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dira333 · 5 months ago

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Of Swings and Snakes - Matsukawa x Reader

part 1 - this is the angsty start, for someone who likes angst to fluff, leave a note so I can tag you in part 2

Warning: Angst, Relationship ending, failed communication

tagging: @lees-chaotic-brain and my angsty Mattsun Anon

The old swingset creaks loudly as you push yourself forward. It’s the only noise in the park and it would probably be creeping you out if your thoughts weren’t occupied as is.

You barely have enough energy to push yourself forward, but you cannot stay in place either and the loud, whining creak is enough to cut a little slice out of the gloom that’s been settling heavily into your skin.

“This seat taken?”

You don’t look up. Makki settles in the swing next to you without waiting for an answer.

For a while, there’s just the sound of two swings creaking, the soft sound when your feet hit the floor to push you forward just a little more.

Eventually, though, you come to a stop. Makki follows, puts his feet down so hard dirt flies through the air.

His left hand moves over to take yours, folding around your cold fingers holding the cold metal.

“I’m staying with you, okay?” He says, “You’re not going to be alone.”

Finally, your tears start to flow.

When you’re dating in high school, the reactions are always the same.

There are the ones who think it’s cute.

“Youth,” they’ll say with a wistful smile. “To be young again.”

There are the ones who think you’re too young.

“You’ll regret this later, trust me. Don’t bind yourself to someone else too early.”

And there are the ones who look like their heart breaks just at the thought of it.

“I wish you the best,” your mother had said when you brought home the news, “I hope it turns out better for you.”

You hadn’t thought to ask then, what she meant. Would you have decided differently, if you had? If you’d heard about her own love story at seventeen? How she loved and lost in much the same way?

Or maybe you’d have told yourself that you are different.

Only to realize that you are not.

“Please welcome our new manager to the team.”

You wave shyly as the boys turn toward you. Your Middle School Volleyball Club was way smaller.

There’s talk of them making Nationals this year and you do your best to help.

“Oikawa made a name for himself in Middle School,” they say like he’s the Messiah that will bring new life to their hopes and aspirations.

And he’s good, that’s easy to tell. But where your Senpai seem to forget that Oikawa isn’t the only first year, you can see all of them gleam and glitter in the background, like Stars, unable to outshine the moon with their light.

Iwaizumi is a little shy, but you stay back to help him practice his spikes sometimes.

Hanamaki and Matsukawa, or as they ask you to call them, Makki and Mattsun, tend to goof off most of the time during training but it’s not hard to call them to attention. Watching them play together is something you will not get tired of.

“Hey, Manager, can you help us?” Makki calls out to you, “I wanna practice blocking with Mattsun.”

“Coming!”

You don’t make it to Nationals this year. Shiratorizawa has also gained a new star and if Oikawa is the moon, outshining the stars, Ushijima Wakatoshi is the bright midday sun, burning away all memories of the night.

“You are a good manager,” he finds you in the hallways later, face set in a passive frown, “you should come to Shiratorizawa.”

And you’re sure it’s a compliment, in a way. But there’s no question of your loyalty.

“I wouldn’t be half as good as you think if I’d just abandon my team the moment someone asks me to.”

There’s surprise evident on his face that soon falls away.

“Come on, Ushiwaka, we’re going to be late,” a redhead calls for him just as Mattsun appears at the corner, waiting for you.

“We’ll meet again,” Ushijima promises and you shrug before turning around. You suppose there’s nothing you can do about it.

“Mom, can you give me my water bottle?”

Silence falls over the Gym, then laughter.

“What?” Watari asks, hackles rising.

“You just called our Manager Mom,” Sawauchi points out.

“No, I didn’t!” Watari defends himself and you pity the poor first year.

“It’s okay, I don’t mind-”

“You don’t mind?” Makki leans heavily onto your shoulder. You don’t know how he could appear so fast out of thin air. “Mattsun, did you hear that?”

“Hm, I did.” He leans heavily on your other shoulder, winking down at you when you look up at him. Mattsun’s so close you can see every single one of his unfairly long lashes and the slow growth of his lazy smirk.

He’s terrifyingly good looking and you suspect he knows it too.

“Mom!” Kyoutani yells through the Gym a few weeks later, the Nickname stuck like glue.

“Coming,” you yell back, emergency kit ready. “Jeez, you guys need to stop being so rough. Everything okay, Watari?”

“Yeah,” the Libero’s clutching his nose, blood dribbling out from under his hands. “Just managed to receive with my face.”

“Thanks for calling me, Kyoutani,” you tell the other boy who nods gruffly before returning to the court as if nothing happened.

“Come up,” you say, but he stays on the floor, growing paler.

“I don’t feel so good,” he mutters and your head flies around, looking for someone, anyone who can help.

“I’m here,” Mattsun calls out immediately, already by your side. You didn’t see him come over, nor do you know why he decided to do it, but you’re too thankful to think about it now.

Together you manage to get Watari out of the Gym where he empties his stomach into a nearby shrub.

“Let’s get you to school nurse,” Mattsun decides before looking at you. “That okay?”

“Yeah, thank you.”

With Watari supported on your left and Mattsun’s right arm, the walk is more than a little wobbly - height difference and all - but your mind is going elsewhere, unable to focus on the first-year’s health.

Mattsun’s arm rests under yours on Watari’s back, warm and steadfast and safe.

He smiles softly, reassuring, whenever your eyes cross.

He doesn’t have to say anything, he just has to be there.

“Hey, I was wondering…” Mattsun’s rubbing the back of his head and you stop to give him some time to think.

“Yeah?”

A pink blush grows on his cheeks. You wonder if this is really what you think it is.

“I really like you. A lot. And I was thinking… if you’d want to be my girlfriend.”

You swallow thickly, look around for any signs that this is a prank.

“Are you being serious?”

“When have I ever not been- scratch that, yes, I’m serious.” He stretches out his hand as if this is a business offer, realizing half-way how weird it looks.

But it’s too late, you’ve already clamped both hands around his and shook it.

“I want to be your girlfriend,” you blurt out, just as awkward in your affection as he is.

A wide, satisfied grin spreads over his face and the blush intensifies to your delight.

“Wait,” Makki calls out from somewhere behind him, “Does that make Mattsun my Dad? I’m veto-ing!”

“You don’t get a say,” you declare just moments before Mattsun pulls you in, face mushed into his chest.

“If we run now,” he whispers, “we can outrun him.”

“If you miss this serve, you’re buying Ramen!” Makki declares.

“I want mine with pork!” Mattsun immediately adds on.

Oikawa rolls his eyes, but it doesn’t matter. They might be playing an important game, but this team knows better.

“I want mine extra spicy,” you call out from the side, waving when both Mattsun and Makki give you a thumbs up for the order.

“What are you going to do now?” Kindaichi asks after their loss.

“What do you mean?” You ask back.

“Are you still going to come to practice? You’ve got your exams coming up.”

“Are you trying to steal my girlfriend?” Mattsun hooks his head over your shoulder, trying to stare Kindaichi down.

“NO! No, no, I just… it will be different without you there.”

“Yamagata-chan will be helping you just fine,” you assure him, smiling at your feisty first-year manager. “I’m not sure yet, it depends on how well I’m getting on with studying.”

“Lies,” Mattsun whispers into your ear when Kindaichi turns his back on you for a second. “You’ll be back. You care too much.”

And isn’t that the truth?

-x-

“Where’s he staying?” You ask, your hand curled around the doorframe. Even from this distance you can tell that Mattsun’s missing.

Later you’ll find your suitcase missing, along with his suits and a few sets of underwear. He’s never been a materialist.

“I-” Makki pulls his head in as if to avoid the question.

“Please?”

“He’s staying with Kyoutani for the moment,” he sighs, moves as if to hug you but pulls back when you step out of reach.

“I’m staying with you, okay? You won’t have to be alone.”

“What if I want to be?”

Makki cocks his head to the side, eyeing you curiously. “No, you don’t.”

“Fine,” you sigh, “but you’re making Dinner. I’m going to take a bath.”

“Don’t drown.”

You flip him off.

Though when you’re sitting in the hot water, surrounded by remnants of this lost relationship, you can’t help but weep.

“What’s this monstrosity?” You ask when Mattsun drops his hands from your eyes. There, on the shower curtain, is a giant cat in Seijoh colors, flying through space.

“Do you like it?” Mattsun asks, giggling, “Kindaichi ordered it.”

“No, he didn’t.”

“No, he didn’t, Kunimi ordered it. But Kindaichi paid.”

“Poor guy,” you huff, “but I suppose we can’t get rid of it now.”

“You always wanted a cat.”

You snort. “Yeah, and I guess I got one now.”

“And look, Kyoutani got us this kitten soap dishes to match. Isn’t that thoughtful?”

You sigh. “It is. At least now I’m glad I had the foresight to steal towels during my time at Seijoh.”

“You didn’t,” Mattsun gasps, “I’m dating a criminal!”

“You do,” you sling your arms around his shoulders and press a kiss to his jaw, “gonna kill you if you sing.”

He laughs, dips you like you’re dancing.

And yes, your apartment is barely big enough to fit the two of you, but it doesn’t matter. Not as long as you’re together.

“What’s for Dinner?” Makki asks, closing the door behind him with a snap.

“I wanted to make Lasagna but I only had Ramen Noodles left, so I don’t know what to call it,” you announce from the stove.

“Oh, LaRamna, my favorite,” he chirps, going straight for the snack drawer until a well-aimed spoon cuts him off.

“No chocolate before Dinner.”

“But-”

“You can set the table.”

“Fine,” Makki huffs, sticking his tongue out at you. “I brought wine with me, by the way.”

“Oh, how classy of you. Are we pretending to be something other than College Kids?”

“Who’s pretending what?” Mattsun’s still in the door, wet hair hanging into his eyes.

“Oh baby,” you coo, walking over. “Did you forget your umbrella again?”

“Mhm,” he leans down to kiss you, leaving droplets of cold running down your skin. “Missed you.”

“Missed you too,” you hum back. Mattsun leans in to kiss you again though this time he stops, turns and “Makki, no Chocolate before Dinner!”

“You good?” Makki asks, pushing an open bar of chocolate in your direction.

“Yeah,” you hum, doodling yet another heart into your book.

“You don’t look it.”

“Just lonely, I guess,” you admit, “I’m not used to Mattsun staying out this late.”

“How long is this course going?”

“Two weeks,” you groan, rubbing your eyes.

“That’s not that long.”

“No,” you shake your head. “It’s not.”

But the gloominess doesn’t really go away that night.

“Another course?” You ask, focus on the carrots you’re cutting.

“Yeah,” Mattsun’s at the table, going over the bills. “This one’s not mandatory but I’d get ahead much faster. My uncle said I could start working part-time for him as soon as I’ve got through this one.”

“You wanna work for your uncle?” You ask, turning to look at him.

He purses his lips, taps the table with his pen.

“I mean, it’s honest work, right? I don’t really have any passion to follow and it pays good money.”

“Yeah, but what if you realize you hate it?”

“I’d figure it out then, wouldn’t I?” He cocks his head to the side to look at you. “Do you think I wouldn’t like it?”

“I don’t know. It’s just… I don’t like those late classes.”

“I know,” he coos, getting up and walking over. “I know you hate falling asleep without me.”

“That too,” you huff and lean into him. “I just… I didn’t know growing up was this hard.”

“It won’t be for long, I promise.”

The numbers on your alarm clock are a bright, annoying red and a slap in the face.

It’s two hours past midnight yet the other side of your bed is cold and empty.

There are no new messages on your phone as you slip out of bed and stalk around the room, chewing on your lower lip as you consider your options.

Call the police? Call Makki?

You call Mattsun, because that’s always been your go-to if you needed help.

The familiar ringtone cuts through the silence, muffled only by the closed door.

When you open it, you’re greeted by the dim lights over the stove and a long body stretched out on the Couch.

He fell asleep waiting for the Microwave to get done and though you want nothing less than to curl up beside him, he looks far too exhausted for you to wake him up.

So you tuck him in the best you can before you slip back into the bed he should be sharing with you, unable to get rid of a chill that has started creeping in.

“Instant Ramen?” Makki’s stopped halfway to the fridge, staring at your choice of Dinner. You shrug and dig your chopsticks into the meal.

He looks like he wants to add something, but instead, he picks a pack out of the drawer Mattsun pretended to hide them in. A few minutes later he’s sitting across from you, blowing on his own bowl of Ramen.

“I thought they’re not healthy.”

“They’re not.”

“Period incoming.”

“Had it last week.”

“Hm.” Makki squints, takes a first sip, and curses when he burns his mouth.

“Okay,” he huffs finally when even that doesn’t make you smile, “Spill. Why are we eating Instant Ramen instead of the usual healthy stuff you like to make?”

“I hate cooking for one person.”

Makki stops, chopsticks halfway to his mouth.

“But you’re not cooking for one person,” he says, confused, “You always cook for-”

You stare at him until he breaks off in the middle of his sentence.

But Makki wouldn’t be Makki if he could be convinced to shut up by a glare alone.

“It’s only a few more days until the course is over.”

“I think he’s cheating on me.”

Makki’s chopsticks drop into his bowl, spraying broth everywhere. But you don’t care. Not about that, at least.

You eat on, try to stare a hole into the wooden tabletop, right there, where you usually put Mattsun’s bowl when he sits down for Dinner.

“You wouldn’t-” Makki stumbles over the words. “He wouldn’t- Why do you think-”

“Working late,” you count on your fingers, “coming home later than the course needs him to, smelling like perfume. Do you need me to go on?”

“Did you talk to him about it?”

“Yes,” you nod sharply, “but apparently it’s a secret I’m not supposed to know.”

Makki sighs. “It really is, I know it and it’s supposed to be a surprise.”

You freeze. Makki dares to show a small smile and you look up at him, surprised at your own feelings.

“I was actually kinda relieved,” you admit, voice hollow, “because that would have explained why he doesn’t want to spend time with me anymore.”

-x-

It’s hard, getting up in the morning after your first - and worst - breakup.

It’s hard, getting through the day and coming home again only to realize that this is it. This apartment will never be filled with life again, not in the way it was supposed to be.

Makki only leaves your side for work, sleeping on the Couch as if it’s his bed and not a torture instrument created to destroy your back muscles.

You think it’s sweet of him until you realize that Mattsun’s probably camping out in Makki’s apartment now.

All the friends you have are tied to the two of you.

And while none of them pick sides, you kinda want them to.

You want them to tell you that this is wrong. That you should have stayed, that you should have tried harder.

Because if everyone’s just sympathetic, doesn’t that mean you don’t have any chance to mend this? To have a future with Mattsun in it?

You’re not home when Mattsun comes to pick up most of his things.

All those feelings come back up again at the sight of empty spaces where his things should have been.

The mountain of blankets because he likes to wrap himself like a Burrito. His movie collection. The sweaters you loved to curl up in when he wasn’t around.

But he left the shower curtain and seeing that still hanging feels like the worst betrayal, a knife straight to the heart.

You’re not doing the best job taking it down, but you’d rather spray water everywhere than look at it again, be reminded of what could have been but didn’t.

This time he wakes you up.

Makki must have told him, managed to get a hold of him between classes and work and this stupid course. You can see it in his face, can feel it in the way he holds you, not too close but never too far.

“I’m not cheating on you,” he assures you, shadows under his eyes from not sleeping enough, hair disheveled and sweaty, “I swear, I promise, I’d never do something like that.”

And maybe it’s the late night or the loneliness, watching him be so nonchalant about all the time spent apart, or something else you haven’t yet faced, but the words slip out like snakes, quiet, quick, and unstoppable.

“I want a break.”

“A break?” His voice is high, frightened, like that time he dragged you to a haunted house and realized he’s so much worse at getting through them than you are.

“A break. I can’t go on like this. I don’t see you anymore. I don’t… I don’t know if I love you anymore.”

Mattsun sinks into himself, shrinks until he’s barely tall enough to look at you.

This is what you did to him, you think, this is what he did to you.

“A break like Rachel or a break like Ross?” He asks, voice wavering.

You stare at the wall behind him, at the absence of a mess in the bedroom because you keep it tidy and he falls asleep on the Couch more often than not.

“Like Ross,” you say because you’ve always believed in clean cuts over jagged edges.

The worst thing is that he doesn’t fight.

Mattsun doesn’t argue with you over the end of your relationship.

If he had, this might have turned out differently.

But he doesn’t, he just sneaks back to the Couch in the living room, curls up in the blankets like a dog that’s been banished to his corner.

He doesn’t even wake up when you sneak outside, unable to sleep, unable to stay in one place.

It’s not Mattsun who finds you at the swingset, the place you always go to when you have to think.

It’s Makki.

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atinylittlepain · 1 year ago

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June - Part Seven

Joel Miller x f!oc

series masterlist

warnings | 18+ dark themes surrounding suicidal ideation and attempt, smut, angst, but also a whole lot of love to be had

.............................................

All houses dream in blueprints

Our house dreams so hard

Outside you can see my shoeprints

I've been dreaming in your yard

"Pretty Eyes" by Silver Jews

............................................

Strange. Something from the past that shouldn’t fit into the present. Holidays, what use does this world have for holidays? But Tommy asked and Maria insisted and Ellie agreed and June did too. So he’s here in his brother’s house and she’s tucked under his arm and everyone’s playing pretend for the night.

His mind swirls with it. What could have been in some other fold of time. A house with a yard and a swingset and maybe a dog. A house with a minivan parked out front and a family inside. And hers is there and his is there too. And theirs, there’s theirs. Tiny palms pressed to pants legs and eyes that are hers and ears that are his. Theirs, theirs, theirs. Pearls around her neck and a tie around his and hands clasped around a table. And it’s such a sweet, stupid vision he has to blink it away before it starts to smart.

Pie. It’s the end of the world and there’s pie. And timid conversation. Everyone being careful of her, for her, even though she’s bright, polite, taking all of it in stride.

It’s only been a–

Since she–

But she’s doing so–

And she’s here, with him. In a dark green dress that she traded for. He’s never seen her in a dress before.

“Thank you for inviting me.” She nods to Tommy and Maria both. They smile.

“Of course, June. We wanted everyone here for Thanksgiving.” Kind and warm, Tommy ever the diplomat. To be wrapped into whatever everyone means seems to startle her, a tight squeeze to his hand under the table. She hasn’t touched her perfect piece of pie. He hasn’t touched his either.

It’s hard to look away. That clear amalgamation of Tommy and Maria, gummy smiles and contented babbling. Tiny, tiny, tiny. It makes his chest ache. And judging by the way she keeps sneaking glances, something similar is settling in her as well.

…

“How’s she doing?”

“She’s good.”

“I heard what happened.”

“Don’t.”

“It ain’t right, Joel.”

“Don’t, Tommy.”

“I wasn’t going to. I’m just saying.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You look good together. Well.” He doesn’t get a chance to ask him what that means because the front door is opening and everyone else is spilling out onto the porch to say goodnight, quick cordial thank yous and goodbyes.

…

“This is weird.”

“Hmm.” Tupperware. Where the hell did they get tupperware from? It sits on the kitchen counter between them. Two perfect pieces of pie in plastic. Dark, dark, dark outside. Close and quiet. She wordlessly pulls a fork out of a drawer, offers it to him, the first bite. He holds the container between them, leaning against the counter, curled over two perfect pieces of pie in plastic. Back and forth, back and forth, mottled silver passed between their hands. Sharing sweetness they didn’t want to show to anyone else.

It’s good. Of course it’s good. Butter and flour and sweet, sweet, sweet. A low hum in both their throats as they finish off two perfect pieces of pie in plastic, hunched over each other in the hazy light of the kitchen.

“Good?”

“Hmm.”

“You looked nice tonight.” Thumb and forefinger slipped along the sleeve of her dress.

“Thank you.” Palm smoothing under the collar of his shirt.

“Tired?” Her eyes drop, an answer in itself.

“Their boy is so small.”

“He is.”

“Sweet.”

“Let’s go to bed, June.”

He whispers it into her hair, her face burrowed into the warmth of his neck, hands tucked up under his shirt. A name he refuses to say to most. A name that stings. And she does the same, neck arching to put her mouth to his good ear. Two names that they tuck away, hold onto for each other.

…

“Well?”

“Clean bill.” Relief unfurls in his chest. He tucks her into it, wants her to feel it too. Quick, before stepping out of the clinic.

They’ve been making sure that her heart doesn’t–

“There’s a hole in your jacket.”

“What?” Her fingers wriggle against his side, the split seam.

“I can fix it for you.”

She’s good with her hands. Deft, meticulous, in all sorts of ways. He likes to watch her work. Peeling his jacket from him the instant they get home. So, so focused with a slip of thread and a needle. Knees brushing, turned toward each other on the couch. There’s a caution to the way they’re moving around each other. Careful, quiet, not wanting to harm or hurry. Not wanting to spook, not after–

“How are you?” Hands stutter stop, though her eyes stay stilled on the task. Stupid question, stupid, stupid, stupid.

“What do you mean?”

“Forget it, I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. I’m fine.”

“Just fine?”

“Well how should I be?” Blink and miss it, the twitch of a smile at the corner of her mouth. Relief to get her like this. Just kidding like this.

“Fine is good.”

“How are you?”

“I’m fine.”

“Just fine?” Split, stretch, bright, bright, bright. A smile that crinkles up and up, warmth crackling in his chest.

“How’s that look?” A clean stitch, lines of thread tight and neat along the seam.

“Perfect, June. Thank you for fixing it.”

“Of course, Joel.”

…

Silvery, just like his. Puckered and arced, just like his. How much time has changed it. How he’s seen all of it.

“Does yours hurt from the cold?”

“Yeah, does yours?”

“Yeah.”

“Hmm.” Thumbs held steady over each other’s. Soft sweeps along temples. This thing that joins them, shared and separate at the same time.

“Can I ask you something?” “Of course, June.”

“What did you think that night? When you saw me.”

“I’m not sure I was thinking anything.”

“I was so angry at you.”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

It’s snowing, the soft shadows of it falling over the bed, her face. He wakes up most mornings soaked in sweat from all the blankets she sleeps with now that winter is snapping at fall’s heels. He doesn’t really mind.

…

For once, she’s home before he is. In the kitchen, moving light.

“What’s this?”

“I wanted to.” Fingers flickering fast and free, ribboning peels that wink red on the counter. She works easy, certain, the push and pull of her knuckles in dough. Buttery strips of it braided over the top, painfully purposeless, pretty. Proof, though what she’s proving he isn’t sure. And the whole kitchen washes away in the warmth of it, bubbling up golden and brown.

“For tonight. When Ellie and Dina come.” “Okay.”

“What do you think?”

“It looks good, June. You didn’t have to.”

“I know it’s dumb.”

“It’s not dumb.”

“I just wanted to make something.” Her palm hiding her mouth, a murmured afterthought.

“Something good.”

A bit stiff when they all sit down for dinner. Ellie with hers on one side and Joel with his on the other. But she surprises him with smooth, steadying conversation. He knows she and Ellie have been on patrol together a handful of times, and their comfort with each other is clear. The night relaxes around them. His arm slung easy over the back of her chair, something big and bright settling in his chest watching Dina watching Ellie. She’s okay. This is good, good, good.

“Holy fuck this is good.” “Ellie.”

“Sorry, it is.” He has to hide his smile, because in the corner of his eye he can see her beaming next to him at the kid’s words. Perfect pieces on plates. Soft smiles around syrupy sweetness. She thumbs away a shard of crust from his lip, so easy in how she reaches for him. And it is good, better, he thinks.

They send them out into the night, a tupperware of leftovers between them. He goes dizzy with how normal it all feels. Hip to hip in the kitchen, she washes, he dries. Another life, another world. This all the time.

“Dina seems nice.”

“She does.”

“Are you happy for Ellie?” “I think so.”

“Hmm.” That little sound of hers makes him smile with how familiar it’s become. But then his eyes catch on her forearm, bare beneath the rucked-up sleeve of her sweater. That jagged line of flesh. Whatever normal is, they will never touch it. He knows that. He must. His want for her is enough for him to swallow this truth, only a little bitter surrounded by all this sweetness.

“Good day?” A better question than how are you, he’s learned. The curve of her smile caught quick in the dim light of the kitchen.

“Yeah, it was. You?”

“Really good.” Her eyebrow crooks, a hooked turn toward him.

“What made it really good?”

“This. You.” They’re both not very good at it. He feels like a fool offering it and she shies away from receiving it. A slow thaw for each of them. But he keeps trying, and so does she.

“I like hearing that.”

“It’s true.” A smile, a shake of her head. But no recoil, her hip still snug against his as they finish the dishes. He’ll take it. All of it.

In another world, another life, her hands are soft and smooth and she wears blue nail polish because it’s her favorite color. And her painted fingernails work the knot of his tie out, quiet smiles because everyone else is sleeping. And he unclasps the pearls from around her neck, lays them on their nightstand next to a pamphlet about summer camp because theirs are old enough to go this year. And he lays her out on their bed with hands that have never touched blood that didn’t come from a scraped knee. And it’s simple, so, so simple. Fingers tangled, the light glint of their rings.

In this world, her hands are as worn and calloused as his, the rough drag making him shiver. No rings. And there is no tie, only the buttons of his flannel that she restitched last week to keep them from falling off. And there are no pearls, only the high neck of her sweater that he noses down to press his mouth to the hollow of her throat. And these are bodies that have known violence, and they move like it, always careful, always questioning, always stifling back snarls. And there is no one else. Only them. So they do not have to be quiet and they do not have to close doors and he can coax her up onto the counter and drop to his knees right there in the kitchen.

“Joel.” But that would be the same. The sound of his name breaking in her chest. The taste of her. The splay of his palms over the jumping muscles of her thighs. The pull of her hand in his hair, that plea to come closer when it all turns too much. The stutter of his heart when his hips press against hers. That warmth, her warmth, her breath against his mouth. Everything, everything, everything.

“June.” And that would be the same too. The sound of her name thrumming up his throat. A plea, a prayer, that perfect piece of his unraveling. She would be his undoing in any world and he knows it.

“I can’t believe we just did that.” Breathless, on a laugh. Her words thrumming where his forehead is pressed to her chest. Shrapnel around them, dishes shattered on the ground. Her sweater hanging off the curve of the sink. The mess they made, proof perfect.

He’d like to say something sweet, or clever even. But looking at her, the bright of her grin matching his, all he can do is laugh a little harder as she shakes her head at him.

They leave the mess. They’ll get it in the morning. Right now, it’s snowing outside, close and still. And they seek each other out in the quiet. He’s used to it by now. The slip of socked feet against his ankles, her silent search for warmth. Something he can give her, easy, simple, without question.

“June?”

“Hmm.”

“I’m glad that I was out there that night.” A long sigh, the fall of her ribs under his palm.

“I am too.”

........................

taglist: @thetriumphantpanda @suzmagine @casa-boiardi @hollywoodcaligirl @kelp-dreaming @beskarandblasters @swiftispunk @tieronecrush @wannab-urs @jksprincess10 @darkroastjoel @sarahhxx03 @ambassadortotrilliusprime @northernbluess

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #tlou #tlou fanfiction #joel miller angst #joel miller x you #joel miller fluff #the last of us #joel miller smut #joel miller series #joel miller story #joel miller fic #joel miller imagine #june

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garbinge · 2 years ago

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Picnic

Juice Ortiz x F!Reader

Day 20 from these April Prompts: Picnic

Summary: Just a biker picnic gone wrong.

Words: 1.3k words

A/N: First time writing juice and I decided to go a little more fluff heavy which I think made me stuggle with this a little more than I thought so I added in some angst at the end lol.

Warnings: Mentions of guns, bullets, shooting, blood, wounds, not too much though, but also flulff in the beginning hehe. SOA Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics

Normally the scene of hundreds of bikers in the park would turn heads but this was the one time a year where everyone in Charming accepted it. The annual Charming x Redwood fundraiser, food, raffles, contests, all to raise money for Charming schools and recreation.

The entire Redwood charter was there obviously, but the invite had extended out to multiple charters in the surrounding areas. That’s why the park had been packed with kuttes and bikes.

You had just laid down your picnic blanket and put out your bag full of snacks that you had bought from one of the concession stands that were set up. You pulled a book out of your bag and were about to sit down when you heard your name being called. Turning, you saw Gemma with her hands full making her way over to one of the raffle tables.

“I need you to help me set this up.” Gemma called over to you.

With a deep sigh that you tried to hide well you made your way over. The one ask, turned into many and before you knew it you were all over the little area of the park you were permitted to be on.

Just as you were setting up a table full of baked goods, you felt hands wrap around your waist. You jumped back out of reflex but you relaxed when you heard his laugh and you moved back into his arms.

“Hey, I’ve been lookin’ for you.” He squeezed you a little tighter before you turned around in his arms resting your hands on his kutte. “Where ya been?”

“I’ve been around, Gemma asked for my help setting up. I laid out some stuff over there,” You pointed to your blanket that was abandoned near one of the larger trees in the area.

“You wanna go chill for a bit? I miss you.” His voice was chipper.

It was true, between your job, the club, and just everyday life things, it had been a while since you just had a moment alone with your boyfriend.

“I wish I could but Gem’s got me setting this up and then I’m on kid duty.” Your head moved over your shoulder where the swingset was to point towards the group of kids who were running around frantically, climbing on things and making havoc.

Juice let out a laugh, his hands still wrapped around you.

“You two go, be in love.” Gemma’s voice alerted from the other side of the table as she placed down more sweets. “I got this and I’ll have one of the girls watch the kids.”

It was rare that Gemma offered compassion to anyone let alone you. Your brows frowned as you stared at her in question. “You sure?”

“Yea, I’m sure. Just wrap it up,” Her brows lifted and a smile crept up on her face, “we got enough gremlins runnin’ around right now, don’t need more.”

The comment earned a chuckle from both you and Juice. He grabbed your hand and led you over to the picnic blanket before Gemma could change her mind.

Juice made himself at home on the blanket without a second thought, using the tree as a backrest and patting next to him for you to join. Grabbing your book from your bag you plopped down on the blanket, using Juice’s lap as a headrest. His hand came and began to caress the top of your head, causing you to close your eyes for a minute and soak in the affection.

“Whatcha readin’?” Juice asked, looking down at the book that was now laying flat, open, and down on your chest.

“Nothing if you keep massaging my head like that.” You hummed still with your eyes closed.

Juice let out a chuckle and then his face went into confusion. “I’m not sure if that means I should stop or keep going.” His hand had stopped moving now, but it was still on the crown of your head.

You smiled while grabbing the hand on your head and bringing it to your lips to place a soft kiss to it before picking back up the book. “I got snacks over there, feel free to have at it.”

Before Juice was able to even think about grabbing a snack, his name was being called by the club.

“Juicey!” Chibbs’ accented raised voice alerted you both to look over at the group of guys who were in the middle of getting into something. The lot of them were laughing and drinking which made you realize it wasn’t something club related they needed him for, but maybe just as much you missed him they did too. Juice’s smile grew on his face even when he looked back at you.

“Go.” You rolled your eyes, if you wanted time with Juice you were going to have to plan it later, if he said no to them now, he’d just be called over later.

“Love you.” He pecked your cheek before getting up and jogging over to the guys, leaving you alone on the picnic blanket.

____

You weren’t alone for much longer before you were dragged back over to the life of the party. At least it included the group of guys, you were able to get some time in with Juice even if it wasn’t just the two of you.

The group of you stood as you played some version of cornhole in the middle of the park, you had so many drinks that it had turned into some form of soccer and cornhole combined.

“Come on, Tiggy, toss it over.” You called out as Juice stood behind you blocking the cornhole board as Tig kicked the bean bag over with a laugh. Before the bean bag reached halfway over to you, there was a loud popping noise causing pretty much everyone around you to get alert. That was until the popping continued and it sounded almost like cracking. There wasn’t a chance for you to get a glimpse at what was happening because Juice was moving on top of you. His arm moved over your body and he pushed you to crouch down as he blocked you from the outside world.

Bullets. His actions made you realize you were being shot at. Some of the guys were quick to respond by shooting back while others were quick to protect the innocents around them. Juice being one to come to your protection without second thought. Your heartbeat rose as your body thumped against the ground, Juice’s body heat against your back being the only thing to bring you any sort of security or comfort until the shooting stopped.

“Holy shit, you alright?” He spoke directly to your ear as he was crouched around you.

“Yea, yea. I’m fine.” You were now standing up with him as he checked you over eagerly, not realizing your shoulder got clipped. “Next time, let’s just have a picnic by ourselves.” You joked while a part of you was being serious.

Juice’s eyes went wide as they zoned in on your shoulder that was leaking blood out of it slowly, nothing fatal but enough to be a cause for concern.

“Yea, good idea.” Juice quickly used his gloved hands to apply pressure to your wound which is when the reality of everything set in and the adrenaline wore off. Your face filled with worry and scrunched up in pain. His eyes met yours and while his expression was filled with worry too, it was also filled with determination.

“Hey, once we get this cleaned up, I’m takin’ you on the best fuckin’ picnic you ever had.”

#juice ortiz #juice ortiz fanfiction #juice ortiz x reader #Juan Carlos Ortiz #juan carlos #SOA #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy fanfiction #soa fanfiction #soa fanfic #sons of anarchy fanfic #juice ortiz fanfic #juice fanfic #juice fanfiction #my writing #garbinge

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odetarifunk · 2 months ago

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Dude I'm sorry but Calvin SO could've been saved

This is just my thought process,but couldn't Edie just go outside and stop the swing before it was too high up? couldn't she tell Sam to go get him? Couldn't she peek out the door or window? If it was dinner time,then that means Walter,and Sven were there too. They probably suggested Edie going outside in the first place.

Buddy,how r u just gonna keep calling out for him WITHOUT actually going outside.

Yeah Calvin's death could've been too fast for them to see (maybe),but it takes awhile for somebody to swing that high (especially with a cast on). The wind picking up did play a role in the accident,but c'mon dawg😭 it's a kid telling the story,the wind could've been a small breeze. I'm pretty sure he was also already inside the house when that part was said?? Sam was prob trying to find a natural way on how his brother died

Here's how Calvin could've been alive for awhile

1. Build the swingset further back

2. Get higher fences

3. Take him to parks with swing sets instead

4. At least put a time limit on how long he should swing without company

I think we all know that Edie plays a huge role in almost everyone's death. I just don't understand how you gonna let a mf that's been in your stomach for 9 months die. Does that not destroy her??

#what remains of edith finch #wroef #sam finch #calvin finch

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tonberry-yoda · 1 year ago

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Memories - Kento Nanami

notes - I said I wanted to write a nanami fic, and here I am!!! I hope my nanami simps enjoy because if I'm being honest, this is one of my favorite pieces ever. I wrote this listening to Minecraft music lol <3 word count - 880 summary - you're tired. it's cold. but you can't seem to sleep. you decide to go out for a late night walk with a little too much on your mind.

~~BUY ME A KO-FI (COMMISIONS ARE OPEN)~~

Night time in Tokyo was pretty, but you needed to get away for a while. Away from the city. Not too far, but not too close either.

Despite the snow outside, you slipped on a jacket and went outside. You definitely weren't wearing the right shoes, but what did it matter. You honestly didn't mind the cold and it wasn't snowing too heavily to your surprise, just light dusting over the sidewalk.

You looked up and hummed lightly at the snow falling towards you that looked somehow brighter even though it was the dead of night. It helped that there were dim orange streetlamps everywhere.

You sighed and began a short walk to free your mind a bit.

So much had happened to you in such a short amount of time and you rarely got time to think it over.

But nights like these weren't always nice. They usually came from a lack of sleep and deep thoughts.

Your room was too cold, your fan was too loud, and your brain wouldn't calm down.

You watched every step you made carefully - making sure not to find any patches of ice that could cause you to slip and fall - and you played soft music in your headphones to accompany you.

You had lost more friends than you would've liked. It all happened so fast. You knew it came with the job, but in high school, when you were poor and hungry, what else could you do? Especially with that curse that accompanied you for your entire life. It wasn't anything bad, and it always was on its best behavior, it was just annoying that you had to grow up feeling so distant.

You had no choice but to become a sorcerer and that was okay. But it was also hard. And tiring. And it hurt.

You found a bench just outside of the city. You didn't mind that it was dusted with snow, you just took a seat, watching the lights glimmer from all of the buildings.

Where did you go wrong?

You balled your hair into your fingers and took a breath. Not often did you get to just breathe.

When was the last time you saw Gojo? Or Geto? Or anyone else for that matter?

You were so taken from the world that you weren't sure if a world existed anymore.

You felt yourself tearing up, but tried blinking it back and just watched the snow from above you.

Across from the bench you were on was a park. It was definitely old, but still used daily, you could tell.

You laughed at yourself when you had a thought: go sit on the swingset.

The laughter didn't stop you, so you did.

You used to go there when you were really young. Like really young. You don't even remember being that small. Or being a child.

You swung back and forth, just listening to the creaking of the metal on metal, but quickly stopped when you heard footsteps.

On the sidewalk you were just walking a moment ago, there was a familiar figure with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. He almost smiled when he saw you, blowing smoke out from his nose.

"Nanami?" you whispered.

He walked to the swingset and leaned on the metal bar of it just feet away from you.

"Aren't you cold?" he asked.

"Not really." You looked away from him and back up at the night sky, watching every piece of snow fall from the clouds above.

"Been a while."

You just nodded and began swinging again.

"You look tired." he said.

"So do you."

He just hummed in response and put his cigarette out on the metal of the bar before walking to a nearby trashcan to toss it.

He then walked to the swing next to you. "This seat taken?" he asked.

"Go for it." you said.

He sat down on the swing after wiping the snow off with his sleeve.

For a while, it was just silence; the sound of you swinging and the slight breeze that would occasionally blow.

"Did you know I would be here?" you finally asked, slowing down a bit.

"No, honestly. I was just going on a walk."

"In deep thought?"

He chuckled. "Something like that."

You smiled and looked down at your feet. "I miss you."

"Me too."

"Then why did you leave?"

"You left too." He turned to look at you with sweetness in your eyes.

"I know. And I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too." Nanami reached out his hand to you and you took it, standing up.

He brought your knuckles to his lips and he pulled you closer.

"Might be a while before something like this." He stood up from his swing and wrapped his arms around you. He smelled good. Really good. Like cologne and fresh laundry.

You smiled and wrapped your arms around him. He was also warm, making you - an ice cube at this point - nearly melt.

He pulled away from the hug and leaned down to you. "I know it's been a while," he whispered. "But I would like a kiss."

You pressed your lips to his and he hugged around your waist tightly.

The walk home was lonely, but the memories were nice to dwell on.

~~~~~

jjk masterlist | pinned post

2023 @tonberry-yoda – do not repost or claim ANY of my work as your own! likes, reblogs, and comments are not only welcome, but appreciated

~~~~~

#god this one's so pretty tee hee #writing #my writing #fanfic #fanfiction #x reader #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #nanami #nanami x reader #kento nanami #kento nanami x reader #nanami kento #nanami kento x reader #<3

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alaydabug2 · 6 months ago

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@sparklenarniawizard

Broken heart/Broken mind

Chapter eight

(Human AU)

Sophie and Keefe met in the children's hospital when they were little. Because of how long they were confined to the four walls of the hospital, they became very close during their stay.

As the years pass, they wind up being in the same classroom together due to their physical conditions. This makes their bond deepen.

But are they able to handle when life gets tough, throwing problems and complications their way?

Fourth grade:

"I'll race you!" Keefe shouted and raced off to the swingset.

"No fair!" Sophie told him.

They had gone to the park for the afternoon together. It was packed with people. Keefe's parents had just dropped him off at Sophie's house and left to who knew where. They did that a lot. Not that either of the kids cared. They liked spending time with one another.

Although, Grady and Edaline always had a concerned look on their face every time Keefe would get dropped off. They'd give each other a look, then try to find something fun for them to do.

As Sophie was running, she realized she was heading straight for a little girl. Her eyes widened, but it was too late to turn around. She attempted to slow her speed, but she knew it was useless.

She slammed into the girl, and they went tumbling. Sophie sat up and dusted herself off.

She helped the girl up. She had brunette hair and near teal eyes. Sophie didn't even know it was possible for them to be that color.

"Sorry," Sophie scratched the back of her neck. "I wasn't watching where I was going."

"You're ok." The girl smiled at her.

It wasn't until then that Sophie realized something different about the girl. She could notice peaking out of her jacket, that there were faint, but definitely noticeable, white lines on her arms. The lines also seemed to go up her neck. One of them even curled up to her face and in front of her ear. They were scars.

She was about to ask about how she got them, but was unsure whether or not she would be uncomfortable.

She decided to keep her mouth shut, instead introducing herself. "Hi, I'm Sophie."

"I'm Biana!" She glanced back at a group of boys on one of the jungle gyms. She rolled her eyes. "I keep trying to get my brother's attention, but he keeps ignoring me. Do you want to play?"

"Sure! We can go over to the swings with my friend." They started to walk over.

"Who's your friend?"

"Keefe."

"What about me?" Keefe asked as Sophie and Biana walked up to the swings.

"I ran into her--"

"Litterly," Biana giggled.

Sophie laughed at that. "And I was saying that the three of us could play together."

"Ok, great!" He hopped onto one of the swings, and the girls followed.

They talked for a little while before Biana asked, "What grade are you guys in?"

"Fourth," Keefe told her.

"Me too. What school?"

"Foxfire elementary."

Biana seemed to be confused by that. "But... I've never seen either of you around."

"Ohhh, we're in a different class!" Sophie explained."

"I get that. But I still would expect to see you in music or art or something."

"No, I mean we're in a different type of class. We both have health issues, and we're in a special class with other people with medical problems in case something goes wrong. It's so the teacher has a better eye on us if something ever happens. There's only, like, ten people in our class. We're on a different schedule than everyone else."

"Oh, ok. That makes more sense."

They continued back with their other conversations until Keefe asked Biana, "I hope you don't mind me asking, but what are those lines on your arms and neck."

"Oh, these?" She took her jacket off to reveal that the lines went further up her arms and shoulders. "I was in a car crash last year. The windshield busted and I got caught in the glass shower."

Sophie and Keefe's eyes widened. "That's awful!" Keefe said.

She just shrugged with a smile. "I fine now. I like them. Shows I survived it." She looked down at her arm and traced one of the lines.

"Oh..." Keefe murmured. His eyebrows scrunched together.

"What?" Biana asked. She looked uneasy.

"Nothing, just," he reached up to his chest, "I've got a scar, too."

She grinned, "That's cool!"

He shrugged. "Not really."

Sophie frowned at him. "For the last time, yes, it is!"

"What's it from?" Biana tilted her head.

He didn't make eye contact as he pulled the collar of his shirt down to reveal the top of the scar. "Surgery."

"That's cool!" Her face lit up. "I should introduce you two to my friends! I don't know when your recess is, but if it's the same, I'll have you guys meet. You could start hanging out with us."

"That'd be great!" Sophie exclaimed.

The rest of the time at the playground, they spent the time discussing different things about their hobbies and lives. An hour later, Biana had to go. She said her goodbyes and left to the gate with who had to be her brother. They had the same striking teal eyes and dark hair. Sophie could hear her brother asking a bunch of questions about who she was talking to as they walked to the parking lot.

#keeper of the lost cities #kotlc #kotlc sophie foster #kotlc keefe sencen #sokeefe #fanfic #Broken heart/Broken mind

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e-van-halen · 9 months ago

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Billy Hargrove Ramble

he's so gorgeous

Some athletic/fit reader type of ramble with basketball player Billy hargrove

if you like this let me know I just randomly got the urge to write

my dear precious billiam hargrove

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

Hawkins High doesn't have a girls basketball team. Actually, there weren't any girls' teams for the sports you enjoyed. Cheer wasn't your thing, especially with all the little snakes that writhe around in there. Volleyball sucked, the coach was a bitch and the same snakes in cheer, happened to also slither their way onto the court. And the boys' soccer team was just at too much of an advantage.

You'd thought about joining the boys' basketball team many times before since,

1. your boyfriend was on the team

2. you'd finally be able to competitively play basketball because you actually weren't awful at it

but the cons outweighed the pros in basketball. These boys.. 𝘮𝘦𝘯. were all about a foot or so taller than you and way stronger. It's not like you didn't work out. You did. In fact, you were a lot more muscular than some of the boys at the school.

The nights Neil and Susan were gone, you'd stay the night at 𝘉𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘺𝘴', get an evening lowers rep in with him, and then the next morning, he'd wake you up around 9 in the morning and begin his daily upper morning reps. It took you a few minutes to get up, but by the time you were up and ready for the day, he was done with his second set. His muscles were always admirable. The girls at school who worshiped him would cream their panties at the sight.

Once he's done, you give him about 10 minutes in the shower before you begin your reps. He usually comes out when you have to get your heavier sets in just to be a spotter, but you normally do fine. Some days, He'll come out in nothing but a towel and spot you on the heavy reps, drops of water dropping onto you from his hair.

The days like these were simple, some days you'd watch a movie or two, go out to eat at the mall, laze around his or your house, have a little bit of raunchy fun, or, play some good old basketball at the park.

The park wasn't anything cool. A few swingsets here and there, a creek, a wooden playset and a surprisingly nice basketball court. You'd call up some other kids that play and just have a nice game of ball. Easy enough, until Billy's the one on the opposite team gauding you. Then it gets a little bit taunting.

#billy hargrove #stranger things 4 #stranger things #basketball #hawkins high #billy hargrove x reader #reader

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justsomerandomfanfic · 10 months ago

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Brilliant - Scott Lang X Female (Daughter) Reader

Title: Brilliant

Scott Lang X Female (Daughter) Reader

Additional Characters: Natasha, Steve, Bruce, Wanda (Mentioned), Thor, Hope, Cassie (Mentioned), Hank Pym (Mentioned), and Tony Stark

Requested by: Anon!

WC: 2,893

Warnings: Reader has a huge love for ants, ants facts, Tony being Tony, alcohol mentioned, Reader's super smart, Reader's mentioned to be a kid in homeschooled college, slight family angst, brief mention of Reader punching a kid, sarcastic reader, banter, and family fluff

The best word to describe your life was 'chaos.' Chaos was your life. But not for a while, in the beginning, your mother and father; Hope and Scott, said that you were a good baby and toddler. Yes, you cried and threw some tantrums like any other child would, but it wasn't until you were around six that Hope and Scott realized how very similar you were to your grandfather, Hank Pym. It started off small, noticing a few things here and there, but it wasn't until your seventh birthday that they both knew that you were going to be just like Hank.

Looking back, it was a bright, sunny day. It was warm out, not too cold and not too warm; perfect weather for a birthday. Your first-grade friends were playing in the backyard, swinging on your swingset, and some playing tag with each other, but you were nowhere to be found.

Scott had panicked slightly when he checked around the backyard, while also trying to entertain three kids with a magic card trick. His eyes filtered around the backyard, until he spotted you, in the corner, staring at the ground. Scott found it a bit odd, thinking that you were just a bit shy and didn't want to play with your class friends... So he let it slip his mind.

But, Scott knew something was up once you blew your candles out.

"Good job, honey! What did you wish for?" Hope, your mother asked, as you just started at the cake before you.

"I want an ant farm."

From then on, it seemed like your ant fascination skyrocketed. It became such a big part of your daily routine that Hope and Scott weren't sure what to do with you anymore. It was literally taking over most of your life as the years went on. You began only wanting things that were related to ants. Posters, books, an actual ant farm, and more. You had even started up a lemonade stand to get money to buy more books about ants. Hope and Scott thought it was cute that you were making lemonade for the people of New York who would occasionally walk by the house; Hope thought that it was a great experience to help you in the future with any jobs you might get.

However, Hope and Scott began to notice that instead of getting regular kids' books about facts on ants, like 'Ten Fun Facts about Ants,' or ‘Annie and her Friend Ant,' you were going to bookstores, and leaving with 'Ants of North America; A Guide to the Genera,' and 'Identification Guide to the Ant Genera of the World.' Along with you, at the age of six and seven, reading college-level books and novels, you had become mighty close with your grandfather Hank.

You obviously loved spending time with him, since he would tell you about ants and the history and evolution of the world. That didn't stop you from getting lost every single day; that and the fact that you liked to pretend you were an explorer and explore new places, sometimes even in Central Park; hoping you could one day find a new ant species.

At the age of ten, you had become a spitting image, personality-wise, of your grandfather. You were as witty and sarcastic as you were incredibly wise beyond your years. Incredibly wise to the point that Hope and Scott thought it was best to take you out of grade school and set you up with college classes at home, where Hope could teach you. And it was totally not also because you punched a kid in the face after he said that Ant-Man was the worst Avenger.

Along with your new college schedule at home - where you learn about geology, calculus, quantum mechanics, and so on - you did end up with a lot of free time, which allowed you to go to "work" with your father. Which was where you had met most, if not all, of the Avengers.

~~~

Scott held your hand as you went up and up in the Stark Tower elevator. He let out a big sigh, becoming a bit nervous, as he glanced down at you. "You're going to behave, right?"

You simply looked up at him, one of your favorite ant books in your free hand. "Of course. Why wouldn't I behave?" You asked, sarcasm lacing your words, before looking back at the book.

"Yeah, well, I just don't want you to bombard them with ant facts," Scott responded, before shaking his head slightly and looking forward again.

"That will be inevitable, Dad," You replied, looking forward as well, "I can't just not speak about the things that I enjoy in life. Ants bring me such joy that is beyond words, and I want everyone to know about my passions."

"Well... I guess just don't go overboard then," The elevator doors began to open, "I do love that you have something that makes you happy but I don't want you to tire them out. We have to make a good impression on them. You know I haven't met some of them yet - out of the battlefield, I mean." Scott spoke, letting out a sigh.

"You have to try and make a good impression. I don't have to try, I'm always going to succeed." You replied, before stepping off the lift and walking towards the common room, with Scott trailing behind you.

As you entered the common room, about seven sets of eyes landed on you. Some in shock, or so on, before they trailed up to see Scott.

"Hey, guys! Uh, this is my daughter. Y/N, say hello!"

"Say hello." You replied with a short roll of your eyes before you walked over to the first nearby person. Offering your hand with great conviction, "My name is Y/N Lang, I prefer Y/N Pym, but please, call me Y/N. It's a pleasure to meet you." At your words, Scott felt his heart fall to the pit of his stomach. It was nice that you were indeed so close to your grandfather, but for a long time, Scott had felt a strain on his and your relationship for the longest time.

The redhead blinked, slightly shocked before shaking your hand with a smile, "Pleasures all mine, Y/N. My name is Natasha, but you may call me Nat."

"That sounds satisfactory. Did you know that there are over twenty-thousand different types of species of ants in the world?" You asked as Natasha dropped your hand, staring up at her expectedly.

Natasha's eyes widened slightly as she shook her head, "No, I didn't know that. But that sounds fascinating."

“Wow,” Bruce spoke up, “She’s just like Pym.”

"It obviously is. Now, if you'll excuse me." You replied before moving along to the next person. Staring up at the man, you offered your hand, "I'm Y/N. But you must have already known that. Since you are around fifty-seven inches away from Ms. Nat. So, I believe that I do not have to repeat myself. Did you know that ants do not have ears?"

Steve gave you a small smile, shaking his head, "It's nice to meet you, Y/N. I'm Steve. Uh, and I did not know that. That's very cool."

And so, you went along, speaking to Bruce, then to Wanda, and then to Thor.

And then he came in.

"Hey! Thumbelina! Didn't know you were visiting." Tony walked in, pausing once his eyes landed on you, "And you brought your kid, that's fun." He spoke, walking over and offering you his hand. "Hey there, kid, I'm Tony. You may know me for my amazing persona as Iron Man. You know, saving the world and all."

You just stared up at him, glancing at his hand with a frown, "You can never trust a Stark."

Letting out a laugh, Tony withdrew his hand, gesturing to you as he looked at Scott. "Well, Lang, your daughter's a smart kid alright."

"Yes, she is. Very smart." Scott chuckled, placing his hands on your shoulders before you swerved out of his grasp, glaring quick daggers at him before you turned your gaze back at Tony.

"That is correct. I am rather intelligent. But, it is only my grandfather and I that are intelligent." You remarked, giving Tony a slight smirk.

Tony laughed, "You're mighty sure of yourself there, aren't you? I don't mean to toot my own horn, but I have my own millionaire business, created my own suits, and am the lead Avenger. I am rather smart too."

"So you tell me, Mr. Stark. Are you sure you're worthy of that title? As lead Avenger, I mean." You asked sarcastically.

"Of course," Tony answered with no hesitation. "If anyone is deserving of being called leader of anything, it's me."

With a small snort, you folded your arms across your chest, nodding. Setting down your ant book on the coffee table beside you - with that, Scott knew you meant business - staring up at the man. "After all, when I can watch the news when I am not studying, by my previous calculations, you only pull twenty-two percent of your weight in most of your battles in the past seven years. That puts you closer to the bottom than any other Avenger."

"So," Tony retorted quickly, a grin still on his face, "You're what? Nine? How would you be able to make those calculations?"

"I have a photographic memory." You answered, "I've remembered everything I've read and seen ever since I was four."

"Well," Tony began, crossing his arms, "Who would you recommend should be the leader then?"

"Me." You answered, "If not myself, then my grandfather. Since we are incredibly intelligent, and no one's smarter than us. We could easily plan out an entire takedown for whatever crisis hits New York next."

There was silence between you as you waited for the man to respond. Tony then took a breath, "Well, Scott, you have a truly impressive kid here. She has quite a sharp tongue." He paused, looking back down at you. "You do remind me of Pym. Same brains and smarts. Same little attitude." He chuckled lightly, turning towards you.

For a moment, you just stood in place. "I don't have an attitude, I have knowledge, and that knowledge is based on science, math, and ants." You began, staring up at Tony Stark as your father winced for the oncoming storm, "And about your prior comments about how smart I am. If you think I'm going to spend seven months learning Yale and Harvard level material just so you could tell me how smart I am, then you are sadly mistaken." You retorted, unfolding your arms from over your chest and narrowing your eyes. "I don't need you to tell me I'm smart. I know I am."

"Well," Tony began, a satisfied grin on his face, "Lang, your child is brilliant. I don't really care much for some children, but she's alright." He then gestured to the bar behind him, "Just don't let her near my lab or the drinks. She could cause chaos." He looked back down at you, "It was fun meeting you, kid." And with that, Tony left the room, but not before stopping by the said bar for a quick drink.

"Y/N, I told you to behave... Not- Not challenge Tony." Scott looked down at you as you grabbed your book.

"I think she was amazing." Natasha spoke, her back leaning against the cushions of the couch, "She stood up for herself and put Tony in his place. Maybe even hurt his ego a bit."

"I agree with Nat," Thor said, "Little Lady Y/N handled herself well."

The rest of the Avengers nodded along with their friend. And Scott let out a small sigh, "Well, I have to file some of that paperwork for Fury real quick. Are you guys alright with watching her?"

"Absolutely, Scott." Steve spoke with a grin, "She can tell us all about ants."

With those words said, you grin brightly, looking up at Captain America, "Finally, someone who understands me and lets me talk."

Scott frowned before watching you speak so openly and animatedly with his coworkers before leaving for work. Scott wanted to be closer to you, but ever since you were six, it felt like there was a strain. A tension. One he couldn't break through with his easygoing personality and easygoing attitude. It was hard to try and get close to you. You seemed so far away, always talking about ants - which he too, liked - or talked about Hank.

Scott felt like he wasn't important in your life to you. You openly showed your love for your mother, and for Hank, and Cassie. But for Scott, you hardly hugged him, barely acknowledged his presence when he was present, and never smiled at him when he entered the house after coming home from work. For years, he had dreamed of coming home from work and his children running up to him and hugging him. But when Peanut, or Cassie, would run into his arms, you would not. He loved you, and Scott knew that you must have loved him.

After an hour, Scott found himself back in the elevator, going back up to grab you and head home to make dinner. It had been a long day, and he just wanted to go home. As the elevator doors opened, he thought he'd find you as he left you; animatedly talking about your favorite interests and ants. Though, when the elevator doors opened, he was surprised at how happy you seemed to be. You had all the Avengers in the room - Steve, Natasha, Wanda, Bruce, and Thor - all walking in a line, all holding random objects in their hands as they walked around the large room, following each other… Like ants. You stood on top of the coffee table, commanding the five of them around, similarly how an ant would.

"Alright, honey, let's get home. I have to make dinner tonight." Scott spoke, walking over to you and helping you jump off the table. “We could watch ‘A Bug’s Life,’ huh?”

"Fine, but I want to come back. I am not done commanding my new ant army." You replied before turning to the five Avengers, "Thank you for playing with me."

As the Avengers began to say their goodbyes to you and your father, you took your book in one hand and his in the other, walking to the elevator. Once in, you dropped your hands from his, making him frown slightly but he shaky grinned down at you as he spoke. "I hope you had fun."

Looking up at him, you gave him a deadpanned look, “It was horrible, Dad. I hated it.” At his shocked look, you scoffed, "Of course, it was fun." You answered, "It was... Nice to have someone play with me."

Scott found himself nodding, "I, uh, I'm sorry I don't spend as much time with you. I wish I could. But I understand that I'm probably not the funniest dad or person to be around."

"It's not that you're not fun, Dad." You spoke, looking up at him, "I just like to spend my time with people who understand ants and in turn, me. Like grandpa."

Scott blinked, "Oh..." He trailed. "You- I- I know I don't take too much time into your interest, but I want to try. For you. I do like ants. It just can be… Tiring to hear so much about ants all the time." He then let out a sigh as the elevator doors opened and the two of you walked out, "I feel like there's some kind of strain between us."

Pausing, you stopped at the large glass doors of the Stark Tower, looking up at your father, you spoke, "I do wish you would listen to me sometimes. Hear my facts, take interest. But, I can understand that for some people, I can be a bit overwhelming with my overflowing facts. So, if I ever go overboard, you can tell me." You spoke, "It won't hurt my feelings if you tell me that I am overwhelming you with information. I can understand. I know that some people, unlike myself and grandpa, can only handle so much about ants. I would like to spend more time with you, Dad. And I do enjoy the time I do get to spend with you, Cassie, and Mom. I truly love you all. But, as I am going to learn how to manage how much I speak about ants in particular, I would like to advise that you take time to better yourself as well." You finished, turning to head out the door.

"Better myself?" Scott spoke, though unable to stop smiling at your words, "What do you suggest I better myself on?" He was finally getting somewhere.

As you stood outside of the tower, looking out at the city and the people around you, you reached up and took your father's hand before speaking, "Your magic tricks, Dad. You've been doing the same four for months. I have already memorized them. You need more material."

Scoot could only laugh, his heart swelling as the two of you walked home, "Brilliant. Okay, yeah, I can do that."

---

Main Masterlist | Marvel Masterlist

#cute #fluff #slight angst #x y/n #x you #x female reader #x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #request #anon request #requested #marvel #mcu #scott lang #scott lang x daughter reader #x daughter reader #ant man

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lordy-lou · 1 year ago

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everything smoky-smelling (1/1, complete)

for naaer, in a slight AU where empire of the wolf has gone rather... wrong.

The first year that Mia sees the woman is on her seventh Halloween. Her papa had taken her trick-or-treating—talking the entire time about how it’d been very boringly different in the universe he’d been born in (she didn’t believe his stories half the time, but she knew at least this part was true)—and she’d been so very occupied with jumping from perfectly crunchy leaf to leaf that she didn’t realize she’d wandered away from her father’s watchful gaze.

Well.

No. That wasn’t true.

She’d sneakily let go of his hand and hidden as she’d run, because he’d been so very sad as he’d spoken about the differences and because every time he started to say Mum’s name his voice broke like he’d been about to cry, and she hated hearing him cry. He’d never really done it in front of her, but after—after, she’d been able to hear it from their bedroom and it made her heart hurt so very much, her silly, smiling papa all serious and downcast.

As for her, how she felt—well, it was hard to say. Grandpa Pete had gently told her that there was still a chance that Mum could come back from wherever she’d faded to, and Grandpa Pete didn’t always get along with Papa but he’d never lied to her because he’d also told her there was a chance Mum wouldn’t get back and Grandma Jackie had slapped him for saying so, right there in front of her. But he’d given her a tight hug afterwards, and said that Mum was the best person he knew and that if she could, she’d find her way back no matter what.

So. Mia wasn’t quite sure how she felt. She missed Mum. She missed Papa’s real smiles. But she also had her grandparents, her Yuncle Tony (young uncle, he’d insisted, and she’d smashed the words together to spite him) even if he did annoy her most of the time, and she still had her papa and the baby TARDIS coral in her room, which whispered music of comfort.

(Papa had asked her how she was doing, a week ago, and Mia had told him she had a very full life and whenever she got down, the TARDIS would sing to her. He’d gotten one of those sad smiles again and cupped her chin and kissed her forehead as he always did.)

Mia crunched another leaf, golden and crisp, beneath her sparkling sneakers. She’d gone as a fairy this year because it was good luck to dress as one of the fae in order to blend in with them during dark the night, according to her books. They wouldn’t be tempted to steal one of their own; they only stole humans. The streetlights buzzed as Mia tracked her way towards the park in hopes of claiming a seat on the swingset. She didn’t think it’d be very busy, not tonight while everyone was out going door-to-door, but sometimes it was hard for her to predict how other people would do things. Her teachers were prime examples: if she spoke too well in class, they’d be uncomfortable instead of interested like Papa. Some of the other kids would tease her for using too many big words or long sentences, and it’d taken a bit of experimentation to figure out what was and was not okay to say.

The streets were very quiet. And then, suddenly, the streets were very dark when compared to the bright light bursting forth from the park gate.

There was a sound like someone ripping through thick fabric, and a woman in a blue leather jacket stumbled into reality from nothingness.

read more on ao3 here

#tentoodaygiftexchange #tentoorose #mia tyler

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euclydya · 6 months ago

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questions: 1) favorite emoji(s)? 2) if you could take one clothing item from DE and add it to your wardrobe, which would you take? 3) what's the first thing you'd gravitate towards on a playground? (swings, slide, sandbox, etc) BONUS QUESTION BC I JUST SAW IT what does a syrup and cheese sandwich taste like???

statements: 1) been loving the mind electric theme, excited to see what line you choose for a soul eclectic blog title <3 2) emerald for the color asks btw! twirls you happily! :] 3) woe, ice cream be upon you :3 <3

That depends on the sysmate! I really like the heart emojis, Concept likes 🌁, Wood likes 👁️, etc etc we don't really have a collective favourite i think...? wait i forgot. 🪩 yeah that's our fave SJSJAJSJDKXXK

SWINGS FOR SURE!!! we r a Swings girlie. we'd spend all our time at the local park on the swingset anytime we went there as a teen tbh. v fun way to space out n listen to music!!

I'd say the bowtie that gives a + to Drama tbhhh. idk if we'd WEAR it but we always liked bowties!

it tastes very sweet!! depends on the cheese you use tho do NOT use the kraft/american cheese holy shit. we use like. Actual Sliced Cheese lmao it tastes so much better. The sweetness of the syrup kinda overpowers the saltiness (??) of the cheese and it is very Good. It also makes the bread tastier too!

EEEE THANK YOU!! we have some lines in mind already :3c I'm v excited tbh!!

YAY YIPPEE!! IM GLAD WE'RE FRIENDS TOO <3

Thank you omg!!!

#ask #voliii

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professionallydeadinside · 1 year ago

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Heyo!! I’m gonna be participating in Bullet Train week so get ready for a mix of fanfics and fanart! I swear not all of them are gonna be this long idk why I had so many ideas for this prompt wkakdkdkdk

@bullettrainpromptweek

Day 1: Kidfic

——————————————

“Hi! You’re pretty! Wanna play with me and my brother?”

Back then, Yuichi didn’t fully know what the other boy was saying to him. He knew English well enough, but the way the other boy rushed out his entire sentence startled Yuichi enough where he could do nothing but blink in surprise.

This wasn’t the first time he’d seen the two boys and he knew a good amount about them. He knew the boys’ family was staying in the apartments near his own home and that, by how often he saw the two boys playing on the building's steps, he could also infer that both of the boys’ parents were out during the day. Yuichi could see them more often than not already playing by the time Yuichi’s father brought him to the park and still playing by the time Yuichi was told it was time to leave.

“Louis, I doubt he speaks English.” Louis’ brother stood a little behind with his arms crossed tightly. Yuichi had heard about him more than he had Louis. Particularly that he had snatched a teacher’s keys but was adamant he hadn’t used them.

“Sure he does! I’ve heard him talk to his old man before. You’re probably scaring him.” Louis jokingly elbowed at his brother, who seemed to actually growl in response.

“Me? You’re the one who just walked up and started yelling at him. Let’s just go, we can go to the shops or whatever.”

“The shops? Really? After they’ve put you on a big ‘keep out’ sign? Real smart, Francis. Let’s just stay and play here.”

“What? With the boy who can’t speak English?”

“H-hey.” Yuichi stuttered a bit, not knowing if getting in between the brothers’ argument was a good idea or not.

“I can talk. You just caught me off guard.”

Louis beamed, a stark contrast to Francis’ blatant look of contempt.

“Great! Let’s go to the shops!” Grabbing Yuichi’s hand, Louis tugged him up from his sitting position and pulled him in the direction Yuichi vaguely knew the shopping markets were.

“What the hell! You just said you didn’t want to!” Francis snapped.

“Language.” Yuichi replied. It was purely out of habit from hearing his own father say it in response to his colleagues swearing in front of Yuichi. But now Yuichi wished he hadn’t spoken, seeing how the look Francis shot him was down right murderous. Yuichi unconsciously scooched closer to Louis as the brothers led the way towards the back gate of the park.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Louis and Francis jumped at the sudden confrontation, both of them being much more used to going around undetected by adults. Yuichi, on the other hand, simply straightened up and turned around at the sound of his father’s voice.

“To the shops.” Yuichi replied. He felt a little embarrassed seeing how his father raised an eyebrow at that. Yuichi knew he was no doubt going to get a lecture about stranger danger when they got home.

“No you’re not. Stay here, okay?” Yuichi nodded and sheepishly turned to the brothers with a shrug. Louis frowned but didn’t press the matter. He went to pull Yuichi to the playground when Yuichi’s father spoke up again.

“You too, young man.” Yuichi and Louis watched as Yuichi’s father stopped Francis in the middle of his escape with a quick grab at the collar of the boy’s t-shirt. Francis whipped around, smacking his hand away.

“You’re not my dad.” Francis scowled. Yuichi’s father rolled his eyes.

“Still. I don’t want you wandering around without an adult. Stay here.”

Francis opened his mouth again to protest but was stopped with a sharp jab at his arm from Louis.

Disappointed, the three boys meandered to the swings. Yuichi sat down on one while Louis decided to sit on the ground. Francis leaned on the frame of the swingset.

“Why’d you stop me? We could’ve just ran.” Francis complained. Yuichi felt his life flash before his eyes considering what the talk at home would’ve been like if he had run from his father. He shuddered to think about it. He made a little noise of apology to Francis as Louis kept his eyes to the ground.

Suddenly, Louis picked up one of the many branches that scattered the playground and pointed it at Francis’ chest. He stood in a pose reminiscent of a fencer.

“En garde, Sir Diesel! It is I, Sir Thomas, and I’m here to defeat you!” Francis yelped and jumped back in surprise as Louis swung at him.

Catching on to what he was doing, Francis grinned, grabbing a stick from the ground like his brother. Except, unlike his brother, Francis made a point of also grabbing Yuichi. He pulled him close until Yuichi’s back was flush against Francis’ chest, his stick angled at Yuichi’s throat like one would angle a sword.

“You’ll have to kill me if you want to see the princess again, Sir Thomas!” Francis cackled.

After shaking off his initial surprise, Yuichi snickered and allowed himself to be pulled away by Francis up into the highest spire of the playground. Louis followed in hot pursuit, shouting as he followed.

“Come back here villain!” His voice sounded muffled as the other two disappeared into the tangled tubes of the playground.

It was cramped as always, Yuichi was sure even as a littler kid he had a hard time playing in them. The light shown through the colored walls as their breathing was amplified by its tight conditions. Twice they were nearly trapped in one of the dead ends.

“Take a left!” Francis said in a hushed whisper, he sheathed his stick in one of the belt loops of his shorts. Yuichi lagged behind for a bit but eventually caught up. He squinted his eyes as he and Francis made it back out into daylight.

A far away voice was heard, echoing through the system of tunnels. Louis sounded a lot further away than before.

Francis turned to see Louis looking baffled at a scarf fluttering in the wind like a flag, tied to the outside of one of the lower spires, not at all the spire Yuichi and Francis were in.

Francis looked at Yuichi with wide eyes who simply shrugged with a grin.

“Just wanted to keep the game up a little bit longer.” The other boy beamed at that. He gave Yuichi a light punch to his arm.

“You know, you aren’t that bad afterall.”

Before Yuichi would celebrate the other boy liking him, Francis noticed Louis was no longer at the lower spire. He could hear the sound of him making his way to the upper one. He quickly rearmed himself with his stick and pushed Yuichi onto one of the side ledges. He was ready as Louis appeared, clutching Yuichi’s scarf like the decapitated head of a warrior.

“Sir Thomas.” Francis smirked. “Nice of you to join us!”

He gave a warning swipe that Louis jumped away from.

“How unfortunate you’ll have to die.”

Not giving Louis the chance to give a comeback, Francis lunged. The crack of wood against wood was heard with each attack Louis was able to block. He brought down the sword once more and held it there, pushing down and feeling both sticks bow under the pressure.

“Surrender now Sir Thomas, and perhaps I’ll spare you.” Francis was nearly pushing Louis off balance.

“Never!” He growled.

“You got this Sir Thomas!” Louis turned to see Yuichi cheering him on with a shy smile. The sight seemed to power him on as with all of his strength, Louis flipped Francis off him. Francis’ stick flying out of his hand and sliding under the wall surrounding the spire. Yuichi heard as the stick hit the ground.

Francis looked around him. He only had two ways out, the one Louis was blocking or the slides behind him. He could also jump off the railing but getting another leg cast didn’t sound ideal. He stepped back more and more as Louis approached, stick sword keeping him from fighting back.

“Surely you’ll show mercy!” Francis had gotten onto the actual start of the slide and struggled a bit to keep from sliding down as the rubber slipped under his shoes. Louis kneeled down and set down his stick.

“Not to you, Diesel.”

With a grand flourish, Louis pushed his brother down the slide, feeling a little shock from the static that had collected. Yuichi ran to the banister to see Francis slide down and collapse onto the ground at the bottom.

“I've defeated the evil!” Louis slid down the slide as well, hopping over his brother to prevent crushing him. Yuichi decided to just take the stairs.

“Oh brave prince, you saved me!” Yuichi said in a pitched up voice.

“Now the prince and princess need to get married!” Yuichi turned to see Francis sitting up, brushing sand out of his short hair.

“You’re dead!” Louis protested.

“Shut up!” Francis dug in his pocket and produced a pink ribbon.

“I stole it from some girl.” He said, handing it to his brother. Noticing the look from Yuichi, he shrugged.

“What? She had another one.”

Using the ribbon, Louis wrapped a stand in ring around Yuichi’s finger.

“There!” He exclaimed, clearly proud of his work.

“Now, we’re basically married! All we have to do is have the wedding!” Yuichi felt his face get warm.

“Tomorrow.” Louis decided. Yuichi shook out of his daydream. “We need to get married tomorrow, then Francis can be our officiant. If not, then I don’t know if I’ll see you ever again.”

He grabbed the other boy’s hands and smiled. Yuichi could barely recognize his own voice when he agreed so quickly to the faux marriage. But with the way Louis’ smile widened, Yuichi was sure he would’ve agreed to anything the boy asked of him.

Francis laughed at how eager he was. He claimed he’d help make sure the wedding day was perfect.

The wedding day, unfortunately, never came to be.

A sudden rainstorm prevented Yuichi from attending his own “wedding”, despite his best efforts to get outside. His father refused to let him go out just to get sick. By the time the sun came back Yuichi came to a terrible realization. The family had moved out somewhere during the storm, leaving nothing behind except the ring of ribbon still wrapped around Yuichi’s finger and the lingering regret that Yuichi hadn’t talked to him sooner.

Yuichi grew up fine without Louis. Eventually even forgetting about him like most children did their first loves. That was, until the same boy Yuichi had fallen for popped back up in his life on a bullet train to Kyoto, now bearing the name Lemon. He thought by now his feelings would’ve faded, how surprised he was to find they had persisted throughout the years and had simply been masked over.

This brought Yuichi to his current situation, lying comfortably on a past love that he thought would just remain as such. Yuichi hadn't even noticed he was spacing out until Lemon waved a hand in front of his eyes.

“Yuichi? Nickel for your thoughts? Or, penny, I guess. You know, I always found it weird that it was a penny and not like, a dollar! If I wanted to know someone’s thoughts that badly I reckon I’d give them at least two quid. And if they didn’t tell I could always give them somethin’ else.” Lemon cracked his knuckles and winked. Yuichi smiled, readjusting to settle closer to Lemon’s shoulder.

“It’s nothing, dear.” Yuichi looped the ribbon he had insisted his father sew into the hem of his scarf around his fingers.

“Nothing at all.”

#btpromptweek23 #yuichi kimura #lemon bullet train #yuimon #tangerine bullet train #shigeru kimura #bullet train #my writing #bullet train 2022

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jonathanbyersphd · 1 year ago

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Hi hello, it's me again, happy WIP Wednesday here's what I have for my Bylerween fic so far I hope you like it:

For the record, Will thinks this is a terrible idea. And when his step-dad eventually comes to arrest them all he’ll say that he wanted no part in it, that all he wanted was to go out with his friends, he thought the worst thing they’d do was maybe smash some pumpkins but they'd be back at Mike's by nine playing D&D in the basement.

B&E was nowhere near his Halloween plans. Yet, here he is outside the Old Creel house as Eddie Munson is regaling them with the story of the house's alleged ancient curse. He doesn’t believe in curses, he’s way too old for that, but he can’t deny there’s something odd about the Victorian. It’s almost like it’s watching him. The thought sends a shiver down his spine. Mike leans in closer and Will tries not to think about how beautiful he looks.

“You okay?” he asks in a low tone

“Yea fine, just cold” Will answers

Mike pulls off his leather jacket, holds it out for Will with a nod.

“No, thanks though” Will

“You sure?” Mike questions

“Yea”

They’re sitting on a derelict swingset in a park across the street. The hellfire club is gathered for their own ritual. When Eddie finishes with storytime he expects each of them to explore the house by themselves. After all, according to Eddie they can’t possibly survive the intensity of Dungeons & Dragons if they’re afraid of a little house. Will’s not sure how those two things are the same but he didn’t say that. Besides, Eddie promises that this is the last thing they’ll have to do to become official Hellfire members. But he’s really only here because Mike is here. Now that he’s paying closer attention, Mike also looks pretty disinterested in what Eddie has to say, twisting around on his seat and smiling to himself. It’s probably because they’ve both heard this story before, on Halloween night ages ago. And frankly, Jonathan told the Creel story better or maybe it was scary because he was nine. Eddie’s dramatics are too childish for what should be a somber tale.

“And then when Old Man Creel realized what he had done. He plunged the ax into his own chest ending his bloodlust” Eddie recounts with a theatrical flourishes, acting out Creel’s alleged final moments

“That’s not how I remember it” Mike snarks in a whisper before Will can say anything.

Will snickers, and Mike beams at him.

“Something funny Wheeler" Eddie interrogates

"No not at all" Mike lies, and Will has to hold back his laughter.

"Great. Now as I was saying, Legend has it that Old Victor still haunts his once peaceful home searching for another victim to sink his ax into" Eddie finishes with an expression that Will guesses is supposed to be frightening but seems more cartoony than anything.

"That's disturbing" Dustin shudders

“It's bullshit”’ Will exclaims

“Oh really?” Eddie challenges

Next to him, he can feel Mike tense slightly, readying himself to defend Will.

“Yea really” Will continues “It was the kid that snapped and murdered his whole family”

“That’s where your wrong Byers” Eddie roars

“Are you sure Will?” Lucas asks from his spot on the playground

“Yea, Jonathan said it was the kid” Will insists

“Hate to break it to you pipsqueak but there’s no way a twelve year old could do that” Eddie laughs and the rest of his club joins in. Dustin, Lucas and Mike don’t move a muscle and Will is grateful for it.

Will doesn't tell Eddie that once when Jonathan was twelve he hit Lonnie so hard with a baseball bat that he passed out just to protect him. For reasons unknown to him, Eddie doesn’t like Jonathan. Which is enough of a reason not to like him in Will’s book. But Mike, for whatever reason, worships Eddie. And he loves Mike. So now he’s forced to sit with Eddie at lunch, participate in the Hellfire Club, and be in this stupid,cold park listening to a fake story. And the only other reason he puts up with it is because at least they’re playing DnD again. But he’d much rather be in Mike’s basement with his friends playing video games and lamenting how they’re too old to go trick or treating.

“Jonathan says that place isn't anymore haunted than the lab outside of town” Mike chimes in and Will perks up as Eddie rolls his eyes

“Didn't they used to do MK ultra experiments?” Dustin questions

“That's an urban legend, dummy” Lucas answers with a shove.

“Well Byers” Eddie starts “Since you clearly aren’t afraid why don’t you go first” he goads

“Fine” Will shrugs, getting up.

Will can feel Mike watching him but he really doesn’t mind going first the sooner they get this over with the sooner he can go home. He picks up a flashlight from Lucas, passes a smirking Eddie and makes his way across the street. He hops up the stairs onto the porch, he can hear muffled talking from in the park but doesn’t think much of it as he pauses at the door. It, like everything else about the house, is old. Someone attempted to board it shut but it’s long since been pulled away. No doubt by some other mischievous teen fulfilling a dare to impress their friends.

Will finds himself mesmerized by the stained glass window displaying a bright rose. Unlike the rest of the windows of the house, this one hasn’t been cracked or chipped away at. He wonders if it’s been reinforced somehow or if Hawkins kids, as obnoxious as they were, were at least sensible enough not to destroy the artwork. He reaches out for the doorknob and turns, but it doesn’t budge. Will scoffs at himself for thinking it would before bracing himself to knock the door in with his shoulder.

“Will wait up” Mike calls, catching up to him

“Thought I was supposed to go alone” Will responds cynically

“Oh c’mon what kind of guy would I be if I let my best friend get murdered by a ghost” Mike jokes

Friend. The word linger in the crisp night air and Will hates himself for focusing on it. He convinces himself that he’s imagining the slight rose creeping into Mike’s cheeks.

“Yea” he nods softly, turning his attention back to the front door.

“Together?” Mike suggests

“Together” Will agrees, as they both shove the old door open.

#me personally? I hate writing Will Byers bc I do not think I am any good at it #ANYTHING FOR Y'ALL THO #(I am much better at writing Jonathan tbh)#stranger things #byler #will byers #mike wheeler #st fic #wip wednesday #bylerween wip

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