayne does the same. And with that, the three of you maneuver the precious blankets until they’re spread out to cover each person. In the end, you’re basically all huddled in a big blanket pile, with Gibbs’ shoulder pressing against your spine and your knees touching Pride’s.

And yeah, at first, it’s a bit awkward. You’re facing Dwayne and the only way to quit the eye contact is to close your eyes and push your face into the pillow. And you’ve gotta be careful how you move, lest you press your ass back against Gibbs.

But despite the awkwardness, you’re already getting much warmer than you would’ve been sleeping alone. With the whiskey still swimming in your system, and the body heat of two grown men, you’re quickly growing groggy and heading back towards sleep. Though, Gibbs mumbles something from behind, low and deep, that makes you smile into the pillow:

“Something tells me you got the sweeter end of this deal.”

-

The next time you’re pulled from sleep, it’s not cold.

On the contrary, you’re almost hot.

Other than the snores of the two men beside you, the cabin is silent. The storm outside has calmed down, in comparison to earlier. But wind and ice still beat against the windows and makes you thankful for the warm glow of the fire.

But it doesn’t take you long at all to realize that it isn’t the fire that’s making you so damn hot. Yeah, you feel its heat, but it isn’t as all-encompassing as the big, solid body pressing against your back. The muscled arm around your waist keeps you close, and if it hadn’t been for the knowledge that your head is resting against Gibbs’ shoulder, you’d have to concentrate damn hard on which of the men was currently cuddling up to you.

Jethro’s earthy scent was all you could smell, but it was Dwayne’s strong heartbeat that you felt beating against your back.

Somehow, even while laying down, you felt a little lightheaded. Because it doesn’t take long for your body to tell you that this feels damn good.

You think about moving. Shuffling just out of Dwayne’s grasp, but with he and Gibbs so close, would you wake them? Could you even move? While you’re strategizing, Pride’s snores are interrupted by a soft sigh that billows your hair slightly. Then he hums, and his arm moves up from your hip, and the movement makes your head go blank. His hand is dangerously nestled under your chest.

To make matters worse, his body shifts to get more comfortable. It wouldn’t have even been so bad, but his hips roll just a little. Barely even noticeable, but through the intense heat and the blurred lines, you could feel something press against your ass. Half-hard. Trapped in denim. 

Some small part of you was mortified. Embarrassed, because this was your close friend and if Pride were awake, he’d be blushing and apologizing as if this were all his fault and then Gibbs would find out, too.

But the deep, hot wave of arousal makes it difficult to care about the embarrassment. C’mon, this was Dwayne Pride. Broad-shouldered agent of The Big Easy. You’d have to be blind not to notice his handsome laugh lines or muscled body and not think about them from time to time over the years of your friendship.

Even still, he was a friend. That’s all he’s ever been.

So, carefully, you pull your legs up closer to your chest. Use your arms to drag your body just a couple inches away from Dwayne. Away from his heat and his body and the little noises he makes every time you move against him.

Away from him, and towards Gibbs.

You hadn’t even noticed how close you were getting to the Marine until he sighed in his sleep. The messy silver hair on his head reflects the orange firelight - turns it amber, but you barely notice because Gibbs smells like whiskey and lumber and it becomes painfully obvious you’re stuck between a handsome rock and a gorgeous hard place.

Gibbs almost pulls you in, as if he has his own gravity. But you’re able to shift back with an unsteady breath. What to do....what to do.....

The sleep and the last lickings of the whiskey has your mind running at a snail’s pace. Unable to just decide on a single course of action that doesn’t involve cuddling up to either Gibbs or Pride. But that option is taken away from you when Dwayne’s breathing starts picking up.

All your moving around must���ve woken him. The arm he has resting on your flank, unfortunately, doesn’t pull away. Only half-awake, evidently, but his hips do that light roll again. The gentle grin of his hips against your ass prompts a moan from Dwayne. Right in your fucking ear and the sound goes right between your legs and you almost can’t stop yourself from rubbing your thighs together because as fucked as this situation is, he sounds so good.

Though, that brief moment of arousal is over quickly. Because from behind, you feel Dwayne’s muscles twitch and tighten up. Hear his breath lodge in his throat, and you know he’s finally woken up enough to realize what’s going on.

Is he in shock? Is he mad that you didn’t do enough to separate the two of you?

The questions linger in your mind until curiosity forces your head to turn. Eyes carefully peering over your shoulder, and they instantly meet Pride’s wide, green, terrified gaze. Blurry with sleep, but still clear with understanding. “I, uh-” he mumbles out, voice hoarse and choked back. “Sorry.”

Simple. Straight-forward. Maybe if he pulls away now, the two of you can wake up in the morning and pretend this never happened.

His arm starts retreating. His body shifts so Dwayne can turn around and try to go back to sleep facing the other side of the cabin.

“Don’t be.”

That makes him freeze. Hand now settled on your hip and unmoving.

The seconds that pass during this time feel like minutes. Dwayne’s eyes blink once at your two surprising words. Confusion was the first emotion that flickered in his gaze before another one followed it. Something darker and hotter and you readily fall into the smoldering look in his eyes because it’s just so damn easy to.

You both are leaning toward each other in a heartbeat. Lips crashing together in a clumsy first kiss but neither of you care because it just feels good. Dwayne lets out a small noise in the back of his throat and you have to stop yourself from gasping against his lips. It’s hot and passionate and needy because your head is swimming in heat and, judging by the light rocks of his hips, Dwayne is damn horny.

His hand squeezes your hip, wanting to move it under the blanket and touch your warm, soft skin - and you want him to. Need to feel the calloused skin of his palm more than you’ve ever needed anything.

So you flipped on your back (carefully, to not wake Gibbs) and tangled your fingers in his hair to pull Dwayne in closer. The change in position is all the permission he needs; his hands all but fumble to push past the thick blanket until he finally just throws it off you to give himself the room.

Your hips arch upward. Legs spread just a little. Pride’s hand reaches the waistband of your jeans, and as he starts to unbuckle it, there’s a brief moment of clarity. Probably brought upon by the noise of Gibbs sighing in his sleep right next to you.

The sound makes you think about what’s to come. About Dwayne tugging your jeans down. Kissing you hard while fucking you with his fingers and making you cum...all while Gibbs is quite literally right there.

And it would have been a reality, if Dwayne were able to get your belt unbuckled.

His soft, frustrated swearing draws your attention away from the sleeping Marine. Dwayne’s attempts at undoing your belt with a single hand aren’t going so well, and despite the need, you find yourself laughing quietly.

He notices. “What the hell kinda belt is this?” Dwayne whispers loudly.

“The normal kind.”

“You sure? I can get the normal kind.”

His raspy, annoyed complaints keep the amused smile plastered on your face. And your fingers lightly comb through his hair. “Want some help?” You offer lowly.

Pride’s head shakes once. “Nah. I got it.”

“I’m not really in the mood for waiting, Dwayne.”

“Trust me, sweetheart, neither am I.”

“Can you two bozos be any louder?”‘

In an instant, Dwayne’s hand stops its attempts at opening your belt. A breath stuck itself in your throat, threatening to completely cut off your breathing but in that moment, you thought that might be preferable to facing Gibbs, like this.

Regardless, your eyes finally flicker sideways. Part of you was terrified of looking up and seeing disgust in the Marine’s gaze. But seeing his bleary eyes and wild bedhead did nothing to calm your nerves. Serves you right for thinking you’d be able to tell how Gibbs is feeling so easily.

Dwayne’s hand is instantly pulled away from your half-open belt, leaning back into his own bedroll as Gibbs slowly brings himself up to lean on his elbows. And you’re frozen there; laying on your back and watching as he looks down and seems to inspect you. The usual icy-blue of his eyes is much darker, despite the golden firelight. Narrowed and unreadable and so, so different than the open door of raw emotion that were Dwayne’s eyes.

Gibbs gives a small tilt of his head before glancing up to his old friend. And to your utter shock, he fucking smirks. The devious, mischievous little smirk that you’ve never trusted before in your life. “Nah, you need some help, King,” is the only thing he says. Voice hoarse and deep with sleep and sends an involuntary shiver down your spine.

You don’t see the perplexed, and defensive, look on Pride’s face.

Instead, your eyes are all focused on Gibbs and the hand that he brings to your belt. There’s ample time to move away or find the words to speak out, but you just stare at his hand. His big, muscled, scarred hand that reaches your belt and has it open in a fraction of the time that Dwayne did.

Beside you, Pride gives a light huff. But you can’t will yourself to look at him. Gibbs and his hand and his eyes are much too captivating, in the moment. They lock onto yours and keep the connection, even as Gibbs pops the button of your jeans, pulls the zipper, and simply lets his fingertips graze the skin below your navel.

In reaction, your hips shift upward. Not so much the raw, visceral arch of your hips that Dwayne elicited, but its enough of a sign that prompts Gibbs to know what you need from him.

He’s merciful. Gibbs pushes his fingers past the waistband of your jeans. Though, your underwear serves as a barrier between you and his fingers. Even still, the friction and the pressure is enough to make you whimper. To instantly clasp Pride’s arm because it’s the closest thing and if you didn’t hold onto something, you’d start grinding against his hand - and you didn’t want to give Gibbs that satisfaction.

But it gets so much harder to keep from keening up once he starts moving his hand up and down, even curling his fingers just a little. Teasing you. Making you want him and if that bastard knows how to do anything, it’s how to get under people’s skin.

Your fingernails dig into Pride’s arm when you finally whimper out Jethro’s name.

The small sound has Gibbs leaning in a little closer. Arousal flickers in his eyes, brighter than even the orange flames in the fireplace because it’s so raw and real and for you. “Are you sure?” Gibbs prompts lowly, his voice rough. “Seems like you wanted King just a minute ago.” At that, his eyes move up to his friend.

Pride had been motionless, admittedly frozen and not quite knowing what he should do. His cock is still hard and pressing against the zipper of his jeans; that much hasn’t changed. In fact, seeing you so desperate has only turned him on that much more.

But Gibbs and his words surprised him. He’s torn - there’s nothing he’d rather do than climb over you and continue where you’d left off. But if you decided you’d rather fuck Gibbs, then Dwayne will just have to accept that. He’s not sure how, but he’ll get over it.

Pride leans away, almost as if he’s trying to pull himself out of the picture. But the hand you have gripping his arm tightens to keep him from straying too far.

“Both. Both of you.”

You’re looking at him, now. Eyes half-open and hazy. Chest panting and hair all astray and looking damn gorgeous.

But even the picture you present doesn’t stop both men from looking shocked. They both were expecting you to choose one or the other, but both? A third option had never crossed their minds.

Had the circumstances been different, they might’ve thought a bit more logically about this. But neither man was so keen to ignore your breathy pleas. Pride was panting, too. And Gibbs felt that familiar stirring in the pit of his stomach that only got worse when your hips started moving in tandem with his fingers.

So even if Gibbs is the one with his hand down your pants, Pride is the first to truly act.

He’s leaning back in, resuming the hot kisses. But this time, you’re so much more hot and needy and wound up, you’re moaning into his mouth. Opening your lips to taste more of Dwayne while your thighs squeeze together, hoping to just selfishly ride Gibbs’ hand.

He has to pry your legs apart to pull his hand free

Your body instantly reacts to the loss of his touch, huffing into Dwayne’s mouth and wishing you could break the kiss to yell at him - even though Gibbs is currently tugging your trousers down your legs and throwing them off somewhere in the darkness of the cabin.

It’s fucking cold, even through the rush of heat that leaves you gasping.

Dwayne’s hand is equally cold when it ventures up your shirt.

But really, it’s the chill of Jethro’s fingers as they trail up your inner thigh that really makes you shiver.

Or maybe it’s not at all the cold that elicits the shiver. Maybe it’s the realization that this isn’t some fucked up dream you’re having. That Gibbs and Pride really are seeing and touching so much of you, and it’s overwhelming. They’re two of your oldest friends, and yet, it was scarily easy to forget all that for a little while and just revel in their attention.

Like when Dwayne finally pushes your shirt up, revealing your belly and breasts that seem to glow like embers in the firelight. His breath is hot against the goosebumps. “You’re damn beautiful, honey,” Dwayne mumbles. It’s the first time he’s spoken in a while, and he sounds absolutely wrecked.

You want to hear more of that crackly voice, but his lips are creating a trail of kisses up your belly, across your sternum and into the valley of your breasts. The sensation is hot and electrifying and you tangle your fingers in his hair to keep him there.

Though, unfortunately for him, Gibbs once again steals the show.

Because this time, he doesn’t tease. Doesn’t make you seek out the pleasure: he readily gives it. Sinks his middle finger in with one fluid motion, and grinds the heel of his hand against you until your nails dig into Dwayne’s scalp with a harsh gasp.

Dwayne makes some kind of noise to the pain - you can feel the vibration, but he keeps on course.

“Dwayne’s right, ya know,” Gibbs comments. And from above, you can clearly see the light smirk playing on his lips. “You do look beautiful - especially right now.”

Cocky bastard.

Your mouth drops open, and you’re intent on telling him just that. But it seems like Pride and Gibbs are somehow working together. As if they know what the other is doing. Because in the same moment that Jethro curls his finger, Dwayne reaches his goal. His mouth is hot and wet, latching onto your nipple and flicking his tongue over the hard bud and the combination of the two makes your head tilt back in a loud, drawn-out moan.

As if Dwayne’s mouth weren’t enough stimulation, Gibbs thinks it’s a good idea to push in a second finger. It’s a tight, delicious stretch; damn near knocks the wind out of you. And as he pumps his fingers slowly, your hips start to writhe, seeking the friction you need to cum because it’s already so damn close.

Pride can hear your hard, panting breath. Can feel it against his hair and under his lips.

And it only gets harder and louder as time passes. Whatever Gibbs is doing, however he’s pleasuring you, must be fucking working. Because just seconds after he pulls off the first breast to pay attention to the second, your moans are so much louder. More desperate and keening and Dwayne can feel your body tighten up beneath him and it all makes him unbearably hard.

Your climax passes, and once your body goes slack, that’s when Pride lifts his head. His eyes are instantly locked on your face; cheeks pink in your exhilaration, hair mussed up and lips parted as you pant hard. And he wants you to lift your head to look at him. Pride wants to see that dazed look in your eye.

But he leaves you to rest. Presses a kiss to your heaving sternum, and then makes a new trail of wet kisses back down your body.

Pride can feel your muscles quiver, but Gibbs can see it.

Especially when he pulls his fingers free, and your body seems to miss them instantly. Your thighs squeeze together and you whimper softly, but Gibbs is far from done.

“Look at me, sweetheart.”

Slowly, your eyes blink open. Jethro is leaning into view, blue eyes blown dark and his own lips are parted and panting because he’s just as turned on as Pride is (if the hurried kisses on your hips and thighs are anything to go by).

Gibbs watches you for a moment. Takes in your tired, but wanting, expression before he finally came in for a kiss. And his kisses are so different than Dwayne’s. Where his were sweet and allowed you to explore him, Jethro simply takes initiative and makes you keep up with him. Though, maybe you can blame his demanding lips on that fact that you just came hard on his fingers - but it’s enough to make your toes curl nonetheless.

His tongue teased your lips open, and just as you’re allowed a taste of him, Gibbs pulls away. His hot breath over your mouth, but before you could initiate another dizzying kiss, his fingers brush over your lips. Purposeful and wet, your mouth instinctively drops open. Gibbs slides them in, pressing down against your tongue, and you taste yourself between two thick fingers.

A moan rose from you, and as your tongue starts swirling between his fingers, his eyes go darker. His chest inflates in his careful breath to keep control.

You want to push him further. Make him lose control the way he did to you. But the feeling of two large hands pushing apart your thighs breaks the spell. In the time it takes for Jethro to pull his fingers free, slick in your saliva, those hands are replaced with two broad shoulders. Keeping your thighs apart while Dwayne gets himself comfortable, and the sensation of him there makes you gasp.

Your body is still receptive from the treatment of Jethro’s fingers; buzzing and sensitive and it only heightened the heat of Pride’s kisses across your inner thighs. It’s a light flutter against your skin, and you’re not positive if it’s his lips or the cold cabin air that gives you such vicious goosebumps. Maybe a little bit of both.

Either way, you know you’d just about die if Dwayne holds off on touching you.

Breaking your gaze from Gibbs, you look down to the man knelt between your knees - eyes turning a dark mossy green in the firelight, and it reflects off his messy hair. The contrast of light makes the sharp angles of his face pop.

The sight of Dwayne looking so raw, you can’t help but stare for a moment. But only a moment, because as soon as he pushes in two long fingers, your head tilts back again. Moaning out in the dark cabin and unwittingly giving Gibbs the perfect opportunity to suck a hickey into your neck.

Fuck it, let him. You’re much more interested in how Pride’s fingers are slowly pumping in and out.

Pleased with your reaction, you’re finally granted his mouth.

“Oh my fucking god, Dwayne,” you cry out, eyes screwed shut tight.

You can’t help it; his tongue is doing some magical things. Enough to make your back arch, toes curl, hips tilt up because the thing you need most in the world is to ride his face into another spectacular climax. Your fingers tangle into Dwayne’s hair, keeping him in place - as if he’d pull away when your noises are this fucking beautiful.

Gibbs doesn’t allow you to fall into the abyss that is Dwayne’s talented tongue. With a new hickey successfully inked into your skin, his lips move up to your ear, breath hot and hard as he whispers, “You the only one who’s gonna have all the fun?”

Your eyes blink open at his question. He should know you don’t have nearly enough brainpower for ask-and-tell. But seeing that familiar cocky look on his face, you figure it’s a question that doesn’t need an answer. Thank God.

Still, you can’t suss out what he meant. So you watch him, confused, until your eyes drop down the length of his body. And there it is; Jethro is using a single hand to undo his belt and jeans. Even from here, in the lowlight of the fire, you can see the hard outline of his cock press against the denim.

Instantly, your mouth waters just a bit. You blame it on the mental image of sucking Jethro off; of him fucking your mouth.

A noise comes up, somewhere between a moan and a whimper and it’s impossible to figure out the cause; Dwayne thrusting his fingers a little harder, or Gibbs coming up to his knees and crawling closer. Either way, you’re not thinking too hard about that. Not thinking too hard about anything other than pushing yourself up to your elbows and leaning towards Gibbs.

Your tongue comes out to wet your lips, and that only makes the Marine give a short chuckle. “Gonna be a good girl? You’ve been doing an awful lot of taking, sweetheart. Not doing a whole lot of giving.” he says in a rough voice.

“Then shut the fuck up and let me give,” you respond. And even to your ears, the words were much more solid and confident than you felt.

In reality, you should’ve sounded shaky and whiny and downright filthy. Because as your hand comes up to rest on his hip, helping Gibbs tug down his jeans, you want nothing more than to suck him off. To find out how he tastes and how he how he sounds.

His pants are tugged low, along with his boxers, until there’s finally enough room for his cock to spring out. Gibbs is hard and veiny and his head shines with smeared pre-cum. His hand wraps around it in a loose fist, strokes it slowly and the head just happens to brush against your lips. The contact - however brief and teasing it is - alights your body in a rush of hot desire that not even Dwayne’s talented tongue can really sate.

And the only real way to be sated is to suck him dry.

With your hand still on his hip, you pull him closer. Your tongue finally peeks out, running up under the head of Jethro’s cock and it makes him hiss in the most delicious way. And despite everything, you can’t help but feel just the smallest inkling of pride at the sound. Makes you wonder just how fucking cocky you’ll get when you make him cum.

That thought is motivation enough to drop your hand from Jethro’s hip, replacing the hand he has stroking his cock to continue the rhythm yourself.

And he’s much thicker than you thought. Hard and heavy in your hand, with a certain softness that prompts you to lean your head in and run your tongue up the length of his cock. Gibbs shivers, and he’s just wound up enough to arch his hips closer and let you work him up.

You’re getting bolder, with all these little reactions from Jethro. Twisting your fist around the head of his cock. Sinking half of him down your throat, just to try and draw out more. To try and turn the stubborn, hard-headed Marine into sawdust-scented putty in your hands.

But Dwayne chooses the worst time to start rubbing the pad of his thumb over your clit.

It’s a firm motion, with his tongue delving ever deeper, and you can’t stop yourself from outright moaning with Jethro’s cock still halfway down your throat. And you’re not too sure if it’s even considered a moan - it’s really only a series of stunted noises and vibrations.

Whatever the hell it was, Gibbs sure seems to have liked it. Pride’s little stunt that almost had you cumming on the spot was equally beneficial for Jethro, who gasped hard and suddenly had his fingers gripping your hair tight. His hips even give a very light rock, but you can tell he was really holding back.

“Your mouth feels good, honey,” Gibbs exhales. His voice is tighter than it was; like he’s fighting hard as hell to keep his control. You don’t see, but his eyes flicker down to Pride. “King, make her moan again.”

God. What a fucking bastard.

Before you can pull off and tell him that, Dwayne obliges. His fingers curl inside you, hitting a certain spot that would’ve been toe-curling alone. But this time, instead of his thumb, his lips are on your clit. Tonguing and even sucking it, and you’d be damned if you didn’t moan louder, this time. Hips angling to try and grind on his tongue, but your movements are awkward when Gibbs grips your hair even tighter.

He pulls his cock out, letting you suck in a lungful of air, before he sinks it deep.

Gibbs continues that pattern, reaping the benefits of Dwayne trying his hardest to get you to cum. He feels every little vibration on his cock, and even when he pulls back, you waste the chance to breathe because you just have to push a loud moan out into the air.

Eventually, the pleasure just builds to a point where even Gibbs can see you’re about to go over the edge.

He does grant the small courtesy of pulling back a bit to where you could breathe through your nose. But when Dwayne’s assault finally breaks you, he’s still in your mouth. Still feels your tongue glide against the head of his cock as you cum. Hard. Crying out and gasping as you ride Pride’s face and the vibrations of your moans still feel fucking heavenly. Gibbs is almost disappointed when you stop, and he only feels your hot panting against his cock. So he pulls it out and leans back against his feet.

The second orgasm really did take a lot out of you. Or maybe it’s because of the attack on two fronts and it’s all just a little much, right now. But your eyes are closed, readily falling into the satisfied afterglow that Dwayne had provided. You want to talk; tell him how fucking good he is with his mouth. But words don’t come easy, right now. Not with his hands stroking your thighs, and Jethro’s fingers lightly moving through your hair. Somehow, the combination of the two feels even better than the orgasm.

The sound of somebody moving, and the warm body heat that follows, prompts your heavy eyes open. Dwayne’s gaze, turned mossy green by the firelight, captures your eyes instantly. You scarcely notice his flushed face, or swollen lips, or messy hair because his eyes are so damn soft.

And then he’s kissing you, making you taste yourself on his tongue. When your teeth brush against his lower lip, Dwayne lets out a noise. Quiet, keening, more desperate than you’d expect from one of the most solid men you know.

Though, once his hips roll against yours and you can feel how hard his cock is straining against his jeans, you start to understand what’s got him so needy.

You hum softly. Wrap a leg over his hip and pull him closer, and the closeness has Dwayne hitching his breath. He pulls back from the kiss, blinking a couple times to see you through the horny haze he’s in.

“Your turn, Dwayne,” you tell him softly. And along with your hand slowly moving down the expanse of his chest, it just makes him shiver.

And he’s much too eager to take his turn. There’s even a light smirk on his face when Dwayne pushes himself up to his knees. After pulling his shirt off over his head, he undoes the button and zipper of his jeans to push them and his boxers down, revealing the deep V of his hips. His cock, sensitive after being locked away for so long, is long and hard. Longer than Jethro’s, and there’s a sudden small urge to derail Dwayne’s plans. To flip him over and give him the same treatment you provided to Gibbs.

But one of his hands grips your hip, the other working over his cock. Slowly, as to not get himself too close to the edge before he’s actually inside you. But as patient a man as Dwayne is, you can tell by the way he pants how much he needed this. Needed you.

So when he positions your hips in the right way, your spine arches to help. Granted, the help with nullified once Dwayne gently pushed the first inch inside - because you made a noise so fucking sweet, he could’ve came on the spot.

He doesn’t, though. It’s that famous self-restraint.

Dwayne does groan and screw his eyes shut when he gives a light thrust, pushing half his cock in. He wants more, but your gasp stills him. His cock is much thicker than his or Jethro’s fingers. It’s a stinging, delicious stretch that makes you grateful you have a leg around his hip; you tug him closer. Nearly all the way in, and that’s finally enough to make him swear.

His fingers will leave raisin-colored marks on your skin, that much is certain. But they still feel good - grounding, because the slow glide of his cock in and out surely would’ve made you forget how to breathe.

You’re more than willing to fall into the sensation of Dwayne, but suddenly, there’s a calloused hand on your cheek. Warm and strong and it prompts your eyes open. Dwayne and his gaping mouth and half-lidded eyes are visible for only a moment before your head is tilted to the side. And fire-lit golden skin is replaced with darkened cobalt eyes.

Jethro says not a word. You feel his breath on your lips, but he’s kissing you earnestly before you could babble out anything. A long moan - shamelessly wanton - rang against his lips because you’re too far gone with pleasure to even think, much less care.

Noses smush together. Tongues dancing and Jethro’s teeth nipped at your bottom lip, just to tease. And along the way, you wonder why the hell he keeps smirking. It doesn’t occur to you that Jethro finds it amusing that you whimper every time Dwayne hits a sweet spot.

Disappointingly, he breaks the kiss. Your eyes blink open, fighting to make out the blue in his eyes in the golden light of the fire. But Gibbs motions his head, silently beckoning your attention back to Dwayne. So you mindlessly follow his order and turn your head back. Your eyes meet Pride’s for just a moment, and it’s him who breaks the contact. Hanging his head to concentrate on keeping the (albeit sloppy) rhythm.

It’s still a fucking beautiful sight.

That’s when Jethro brushes his lips against the shell of your ear, his voice low and breath hot. “You like the way he’s fucking you?” He asks. “Like how it feels?”

Your brain isn’t in the state to be talking right now, so the most you can do is nod.

“You want me to fuck you like that?”

Again, you nod. More desperate, this time, as you keep watching Dwayne. His hips are going faster, harder, keeping less of a rhythm and more just chasing his orgasm.

Jethro pressing a soft kiss against the hinge of your jaw. “Can’t wait to hear you moan like that for me, honey.”

“Fuck!” Dwayne suddenly yelps. It’s loud, and you hadn’t been expecting a noise like that to come from him. And because of it, your attention wavers away from Jethro whispers things in your ear. Focus instead on Dwayne; his hips giving a few more sharp thrusts before he pulls out. His hand is instantly wrapped around his cock, pumping until streams of his cum shoot across your belly. Dwayne is breathing heavy with his eyes squeezed shut, moaning deep in the back of his throat until the orgasm passes. And his hand slows, languidly stroking his cock until he just stops altogether.

You hadn’t even noticed you were staring until Dwayne raises his head. Locks eyes with you and offers a small, shy smile. He’s still catching his breath, and the exertion makes his movements slow and wobbly. But after casting a brief glance to Gibbs, Dwayne moves away from between your legs. Collapses back on his bedroll next to you with a contented sigh.

“You really made a mess of things, King,” Jethro comments, moving to take his spot between your thighs. And a trail of goosebumps follow his hands when he moves them across your skin - you’re not yet so numb as to not feel the heat of his palms.

Dwayne lets out a small, almost disinterested hum. That’s when you shift slightly; throwing a smile up to Jethro as he uses his grip on your thighs to pull you closer. “I don’t mind the mess,” you tell him. Voice all hoarse and rough and the sound of it is enough to attract Dwayne’s attention. Make him just a little less groggy.

Jethro just huffed before his attention dropped between your legs. And you take advantage of the small moment of peace by looking sideways to Dwayne. He’s watching you, eyes heavy but bright with his half-smile - that post-orgasm affection. The tips of his fingers gently run over the skin of your arm. A feather-light touch that would’ve tickled, had you not been so fucked out.

The hitch of your breath didn’t come from Dwayne’s soft caress. It wasn’t anything so innocent; the blunt head of Jethro’s cock was the culprit, pushing through and stretching you back out with little warning.

The hitch became a gasp when Jethro gave an experimental thrust of his hips. Testing just how well you take him and gauging his speed. But by now, you were so wet and fucked open, it really didn’t take him much time to bottom out. Fingers tightly gripping your thighs, it didn’t matter to him that he was going second. Jethro’s sharp breath showcased his pleasure.

“God- fuck...”

So he did swear.

The air pushed from your lungs with each slow, deep thrust he took. And when Jethro found a quick rhythm, it didn’t help. He pushed your thighs up, knees apart, making ample room for himself to drive in over and over. And he knew he wouldn’t last too long; the memory of your hot mouth on his cock was still too fresh. But he was going to make you cum for a third time before he was done.

Past the blind pleasure and the weight of Jethro slamming against yours, there’s a pair of lips on your cheek. The soft fingers that had been stroking your arm now resting against your ribs, hand blossomed out like an orchid in bloom.

“You doin’ okay?” A low voice murmured in your ear. His nose nuzzled lightly against your temple; soft and affectionate.

Immediately, you turn your head to face him. And in that moment, you never needed Dwayne more than you did right now. Jethro was hitting all the best spots, but somehow, you needed more. “Dwayne,” you manage to whimper his name. Unable to say much more and praying he understood.

He’s known you for such a long time. Of course he caught on.

The way he kissed you wasn’t as rough and desperate as all the others have been. And in a way, that made it so much more intense. Dwayne’s tongue ran along your bottom lip, taking his time, letting you taste him and allowing himself to breathe you in. His hand stroked over your abdomen, further spreading his cum into your skin but not giving a damn about it.

And when Dwayne breaks the kiss to move down, his mouth once again latching onto your tits, your fingers instantly move to run through his hair.

Maybe because Jethro was getting rougher in his thrusts. Forcing you to climb up toward your third orgasm with him, and you just needed something to hang onto. Dwayne was the closest thing.

Case in point, when Gibbs slightly changed his position. His cock hammered in differently - better - and you cried out. Fingers tugging hard on Dwayne’s hair and making the poor man yelp into your soft skin. His head instinctively pulls away and, despite the pain, he’s wearing a sly smirk.

“S-sorry,” you manage weakly.

“Nah, you pull as hard you want,” Dwayne replies. And the soft, yet wrecked, sound of his voice is enough to give you goosebumps.

And with his mouth coming back to sucking hickeys into your skin, you’re well aware how fucking close you are to cumming again. Release so painfully near; a literal breath away. And from the look of Jethro, he’s in a similar state.

His thrusts have grown sloppy, large hands branding your thighs with fingerprint bruises; gripping them so hard to give himself leverage. Jaw dropped to catch his breath because you can tell the Marine is exerting a massive amount of self-control to keep himself from cumming. But even Leroy Jethro Gibbs has his limits, and it would be cruel to ask him to hold off much longer.

You angle your hips up just a little. “Jethro,” you call softly. His eyes rise to meet yours; hazy and dark in his pleasure. “Need you. Please. Please- fuck...make me cum again.” You’re not above pleading. Putting that extra edge in your voice to wind him up a bit more.

He swears; low and deep in his chest. Nearly sounding like a growl as one of his hands leaves your thigh, dropping in between your legs. And once Jethro quickly starts rubbing hard, tight circles around your clit, that’s when he starts falling over the edge. It’s not really his fault; you tightened up around him and cried out into the dark cabin and Jethro noticed how your fingers once again curled into Dwayne’s hair.

His body acts on its own - giving one, two more desperate thrusts before pulling out. The hand he used to help you cum instantly wraps around his cock, and Jethro even lets out a tight groan as his cum hits the inside of your thighs. It trickled down your leg slowly as he came down from his high, leaning back to sit on his feet. And yeah, he selfishly enjoys the image you lay out for him; panting and fucked out, painted with cum.

While Gibbs recuperated, Dwayne is actually the first to move. His eyes drag themselves away from you, glancing around the fire-lit cabin to find the shirt he’d so desperately tossed away. And when he spots the familiar fabric, he uses it to wipe away the mess he left behind on your belly.

Dwayne handed the shirt to Jethro, and he does the same with your thighs.

You listen as both men finally settle in on their respective bedrolls; their breathing still heavy, but slowly evening out. That’s when your eyes open, blinking up at the ceiling of Jethro’s cabin. The firelight flickers against the old wood; a strangely serene image. So starkly different from the images of hazy eyes and eager lips.

With things slowing down, it would be so easy to just close your eyes again. Your body feels weightless and it’s warm and you could so effortlessly fall asleep.

But Dwayne speaks up, cutting through the sound of crackling wood and howling wind. “Hey, Jethro?”

There’s a slight hesitance from Gibbs. “....Yeah?”

“I reckon we outta come out here more often.”

Maybe it’s you. All those endorphins still flew around in your head. Or maybe what Dwayne said was legitimately funny. But you burst out laughing, and Dwayne followed shortly after. And through it all, you even hear Jethro’s deep chuckles.

Your laughs had devolved into light giggles by the time Gibbs is pulling a blanket over you. It’s hard to tell whose blanket it is, actually, but it doesn’t really matter. It’s warm and comes with a soft caress over your hair from Jethro as you turn away from him.

Dwayne’s shoulder does make a damn fine pillow. And just in case it gets cold in the night again, the press of Jethro’s body against your back will assure you won’t freeze.

[duskyskz]

- Erasure - 1

Hwang Hyunjin x Female Reader

With washed out, dyed pastel hair, sea salt and acrylic clinging to his jeans, Hwang Hyunjin expected to find himself many places that night. A jail holding cell. Under the abandoned train station bridge. Maybe even his own bedroom.

Your living room wasn't on the list.

Warnings - Some angst in later chapters, suggestive/smut, minor character death mentions, Hyunjin is an eboy and a little angsty, Changbin is doing his best as a big brother, slow burn (?)

A/N - Finally! Sorry for the delays, my head just hasn’t been with me this week;; I hope you enjoy this series as much as I am excited to write it. 

***

The steady buzzing of your speakers fills the living room as you watched Changbin scroll through the Netflix home page. Both of you settle deep into the sofa, balancing a bowl of popcorn and chocolate between your knees. 

“Endgame? Homecoming, Nightmare on Elm Street?” Binnie flicks through the suggestions, and you shake your head in distaste. “I'm not watching that octopus documentary again!”

“You only hated it because you cried at the end.”

“She died! He had to look after her little babies! Your heart is too cold, too far gone for that level of compassion.” The last part of your brother's grumbles are cut off when you throw a burnt kernel at his forehead, barely missing his ear. 

There’s nobody else home. Nobody else ever comes home, either. It's been just you and Changbin for a while, and it's not all that terrible. He’s a few years older than you, having graduated last summer and now undertaking an apprenticeship at the village police station. It doesn't pay a stellar amount, but Changbin reassures you once he passes the trainee exams he’ll treat you to a new pair of winter boots and you can finally quit the ice cream parlour to focus on college. You tell him that even if he wins the lottery tomorrow, you'll work your own job. For all the support your elder brother gives you, you like having your own thing. It makes you feel a little more involved, a little more even than jsit washing the dishes and doing his laundry on days he’s too tired to move. 

The Thursday evening is reserved for you both, to catch up on the hours together you miss during the week when Changbin doesn't get back till you're fast asleep and you don't have the chance to say good morning. 

He’s been doing that a lot more recently. 

Sighing into his coffee, shaking his head at nobody in particular. It's easy to notice the signs of stress and overwork in his face, sunken and tired even on the weekends when he finishes early. 

“Do you wanna finish Teen Wolf?” The softness in his voice when he addresses you is the same, though. “We have three episodes left of this season, if you wanna binge.”

“Sure.” You want to ask him about the circles under his eyes. What’s got him coming home later and later because nothing ever happens in this town. “I'm still waiting on Derek’s redemption arc.”

You're twenty minutes into the episode when a vibration from your coffee table catches your attention. You glance at Changbin, but he ignores his ringtone, flipping it to silent.

It rings again, no music, but harsh vibrations drumming against the polished wood. 

And again.

Knowing he’s not picking up to make a point of it, you pause the show, nodding at the mobile he’s avoiding glancing at. “Go on. Pick up, it might be an emergency.”

“If it's an emergency they don't need an intern there.” Despite his words, Changbin shifts his position and you know he’s growing hesitant. 

“If it's an emergency all the more reason for you to be there and learn.” You state with more force behind your tone. “Why have your grades been dropping? You're coming home so late but your exams keep getting delayed -”

“My grades are fine!” Changbin never snaps at you, but the frustration in his voice is evident. “I'm fine. There's just - Just one case we're working on and I'm nearly there, I just need time.”

You shut your mouth, letting him speak.

“There’s this kid who keeps tagging the beach houses on Dawning Lane, and that shit  was expensive to put up last year. Some stupid, bored child that thinks a few cans of spraypaint and lung cancer are a good excuse for your adolescence. He’s not even that good… Just scribbles.”

His lips pout in a frustrated whine at the last phrase, and you know he’s more frustrated at the situation than he is at you or himself.

A beat of silence, interrupted by another ringtone - you almost reach for it yourself to check the caller ID and force him to pick up, before Changbin’s arm shoots out past you to snatch the device, slinking out the door and into the hallway. 

You aren't surprised when a few moments later, your brother’s head pokes nervously out the door frame - He's already got his coat on, waving his phone at you as an awkward goodbye. 

“I’ll see you in the morning, y/n.”

“Yeah, see ya.” You salute back, smiling to ease the tension in his shoulders, and it works a minimum. You won’t see him till the late evening at best.

The door clicks shut as soon as he turns around, leaving you surrounded by popcorn and empty space. You really aren't surprised - but it'd be pointless to deny you weren't hurt by another night alone with Teen Wolf playing idly through your TV speakers. Cold popcorn only did so much to soothe your heart, and the distance wedging itself recently between your sibling bond was hard to brush over, between missed calls and texts too often left unanswered. 

You just really miss your big brother.

 You commit yourself to Stiles Stilinsky instead, sighing into the blanket around your shoulders. Autumn rolls in quick by the seaside, making your calves prickle with goosebumps. It's nearing 11pm, you realise, picking up the -

Thump!

Your fingers freeze, hovering over the TV remote. Changbin wouldn’t be back yet, he never comes home the same night he leaves. 

“Bin?” You try it anyway, calling tentatively into the hallway. It’s still entirely black, void of disruption.

Clang!

That definitely came from your kitchen.

Armed with a half empty popcorn bowl and nerves of steel, you tiptoe into the other room. There’s a lump of something or someone crouched behind the dining table, and your grip around the glass dish tightens marginally despite the quivering of your knees, fumbling for the lightswitch without taking your eyes off the rising dark mass as it straightens its back. 

“S-Stay down! I have corn and I know how to use it!” You don’t have a fully formed plan yet, but you’re sure the sharp kernels will be of some importance. Fluorescent white light floods the kitchen, momentarily blinding both you and the intruder who now stands at full height. A steady 12 inches above you. 

“Ouch! Calm down, I’m not going to rob you!” He says, sounding almost exasperated at your defense of your own property. He still has his hands raised in defense, keeping the table between himself and you, and you’re grateful he hasn’t tried to knock your legs out from under you, yet. “I’m not here to steal your stuff.”

“What are you here for, then?” You lower the popcorn bowl, but don’t let it fall out of your grasp. He doesn’t seem dangerous - He doesn’t seem like he could manage clambering through the window you always leave ajar either, but here he clearly is. There’s something sticky and pink in his blonde hair, stains following down his shoulder blades all the way down the cuffs of his jeans. If anything, he looks...a little lost.

“It’s the address on the post-it note.” Your confusion must have been plainly obvious, because the boy elaborates, pulling a crumpled neon-green paper from his jacket. “The post-it note that man gave me. That’s what Changbin gave me.”

Perhaps you lack self preservation instincts, but there’s an uncertain vibration in his voice that makes you give up your weapon and attitude. 

“You know my brother?” 

“He told me if I really need to go somewhere, I can come here.” You watch slim fingers tug at the sleeves of his jacket as he measures with a weight akin to a glare. “He didn’t tell me it was his house, or that somebody else was living here.” 

Bold of him to accuse you of ruining his night plans. 

It really did only click in your head when you looked closer at his tangled hair, dried paint clumping it together at the ends of bleached blonde strands. The  artistic menace haunting your sea-side town was standing right on your tiled kitchen floor, and he looked downright miserable. 

And Changbin had invited him. 

Biting down the discomfort at realising how little Changbin had been telling you recently,  you set the popcorn down on the table, you take in the threat currently three feet before you. A tall, lanky boy, with odd shoelaces and a sharpie sticking out of his trouser pocket. His hair hasn’t been cut in a while, and probably brushed either - it’d be generous to say he ran more than a stressed hand through it anytime recently. Though chapped, his full lips and wide eyes made him look far too innocent for his own good, and you blamed your soft heart for finding the boy kinda cute. 

He did have a leaf stuck above his ear, though. 

You almost reached up to remove it.

“Do you wanna watch Teen Wolf?”  You break the quiet that settled, already shuffling your feet out into the living room. You sincerely hoped he’d follow. You weren’t sure what you could do apart from leaving him standing on cold tile, and he already looked freezing from the night chill. 

Luckily for you, with a hesitant step, your impromptu companion takes after you to the couch where your Netflix and remove still await instruction. Changbin might grumble at you tomorrow at finishing the season without him, but you needed something to lure the boy into comfort. 

“I’m y/n, by the way.” You mention. The boy sits stiffly, clasping his hands in his lap with parted lips, avoiding the decorative pillows. 

“Hyunjin.” Now that he’s actually inside your house, Hyunjin’s confidence seems to have evaporated. The thrill of the break-in, if you can even call is that, has worn off, giving way to the nerves. He’s suddenly too conscious of the paint on his clothes, of sandy shoes still on his feet, of the smudges still on his cheeks. Should he take his jacket off? Or wipe his shoes? 

You press resume, watching him relax after a few minutes as his brain finally has something else to focus on to let his worries ease. Hyunjin doesn't seem to mind you already being halfway through the episode, and you let yourself admit it’s nice having someone around this late at night. 

“How do you know Changbin?” You ask while the topic is still fresh.

“I don’t.” Hyunjin bumps his knees together, fiddling with a loose string on his jeans as he shrugs. “I don’t really know him, he just...saw me around a few times, and I guess he figured I could use a place to crash. So he gave me your address.”

“You’re the mystery kid painting the beach houses, right? On Dawning Lane.” 

At the accusation, Hyunjin’s lips part, flipping to face you with wide, blinking eyes., knowing he’s in no place to try and deny it. You blink back, observing his reactions, in case he suddenly changes his mind about staying. “Are you gonna turn me in?...” 

“No.” You shake your head after a moment of thought, and he visibly untenses. “For whatever reason Changbin didn’t, so I won’t either. If he trusts you then I do too.” 

You’ll never know if it was the murmurs of the TV, or if Hyunjin did whisper a thank you, and you won’t ask. There’s a lot of things you do want to ask, but a tug in your heart tells you now is not the time. Hyunjin looks exhausted, eyes drooping with every slow blink as he does his best to focus on the screen, hands previously tugging at his jeans now still and flat on his lap, slouched forward as if any moment he’ll drift off sitting on your pillows. Flurries of fluorescent light flicker on his cheeks, over barely scrubbed paint smudges and faint cuts from running too fast, you guess. In the delicate, dimmed light of your floor lamp, it’s hard to imagine Hyunjin as a bad kid. Prickly, maybe. On edge is a better word for it, tension clinging to his shoulders like stubborn dust bunnies. Curse your naive little heart, you tell yourself, building up your courage to speak.

“Hyunjin?” He hums in response, straightening his back. “Do you want to sleep here tonight?”

All you’ve been taught in life sent alarm bells through your skull when you asked a complete stranger (who just two hours ago, broke in through your kitchen window) to sleep in your living room overnight, but Hyunjin didn’t feel  like a stranger. Changbin trusted him enough to lead him right to your house, so that must count for something, right? And no matter how much you tried to keep your guard up around the boy, watching him struggle to stay upright instead of letting his tall, lanky body fall backward and rest comfortably only made you worry a little about him, not the other way around. 

Well, he did say he’s not going to rob you. 

“You can sleep on the couch if you want, I’ll bring you some blankets.” You prompt him again when he doesn’t respond. “Changbin won’t be back for a while still.” 

“Are you sure you’re okay with that?” There’s a lilt of doubt in his voice, but he sincerely hopes you’re serious. This couch is warmer than anything he’s slept on in months and he really doesn’t want to crawl outside again with the rain pattering against your roof. 

“Sure, you haven’t tried to stab me yet.” You shrug, getting up to fetch a duvet and looking him over.

“Ah, you probably want to wash your hair from all...that,” Hyunjin’s hand flies to his hair, patting out the tangles as if it’s the first time he’s noticed them. “You can use the bathroom upstairs, there’s towels by the shower already.”

He nods, following your directions with a ‘thank you’. Once his footsteps disappear up the landing, you set about pulling out the couch into a flatbed, rearranging the pillows at its base. Lugging the duvet down from Changbin’s room had been a feat, but you’re determined to make the space welcoming. Satisfied with the cushioned bundle you created, you run back upstairs. 

You invade your brother’s room for the second time that day, tugging open his drawers in search for something acceptably pijama-like. 

“Hyunjin?” You knock tentatively on the bathroom door as the shower head turns off and the shuffling ceases. “I’m leaving some clothes for you to change into outside, okay? Come downstairs when you’re ready.”

You scroll through your timeline as you wait, catching up on the last few hours’ events from your friends until a shuffling to your left prompts you to raise your head. 

Your brother’s sweats hang a little loosely around Hyunjin’s hips, ending just above his ankles, bare feet sliding over the wooden floor of your living room, sinking into the rug as he steps closer to where you sit. His own clothing cradled in his arms close to his chest, you can’t stop your thoughts drifting momentarily to the damp mess of sunshine coloured hair. With his jacket on earlier, it was hard to make out his build under layers of fabric, but now it’s proving a challenge to not focus on the lines of his arms or the curves of his large hands gripping his clothes. Luckily for your dignity, your nerves of steel allow you to drag your gaze away from the collarbones peeking out from under thin white cotton higher to meet his eyes instead and find your voice again.

“I brought down some pillows for you, these are a bit too hard to sleep on.” You note, pointing to the decorative cushions you moved onto the lounge chair. “My room is right opposite the bathroom if you need anything, I’m a light sleeper.” 

“M’okay.” Hyunjin towers above you, yet you’ve never seen a boy so dainty. There really is no other way to describe the delicate line of his nose bridge or the rosy tint of his lips when his tongue pokes out to lick them as he mulls over your words, settling down on the makeshift bed. 

The proximity now feels different than the air between you when Teen Wolf still blared through your speakers, warm quiet heavy on your tongue with dim golden glow tumbling over his cheekbones that’s too much for your heart to take unprepared.

“Goodnight then!” You bounce up from the couch waving Hyunjin a quick goodbye, but a soft hand wrapping around your wrist pauses you. 

“Wait,” Hyunjin brushes his thumb over your palm softly, and you hope he doesn't notice the goosebumps on your skin at the contact. “Thanks for not kicking me out...or calling the police. Y’know, as most people would for a break in.” 

The smile he flashes you is almost teasing, but you can tell he means the words sincerely. You lay your other hand on top of his, patting in what you hope is a reassuring motion.

“Sure, Jinnie. It’s okay.”

[satorisa]

Falling: Chapter 3 - In Which the Boys Have the Best Sleepover Ever

Rating: T

Summary:  "I wanna forget all this burden in my past."

Alternate Reading: AO3

Because the best sleepovers involve watching Studio Ghibli movies, right?

With the May holidays coming up, Daisuke’s parents planned to go out of town to visit their college friends. Grandpa Daiki had left for Italy about a week earlier with a close friend to enjoy wood-fired pizzas, lemons the size of his face, and the beautiful, Sicilian breeze. And so, until Grandpa Daiki returned to Japan the Monday of the holiday week, it was unanimously decided that Daisuke would spend the weekend at the Saehara household.

“What’s the occasion?” Risa asked when she saw the duffel bag Daisuke had that Friday morning. “Running away from home?”

Daisuke nearly protested when Takeshi swooped in, wrapping his arm around Daisuke’s shoulder. “Nope! He’s sleeping over at my place for the weekend! Are ya—” Takeshi began to bounce his eyebrows. “—jealous?”

Risa laughed. “Jealous? Of not being invited to your ham fest? Puh-lease.”

Satoshi appeared on the other side of Daisuke and silently waved at Risa. She returned the gesture.

“Congrats on waking up early again, Hiwatari-kun. You’ve been on a roll lately.”

“Thank you.”

“So,” Risa asked with a grin, “what do you guys have planned for your super special sleepover?”

“I think we’re baking this evening,” Daisuke answered. “Then we’re marathoning Studio Ghibli films.”

“Absolute classics,” Takeshi interjected.

“Tomorrow, we’re taking Satoshi out to buy some clothes and…uh…spend the rest of the evening talking until we fall asleep.”

“For our brotherhood,” Takeshi interjected again.

“And then we’ll spend the rest of Sunday watching Studio Ghibli movies until we pass out.”

Risa blinked before she started laughing. “Actually, I take that back. I’m a little jealous I’m not invited.”

“You can’t sleep over, of course, but you’re free to join us!” Takeshi said, excitement dripping with each syllable.

She just smiled. “I’ll let you know if I can.”

…

Since Risa had lunch plans with Ritsuko that day, the boys decided to eat in Daisuke’s classroom. They needed to meet up before they headed home for the weekend to prepare themselves for Risa’s potential company.

“Boys,” Takeshi said as he sat down, “I shot my shot.”

“Congrats,” Daisuke said as he unwrapped his bread.

“Did you have to invite her over?” Satoshi grumbled, digging into the bento Takeshi packed for them that morning.

“Look, I get that you’ve got issues, but what’s the worst thing that could happen? Is she gonna try to get you alone to finagle information about Dark from you?”

Satoshi looked at Takeshi straight in the eye and knocked on the desk. Takeshi broke out in raucous laugher, and both Takeshi and Daisuke knocked on the desks they sat at in solidarity.

“I don’t think she’ll do that, though,” Daisuke reassured. “I think she was genuinely interested in what we’re actually doing.”

“I know,” Takeshi said with a smug smile. “She was hooked the moment you said we’re baking later.”

“Don’t tell me you tailored this weekend just for her,” Satoshi said.

“What little faith do you have in me?” Takeshi feigned offence. “I tailored this weekend just for you.”

Satoshi shrugged. “Could’ve fooled me.”

Takeshi shot him a quick glare before downing several large bites of his lunch. He chased it with water and, after a loud burp, he met both Daisuke’s and Satoshi’s gazes.

“Alrighty boys, let’s set some ground rules for this weekend if we so happen to find ourselves in Harada-imouto’s presence.” He raised a finger. “1) We do not joke about or discuss my crush on her around her. If she finds out, you are dead to me.” He raised another finger. “2) Satoshi is not to be left alone with her at all. For his safety. And, uh—” Takeshi put his hand down. “—that’s about it.”

“Um…I think I need to add one more rule,” Daisuke said.

“Aight. Add away.”

“3) Risa-chan cannot be left alone with me, either.”

Satoshi focused on his bento, picking at the eggs with his chopsticks. Takeshi leaned in, eyes glistening with curiosity.

“What secrets are you hiding from me, oh dear best friend?”

…

One of the underclassmen from the art club caught Satoshi on the way to the shoe lockers, so Takeshi went ahead while Satoshi talked to them. They quickly chatted about the en plein air social the club had planned during the holidays before going on their merry way with an enthusiastic farewell.

Those cute underclassmen of his were starting to grow on him.

After he switched his shoes out, he spotted Takeshi and Daisuke waiting by the entrance. He expected to leave with them to enjoy a fun evening with the boys when a familiar pink ribbon came into his field of vision.

“Hey, guys!” Risa greeted while Ritsuko, who trailed behind her, waved. “My parents said I could come over for some baked goods this evening! Mind if Ritsuko tags along?”

“The more, the merrier!” Takeshi said. “Welcome aboard the fun train, Fukuda!”

“I’m just here to steal your recipe for Valentine’s Day.”

He laughed, and the group was about to head out when Satoshi’s phone rang. He saw Inspector Saehara’s caller ID and picked up.

“Sorry to ruin yer plans and all, but somethin’ urgent just popped up that needs to be done ASAP.”

“Is it more urgent than baking?”

“I know you’re upset, Satoshi, but—”

“I’m telling Saehara-san that you called me in for work and ruined my youthful sleepover.”

“Satoshi, please don’t call—”

He hung up. The group looked at him in awe.

“Sorry, but something came up at the station. Have fun for me.”

…

Inspected Saehara locked the door to the office behind him. Satoshi glared at the older man, and he just guffawed.

“I’m really sorry, Satoshi.”

Fuming, he ignored Inspector Saehara’s apology and marched back home without him. When he arrived, Risa and Ritsuko were long gone. A half-eaten cake sat on the table, and Takeshi and Daisuke were playing a video game in the living room.

They looked away from the TV and, instead of greeting him, they started laughing at him for being a young professional. Satoshi’s eyebrows furrowed more as he ignored them, chucking his school bag at the sofa (narrowly missing Takeshi) before helping himself to some cake.

Plate in hand, Satoshi sat on the floor by Daisuke before having a bite. (Dark chocolate with ganache. Delectably moist, decadently rich and, most importantly, not too sweet.)

He watched them play while eating his cake, purposefully ignoring Inspector Saehara when he finally arrived with dinner. They all gathered in the living room, digging into the fried chicken as they began their movie marathon. They watched Princess Mononoke first since it was Inspector Saehara’s favorite film from the Studio Ghibli collection but, when the old man began to snore halfway through, Takeshi banished him to the master bedroom, and his muffled snores accompanied Joe Hisaishi’s ethereal score until the movie ended.

Daisuke ducked into the downstairs bathroom to get ready for bed in case he fell asleep while watching the movies, so Satoshi went upstairs to change and freshen up when he saw a text from Risa.

She sent him a picture from earlier; the girls stood to the left, guys on the right, as they framed the cake in the middle. The message underneath read: “had lots of fun earlier! hope we can do this again soon!”

Satoshi blinked, wondering what prompted Risa to text him. They only ever messaged each other to confirm plans with the group or to find each other in crowds: general housekeeping more than anything.

Satoshi: Did Fukuda steal the recipe?

Risa: yup! she’s got it stashed away on her phone! :)

He wondered what possessed him to message her, but the speed at which she replied with was astounding. His phone pinged again, and he saw another text from her.

Risa: how’s the movie marathon?

Satoshi: We just finished watching Princess Mononoke.

Risa: good choice! wish I could’ve stayed longer to watch with you guys :(

Satoshi: You’re still welcome to join us on Sunday if you’d like.

Risa: i’ll see if i can! thanks for the invite, hiwatari-kun!”

Satoshi sat at his desk, focused on his phone. And when Risa no longer responded, he left his phone on his desk to charge before heading downstairs. Daisuke was still taking a shower, but Takeshi was in the kitchen making hot cocoa.

When Takeshi saw Satoshi, he pulled him into a hug.

“Bro, thank you for inviting Risa over on Sunday.”

…

The boys breezed through more of the Studio Ghibli catalogue, getting through Castle in the Sky, Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind, until they began to fall asleep while watching Porco Rosso. Takeshi leaned on Satoshi’s left shoulder, snoring at a tolerable volume and occasionally mumbling something in gibberish. Daisuke leaned on Satoshi’s right shoulder, cheek smushed into Satoshi’s upper arm while he hung onto Satoshi’s appendage like a sloth.

And Satoshi, enamored by the Studio Ghibli magic that gave life to a story about a pilot-turned-pig in the Adriatic Sea, watched on. And only when the credits began, with its calming music, did Satoshi join his friends.

…

Satoshi woke up to hear something sizzling on the stove. He rubbed his eyes awake before sitting up on the sofa. The blanket that covered him rolled off his chest as the cool air from the AC hit him, and he saw Takeshi and Daisuke in the kitchen.

(Inspector Saehara was not in the kitchen, but Satoshi picked out his snores from the room in the lulls of the sound of breakfast.)

When he finally came to, he joined the duo. He silently greeted them while he began to make coffee, filling up the kettle for some hot water.

Satoshi stood separated from the bustle in the kitchen, watching the kettle while Takeshi and Daisuke made small talk. Only when the kettle clicked did Satoshi move as he began to grind the coffee beans. He made enough coffee for Inspector Saehara to have his daily two cups and poured some out for the boys before joining them at the table.

“Dude, Satoshi’s coffee is to die for.”

Daisuke laughed before taking a sip. His face lit up, surprised, before he took another sip. “Wow, this is great! Thanks, Satoshi!”

He just nodded. Silent.

Even though he hadn’t said a word all morning, the guys didn’t force him to join their conversation. They let him be, just like he wanted, as he relished in this moment.

After they said their thanks, they dug into the breakfast. And while Satoshi silently ate, listening to Takeshi and Daisuke talk about the most menial of things, Satoshi genuinely wished that they could do this again.

…

Commissioner Hiwatari never took Satoshi out to shop for clothes. He would come home with items that somehow always fit but were always more fashionable than comfortable or practical. (And, if Satoshi had to be honest, he hated everything Commissioner Hiwatari bought him.)

Satoshi thought Takeshi would take him to a Uniqlo or SHIPS, but the trio found themselves in front of the department store.

“…with what money are we buying my clothes?” Satoshi asked, adjusting the tote slung over his shoulder.

“Ma said to charge it as a business expense.”

“…how?”

Takeshi shrugged before rolling up his sleeves. “Alright, fellas, we’ve got one job today, so let’s stay focused. No distractions!”

“Says the one who always gets distracted by the food and kitchen appliances,” Daisuke joked.

Takeshi glared before they walked in, politely turning down the makeup samples they could bring back to their “girlfriends” as they made their way to the escalator. Daisuke and Takeshi pulled their phones out as they ascended, but Satoshi looked down at the sprawling floor in awe. Everything shone, neatly displayed or folded, and he was too enthralled by the sight that he didn’t feel the pang of regret that often accompanied him finally experiencing something he should’ve long experienced as a child.

When they made it to the floor that housed the men’s section, mannequins dressed in sleek suits greeted them. Satoshi recognized those brands as the high-end ones that made up most of Commissioner Hiwatari’s closet, and Satoshi marched on to find something less expensive. He passed by some popular streetwear brands, only known to him because of Takeshi and Daisuke’s mild interest in fashion, until he finally found more subdued pieces of clothing that catered to his tastes.

“Satoshi, uh, that brand’s—”

Takeshi’s warning came too late. Satoshi looked at the tag, and the price bounced in his head. It was too damn expensive for a casual sweater, so much so that seeing that many numbers together physically hurt.

“Takeshi, this was a terrible idea.”

“Bro, you literally aren’t even trying right now.”

“But—” Satoshi gestured to the clothes surrounding them. “—there’s too much to look through. And they’re probably all pricey.”

Takeshi sighed. “Just ask someone to help you.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Just go up to one of the attendants and ask them to help you. I’m sure they can find something for you.”

Satoshi just blinked, looking at Takeshi like he had said something in Russian. Takeshi returned Satoshi’s confused expression, and Daisuke laughed when he finally caught on.

“Are you too nervous to ask them for help?” Daisuke asked.

Satoshi Hiwatari, literal kid detective, college graduate at the tender age of fourteen, terrified to ask for help at the department store?

Absolutely.

Takeshi smirked, and Satoshi sighed, leaving the thoroughly entertained duo before asking one of the attendants for help. She directed him to a brand he wasn’t familiar with, but Satoshi liked the style and, most importantly, enjoyed the price point.

And after Satoshi tried on what he picked out, narrowing down the pile of clothes he brought with him to the fitting room, they paid before heading downstairs so Takeshi could fawn over the food. Satoshi followed him, wondering what samples he could taste, while Daisuke went off to grab something for Riku when he visited her during the holidays.

After stopping Takeshi from buying an extravagant set of chocolates, Satoshi spotted a familiar pink ribbon tying back brown locks. Lo and behold, Harada Risa was in her natural habitat at the department store, admiring the cases full of desserts while she carried a basket of impeccable looking strawberries in her hand. He ducked behind the closest fruit stand.

“Takeshi!” he harshly whispered.

“Ye?”

“Harada is here!”

Satoshi motioned towards the preoccupied girl, and Takeshi’s face lit up. What a serendipitous occasion for them to meet at the department store! But a familiar mop of red popped into his field of vision and was in the peripheries of a certain girl who would most definitely stop him were she to see him.

Thus, by virtue of the bro code, Rule Number 3 of this sleepover took precedent. But it also gave Takeshi a fantastic opportunity.

“I’ll distract her,” Takeshi whispered. “Get Daisuke out of here.”

“Where do we meet up?”

“Men’s section. We should be safe there.”

Satoshi nodded.

“Harada-chan!”

She turned around and greeted Takeshi. Satoshi couldn’t hear what they were talking about, but she saw Daisuke briskly walk towards him. He ducked behind the stand next to Satoshi, and they silently watched Takeshi lead her away for them to escape.

May his shot go well.

…

“So, what’s the real reason why you can’t be left alone with Harada?” Satoshi asked as the two of them sat down in the men’s section.

“Is Riku being jealous of her sister not a good enough reason?”

“I’m sure it’s part of the reason, but I feel like that’s not the whole thing.”

“Is that your detective instinct?”

“No. You’re just a little too obvious sometimes,” Satoshi said with a smile.

Daisuke sighed while Satoshi directed his attention to the passersby. A frantic woman passed by, quickly talking to someone on the phone in English.

“It’s just…Risa-chan has been a lot more clingy lately to the point that Riku’s starting to get annoyed with how much time I spend with her. And I’m having a sneaking suspicion that it has something to do with Dark.”

“Like residual feelings of some sort?”

“Yeah, but I don’t know what do with that.”

“Talk to her about it?”

“I can’t do that.”

“Why? Because you’re dating her sister?”

“Yeah. That’s one of the reasons, but I also don’t want to put her on the spot for it, especially if she doesn’t know what she’s doing.”

“Is that why you were a little too excited to hear about Takeshi’s feelings for her?”

“Yeah,” Daisuke sheepishly admitted. “It’s the easiest way to resolve it. A win-win situation for everyone involved.”

“That involves Harada returning his feelings.”

“There’s always a chance.”

“You’re holding onto a slim hope, then.”

Daisuke laughed. “Better to be optimistic, I always say.”

“Well, I’m sure there are other guys in our grade we could always…gently persuade to pursue Harada were she to turn down Takeshi’s feelings.”

His friend shook his head in disbelief that Satoshi even suggested such an idea while Satoshi laughed. If Takeshi couldn’t worm his way into Risa’s heart, no one else in their grade would be able to. Only a person with such outstanding confidence like Takeshi could handle Risa’s overwhelming personality.

Either that or…

That wasn’t a train of thought he was willing to entertain. Not now. And, hopefully, not ever.

Satoshi spotted Takeshi’s spiky hair in his peripheries as he rode up the escalator, shining with jubilee.

“Hello, men,” he greeted as the enthusiasm faded from his face. “What the hell have you two been talking about to make y’all look like death?”

“We’re bracing ourselves for the interrogation later by screening our answers,” Satoshi answered.

Takeshi glared at him.

…

“You did what?”

Mama Saehara’s voice boomed through the house. The boys just arrived, and they stood at the entrance, removing their shoes while trying to make as little noise as possible.

Satoshi had never heard her sound like that. Her voice always had a light and cheerful tone despite her powerful looks, yet she sounded exactly like he expected her to in that moment.

“It was an emergency!” Inspector Saehara retorted. “I know that he had plans an’ all, but—”

“But what? You think work is more important than what you made him miss?”

“Well—”

Mama Saehara screamed a flurry of French, and Inspector Saehara gasped before replying to whatever she just said in Japanese. Takeshi sighed as they bickered on.

“I’m sorry about this, y’all.”

“It’s fine,” Daisuke said. “My parents get like this sometimes, too. Even grandpa has his moments.”

Satoshi blinked. It sounded like Inspector Saehara and Mama Saehara were arguing over what happened yesterday, but he didn’t realize they would get so heated over something like that. Satoshi had completely gotten over being called to work when he woke up that morning, so he couldn’t empathize with them arguing about it.

“Is this normal?” Satoshi asked.

“Honestly, I’m surprised it took you this long to hear them like this, but I guess they’ve probably been holdin’ back because of you.”

Mama Saehara let out another exasperated string of words in French. Inspector Saehara demanded she repeat it in Japanese, taunting her, and she did without any hesitation. The boys gasped.

“I thought they got along,” Satoshi said.

“They do,” Takeshi said. “I mean, how else could they have been married for this long?”

“But—”

“This is normal!” Takeshi assured. “Besides, what family doesn’t argue?”

Daisuke nodded. Satoshi, however, decided he had had enough of the petty argument and marched into the kitchen to try to diffuse the situation.

Inspector Saehara sat at the table with his phone leaning against his mug. He looked up from the screen and balked at the sight of Satoshi before shooting him an awkward smile.

“Hey, Satoshi,” Inspector Saehara greeted. “How was yer trip to the department store?”

“Good.”

He expected Inspector Saehara to reply or for Mama Saehara to say something to him. She just grumbled something in French.

Inspector Saehara gasped.

“Have you no shame in cussin’ me out in a different language in front of our son?”

It was Satoshi’s turn to gasp. If only to lighten the situation.

Inspector Saehara cracked a smile.

…

Chips and beer in hand, Inspector Saehara retreated to the master bedroom. And, arms full of snacks, the boys retreated to Takeshi and Satoshi’s room upstairs. Satoshi sat at his desk, attempting to tidy his mess, while Takeshi and Daisuke sat on Takeshi’s bed, sharing an opened bag of chips.

“So…” Takeshi began.

“So…” Satoshi echoed.

Takeshi glared at Satoshi, and he smirked back. Daisuke laughed at his friend’s antics before munching on a handful of chips, cutting through the tension in the room.

“Tell us why you like Risa-chan,” Daisuke started.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Takeshi asked. “She’s adorable.”

“Then why’d you only start liking her recently?” Satoshi quipped.

“Hey, if you wanna take the floor, then you spill.”

“Do you want to cry?”

Both Daisuke and Takeshi looked at Satoshi, mortified, but he just laughed. Perhaps it was in bad taste to joke about what had happened to him, but Satoshi didn’t have any deep secrets or life problems to spill besides it.

Takeshi pouted. “You’re disqualified from speaking from here on out.”

Satoshi gave him a thumbs up with a smile. Takeshi returned it before he began to rock back and forth like a metronome.

“Honestly, I don’t really know, man,” Takeshi admitted. “After Harada-ane moved away and Harada-imouto started to hang out with us a lot more, I jus’ started to pay more attention to her an’ all. Next thing ya know, I’m daydreamin’ about her in class.”

Daisuke nodded while Satoshi blinked. He didn’t mind talks of romance when casually mentioned or joked about, but he felt uncomfortable hearing Takeshi talk about it so sincerely. He opened the box of matcha Pocky and hoped no one noticed him snacking on something he would never willingly choose.

“And I can’t help it even though I think she’s got her heart set on another guy.”

Satoshi bit the stick of Pocky in half. His eyes bounced from Daisuke and Takeshi, noting Takeshi’s growing impatience and Daisuke’s obvious awkwardness.

Takeshi’s keenness never failed to surprise Satoshi.

“She probably likes you, Daisuke.”

“What? No…”

“Bro, have you seen how she acts around you? Look, man, I know you’re dense, but you can’t be that obtuse.”

Daisuke glanced over at Satoshi, eyes begging for help. But Satoshi zipped his lips, keeping to Takeshi’s words from earlier. And, honestly, he wanted no part in this conversation at all.

“Daisuke, please, be honest with me. I promise I’ll try my best not to take it personally.”

He sighed. “…I know. I’ve known for a while now, but I don’t know if she knows. And even if she does know, I don’t think she wants to acknowledge it.”

“Does she like you because you’re you or because you were Dark Mousy’s host or something like that?”

“I don’t know. I’m sure most of her feelings are coming from her residual feelings for Dark, but Riku also just moved away. I wouldn’t be surprised if she started getting attached to me, to us, to fill the void of her sister.”

Takeshi groaned before grabbing his pillow and digging his head into it. “Unrequited feelings suck, man.”

Daisuke nodded while Satoshi bobbed his head in reflex. He remembered the pang he felt when he realized how important Risa was to him despite knowing how she felt for Dark. His burgeoning feelings, no matter how fleeting, still haunted his mind. Somehow, someway, Risa always crawled into his life uninvited.

Unlike Takeshi, however, he couldn’t welcome any of those feelings he had for her.

Luckily, his friends didn’t notice his absent-minded expression as he stared at nothing in particular and precariously balanced the stick of Pocky in his mouth. When he came back to the conversation, Takeshi had a devilish smile on his face while he nudged a red-faced Daisuke with his elbow.

“Come on, you can tell us how far you’ve gone with Harada-ane!”

“Absolutely not!”

…

Satoshi woke up.

Daisuke and Takeshi were still asleep. And he was about to fall back asleep considering how late the trio had stayed up, but he saw slivers of light blue filtering through the blinds and the lethargic haze clouding his mind cleared up despite the sleep deprivation.

He sent Takeshi and Inspector Saehara a message saying he’d be out just in case they woke up while he was gone and, phone in hand, he left the house to grab breakfast for everyone. There was a coffeeshop by the police station he was partial to, and he didn’t mind taking the slight commute to get there.

Satoshi rarely found himself this alert so early in the morning, but he enjoyed the calm stillness of Azumano at dawn. If he began to consistently wake up at this time, he wouldn’t mind adding a morning walk to his daily routine.

He didn’t think the coffeeshop would be so busy on a Sunday morning, yet he saw a large group huddled around the register when he arrived. Satoshi noted how young they looked and wondered why a group of teens would be willingly awake this early on a Sunday until he saw Ritsuko intently looking at a tablet in her hands.

He went up to her. “Robotics competition?”

She turned towards him, initially shocked to see him there, but a smile quickly settled onto her face. “Yeah. It’s just an invitational, but we’re hoping to win something at least.”

“Good luck.”

“Thanks!” she said. “How’s your sleepover going so far?”

“Fun.”

She smirked. “Did you actually fall asleep last night?”

“Yeah. And I woke up early.”

“Unfortunately?”

“Fortunately. I’m sort of starting to like mornings.”

She laughed. “Well, I wish you the best of luck on your transition to become an early bird.”

The barista called their order, and the group swarmed around the counter. Ritsuko stood up and slipped the tablet into her bag.

“Sorry to cut this short, but we’ve got to head out now. See you around?”

“Of course. Kick their asses.”

Ritsuko blinked, taken aback by Satoshi’s choice of words before letting out a hearty laugh. “Saehara-kun really has rubbed off on you.”

After Ritsuko left with her club, Satoshi ordered. He waited at a table by the counter, enjoying the ambiance and the light muzak as he skimmed through the news on his phone.

After they called his name, he ambled home with the food and drinks in hand, watching Azumano wake up with every step he took. As the sun continued to rise and the sorbet-colored sky turned its usual hue of blue, he saw stores open, joggers zoom by him, and the occasional group of elderly women briskly walk past him. Everything felt different from the lunchtime hustle, the evening rush, like a car engine humming to life instead of zooming down the highway.

He really could get used to this.

When he returned home, the house was still. He began to unpack the food from the bags when he heard heavy footsteps barrel downstairs. Satoshi froze in place, and the sight of Takeshi coming into the kitchen couldn’t shake off the fear.

“Bro, Harada-imouto’s coming over around lunchtime later!”

“Cool.”

“Why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?”

“You, um, scared me. With the loud noises and all.”

“Aw shit, fam. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Takeshi then noticed the food that Satoshi brought. He began to open the containers in excitement until he found an order he knew belonged to him. His face lit up before opening his arms. A proud grin eclipsed his face.

“Come here, brotha!”

“Too early. Hard pass…brotha.”

…

The boys (and Inspector Saehara) sat at the dining table, stiff from anticipation for Risa’s arrival. Inspector Saehara learned about his son’s feelings for the Saehara household guest after asking why the hell his son was making that much racket so damn early in the morning and, fully supporting his son’s infatuations, helped the boys clean up and splurge on some food from that fancy place he knew the Harada family frequented.

His boy’s gotta make a good impression somehow.

So, when they heard the doorbell ring, exactly at noon, they looked at Takeshi, begging him to let her in. They held their breath, pitying the lovesick fool when they heard his usual, confident babbling turn clumsy as he stumbled over his words. But when they heard the door close and saw Risa walk in, wearing a t-shirt dress that definitely leaned towards a casual ensemble for a day with friends than an outfit to catch a boy’s attention, they cautiously glanced at Takeshi to see his perception on Risa’s uncharacteristic fashion choice.

The boy was too ecstatic at her company that he was blind to her obvious message about how she truly felt about this.

Was this a success? Or a failure? They couldn’t tell.

“So,” Risa began. “what’s the plan?”

…

Risa insisted on starting with Whisper of the Heart.

Satoshi expected it have that whimsical fantasy that permeated the films he watched the evening before, but it didn’t. It had the whimsy, for sure, but he couldn’t connect with the realism of the film. So, while Risa, Daisuke, and Takeshi waxed poetic about the youthful vigor in the couple’s ending, the sentiment was lost on him, and he dismissed himself on the kitchen to “grab a snack” while the trio argued over what to watch next.

He stood next to Inspector Saehara who sat at the table that allowed for prime viewing of his son’s adolescence. He had a laptop in front of him, with Mama Saehara on the screen, and Satoshi waved to her. She didn’t notice since she seemed preoccupied with something else on her end.

“I didn’t realize you were in a call with her.”

“She’s just here to get real-time updates on Takeshi crushing over the Harada kid. We’re not actually having a conversation.”

“Because of what happened yesterday?”

“What do you mean what—” Inspector Saehara didn’t finish his sentence. He just began to laugh. “Oh, that? That’s nothing.”

“Nothing? But…”

“It happens all the time. Me an’ Ma are always arguin’ over somethin’. It happens with those yer close to, yanno?”

No, Satoshi didn’t know. The bemused expression on his face said everything, and Inspector Saehara guffawed.

“It’ll happen one day whether you’ll like it or not. Just don’t hate us when it happens, alright?”

Takeshi came in. “Bro, we’re starting My Neighbor Totoro! Hurry up!”

Satoshi nodded, following Takeshi back to the living room without any resolution to his conversation with Inspector Saehara.

He sat down in the recliner, distant from the trio on the couch. Risa was wedged between Daisuke and Takeshi, dangerously close to crossing the threshold of Daisuke’s personal space. The former was dangerously close to rolling off the couch over the armrest; the latter was dangerously close to crossing the threshold of Risa’s personal space. As an outsider looking in, the teens spelled out their emotions so plainly that it only hurt to watch.

Satoshi envied them. Of that innocence that allowed them to feel the emotions that come and go. To allow themselves to get caught up in a tempest of their feelings without worrying about how far-reaching the consequences would be.

The chipper tune of the movie’s opening brough his attention back to the TV. And while those on the couch sung along, he just nodded to the beat, unable to fight the smile threatening his face.

…

After the movie ended, to everyone’s dismay, Satoshi ducked into the restroom. When he returned to the living room, only Risa was there, lying down on the couch as she busied herself with her phone.

Clearly, this situation was in violation of Rule Number 2 of the sleepover code, but it seemed like there was nothing he could do to amend the broken rule.

“Where’d they go?” Satoshi cautiously asked.

“Daisuke’s parents called him during the movie, so he’s returning their call right now. And Saehara-san and Takeshi-kun stepped out to grab dinner.”

“So, your parents are letting you stay until then?”

“Yup! So we can squeeze in two more movies before I have to head back!”

“Which movies?”

“The Wind Rises and Howl’s Moving Castle.”

“Do they have romance in them?”

Risa winked. “Of course!”

Satoshi rolled his eyes. “I don’t understand your obsession with romance.”

“You don’t have to, but just know that you’re missing out on a fantastic genre.”

Satoshi shook his head, and she just giggled. “Maybe you’ll change your mind when you actually fall in love with someone.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“I wouldn’t end your sentence so quickly,” she sang.

“Perhaps, but I still think you’re slightly delusional.”

“But who isn’t slightly delusional when it comes to love?”

Satoshi wondered what possessed her to say that. And, when she met his gaze, he didn’t expect to see that earnest expression on her face. The Risa in front of him was no longer the adolescent girl who lived up the stereotype. This was the Risa trying to expand her horizons, to learn what lay beyond her perception of the world: the Risa that terrified him.

“Do you think I’ve lost it?” she asked in a whisper. “Being hung up over a ghost of a feeling? Of a person I can’t clearly recall in my memories? At the fact that you can’t fill the hole they left not matter how much you tell me about them?”

Satoshi hated this. He hated how easily Risa managed to skirt the edge of his comfort zone. She was precise enough to get her point across yet vague enough that it felt rude for him to strike that boundary. Not without him risking sounding like an asshole.

Not without him allowing her to cross a boundary he wasn’t ready for anyone, let alone her, to cross.

He began to formulate the words in his mind to say that he couldn’t answer that question, that he felt uncomfortable even being in the position of receiving her inquiries. Satoshi had to brace himself for her disappointment at him pulling away, but Daisuke came down before Satoshi followed through with the decision his mind was heading to.

“So, what’re we watching next?” Daisuke asked.

Satoshi nearly wept from the timing.

…

Sunday passed without any more drama. After they finished the movies Risa wanted to watch, she left without much fanfare, and the boys went through as much of the Studio Ghibli filmography as they could before they passed out.

Satoshi, however, woke up that Monday morning in a cold sweat with a splitting headache. So, while Takeshi and Daisuke left to pick up Grandpa Daiki from the train station, Satoshi floated in and out of consciousness while a familiar, winged Phantom Thief haunted his dreams.