#an offer would be nice jesus just beat me up it would hurt less

[thirdsonofeve]

I don't think Nacho's living situation is ever confirmed in the early seasons but the idea of him working his little job sewing car interiors at his dad's business and then driving his uglyass van home to his all-white house and his three girlfriends is so funny to me

[ohworm-writes]

hello! :) so u know how kuon has a crush on sniper right ? can i get an imagine where reader is jealous bc of kuon, cuz u know, her crush on sniper etc etc (sorry i'm just vv lazy at typing), and how sniper reacts to it ?? can u make it like they're still friends but have mutual feelings for each other as they hang out as a unit, and they get together in the end bc sum confessions happened !! sorry if u don't get it i'm rlly bad at explaining but thank u in advance if u do this !! <33

High-Rise Invasion/Tenkuu Shinpan: Sniper Mask Boyfriend Imagine

high-rise invasion/tenkuu shinpan masterlist

‼ Jealous Reader (over Kuon) + Make up + Confession ‼

Featuring: Sniper Mask, Yuri Honjo, Mayuko Nise (implied), Kuon Shinzaki (implied)

Warnings: frustrated Y/n, crushes, jealousy

a/n - good GODS this has been in my inbox for a while and i’m so so so sorry for not posting it way sooner! hopefully you see this anon, and i hope you enjoy!

content below the cut!

you had developed a crush on the man in the mask ever since you first joined Yuri's little group

you couldn't really tell what it was the drew you to him

he was silent, dismissive, and he was a Mask for goodness sake!

but none of that deterred you from the attraction you garnered for him

you always found yourself trying to interact with him

whether it was offering your help with something that he was doing, or simply keeping him company

most times he brushed you off, walking away and not giving you an answer

other times he silently accepted your offer

those times the two of you would sit in comfortable silence, just enjoying one another's presence

you cherish moments like these for a very specific reason

Kuon

now you had nothing against the girl!

... at first

she seemed nice enough, always eager to help, and full of ignorant innocence

but then you realized her (very obvious) crush on the masked man

the way she got flustered around him so easily

the way she clung to him like a lost child

at first, you thought maybe she saw him as a parental figure, seeing how young she was

but that thought was (very) quickly thrown to the wind when you saw her wrapped up in his jacket, blushing like the schoolgirl she was and giggling to herself

so what she liked him? you liked him too, maybe the two of you could bond over that!

that's what you told yourself

of course, you never acted on it

it was simple, you were too jealous to do so

you noticed how Sniper Mask welcomed all her little instances without a care in the world

not giving a damn when she clung to him

or batting an eye at her obvious fangirling

it pissed you off

naturally, you began to avoid Kuon

and Sniper Mask simultaneously

you avoided the two of them whenever you could

when you saw them walking towards you, you kept to the opposite side of the wall and walked quickly past them

when you all usually ate together, you picked up your food and ate outside

you were simply, undeniably jealous

you didn't think Sniper Mask cared about it, not that you could tell under his mask

but in actuality, he was confused as to why you avoided him all of the sudden

so, he opted to ask you one day

You shut the door to the dining room rather aggressively as you exited, but you couldn't care less. You let your body slump against the adjacent wall, your plate of food resting on your lap.

Today had been... exhausting, to say the least. Kuon was on her usual actions of pining over 'Mr. Mask', crossing your way a few more times than you would have liked. During your meeting earlier with her and Yuri, your fellow mouthless masked allies, she had the gall to talk on and on about how much she adored him.

You hated it.

You looked down at your food, a scowl finding its place on your features. You glared at it, pushing the pieces around with your fork, not noticing a door open and close right in front of you.

"Jesus, if that food was alive, it would be 6 feet under with the glare you're giving it." You hear a gruff voice call from in front of you. A voice you would rather not be hearing right now.

You continue to move around the food, staying silent as the man awkwardly stands in front of you, unsure of what to do with himself in this situation. "Is it, uh, okay if I sit here?" He asks, which finally makes you look up.

He had a plate of food between his own hands, his jacket gone and sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His mask covered his face, per usual, but it seemed much more lopsided than usual.

You give him a shrug in response, looking back down at your food again. He stands there for a moment, before taking a seat right next to you, your knees almost touching. "You don't mind if I eat with you, right?"

His question makes your eye twitch. Was he seriously trying to be all buddy-buddy with you now? You shrugged again, not giving him as much as a single word.

You heard him sigh, setting his food to the side before he speaks again. "Alright, what's going on?" He asks, making your body tense up. "Nothing." You shoot back, scowling.

"What happened to the Y/n that stayed up and talked about their life for hours? What happened to the Y/n that told me horrible jokes to try and get a reaction out of me? Huh? What happened to them?"

That broke you.

You were angry, furious even. Was he trying to blame this on you? You didn't do anything wrong! If it wasn't for Kuon, maybe you would still be that person! If it wasn't for her, you could still be friends with him! You could be-

"What?" You hear him say softly, much softer than his previous tone. Shit, did you say that out loud? "Yeah, you did." He says again, looking at you with a concerned expression on his face, not that you could tell.

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to lash out. I just- I’ve been-" You stutter, trying to find the right words. He laughs at that, actually laughs at it.

His laugh is hearty, warm, almost inviting you to laugh along with him. You don't, but he quickly composes himself, making your head turn towards him.

"Why on Earth were you jealous of Kuon?" He asks honestly, watching at how the invisible gears turn in your head, searching for an answer. You sigh heavily, running a hand across your face as you shake your hands while you speak.

"I just- she’s always there with you. She's latched onto you 24/7! I can't get 5 minutes alone with you before she comes barging in." You rant, frustration evident in your shaky voice.

"I just wanted to be your friend, be close with you. I can never do that because she's-she's there." You groan, hugging yourself with your arms. "I sound like a selfish idiot now, huh?"

You laugh dryly, frowning. He sighs, but a smile plays at his lips. "Y/n." He begins, his hand resting you your forearm. "You know she would never purposefully do that. She just, she has an infatuation with me I guess."

He sighs dramatically, earning a chuckle from you. "But." He tells you, watching your eyes as he speaks. "That doesn't mean I didn't miss you."

Your heart skips a beat at his comment, face flushing softly. "Kuon also misses you. You might not have caught onto it, but she looks up to you." He explains, smiling at how your expression softens, mumbling a soft 'she does?' to him.

He nods, laughing once more. "Come on, have dinner with the rest of us. We can't have you sitting alone out here anymore." You roll your eyes, but take him up on his word. He leads you back to the other, Kuon frantically waving over to the two of you the second you pass through the door.

"Y/n! Come sit with me!" She yells excitedly. Maybe you were wrong about her.

after that interaction, the three of you were all on much better terms

yes, kuon still had her habits, but he toned them WAY down after you explained to her how it made you feel

she teased the hell out of you for it too

you, of course, shrugged it off

but you never told her that she was wrong

you were happy to be on good terms with Sniper Mask again

he made a lot more time for you

your old interactions coming back at full force, and some new ones

he loved to take you on little walks on the high rises

he also made it a point to teach you how to shoot his rifle

which was terrifying, but exhilarating

you fell for him harder and harder every day

one day, you ranted your feelings out to Kuon

and while she wasn't surprised, it warmed her heart to see how much you loved him

yes, she crushed on him too, but that didn't take away from the obvious connection she saw between the two of you

unbeknownst to you, Sniper Mask had come to her about the same things

his usually cold demeanor broke whenever he talked with you

he genuinely enjoyed your company, he wanted more of it

and then some

so, she put a plan together

operation "get Mr. Mask and Y/n together" is a go!

she took it all very seriously

making sure you guys get paired together for scouting missions? that's all her

convincing Sniper Mask to get you little gifts and things? of course

overall, the best wing-woman you could ask for

however, the one thing she didn't have anything to do with was his confession to you

he could have used her help with it, that much was clear

but he wanted to tell you how he felt, no help necessary

Sniper Mask had told you earlier this morning to meet you at his room when the sunset before he rushed to get out of your vicinity like you were a plague. Granted, it hurt your feelings, but you couldn't stand him up.

You knocked gently on the wooden door, stepping back and waiting patiently for it to open. After about a minute, while you had heard nothing, you went to knock again.

Your efforts were proved useless as the door swung open hastily, revealing a disheveled Sniper Mask. His usual blazer and fedora were long forgotten, his hair messy, strands pointing this way and that. His mask sat lopsided on his face, still covering it fully.

"H-hey Y/n." He mumbled out, you offered him a wave as he awkwardly shuffled to the side, opening the door as an incentive for you to come in. You stepped inside, walking to the center of the room as you heard him close the door behind you.

You turned to speak to him again, but those thoughts were cast aside as you felt his hands settle onto your cheeks and his lips molding with yours. It startled you, you're eyes open in shock as you looked at him. His mask was completely off, thrown somewhere in the room, but he didn't seem to have a care in the world.

You quickly melted into the kiss, bringing your hands up to gently hold onto his forearms. He hummed, taking a moment before pulling away, leaving the two of you to gasp for air as he rested his forehead against yours. You opened your eyes to meet his, full of adoration.

"I, uh, I think I'm in love with you?" It was more of a question, but you took it happily. You laughed softly, your fingers rubbing small circles in his forearms.

"Was that what that was?"

[ellsbclls]

White Winged Dove

warnings ➛ COUNTRY!TOM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! MY BELOVED!!!!!!!! smut, baby! (PLEASE do not interact if you are a minor), hurt/comfort, minor angst, happy ending: guaranteed!, a handful of swear words, and y/n has no choice but to have a country accent, i don’t make the rules here. extended warnings will be under the cut!

word count ➛ 9.5K

authors note ➛ i saw that gifset of tom taking a shower in cherry and my brain short circuited, so here! have a cupcake!

synopsis ➛ Tom feels like his world is falling apart, so he turns to you, the only person that reminds him of home.

extended warnings ➛ nsfw, fingering (f receiving), dirty talk, praise kink, multiple orgasms, unprotected f/m intercourse (please practice safe sex, kiddos! wrap it before you whack it!), a tiny tiny tiny sliver of blood!play if you squint with one eye closed.

You remember the night in waves, docile, fleeting waves that tease the rim of your consciousness before reeling back. Golden whiskey licks at the seam of your lips with each pass of the bottle, and the pond is glittering beneath the blinking trails of all the lightning bugs — tens of hundreds of fireflies, dancing in the night’s misty skyglow, rivaling the pale moonlight.

You remember the night in waves, but he is a mighty current.

You can’t scrub the memory of him from your mind, that bleak, hopeless expression that hollowed out his features. You remember how your heart split into a million little shards the second it appeared, and just when you thought there was nothing left to break, his fragile voice pleaded for you to take him somewhere, anywhere, as long as it was far.

By the time the sun spilled past your window pane, you were nothing but a drowsy amalgamation of lithe limbs, coated in morning glow as it spilled through the glass.

But behind your eyelids lives an imprint of the night before — a shimmering reflection of the night sky, and the moments that unraveled beneath its sweeping gaze.

9:17PM — You’re belting into your hairbrush, not a care in the world, and pouring your heart and soul out to a crowd of none. Somewhere between all of your clumsy twirls and impromptu choreography, you stumble over the shoebox that was poking out from under your bed, and a flurry of damp tresses and musical giggles fan across your comforter.

The walls in your house have always been notoriously thin, but what could you possibly expect from the weathered planks of wood paneling that lined your bedroom? You could hear your father’s creaky footsteps whenever he ransacked the fridge for leftovers in the dead of night, and the heavy thump of laundry that your mother would throw down to the basement, but once your radio crackles to life, and Stevie’s enchanting croon permeates the air, all those subtle nuances fades to a dull, lifeless roar.

With each passing note, the white winged dove becomes you, and you soar above endless miles of  Mississippi wood. There’s not a soul that can drag you back to the outskirts of town, force you to confront what may become of you when you land, there’s no room for trepidation where you go. There, in your own little corner of the woods, it’s just you, Stevie Nicks, and the moon.

And, technically, Thomas.

Minutes have gone by, you still can’t find the strength, nor the energy, to lift yourself up, and as your downy blankets hug your tired frame, you remain blissfully ignorant of your peeping tom.

Thomas, affectionately penned Tommy, has been your best friend, your confidante, since the very first day of kindergarten. You had pulled a pack of scented markers from your tiny, pink barbie backpack during free time, and he had pulled out the empty seat beside you, plucking, sniffing, and ultimately discarding each and every pen until the box was empty. When you asked him which one was his favorite, he asked you the very same in response, just so you’d “coincidentally” have a shared affinity for coconuts. He was oddly endearing, which is a trait that’s always stuck with him. So, even at a young age, you never wondered if he was just using you for your nice possessions, or trying to take advantage of your courtesy — he always offered himself to you at face value, and you never stopped taking as much of him as you could get.

Had you been aware that your childhood friend was waiting expectantly at your window, you may have handled your alone time with a tad more discretion — but you weren’t, and each act of your private concert forces him into an even harder position. To what extent does he let you embarrass yourself before he makes his presence known, and for how long will you bury your head in the sand before the embarrassment mulls over? He sees your stage dive as a golden opportunity, and seizes it before you begin to stir.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Three short, mild raps, uttered in quick succession, jostle you from your lavish daydreams like a bucket of ice water, and you have to squint just to make out his fair features amidst all the darkness shrouding them.

“Tommy?” A flash of his soft, earthy hues tame the wild drum of your heart, confirming your suspicions, and you fight the urge to chuckle when he innocently waves at you.

“Well don’t get all shy on me now. Come in.” You open the window just enough for him to slip through its frame, allowing your eyes to graze the sculpted plains of his back, and admire, albeit shamelessly, how his muscles ripple beneath his fitted t-shirt.

Yet, there’s something about him being in your room, towering over fixtures that once towered over him, that makes you feel uneasy. A part of you adores the way he instantly makes himself at home, but the remainder is doused in fear, fretting over his wandering hands and what they may discover, surveying little trinkets and souvenirs that decorate your desk.

“Hasn’t changed much since the last time I was in here, has it?” He notes, absentmindedly shaking the contents of a snowglobe your grandma brought you from New York, a miniature skyline of Manhattan continuously buried in a flurry of snow. Most of your playdates took place in his house, so as your friendship flourished past elementary school, and the time that spanned between your meetings grew shorter and shorter, you’d found yourselves frequenting his home for all of your endeavors. It was just easier that way.

That’s the sole reason you rarely visited your room. It surely wasn’t the suffocating atmosphere that plagued your home, or your hormonal, angst ridden brain convincing you that you’d scare him to the high heavens if he caught a glimpse of your relationship with your family — how dismal it is. How you build entire worlds, cycle through dozens of bountiful lives, in the luxury of your mind in hopes of retreating.

You’d be lying if you said the poster of Zac Efron, now lurking precariously behind his shoulder, wasn’t a glaring reason as well.

“Yeah, couple things here and there, but it’s pretty much the same.” You try to be discreet as you wander around your own room, Destination: Tiger Beat. Once you reach it, you rise up on your tiptoes to cover as much of the poster as humanly possible, but scramble for an excuse once you notice him turning. “You actually left something the last time you were here. It’s on the top shelf.”

RIP! The poster is crumpled in your grasp no sooner than his back turns to you. You’d have to give a formal apology to your wildcat once you were left to your own devices, but until then, he was banished to the most unsuspecting corner of your room.

“Jesus Christ Y/N,” His thumb fondly strokes a small, yellowed testament to your friendship, a weathered page of loose leaf etched in awry plumes of ink that perfectly encapsulate his very essence — egregiously passionate, regardless of the outcome. He had written it when he was about seven, intending to give it to the “girl of his dreams” once he met her. You can still hear his sweet, little voice echo between your ears, endearingly mistaking his r’s for w’s. “You kept this?”

“Of course I did.“ Candor coats your tongue before you catch yourself, the tail end of your answer turning to dust as soon as it hits the air. You can’t bring yourself to admit just how many restless nights you’ve allowed yourself to clamber up that oak dresser, just to read that letter over, and over, and over again, praying that if you had stared at it for long enough, his messy scrawl would transform into the words you yearned for most — that it was meant for you, that he’s loved you from the very start. “Wasn’t sure if you were planning to repurpose it for some other lucky gal.”

You lock eyes with him for the first time since he appeared at your window, and stowed beneath his reservation are faint embers of warmth, kindling behind ebony curtains as you indulge in the hearth of his gaze. Lifetimes seemingly pass before his eyes are flickering back down to his hands, and it prompts you to offer him the note. “You can have it back.”

“No, you keep it.” Your brows pinch together, and a thousand questions collect on the tip of your tongue. You wonder if he recalls the same memory you do, if he remembers the significance buried in that little scrap of paper, but ultimately choose not to dwell on it. He knows just how much you love to collect memorabilia — keep cherished memories stowed away for safekeeping — he’s just being thoughtful. “Consider it undeniable proof that I know how to read and write.”

“Ain’t nothin’ in here about knowing how to read.” You tease, catching your tongue between your canines as a smirk conquers your lips.

“Ya got me,” He chuckles, smile reaching for, but never quite meeting, his faraway stare. You are so accustomed to his teasing quips, his usual flair for the dramatics, that this half-hearted attempt at replicating it fills you with discomfort. He tries to punctuate his words by tossing his arms to the sky, but they don’t reach high enough to convince you that he’s okay. Something is plaguing him, and you won’t settle for anything less than the truth.

“Tommy,” His name is sweet on your tongue, all honeyed vowels and soft, descant consonants that command his attention. “What’s wrong?”

“No, nothin’, I just-“ he’s avoiding your eyes, which is a clever strategy on his part. If eyes are the windows to the soul, then his are a stained glass mosaic, a vibrant display of all his emotions, and you — you are but an avid observer.

“Hey, look at me,” Two slender digits underline the curve of his jaw, and with a firm grasp of his chin, leave him no choice but to meet your gaze, tender and resolute all the same. “ You don’t have to tell me anything if you’re not ready, but I can tell when someone’s been rode hard and put away wet.”

“I just, I need to get out of here, and I thought I’d ask my favorite distraction to accompany me.” He stumbles over his words, faltering over his messy façade, but you’d rather this over nothing at all.

“And where might we be goin’?” You query. You can tell that this is going to be a long night, but luckily for him, you don’t have any plans that can’t be rescheduled. Your adoring fans will just have to wait another night.

“Somewhere… Anywhere,” He murmurs hopefully, and your heart nearly sinks to the floor. You’ve never seen such a chasm of joy, not in those bright, amber orbs you study so adamantly. You’d almost deem it pain, whatever’s tugging at the frame of his optics, whatever’s depriving them of that usual, warm glow. “as long as it’s far from here.”

9:39PM — “Watch your step.”

“Can you help me?” You whine — one hand reaching out for his assistance, the other firmly clasped around a bottle of Jack Daniels. There is an awkward incline just below you, only a few inches off the ground, but tall enough to make you stumble, and he could already see you bumping your knees on the way down, so he offers his elbow as a point of leverage.

“Atta girl, you’ve got it.” He coos, reluctantly abandoning your grip once you’re safely on the ground.

Mystical, and buzzing with life, you introduce him to the farthest corner of the woodlands. Whenever the walls of your room become suffocating, your legs always give out right about here. 

Your secret hideaway. 

Where you let your most worrisome thoughts roam free, and when those thoughts seemingly wander into nothingness, you chalk it up to wishful thinking, and fail to realize that they haven’t disappeared, they just don’t belong to you anymore. They belong to the babbling brook, constantly replenishing itself and its inhabitants with fresh, spring water, belong to the frogs and crickets as they fill the night with their moonlit ballad, they belong to the night, and it’s reflection, as it wades across the face of the creek; dotted with lightning bugs or the cosmos themself, you weren’t sure. All you know is that you always returned, as if a piece of you was tethered to the very spot.

“Where are we?” He wonders aloud, raking his fingers through his downy, chestnut locks as he explores his surroundings.

“I don’t exactly know.” You confess, making yourself comfortable on the ground. Most nights, you slip off your shoes and sink your feet into the brook, but you know Tom like the back of your hand, know what kind of ideas might venture through that rascally mind of his when he spots you near the water. So, you play it safe, pulling your knees up to your chest as you peer up at him from a safe distance. “It’s nice, though. Quiet. Good place to let your thoughts wander.”

“You ever take a dip in here?” Predictable. You stifle the urge to laugh at his query, sinking ivory veneers into your pillowy bottom lip, and shake your head in response.  “Hell, if I were you, with my own nature-made swimmin’ pool, I’d bring all the boys around.”

“You know I don’t waste my time with no silly boys.” You sigh, sending him a wistful glare. 

“You sure about that?” He counters, mimicking your perked brow with eerie precision.

“Oh, I’m sure.” You huff. God doesn’t build boys the same way he built him, he took his time crafting that statuesque frame, implemented hawk-eyed precision for each and every beguiling detail you’ve come to adore. He is a man, tried and true, from his sharp, angular structure to the neverending bounds of his heart, but rather than inflate his ego moreso, you let him assume the worst. “You can take a dip if you want, though. I wouldn’t mind.”

You wonder if he can tell just how little you’d mind as a mischievous glint highlights his amber hues, but before he can even open his mouth, you’ve already pinpointed the source of his glower, already voicing your adamant refusal. “No, absolutely not. Not a chance, Tommy.”

“But why not?” He whines, bellowing over your feeble chant, conjuring the most convincing set of pleading eyes he can muster. “It’s dark, it’s humid, and ain’t no one around to tell us not to.”

“Sounds like all the more reason to not do that.” You scoff, scooting further away from him and the strength of his hopeful gaze.

“I hate to pull out the big guns, but... what if I told you that it’d make me feel so much better if you accompanied me?” You’re left to wonder what the big guns are supposed to be, if they aren’t the way he is encroaching on your personal space, crawling up the length of your legs until there is only a sliver of space between you. 

“I’d remind you that there are much drier ways to make you feel better.” You could feel your warm breath fanning across his lips, distracting you with the scent of minty toothpaste and your vanilla chapstick, ultimately failing to notice his hands, and how they’re positioned just below your waist.

It would only take one swift move to reach the small of your back, two to scoop you up in his arms, and about six more to drag you into the pond — kicking and screaming, but successfully so.

And he doesn’t chance it.

SPLASH! You’re no sooner submerged in the brooks’ murky depths, reaching out for lily pads and cattails that fail to provide you leverage, and your screams bubble into thick, smothered embers of a once irate flame. He better pray you never emerge from usunder, because he’s merely a howl away from being swept up in the tide — the tide being your arms as they force him to the bottom of the crick.

“Y/N,” your name scrambles between the slosh of the water and the pounding in your ears, but you manage to break the surface and blink spare drops of water from your eyes.

“I was drowning!’ You gasp, struggling to keep your head above water as you kick, and splash, and writhe around in the stygian abyss.

“In two feet of water? I beg to differ.” You can barely make out his comeback over his fit of giggles, but a part of you would rather this bright, teasing version of himself that what you’ve been dreading beforehand. Taking his outstretched hand, you stumble to your feet and, much to your dismay, find yourself standing in about two feet of water (which, in your defense, is a far more daunting threat to someone your size as opposed to his). You cool his inflating ego with a cold splash of water, dispersing tiny droplets from your fingers as they wave in front of his face.

You splash around in the water for what feels like forever, transforming stray lily pads into makeshift hats, dressing to the nines in the latest collection of aquatic couture, and as the moon casts a pale spotlight on the babbling brook, you occupy it’s centre, huddled in one another’s embrace, swaying back and forth amidst the shallow pools.

10:02 — You're still wet.

Drenched, really.

You’ve resorted to wringing out your hair with your bare hands, twisting the dampened locks between your fists until water pours from the follicles. You’d never once pondered the benefits of freshwater landings, but you were about to find out. A glare threatened to slice through the air, but immediately wavered at the sight of him — desolate, void, so lost in his thoughts that you’d wondered if he were even there.

God, you’re worried sick. You’ve dealt with bouts of sadness, sprinkles of melancholy, but this was downright depressing. You wouldn’t even know what to do if you tried, and that’s what worried you the most.

Thomas, your best friend, your crush, your light — the best parts of you all wrapped up in a clumsy little package while the best parts of him threaten to snatch up your heart, as if it wasn’t already his.

“Tommy?” You break him out of his reverie, but press on, scooching closer to his form, dangerously standoffish, like an uncaged animal winding up to attack, until you cross the threshold into his personal space. With a sturdy hold on his bicep, he melts into the palm of your hand, practically leaning all of his weight into you, stealing a reprieve you didn’t know he needed. “You can talk to me, y’know. It’s just us.”

“She left, Y/N.” The evening air seems still, in perfect tandem with your breath as you fear what might come out once you finally exhale. You know he’d shove all of his feelings down if he caught you shedding a single tear, and this isn’t about you, it never has been. So you hold your breath, latching onto the heavy silence that follows his confession, and pray that your chest is strong enough to smother the sob bubbling beneath its surface.

Fortunately, he takes your silence as a cue to continue. “The closet was empty, and all her cookbooks were gone. I looked downstairs and there was nothin’ there.” You don’t know if he’s finished, watching as he toys with a loose string on his jeans, but he breaks his own silence with a newfound waver in his voice.  “I had a feelin’ she was ‘bout to leave, but I didn’t think it’d be so soon. I thought I had a lil’ bit more time to say goodbye.”

Edie was a good mother, the best of mothers, and never had she drawn a line when it came to who she nurtured. When you were little kids, you’d race each other to his house once the school bell rang, tiny little bodies weaving through the stalks of corn that prefaced the farm. She would follow the shuffling crops with a heavy eye, leading you to the porch with her raspy, whimsical chime, and crouch down to envelop the both of you in a tight hug when you emerged. She was the best of mothers.

But she wasn’t the best of wives. You were both far too young to notice the signs — the nights where you found her sound asleep on the sofa by her own volition, the packed suitcase that hid underneath the stairwell to the basement, the hesitance that laced her tone when she said I love you to his father — and something tells you she wanted to keep it that way. 

Her son didn’t need to worry about his parents, and how fast they were falling out of love, and whether they really loved each other in the first place. Her son just needed to be a kid, and that is a belief she devoted the best years of her life to.

But he isn’t a kid anymore.

That’s why she fled in the middle of night, leaving nothing but a ruby encrusted ring on his dresser — her class ring. The same one he’d snatch from her jewelry box whenever she wasn’t looking. The same one he used to propose to you at the wee age of four, promising you as much of the world as a toddler could imagine.

Tears prick at the corner of your eyes as he recounts every detail, and every fiber of your being yearns to just schoop him up in your arms, hold all his broken pieces together with the strongest embrace you can muster. He doesn’t deserve that type of pain, shouldn’t have to relive it, and yet he takes it upon himself to tell you everything, to relive it for your own selfish gain.

You grow envious of the way the moon trails kisses down the slope of his nose, across the high rise of his cheeks, and over the swell of his bottom lip. There were times where you’d find traces of his mother in Tom’s features, lining the curve of his warm smile or, when the sun hit them just right, speckling his earthy hues with tiny rods of gold. Tonight, he is shrouded in a celestial spotlight, mesmerized by its waning body, and if you squint just enough, you’ll find her longing stare hidden beneath his own.

“And the worst part is that I ain’t even mad at her. Not even a lil’ bit.” He concludes, talking more to the sky than to you. “Not even at all.” When his gaze falls back to you, you can only try to cover up the betrayal, wipe the back of your arm across your tear-stained cheeks before he notices they’re even misty.

You inevitably fail, expelling a wistful sigh as he pulls you into his side, comfortingly running his hand over your bicep as he murmurs sweet nothings into the night.

“I’m so sorry. I-I didn’t want you to find out like this,” You furrow your brows, and wonder just how he would want to break the news to you. Would he let you find out for yourself, or would he bring you out to the plantation, and let you sink into the soil until the news began to blossom in the fields? Would they be cornstalks? And would they reach for the sky just like her?  “I didn’t wanna make you cry, but... I didn’t know where else to go.”

“It’s okay.” Your voice is a wash of dulcet tones, fingers soothingly raking through his damp tendrils in a silent bid to comfort him. “It’s okay, I’m a big girl. I can take it.” You’re quick to clamber to your knees, wrapping him up in an airtight embrace, keeping him from wallowing into a puddle of tears. “I’m right here, Tommy.”

“I know,” he sputters, with an edge of sorrow to his tone.

“I’m right here, I’m not goin’ anywhere.” You promise.

“Don’t say that” He whispers, and shatters any trace of consolation looming over the encounter. Your brow furrows, your heart pounds against your chest, and for a fleeting second, you feel like you're caught in a lie. What if he knows? What if he can tell just how much you’d surrender to be with him? What if he doesn’t want it?  

“Why not?” You’re near hysterics, praying that the intensity in your eyes makes up for the tremor in your voice. “Why not? I didn’t say anything I didn’t mean.” 

“I just don’t want you to make a promise you can’t keep, Y/N.” That sullen gaze resurfaces, chills the air with it’s haunting presence — that hollow stare which fosters the remnants of a bright, contagious joy, and carves a pit, just as empty, in the well of your stomach, one that aches to be satiated. He tucks a stray piece of hair behind your ear, but his palm lingers against your cheek, trying to smooth out the heavy creases in your expression with the gentle stroke of his thumb.  “Hell, I don’t want you to promise that in the first place. You deserve more than all this, you deserve the best this life has to offer you, and I’m not gonna keep you from all o’ that.”

You’ve lost track of your heart long ago, it’s dizzying tempo rivaling a hummingbird, nearly undetectable as it flitted uncontrollably, knocking against your ribs until its ultimate descent to the pit of your stomach. 

You pray that he can one day see everything that you see in him, that loving himself is as easy for him as it is for you; you hope that there is a life where he never has to feel as small, or inconvenient, as he confessed, and you wish that this would eventually be that life.

You decide that it’s time to put an end to wishful thinking. 

“Let me make something clear to you, Thomas.” You cup his jaw, firmly, and utter each word without a trace of uncertainty. “I’m not sure exactly what I want from life yet. I don’t know if I wanna spend the rest of it in this little ol’ town, or just pack my things and go as far as the wind will take me. I couldn’t tell you if I tried, but… that’s okay.” Slowly but surely, your lips give way to a sheepish grin, feeling lighter, freer, the further into your declaration. “It’s okay, because there’s one thing that’s for certain, and it’s that I’m all yours. It don’t matter how far I go, I’m always gonna come home to you.”

The silence is deafening. 

All your emotions hang in the air, crippling your air supply with insurmountable regret. But his gaze is what terrifies you the most; just as suffocating, but in a way that sweeps the air from your lungs. You knew that there would always come a time where all the unrequited feelings you’ve harbored would finally boil to the surface, fueled by the hope that maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t as one sided as you thought; but under the void of his empty gaze, you wonder if you’d made a huge mistake. 

Or maybe there really is nothing — nothing to reciprocate, nothing to subdue you, nothing to salvage what little remained of your friendship after such a loaded confession — and so you scramble to assemble an apology convincing enough to overshadow your lapse in judgement.

But he doesn’t even spare you the chance, swallowing your half-hearted excuses with the firm press of his lips, pouring a lifetime of ardent desire, of longing, into the hollow of your mouth. It’s crystal clear that you’re his, the realization comes borderline cathartic. There has never been a day where your heart has not beat for him, and only him, forever threatening to spring from your chest and return to its rightful owner. The days, the months, the years of back and forth felt like a cruel jest from the fates, but now you were here, bundled in the warmth of his strong embrace, tongues curling against one another in an endless battle for dominance, and you would endure it all over again if this was where it lead

He searches for some sign of absolution, paws up and down your back in hopes of grounding himself, and you reverently provide, mustering what little strength you have left to crawl into his lap, brushing against the growing bulge in his jeans without a trace of subtlety, offering him the most sacred parts of you in hopes of bringing him home.

“Y/N,” he sighs raggedly, a half hearted attempt to gain your attention, one that proves unsuccessful as his pleas whittle into a frail, insipid shadow of what they could be. You’re too busy acquainting yourself with the plains of his body, embedding a trail of deep red marks into the column of his neck as your hands slip beneath the hem of his t-shirt. He’s built like a greek statue, you don’t even need to discard his shirt to indulge in the taut muscles tensing beneath your fingertips. “Y/N, darlin’, wait.” He interrupts your greedy ministrations by fastening his digits around your wrists. This is the point of no return, you can feel the fragile divide between friends and lovers, splintering beneath the weight of your heart, and yet you fail to concern yourself.

His digits are free to roam the high plains of your cheeks, pioneering the flushed expanse with beacons of soft, arching butterfly kisses until there’s no skin to cover, ultimately pressing his forehead against yours. ”You don’t- I don’t want you to do anything you don’t wanna do.” Seems almost redundant, you muse, to wonder if you want him when you’ve made it abundantly clear that you’d follow him to the ends of the earth. You are a pillar of salt, and as he showers you in a knee buckling torrent of kisses, you melt into the palm of his hands. If the way you’re draped against his form isn’t evidence enough, then the wetness pooling between your thighs most certainly will be, he’ll come across that confirmation once he tends to the spot you need him most.

You trace the cleft of his chin in delicate pursuit, whining as he tears his lips from their languid path, and peer through your inky lashes to meet his gaze once more. “I want this, Tom. I want you.”

“You have me. I’m all yours.” He echoes your words back to you, reverently, delivering a sacred vow from the hearth of your soul, ove you have, and will continue to, dedicate your humble living to, and you seal that promise with a bruising kiss. 

The weight of his palm melts into the small of your back, pulling your chest flush against his own as it sweeps up your spine, and you moan against his lips when your nipples press up against his sturdy chest, aching to be freed as they strain against their gossamer confines. 

You’ve only had the pleasure of making out with Tom for less than five minutes, but you can already tell that it ranks high on your list of favorite pastimes. Soft, pink petals brush against your own like they’re a flourishing canvas, and he’s trying to even out the brushstrokes, but all he leaves is a scorching flush in his wake, and your clothing, despite being bathed in pond water, do little to ease the blistering heat. It’s suffocating you, and you begrudgingly tear yourself away so that you can rid yourself of the article.

Besides, the less fabric separating you from his anchoring, toned embrace, the better.

“I’m all dirty,” Your meek voice collapses into a fit of giggles, and your feeble attempt to wring out your clothes is thwarted by his hands, venturing up, up, up, and under the hem of your skirt at a teasing pace, savoring the feeling of your warm, silky skin beneath his fingertips. You can tell he’s as desperate as you are, confronted with acres of new terrain to explore, and only so little of his patience to spare.

“I know, I’m sorry angel.” His voice is soft, and soothing, and riddled with mischief. Even if there is even an ounce of truth in his apology, you can still make out the devilish grin that toys at the corner of his mouth. “May I, m’lady?” He croons teasingly, flashing those whiskey glazed hues in a way that you could never refuse. 

“Proceed, good sir.” You counter in the most refined timbre you can dictate, a low chuckle escaping his lips as he bunches the hem of your dress in his palms, hoisting it over your head to expose the breathtaking contours and curves of your body. You can’t remember what compelled you to forego your bra, but the thought is soon pushed to the corner of your mind, making room for the warm, fuzzy feeling that conquers your insides when Tom lays his eyes on you, bared to him and only him. His gaze alone makes you feel like you are a spectacle to behold, the most enchanting vision to ever cross his line of sight. If there was even a speck of insecurity buried deep in the back of your mind, the sight of Tom’s eyes, blown wide with adoration as they worship every sinful inch of your skin, instantly quells those fears. 

He struggles to find his words, to occupy this infinite silence with anything, everything, as his calloused palms caress the sides of your waist, but all he can manage is a husky growl. One that prefaces the reappearance of his tongue, and its feverish descent from the column of your neck to the tops of your breasts, bathing your skin with gluttonous, broad strokes, and coaxing pretty, little whines from the back of your throat.

There is something so unhinged in his actions, so carnal, it summons another wave of arousal to pool against your soiled panties, knowing you have such a strong clutch on his resolve. Though, another branch of your mind races at a mile a minute, consumed by the endless possibilities that come equipped with Tom’s skill. 

You try not to dwell on the little flings that came before you, especially now, in the afterglow of your confession. The taunting, pitious gazes you shared with his hookups in the hallowed halls of your alma mater, toting a reminder that they could indulge in everything you yearned for, scorched you more than the thought of the act itself — but the rumors were just plain inescapable. If even a fraction of them hold a candle to the truth, then you are in for one hell of a night.

“You’re just as sweet as I imagined, angel.” Angel. The nickname sends sparks flying in the well of your stomach. “Can’t wait to taste that perfect little pussy. Just know it’s gonna be even sweeter when you cum all over my fingers.”

You whine softly at his words, but clench hard around nothing, aching to be filled by those unbearably long, slender digits. Nothing could have prepared you for the scene unraveling below you — his lips latched around the stiff peak of your nipple, a husky groan reverberating around the pebbled surface, and head slightly moving against the palm of your hand as your fingers tug at his chestnut locks. The long, covetous laps of his tongue mingling with the vibrations of his contented little hums make you desperate for more, arching, writhing, trembling against him in hopes of finding a semblance of relief for the ache between your thighs.

“Tommy, please.” You plead in the most convincing, fucked out tone you can muster, but he doesn’t budge, showering your other bud with a flurry of quick, relentless kitten licks. Even mother nature joins in his relentless teasing, making you squirm as the gentle breeze blows cool, summer air against the glistening bud.

This is torture, a blissful, euphoric form of torture that, despite your irritability, you would surrender to time and time again. But you fail to notice just how hard your canines puncture the swell of your bottom lip, too immersed in the stroke of his tongue, in the ghost of pleasure that stirs in the pit of your stomach each time you rut against his clothed cock. A sharp, metallic tang seeps into your mouth, hitting the tip of your tongue and forcing a trembling whimper to the front of your mouth.

The pitiful sound piques Tom’s interest, and before you can wipe the blood from your lip, your face is already cradled between his palms. “Fuck, Y/N, look at you,” His eye were wide with concern, and your heart sputters over the blistering scorch of need his compassion arises in you. “C’mere.” Dropping his forehead against your own, his tongue tentatively brushes the curve of your lips, lapping up every last drop of blood that is smeared against it. He applies pressure to the wound, cauterizes it with a searing dance of bloodstained brims, as his one hand weaves into your damp locks. You barely know how to respond, but your body compensates with an untapped sense of hunger, scraping your teeth against his lower lip as you desperately claw at the toned valley of his back.

“Please, Tommy, please. I’m dripping.” You mewl, teetering over the perilous edge of delusion, foraging between your stomachs in search of his free hand. Yet another wave of arousal pools between your thighs at the sight of him, with his puffy, saliva stained lips slightly parted, and his eyes blown wide with the insatiable need to indulge himself, to spoil you. Once your fingers circle around his wrist, you guide his hand to the apex of your thighs and urge him to feel for himself, applying the lightest of pressure against his fingers, urging him to caress your tender lips through the sodden barrier of your panties. To feel what he’s done to you. “You feel that? It’s all for you.”

“All for me,” he echoes back, mesmerized, cognac hues fading into obsidian orbs as he rubs deliberately teasing circles over your covered clit. “And you ask oh so pretty. Let me take care of you, my pretty girl.” Before you even get the chance to reply, he’s pushing your panties to the side, dipping the pad of his middle finger between your silky folds — feeling, exploring, acquainting himself with the tight ring of muscle that he plans on stretching open. 

His hesitation is nothing more than a plight at this point, you are more than willing to take anything he has to offer, and he can gather that much from the wild gleam in your eyes, so he slowly works one finger into your snug, velvety walls and curses under his breath at how heavenly you feel. You’re unlike anything he’s had before, far exceeding the lengths of his imagination as you softly clench around his digit, and it only takes a few seconds to adjust to the lithe intrusion, your walls already twitching against his shallow, testing thrusts, before he adds another.

“So fuckin’ perfect, darlin’. Love the way your pretty little cunt takes me.” A thin sheen of sweat coats your forehead as he rocks his digits at a leisurely pace. Tom is obsessed with the tiny frown forming between your brows, almost like you’re confused by the amount of pleasure building between your legs, struggling to keep your eyes open, your juices spilling past your opening to trickle down the palm of his hand. To say your experience is limited is a bit of an understatement — the whopping two men you’ve slept with prior were merely amateurs in comparison to your lover. Even if there was enough air in your lungs to articulate it, you don’t have the heart to tell him that you’ve never been fingerfucked. Period. The embarrassment almost swallows you whole.

But even without anything to compare it to, you’re convinced that you’re receiving the upper echelon of experiences.

As his pace quickens, prodding against your pulsing walls with an onslaught of keen, ravaging thrusts, you’re too busy gasping for air to notice how he’s switched his angle. Now the heel of his hand is rubbing against your bundle of nerves with each stroke, applying just enough pressure to light a spark without ever setting you off, and as the pads of his fingers pound against your sweet spot, you are reduced to a limbless puddle in his hands, doused in an ethereal glow that only he could surface. “God, Y/N, you look like an angel. My pretty little angel— ‘bout to cum all over my fingers.” he panted, voice biting the air with a wolfish gleam, canines peaking past his thin lips.

“Tommy, I’m so close.” You aren’t sure if you can hold on for much longer, dangling on the coattails of insurmountable bliss, finding a new reason to fall apart with each lewd kiss or sharp thrust. Your orgasm is already creeping up, threatening to crash over you each time he plunges into your slick heat, but you know that you want to feel him — all of him — stretching you to unimaginable lengths as he sinks into your tight little hole for the first time. “I wanna feel you. I wanna- I need to cum on your cock.”

Tom’s brows meet in the middle, and you wonder if you’ve strewn too far, surrendered the remainder of your common sense to lust and her shameless palms. “Such a filthy little mouth for such a good girl.” He whispers, wondering aloud, his free hand abandoning the nape of your neck to cup your jaw as his thumb sweeps over your bottom lip, applying just enough pressure to drag it down before letting it spring back to its pouty default. “You will, angel, you will, but I gotta get you ready first.” He reassures you, and you remember just how prominent his length is, straining against the denim cage of his jeans, and attribute his wavering tone to the sheer restraint he’s been exhibiting. But you have to admit — if his fingers are only a fraction of his length, then you are not sure just how much of him you’ll be able to handle. The thought sends you barrelling toward your climax, but not without the help of his thumb, pressing up to rub fervent, clumsy circles against your clit, his husky tenor cooing sweet words of encouragement into the space just below your ear. “I can feel you, angel, let go for me. I’ve got you.”

With one final thrust, he buries his fingers to the hilt, caressing your g-spot with a tentative come hither motion, until you are ridden with overwhelming waves of pleasure. All you can feel are your tender walls tightening around his fingers, and your thighs starting to tremble under the weight of your high. But he is spellbound, mesmerized by the swirling vision of you at your most content, eyelids hanging low over your blown out hues, your hips absentmindedly grinding against his hand, meeting his timid rhythm as he tries to work you through your aftershocks.

Emptiness soon replaces the stretch of his fingers once he slips them out, but a twitch of excitement follows the path of his slick hand, and you can’t stop from outright moaning at his shameless display.

“Just what I thought,” he murmurs. You are too captivated by the sight of his lips — pink, and kiss-weathered, and frankly obscene —  opening wide to welcome his slick fingers, gracing his taste buds with your juices, and humming around them as they coat his tongue in an intoxicating elixir . “Open up, pretty girl,” You‘re torn from your trance by the pressure of his digits, knocking against your bottom lip, begging for entry. “Come taste how sweet you are.”

Hollowing your cheeks, you graciously welcome his fingers, putting on a show as you swirl your tongue between the two digits, moaning softly as the bittersweet taste that hits your tastebuds. You aren’t prepared for the shallow, tentative thrust of his digits, or how he starts up a slow, steady rhythm against the back of your tongue — but god do you welcome it, softly gagging with each steady downstroke, spit already dribbling down your chin as you try to keep up with his quickening pace.

“Atta girl, that’s it.” He offers you a ginger smile, one that makes the tears pooling in your eyes worth gagging for. “Good girl. Good, good girl. I wish you could see how pretty you look.”

You try to reply over his digits, but your words are muffled and faint as they thud against the wall of your lips. Luckily, he’s coherent enough to notice that you’d like to speak — and who is he to stifle that sweet little voice of yours? “Thank you,” you pant, fluttering your tear-stained lashes up at him as you clamber to fill your lungs, disputing your feverish pleas as you wriggle away from the outline of his cock. The sensation of his waterlogged jeans rubbing against your sensitive bundle of nerves has you keening over him, pushing you further from his crotch, and closer to his embrace, back arched with a near-feline agility.

“Can I?” you ask, kneading your palms over his thighs, feigning innocence as you inch closer and closer to his zipper with each upstroke, and he nods, granting you permission to free him from his denim confines. In one fluid motion, your one hand unzips his fly as the other helps him kick off the remainder of his offending items, and you have to resist the urge to drool at the sight of his cock springing from his boxers, let alone his sinfully perfect, exposed form.

He’s a little bit larger than you expected — what he lacks in length, he makes up in girth, but there isn’t much to make up for in the first place. His shaft is decorated with pretty, ivory veins, ones that would no doubt twitch beneath the hot, heavy weight of your tongue, and the crown of his cock is flushed, glistening with a thin sheen of precum that makes your mouth feel conveniently dry. Your walls twitch at the disheartening reminder of your emptiness, but all out spasm as his fingers eclipse the circumference of his cock, using your juices to leisurely pump himself.

“You’re so pretty.” You sigh, a flurry of giggles floating beneath your words as you reach out to touch him, hovering just above the tip in order to send him a cautionary glance — one he hurriedly accepts, nodding his head fervently as he stutters into his grasp. A rosy hue blooms across the valley of your cheekbones as you encircle him, covering whatever he can’t as he all but bucks into your palm. His heart strains against his chest upon the realization that his hand easily dwarfs your own, watches your smaller fingers barely curl around his engorged shaft and fights the urge to cum right then and there.

No, he needs to feel you.

“Are you sure?” He asks once more, granting you a final chance to salvage what little scraps remain of your childhood friendship, but you are already committed, determined to devour every last, glorious piece of him, to prove that he is the rightful owner of you, all of you, every shimmering shade of you.The sentiment would be almost derisive if not so loving, so noble, and yet you dismiss it with three, chaste kisses upon the outline of his profile — against his forehead, the notch on the bridge of his nose, and finally his lips, warm and inviting.

“I’m certain.” You promise, merely a breaths width away from his lips.

You have never been more certain of a decision in your life, desperate to feel him nestled deep inside you, to blur the line where he begins and you end. Your fingers curl around the base of his cock, their pressure neither here nor there as they coax a hiss out of him, and you line him up with your entrance, tossing your head back as you waste no time breaching your needy hole with the bulbous head of his cock.

It’s blindingly clear that you have been given the reins, what with Tom’s finger’s seeking refuge in the soil beneath him, a low groan rumbling beneath his chest, his eyes rapt with an unspoken urgency as they survey the spot where you connect, and you relish in your paramount. Your knees dig deeper into the ground as you lower yourself onto him, and with little resistance, your walls steadily welcome inch after inch with a searing embrace, etching every delicious ridge and vein of his length to memory until he bottoms out, and you’re left with an overwhelming sense of fullness. There is a dull pain laced in the stretch of your opening, intermingling with the remnants of your last orgasm, and as you twitch and pulse around his girth, he appears like an dream before you, sifting through a thick haze of desire, wispy curls clinging to the thin sheen of sweat coating his forehead, and eyes blown wide with ripples of pleasure, of lust, that long to be indulged.

Once you’ve adjusted to him, you test a few shallow, tentative rolls of your hips, lifting yourself off the tiniest bit before filling yourself up again. He just feels so perfect, like god spent a little extra time molding him just for you, rubbing against parts of you that have never known such ecstasy until now, and you struggle to find a rhythm amidst all these new, dizzying sensations. “Poor little thing, you’re so worked up, you barely know how to take my cock.” It’s funny, how he can make such degrading words sound so sympathetic, and regardless, your body responds long before your brain can register, wildly spasming around his cock. It doesn’t take long for his fingers to return, digging into the curve of your hips to assist you, working you over his length in long, plundering strokes that steal the air from your lungs. “That feel better, angel?”

“Mhmm,” you shakily nod your head, fingers finding purchase in the broad expanse of his shoulders as you dig your nails into the freckled expanse, flooding his senses with the weak little uh, uh, uh’s tumbling from your lips each time you’re impaled on his cock. If he could lap up every hitch of your breath, every wayward sigh, he’d be drunk off the height of your unbridled joy. Hell, he can barely sustain himself as is, ravenously lapping up the beads of sweat clinging to your temple, swirling his tongue around your earlobe in its descent. Yes, yes, he’s swept up in sultry waves of you, and as your pelvis kisses his, as the air is filled with the sounds of your hips snapping against his own, he’s less and less concerned about emerging from your enchanting depths. “You got another one for me, angel? I can feel you squeezing my cock, baby, I know you got another one.” He’s delirious, clawing at the altar of your hips, and nowhere near as close to finishing as you are, but god is he eager to tear another orgasm out of you.

You, on the other hand, are a furnace, taunting flames of embarrassment licking up your insides, pooling in the small of your back, racing up your cheeks, at such arduous lengths as to mix with the coil of pleasure tightening in your core. Tom seizes the opportunity to find some leverage, pulling his knees up to rest on either side of you, planting his feet on the ground so that he can thrust up into your sopping cunt at a punishing pace, and you both can already feel the tell-tale signs of your building pleasure. “It’s okay, Y/N, you can let go.” Nothing more than a faint whisper, you indulge in the way his cock massages your inner walls, how your name sounds so filthy, yet beguiling, as it slips from his slightly ajar lips, how it blends so well with the weak little moans of his own name rolling off your tongue. “Let go for me. I wanna feel that perfect little pussy cum all over me.” His hand dips between your sweat slick forms, firmly swiping his fingers over your hypersensitive bundle of nerves, turning circles into your favorite shape, and his change in position makes the crown of his cock curve into your g-spot each time he pounds into you — so your helpless to the crescendo of pleasure that washes over you. 

A broken, startled shriek tears through your lungs, and you topple over his thighs, digging crescent shaped indents into his knees as you surrender to your climax, walls fluttering and contracting over his length as he works you over the edge.

“Oh, what a good girl.” He coos encouragingly, reaching his hand out to cup the weight of your breast, swiping his thumb over your peaked bud as his pace eases up, and it isn’t until now that you realize he’s leaning back, holding himself up by his forearms while he drinks in your pleasure-ridden form. “My sweet, sweet girl.” You can tell he’s holding back by the way his hips still stutter up into your overstimulated heat, how his cheeks, his forehead, all of his features are set with a heavy flush, how you aren’t filled to the brim with his cum — and you simply won’t allow that. 

“It’s okay, Tommy.” You whisper, carefully lowering yourself until your chest is aligned with his own, sharply exhaling as you feel him push up against your tender core. Your eyes are soft, and dazed, and oh so pretty, glittering beneath a thin layer of unshed tears, but this is about him, it’s always been about him, and as his cock twitches amidst your spasming walls, you firmly believe that you can handle another orgasm if he can coax it from you.  “Keep goin’, it’s okay. I want you to fill me up. I wanna feel all of you.”

“Y/N—” His voice is stern, but your lips are fierce, stealing whatever argument may have been building in the cavern of his mouth as you weakly tilt your hips downward, offering yourself to him once more. When he muscles up enough strength to tear himself away, he only finds a bounty of understanding, of devotion, of love, teeming at the brim of your eyes, and he needs no words to indulge himself, to yield to a mesmerising whirlpool of you, you, shimmering you.

Tom wraps one arm around your back, holding you close to his chest while you scatter soft, lingering kisses to his shoulder, smoothing his palm over your damp tresses as he hoists one leg over his hip, prying your legs even further apart so he can fuck up into you — impossibly tighter, and tormentingly more responsive as he slams into your overstimulated cunt. You can feel every square inch of him now, every long sweeping vein, the tiny sliver of skin hidden beneath his tip, it’s all crystal clear as he plunges into your weepy core, and you’re so cockdrunk, so fucked out of your mind, that you don’t even notice your hips slanting down to meet his thrusts. You’re just that greedy for another orgasm, hellbent on tumbling over yet again as he fills you to the brim.

It doesn’t take long for him to work himself to that precipice once again, the coil in his stomach pulled taut with your whimpered chant of his name, with each strong pulse of your cunt tightening over him. He buries himself to the hilt one last time, stuttering into your hips with a loud, frenzied groan, and finally teeters off the edge, dragging you down with him as you sink your teeth into his shoulder blade, pumping his hot seed into you, coating your walls with hot spurts of cum as you milk him for every last drop, the crude sound of your arousal mixing with his own making you shudder.

You both lay there for a second, safe in each other’s warm embrace, basking in the aftermath of your fortuned affair, and you cowered beneath the sky and it’s constellation clad ceiling, feeling infinitesimal, but oh so contented, beneath its glorious gaze. There, wrapped up in one another, two splintered halves mending, healing, into the whole they were destined to become — the sky was but a star in comparison to your light, your bright, everlasting light.

How did we get here? You wonder. How, oh, how is he finally mine?

You follow the steady rise and fall of his chest, the way the moon lounges across his curly lashes in a silver chaise — you survey him at his most vulnerable — and determine that you have more than enough time to find the answer. As long as he’s here, by your side, you don’t plan to wander too far.

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING! PLEASE LIKE, OR LEAVE A COMMENT, IF YOU ENJOYED!

TAGLIST: @devotion @reawritesthings​

[fanmoose12]

Levihan week 2021

Day four: Childhood

Summary: Levi goes to kindergarten. Kuchel worries.

Up, then down, again and again, her leg was moving in frantic, jerky movements that were becoming faster and faster with each tick of the clock.

Kuchel glanced at it, biting her lip. Shit, it was only eleven in the morning. There was still five hours left.

"Oi, sis," a heavy hand fell on her knee, stopping the nervous bouncing. "How many coffees did you have this morning?"

"Two cups," she answered, flicking hair out of her face. "Maybe, three. Or four. I couldn't fall asleep last night."

"Jesus," Kenny sighed. "Nothing will happen to that little runt, stop going crazy over it."

"It's his first day in the kindergarten, Kenny, how can I not go crazy waiting for him?" Kuchel couldn't quite understand how Kenny managed to be so calm. Sure, as a mother, she worried a lot more, but Kenny was as relaxed as ever. Was he actually not nervous at all? Was he not worried for his nephew? "So many things can go wrong! He can get lost or injured! Kids may start bullying him, he may not like the food or the teacher! Or maybe he's feeling lonely and abandoned and scared and—"

"Sis," Kenny squeezed her shoulder, interrupting her tirade. "You know, I'm the first one to give shit to your brat, but he's not an idiot. I'm sure he's doing fine. He's old enough, after all."

"He's only four."

"But he's not that helpless. Relax and enjoy your time without him."

"How can I enjoy my time if Levi's not here?"

"For fuck's sake," Kenny rolled his eyes. "Then get used to being without him. He'll leave you one day, whether you want it or not."

"You're an asshole," Kuchel punched his arm, hiding a smile. As rough as her brother's manner of speaking was, it actually helped to ease some of her nerves.

But just as Kuchel was mentally ready to stop staring at the clock, wishing the point would start to go faster, her phone started ringing.

After glancing at the screen, she froze, the anxiety returning.

"Kenny," she said quietly, forcing words past the lump in her throat. "Kenny, the teacher from the kindergarten is calling me."

"Well, take it!" he urged. "Or do you want to me take care of it?"

She threw a dark look at him, she wasn’t a little girl anymore. She was anxious, yes, a little bit panicked, perhaps, but she didn’t need her big brother answering the call instead of her. Resolutely, she grabbed the phone, accepting the call. Taking a long, deep breath, she put the phone to her ear.

"Hello?"

“Good day, Miss Ackerman, it's Levi's teacher. Please, don't worry,” how could she not after words like that? “It's a standard procedure, but can you come to see me? You see, Levi has gotten into a fight—"

Oh. Not even her wildest fears involved Levi, her gentle, kind Levi getting into a fight. She exchanged a look with Kenny, her heart beating wildly in her chest.

"I'll be there as soon as I can," she promised and hanged up.

Okay, maybe, deep down, she was a little girl who needed her big brother from time to time.

She turned to Kenny, showing him her terrified eyes.

"Goddamn it," he ruffled his hair and rose to his feet. "C'mon, I'll give you a lift."

___

The whole ride to the kindergarten, Kuchel felt like she was sitting on needles.

"Do you think Levi is the one who started the fight first? Do you think he's hurt? Do you—"

"Kuchel!" Kenny slammed his hands on a steering wheel, throwing her an exasperated look. "It's a fight between two children, how serious can it possibly get? The teacher called just as a formality, I'm sure the runt is perfectly fine. Calm the fuck down already."

Kuchel sighed, forcefully unclenching her fists. She knew she was overreacting, but how could she act any differently? Levi was her son, her dear baby, how could she not worry about him?

"Do you want me to go with you?" Kenny asked, his voice softening ever so slightly.

"No, it's fine," vigorously, she straightened her skirt, as Kenny smoothly parked just outside of the kindergarten building. "Thanks for the ride."

"Good luck out there," he smirked, tilting his hat. "Don't bite off the head of the other kid's parent."

"I'll do my best," Kuchel grinned back, feeling that much calmer.

However, her calmness vanished the moment she passed the threshold to the classroom. Her eyes shifted from one corner of the room to the other, searching for the mop of dark, neat hair. Levi was sitting in the corner of the room, next to a brown haired child, who was whispering something to him and holding his hand. The sight confused Kuchel, but before she could get to her son, she was approached by a teacher and another woman, who, as Kuchel had guessed, was the parent of the child who got into a fight with Levi. Anger sparked inside her as their eyes met.

"Thank you for arriving so swiftly," the teacher smiled, leading both women to her desk. "Miss Ackerman, this is Mrs. Zoe, Hange's mother," Kuchel gave another woman a tight-lipped smile, wondering which one out of dozen kids in the classroom was that Hange who dared to hurt her son. "Like I said, this is just a formality, you have nothing to worry about. As you can see," the teacher continued, gesturing to the corner where Levi was sitting. "Your children are alright, and, I think, the conflict is already resolved."

With her eyes widening in surprise, Kuchel stared at Levi and his new friend. That was the kid he got in a fight with? The same kid who was now holding his hand and animatedly talking with her quiet, surly son?

"So..." Kuchel fidgeted with the sleeve of her dress, a little unsure. "What was the fight about?"

"Let's ask the children," the teacher called out to them, beckoning to come closer.

They did, still hand in hand.

"I'm sorry," Levi mumbled, casting his eyes down. "I shouldn't have pushed four-eyes down."

"No!" Hange exclaimed, puffing her cheeks and stomping her feet. "It's me who should be apologizing! Levi told me not to touch him with my filthy hands but I still did it!"

Was that the core of the problem? Kuchel wasn't sure if she should scold Levi or laugh at his habits.

“It looks like the conflict is truly resolved,” Mrs. Zoe chuckled, ruffling Hange’s hair.

“You can take your children home, if you wish to,” the teacher offered. “But I called you just to make sure that both of them are alright and unharmed.”

“Mom, I’ll stay, okay?” Hange asked, smiling toothily.

“What about you, buddy?” Kuchel kneeled next to her son, caressing his chubby cheek. “Want to stay? Or we can go home, I’ll buy you some ice-cream.”

“No,” Levi shook his head. “I’ll stay too, mom.”

Oh. Kuchel didn’t expect this. She was so afraid that Levi would have a hard time connecting with the other kids. But it seemed like he had already found a friend, even if the start of their friendship wasn’t all that smooth.

“Then I’ll come for you in the evening.” Kuchel kissed his cheek, smiling when she saw the light blush on his face. Was her boy truly growing up? “Have fun.”

Out of the corner of her eyes, Kuchel noticed Mrs. Zoe walking out of the classroom. She wanted to follow after her, but just as she stood up, she felt a tug on her skirt. Turning around, Kuchel saw Hange. The kid looked worried, her brows furrowed.

“Please, don’t be angry with Levi,” Hange whispered, careful not to let anyone else hear. “He was so afraid that you would get upset with him. I’m sorry I got him into trouble. I didn’t mean to! I just wanted to be friends with him.”

Hange shifted her weight from one foot to another, wringing her fingers. Kuchel stared at her, her chest tightening. God, what an angel of a child. And to think that she wanted to be angry with the kid who got in a fight with Levi. But how could she be angry with Hange?

“I’m not mad at him, honey,” Kuchel gently patted her hair. “And I’m not mad at you as well. You did nothing wrong, don’t worry.”

“Oh,” Hange grinned toothily, her eyes sparkling. “Alright then! Bye, Miss Ackerman!”

Instantly, the kid darted away, running to Levi who was waiting for her all this time, staring at them inconspicuously.

Smiling, Kuchel left the children be, catching up with Hange’s mother.

“Sorry for my Levi,” she said, falling into step with another woman. “He’s a good kid, but can be… a little rough.”

“No harm done,” Mrs. Zoe assured her. “My Hange was just as much at fault there. I told it to her a thousand times, but she keeps forgetting that not everyone is as friendly and open as she is. I guess she’s too young to understand what personal space means.”

“Doesn’t look like Levi cares about it,” Kuchel jokes, turning around to watch her son walk around the playground, tightly holding Hange’s hand in his. “It seems like they’re already friends.”

“I’d sleep easier if it turns out to be true,” Mrs. Zoe huffed. Catching Kuchel’s baffled look, she tensed. “Sorry,” she said hastily. “I know it may not look like it, but it’s hard for Hange to make friends. She’s… too intense.”

“I’m surprised Levi managed to find a friend so quickly,” Kuchel confessed, patting Mrs. Zoe’s shoulder in a comforting manner. She rather liked Mrs. Zoe. Not just because Hange seemed like a very nice kid, but her mother appeared to be very pleasant, as well. She didn’t ask why Kuchel was Miss Ackerman, and she didn’t seem to mind her less than new and shiny clothes. “He’s a quiet kid, so I was worried he’d feel lonely.”

“Well, looks like our children found each other then,” Mrs. Zoe smiled, offering her hand for Kuchel to shake. “I have to go now, but I’m sure we’ll meet again.”

“Let’s just hope that the circumstances will be a little different next time,” Kuchel shook her hand, smiling back.

She waved at the other woman and headed to the car, where Kenny was waiting for her. Before she got inside, she threw a last look at the playground. Levi was on top of the slide, Hange by his side. Both children had a stick in hand, waving them at something in the sky. Levi didn’t seem as enthusiastic and excited as Hange, but he was smiling, more openly than usual.

And his smile was enough to calm Kuchel’s heart. Hopefully, this was the first and the last time her Levi got into a fight.

___

Unfortunately, her worst fears confirmed just a week later, when she was called to the kindergarten once again.

As she was driving to the kindergarten, Kuchel kept wondering what had happened. During the whole week, Levi seemed so happy, coming home every day with a new story about his adventures with Hange.

If he got into a fight with Hange for the second time… Kuchel would give him an earful for hurting that sweet, adorable child.

But when Kuchel entered the classroom, there was no sign of Hange’s mother there. Instead, there sat a black-haired man, who had his arm wrapped around a blonde boy with bloodied nose. When her eyes fell on Levi, Kuchel felt a sense of deja vu. He was sitting in the corner as the last time, and, just like before, Hange was beside him, whispering something into his ear. In comparison to the other boy, Levi seemed uninjured, except for his hand that was wrapped in a white handkerchief.

Kuchel cursed under her breath, slowly approaching the teacher’s desk.

“I’m sorry,” the teacher smiled sympathetically. “But this time, the fight was a lot more serious.”

Kuchel nodded, seeing the evidence of it on the blonde boy’s face.

“Levi!” the teacher called, gesturing to him. “Come here, dear.”

Levi did, with Hange following after him. The teacher sighed, shaking her head. “Hange, I didn’t ask you to join. Please, go and play with the others while we talk.”

“But—”

“Go, four-eyes,” Levi gave her a light push. “I’ll be fine.”

Hange didn’t look all that convinced, but she complied, and, after giving the blonde boy a look that was a little too vicious for the four-year old kid, she went to the table with the coloring books.

“This is Mister Yeager, Zeke’s father,” the teacher explained to Kuchel. “Zeke, would you like to tell us what has happened today?”

“He punched me,” Zeke mumbled, gingerly holding an ice-pack to his face. “Two times!” he added, showing the exact number with his fingers.

“Levi…” Kuchel admonished softly. “Why did you do it?”

“He knows why.” Levi said, his eyes dark with anger.

“Would you tell us what Zeke did then?” the teacher asked.

“No.”

After Levi’s curt answer, there was a beat of silence, as three adults struggled to come up with a solution to this conflict. Tentatively, the teacher tried again.

“Would you apologize to Zeke, at least?”

“No.”

“Levi,” Kuchel whispered. “Please, apologize.”

“No.”

“I’ll buy you an ice-cream.”

“No.”

“I’ll allow you to watch cartoons until midnight.”

“No.”

“I’ll bake your favorite cake.”

At that, Levi seemed to hesitate. But a moment later, the stubborn expression returned to his face.

“No.”

Kuchel sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. Perhaps, she should have let Kenny deal with all of it.

“Well,” Zeke’s dad chuckled, a little awkwardly. “Not all conflicts can be resolved. Besides, what happened has already happened. There is no use for apology, if it won’t be sincere. Let’s just hope that this accident won’t repeat again.”

“Levi?” the teacher looked sternly at him. “Do you promise not to hit Zeke again?”

Levi glanced at Zeke, his frown deepening as their eyes met. The hand, wrapped in a handkerchief, clenched into fist, but momentarily relaxed, as Levi got ahold of himself. “I promise not to hit him, if he promises not to do the things he did.”

“I promise,” Zeke muttered, just as moodily as Levi.

“If that’s all,” Mister Yeager rose to his feet. “Then I shall take Zeke home.”

As soon as Zeke and his father left, Kuchel turned to Levi.

“Well?” she asked, rather strictly. “What was that about?”

Levi avoided her gaze, staring down at his feet. “The bastard got what he deserved.”

Kuchel winced at his choice of words. Kenny and his damn influence.

But that was probably a conversation for another time.

“And what did he do to deserve it?”

“He… he was throwing rocks at four-eyes.”

Oh. Well, that certainly explained Levi’s anger then. Now, Kuchel even felt bad for scolding him. That Zeke boy did deserve that punch.

“Baby, what you did…”

Was wrong, a good parent would have said. But, perhaps… Kenny’s influence was affecting her as well. Or it wasn’t Kenny’s influence at all. Perhaps, it was her Ackerman’s blood. Whatever it was, but she couldn’t just lie to her son like that.

“Levi,” she said, caressing his hair. “Next time someone hurts Hange or you… make sure no one sees when you hurt them back.”

She winked at himm and Levi relaxed, showing her a small grin. “I’ll remember that!” he promised.

Kuchel grinned back, relieved that her son was feeling that much better already.

“Now go. Someone is waiting for you,” she pointed at Hange.

Levi nodded happily and scurried towards his friend.

Kuchel watched him go, a smile still playing on her lips. She was so worried about Levi having troubles connecting with his peers and finding friends.

But, thankfully, her son was lucky to meet Hange Zoe.

[fruitcoops]

Part 3 of the disowning fic where Sirius calls Reg and Remus tells James (with Sirius’ permission ofc) and when Walburga calls Reg, he rips into her like never before. James rushing to Sirius’ house and basically having to be restrained from going to her house with Reg in tow.

Hopefully that makes sense. Sorry it’s probably really badly phrased

This makes a ton of sense--thank you for sending it in! Writing Regulus is such a neat challenge, since he and Sirius are so similar and yet so different. Sweater Weather credit goes to @lumosinlove!

Part 1 II Part 2

TW for disownment and past child abuse (mentioned)

If Sirius ever met the person that invented showers, he would kiss them on the mouth. With tongue, if requested.

His phone hummed on the coffee table; when he made no move to grab it, Remus reached over and flipped the screen up. “Reg is on the way.”

Sirius hummed and cuddled into his chest, tightening his hold on his waist. Gentle fingers combed through his damp hair and he was warm all over in the best way. His face and eyes still itched a little, and his throat was raw from crying so hard, but at least he finally felt clean. The ache in his gut had dulled.

Remus pressed his lips to the space just above Sirius’ ear and wrapped his arms around him, tracing patterns on his upper back beneath his shirt. The skin-to-skin contact was something he never knew he needed so much—he couldn’t imagine living without it now. “We should go on vacation sometime this summer,” he mused, absently braiding a few locks of Sirius’ hair.

“Where?”

“I dunno. Somewhere warm, where we can swim and you can get all sexy and tan.”

Sirius laughed against his chest and breathed in the honey-lavender smell of his soap. “As long as you promise to freckle.”

He could feel Remus smiling. “I’ll do my best. It wouldn’t have to be a long trip, either—maybe a week in Florida, or California.”

“Alabama?” Sirius teased.

“Honey.” Remus kissed his forehead. “If you take me to Alabama—” Another kiss. “—I will take the biggest spider I can find—” A third kiss, so sweet in comparison to his playful threat. “—and put it in your shoe.”

Sirius snorted. “Just divorce me, that would be nicer.”

“Mmm, no, you’d miss me too much.”

“Put a spider in my shoe and we’ll see if that’s true.” Remus’ shoulders shook under him as they laughed and Sirius kissed his collarbone, then closed his eyes. “Do we have time for a nap before Reg gets here?”

“Maybe. How fast does he drive?”

“Not as fast as Pots—”

The doorbell rang, and then kept ringing; someone knocked insistently on the door, and Sirius groaned as he untangled his limbs from Remus and wandered over.

Regulus was not alone on the porch.

“What’s her phone number?” James demanded, practically smoking with fury as he and Regulus stormed into the house. He let out a furious breath when he saw the open envelope on the kitchen counter.

Sirius raised an eyebrow at his little brother. “Did you call him?”

“Of course I called him,” Regulus scoffed. “We also called Logan.”

“Isn’t he in Canada for the rest of the week?”

“Yeah, but he said he’d be here on Friday.” Regulus gave him a quick once-over and a stormy look came over his face. “When did she drop those off?”

“She didn’t. The mailman did, just after five.” Something bitter tinged Sirius’ mouth. “That was after she tried to make Remus give them to me.”

“What a bitch.”

“Reg!”

“It’s true,” Regulus snapped, though his anger was clearly directed elsewhere. “She’s a horrible coward and you deserve better.”

James held his phone up to get Sirius’ attention. “What’s her number?”

“I’m not giving you her phone number, J.”

“Reg, what’s her number?”

Regulus bit his lip for a second, then shook his head. “She won’t know who you are, and she would sue your ass faster than you could blink if you lost your temper on her. Me, on the other hand…”

Sirius put his hand over Regulus’ phone. “Don’t do this. If she disowns you, too—”

“If she disowns me I’ll throw a fucking party!” Regulus all but shouted. The room went silent. “I am sick and tired of hiding and watching them hurt you. She doesn’t control me anymore.”

“I’m not letting you get hurt for me.”

“And I’m not asking for you permission.” Regulus stepped back and dialed a number; in the kitchen doorway, Remus and James watched them in a mix of shock and concern.

The call connected and Regulus’ whole face went stony. “What is it, Regulus?” a tinny voice asked.

“Is it true?”

“Is what true?” Walburga sniffed. “Please, Regulus, we’ve discussed this. You have to clarify your intentions—”

“Did you disown my brother?”

“He’s not your brother anymore.” Disdain dripped from her voice and Sirius’ throat constricted as cold fire lit in Regulus’ eyes.

“He’s more family to me than you ever were.” His tone was even and deadly.

“Don’t be ridiculous—”

“Shut up.” A protective urge jolted in Sirius’ gut and he almost smacked the phone out of Regulus’ hand. “Just shut up.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You’re a coward and a liar, and I hate you.” A fine tremor slipped through and Regulus gritted his teeth. Remus touched Sirius’ elbow gently, and he gripped his hand tight.

“Listen here, you silly boy—”

“You don’t get to hurt him anymore. Sirius is a better person that you could ever dream of being and the fact that you can’t accept when your own son is happy—”

“He disgraced us—”

“You disgraced us!” Regulus snapped. “You and your rules, your blood money, your parenting that belonged more in a prison than a house! I’m not stupid, Mother, I know what you did was wrong!”

There were a few beats of silence. “I did what I did to prepare you for the real world.”

“The real world doesn’t give a ten-year-old a black eye for breaking a plate.”

Sirius closed his eyes and clenched his jaw as Remus inhaled sharply next to him; James cursed under his breath. The plate had been one of his grandmother’s, part of a twelve-piece set that they were using for Thanksgiving. One flipped corner on the rug had sent him flying, but the porcelain shard in his hand had hurt less than Walburga’s fury.

She was breathing hard on the other end of the line. “The world is a cruel place, Regulus.”

“No crueler than you.”

“Watch your mouth, you ungrateful child, or you’ll find yourself in the same shoes as that stain on our family tree.”

A flinty look came over Regulus then; if Sirius didn’t know better, he’d say he looked almost smug. “Do it. I dare you to look the media in the eye and tell them you disowned one son for being happy and the other for calling you out on your terrible parenting.”

“We disowned him for being a failure and a disgrace.”

Grey met grey as Regulus spoke next, his gaze never flickering from Sirius’ eyes. “Happily married to the love of his life, youngest captain in the league, with two Stanley Cups under his belt? Doesn’t sound like a failure to me, and far from a disgrace.”

Remus squeezed his hand as Sirius swallowed back a few tears that had started to gather. He offered a weak smile and the corners of Regulus’ eyes crinkled slightly.

“I’m hanging up the phone now,” he said, smooth and collected. Walburga was utterly silent. “Never contact me or my brother again. If you disown me, at least have the dignity to do it in person.”

He hung up and slid his phone into his back pocket. “Jesus,” James half-laughed behind them. “Remind me never to get on your bad side.”

“That was really brave, and really stupid.” Sirius said as he walked forward. Regulus met him in the middle, tucking his head under Sirius’ chin in a tight hug. “Thank you.”

“Brave and stupid, huh? I’m turning into you already.”

Sirius flicked his ear with a grin, but never loosened his hold. “Brat.”

“Love you.”

He closed his eyes and felt Regulus’ heartbeat through his palm. “Love you, too.”

“Will you at least give me her address so I can egg her house?” James asked once they separated, already moving to give Sirius another hug. He melted into it; James had the incredible ability to make him feel completely and utterly safe, like the world couldn’t touch him as long as he was there.

“As amazing as that would be, I’d rather not see you arrested.”

“Fair point.” He pulled back a bit and James searched his face. A wrinkle appeared between his brows. “How can I help?”

“This is nice.” Exhaustion made Sirius’ limbs heavy and his head was starting to throb from his earlier breakdown. James pulled him back in and two more sets of arms followed, forming a shield all around him. He felt Remus kiss his cheek and Regulus’ hand splay over his ribs; James was steady, an anchor in the storm. “How am I going to tell people about this?”

“You don’t have to,” Remus murmured.

“If I don’t, she will.”

“Then tell them the truth,” Regulus said. “Maybe not everything, but the relevant parts.”

“We’ll be here with you.” James’ voice was soft. “Us, and the rest of the team. Anything you need.”

Sirius didn’t say anything, but he did sink into the warmth of their embrace and let the weight of fear and unease lift off his shoulders. The burden wasn’t his alone; it never had been.

[fatiguing-thoughts]

“Natural” - Chapter One- Embry Call x Reader

Coming Home

After almost two years, I finally got to come back to Forks. We had to move for my dad’s job temporarily, which was truthfully my biggest nightmare. I was stuck living in Texas; rotting away in the sun and overbearing heat. I had missed all my friends, while I tried to contact them as much as I could, it was super difficult to keep our contact as much as I would like-- especially due to their mysterious disappearances at times. 

I left our sophomore year of highschool, something we were all supposed to go through together, alas I did it alone and miserable. Yeah we would’ve gone to two different high schools, but to be able to hang out every day as we usually did was something I would’ve killed for.  I just was happy that I can assume they all had a better experience since they were together. 

We were such a tight knit group of friends, thanks to my dad being great friends with Billy Black. It was Jake, Quil, Embry, and I against the world. Though, if I were to be honest, Embry was the first guy I ever had a crush on. Since we were kids, I wanted nothing more than to be with him. I think only Jake knew, as he was the first friend I ever made. The constant behind the scenes teasing was something I could never forget. 

Part of me wonders that if I ever left, would Embry and I have ended up together? I always felt that the feeling probably was mutual, but the fear of ruining the best friendship ever was a lot to consider. I never pushed, and neither did he. Though, before I left-- we did kiss. 

That kiss was enough to leave me with the feeling of a thousand suns bursting in my soul. I never wanted to let go of Embry. But it was something we never discussed further. I’m still not even sure why not, probably because me leaving hurt us all a lot. We often still add music to our shared playlist, though. I would have to make it a point to myself for my own sake that I don’t get my hopes up for nothing. 

Over the years, I’ve never been so thankful for technology. I still got to, as I said, rarely watch them all grow up seemingly overnight. The haircuts last year really threw me through a loop, but I never pressed. It made me sad to see Jake and Embry cut their hair, I loved their hair. The excitement that I felt to see them again was raging inside of me. They had no clue I was coming back so soon. I told them I would return after graduation in the summer, but they had no idea I meant that week. 

As we pulled up the small house in Forks, I could barely contain my excitement. I followed my father’s car in my own, watching the moving truck unload everything into our new house. 

We both exited our respective cars, meeting up for a nice side hug on the front lawn, admiring the new house. 

“You talked to Billy, right?” I ask him. 

“Yes. He said the boys should be around, or at least Jacob would be. You can head over there soon.” He smiled at me, knowing that seeing the guys was the top priority for me. 

“Thank you, dad. I’ll help unpack, too. Don’t worry. I just miss them so much.” I say, almost tearing up at the thought of them. 

I walked into the house, finding my room. I dropped what I brought with me in my car off. I smiled at the thought of being back home. I was going to love decorating my new room. I was going to love the environment again, the woods. Everything. I looked out my window and admired the patch of woods I was blessed to have nearby. I would have to explore those soon. I smiled at the thought of smelling the pine trees and the earth underneath my feet. I would have to drag the guys on hikes again. 

I grab my keys, phone, and wallet and throw them into my small bag. Walking down the stairs avoiding the moving guys as best I can. 

I start my car, driving down the long and winding roads to the reservation. Smiling like an idiot, before the nerves kicked in. 

What if they changed so much and would hate me now? What if they don’t want me around? What if Embry wants nothing to do with me? Even worse, what if Embry had a girlfriend? 

I tried to shake the thoughts away, knowing it would only ruin the surprise. 

Before I knew it, I pulled up to the Black household. I got out of my car, walking up the path to the front door, knocking. 

The door swings open to Billy smiling. 

“I can’t believe you’re here, kid. I missed you!” He rolls backwards, letting me in. I hugged him hello. 

“I can’t believe it either.” I said, smiling. 

“You grew up so much. I can’t even believe it.” He looks at me, smiling like a proud uncle. 

“It’s crazy right? I can’t even imagine how big they all got. In pictures they look huge.” I laugh.

“Oh yeah, they got huge. Jacob and Quil should be here in a few minutes, I sent them out to go get swedish fish. Your favorite.” He laughed. 

“Oh, so they’re bringing me a snack without knowing?” I laugh.

“Yeah they are. Please, come sit down.” He directs me to the couch. 

I thank him and walk over, plopping down. We had some small talk for a few minutes before we heard the boys coming back. The doorknob began to open and I felt my heart almost leap through my chest. 

“We got the swedish fish. But why did we have to get them? You don’t even like-.” Jacob stops talking as he sees me sitting on the couch. 

Quil looks at him confused, before seeing me for himself. His face lights up. 

“No fuckin way.” Quil says through an ear to ear grin. 

“(Y/N)!” Jacob runs over to me, I stand up before he picks me up, spinning me in a hug. 

“When did you get here?” He asks me, smiling like a kid on Christmas.

At least they were happy to see me. 

“Forks? About an hour ago. Your house? Like ten minutes ago.” I laugh. 

“You’re back for good?” He asks, still not letting go of me. 

“Yes. For good, finally.” I smile. 

“Okay okay, it’s my turn.” Quil says, pushing past Jacob to engulf me into a rib-crushing hug. 

I noticed how they were both burning hot as Quil didn’t let go of me. 

“Jesus, you’re both burning up. Are you guys sick?” I ask concerned.

“No, we just run hot.” Quil smiles. 

“Oh, okay… So when did you guys get so… massive?” I ask, practically looking up at them. 

“About a year or so ago. You missed a lot, sweetie.” Quil says, messing up the hair on my head. 

“You guys have matching tattoos?” I ask, pointing to their arms. 

“Wow, (Y/N). You’re observant today.” Jacob laughs.

“Yeah, it’s for the tribe. A lot of us have it.” Quil says, looking at his arm before back at me.

“Oh, that’s really nice. They look great.” I smile at them. 

“So, now that we have this surprise, we have to figure out plans for tonight.” Jake looks between Quil and I. 

“Well, I have a patch of woods by my house. I planned on going on a hike myself tomorrow morning or tonight if I didn’t get home too late. Would you guys wanna do that?” I ask, looking at them. 

“Woah, by yourself?” Quil almost shrieks. 

“Yeah, what’s so bad about that? A lot of bears or something?” I laugh. 

“Yeah, there’s been a lot of bear attacks. We’ll go with you.” Jake offers, glancing back at Billy, who seemed to nod in approval. 

“Oh okay, cool. You could also help me put my room together if you guys want, take a peek at the new house.” I poke Jacob’s arm, knowing they would be great to help me move furniture. 

“Wow, already trying to recruit us?” Quil laughs. 

“Maybe. Or maybe I just need help moving furniture into the best spots?” I smile at them, pleading with my eyes. 

“Okay, let’s go.” Jacob rolls his eyes, playfully shoving me. 

“Okay, I’m parked right outside, I’ll drive. Bye Billy, it was great to see you.” I smile at him, hugging him goodbye. 

“Goodbye, (Y/N). I’ll see you soon, right?” 

“Of course. You’re gonna be sick of me soon!” I yell back at him. 

“Never!” He laughs. 

The boys and I walk over to my car and begin the drive to my house, blasting music and singing like absolute psychopaths. 

We pull into the driveway and they greet my excited father. They talk for a few before I drag them upstairs to help me move my furniture. 

“Jake, you got buff. Like really buff. What happened?” I ask in shock as he moves my dresser with seemingly no effort. 

“Hey, I got buff, too.” Quil says defensively, moving the other dresser with just as much ease. 

“I see that. Jeez, I missed a lot.” I chuckled, looking down sadly. 

“Well, we get to make up for lost time, now.” Jake smiles. “I can’t wait, I’ve missed having friends.” I admit, laughing. 

“You definitely friends in Texas.” Quil scoffed. 

“Nah, not really.” I purse my lips, stifling my chuckle. 

“Well, you have us again. Plus our friend group expanded greatly, so you won’t be bored anymore.” Quil offers, earning a hesitant look from Jacob. 

“Anyone I know?” I ask. 

“Yeah, you’ll remember them. Jared, Paul, Sam, Leah, and some others.” Jacob says. 

“Oh wow, that’s great that you all hang out a lot now.” I smile. 

“Yeah, it is.” Jacob says, looking at the bed. 

“Where do you want the bed?” Quil asks. 

“I can help you guys with that, it’s really heavy with the mattress on it and everything. But I want it in that corner by the window.” I point.

Without missing a beat, the two boys pick up the bed with ease and move it, leaving me surprised. 

“Or not.” I smile. 

They look back to me, smiling. We finish moving everything else around, taking much less time than I thought it would. 

I look around in astonishment, impressed with how quick that was.

“Wanna go for that hike?” Jake offers. 

“Yeah, of course.” I grin, leading them out of my room and out the back door. 

We walk around, exploring the new environment. 

I found a fallen log, walking across the top of it. 

“If you’re as clumsy as I remember, maybe this isn’t your best choice.” Quil laughs. 

Jacob turns, looking at me with impressed eyes as I make it to the end of the log with no slip ups.

“See, I’m fine.” I smirk, right as I trip over my own feet as I went to jump off the log. 

Quil catches me right before I fell into the dirt. 

“Yeah, you’re fine.” He mocks.

“Thanks, Quil.” I nod at him. 

We continued going deeper into the woods, they wanted to hear all about Texas and how much I hated it. 

“So, how bad is the bear thing? I really can’t go hiking alone?” I ask as the sun begins to set, causing us to head back to Jake’s house to watch movies. 

“Uh, really bad. It’s like a real issue here right now.” Quil says, looking at me and then back to Jacob.

“Damn. That sucks. For you guys. Because I’m probably gonna drag you out a lot then.” I smile at them. 

“That’s fine. Works for us.” Jacob smiles. 

“Embry’s gonna shit himself when he sees you.” Quil laughs. 

Embry. 

How I wished he was here. 

“He will.” Jacob laughs, winking at me behind Quil’s back. 

“Oh I’m sure.” I say sarcastically, trying not to blush from Jacob’s silent remark. 

“What? We were all inseparable growing up, just because you were gone for a while doesn’t mean he’ll feel differently.” Quil said. 

“I guess that’s true. Where is he, anyway?” I ask. 

“He’s helping Sam with something.” Jacob answers quickly. 

“Okay... I’ll surprise him tomorrow if that would work.” My voice trails off, eyebrows raised in suspicion. 

“Perfect.” Quil smiles. 

We finally get back to my house, getting into my car and driving over to Jake’s. The drive was once again way too much fun. I missed my best friends. 

“So what’re we gonna watch?” I ask, shutting the car door behind me. 

“I figured Pineapple Express?” Jake offers. 

“Oh god, yes.” I agree excitedly. 

“Great movie.” Quil interjects. 

We begin watching the movie a little after 9:30. 

It starts off with a lot of laughs, but at one point I feel my eyes involuntarily opening and closing. 

My head bouncing up and down, fighting the urge of sleep. 

I wake up to hearing the sound of a guy talking to us, I just didn’t know who it was. I look over at the time, a little after 11:45-- the movie was over. We all fell asleep. I blink my eyes a few times, trying to see what’s going on. 

The man is tall, not as tall as Jacob but taller than Quil. He was just as buff as, if not more, Jake, bigger than Quil for sure. 

Jacob is still knocked out, able to sleep through anything just like I remember, and Quil was stirring awake. 

“Hey, assholes. You’re late. You were supposed to be at Sam’s at 11:30.” He scolds, throwing a pillow at Quil to finish the job of waking him up. 

“Oh shit, what time is it?” He wakes up, beginning to panic. 

“Embry and I are done. It’s your turn, but Embry can’t go to bed until your asses get up and take over. It’s your turn for patrol.” He throws another at Jacob. 

“Paul.” Quil said sternly, nodding his head over to me.

Paul looks over at me, realizing that I was in the room. 

They must’ve not known I was awake and listening. 

“Don’t wake her up.” Quil says quickly. 

“It’s okay, I’m up. I should probably get home anyway. Then you guys can go help your friend with whatever you have to.” I say, yawning. 

“And who are you, pretty lady?” Paul looks at me, smiling. 

“I’m (Y/N).” I smile back, trying not to blush at the compliment. 

“Oh shit, no way. I haven’t seen you in years, I couldn’t even tell in the dark. These guys talk about you all the time.” He smiles as he steps forward. 

I get up and give him a tired hug hello, noticing that he, too, feels hot like Quil and Jake. He also had the same tattoo as them, I wonder if the whole friend group had it. 

“You look great.” He smirks at me. 

“You got huge, too. What the hell happened to all of you?” I ask sleepily, laughing a bit. 

“Just a lot of working out, I guess. Even though I was massive before you left.” He elbows my side lightly. 

“Oh, Paul. You haven’t changed one bit, huh?” I joke. 

“Nope, guess not.” He says. 

“Jake, get up.” Quil says, shaking the boy in his sleep. 

“What?” He groans.

“Get up, pretty boy. You’re late.” Paul says, walking over to wake him up. 

“Oh shit.” He says, jumping out of the seat like his ass was on fire. 

“What are you guys helping him with so late?” I ask. 

“Uh, they’re helping him with some work around the house. A pipe is leaking, we tried to help, but Jacob and Quil are gonna fix it. Because we couldn’t. So, yeah.” Paul says, smiling at me. 

“Ah, I see. Well, I’ll leave you to it. Text me in the morning, let me know a good time to come surprise Embry tomorrow.” I say, walking out of the house. 

“You got it. We’ll call you.” Quil hugs me goodbye, followed by Jacob. 

“I’m so glad to have you back, (Y/N).” Jacob smiles at me. 

“Me too.” I smile, walking out the door and leaving the house behind. Pulling away from his house I see them all walk outside, waving goodbye. 

 _________________________________

Word count: 2756

This is part one of the series I accidentally started today. I hope you all enjoy!

 I  II  III  IV  V  VI  VII  VIII  VIIII  X  XIR XIE  XII  XIII  XIV  XV XVI  XVII  XVIII  XIIII

[chaoticminhos]

swim captain (chapter three)

pairing: bang chan x reader

genre: angst 

warnings: mentions of possible sexual assault, mentions of slight violence

word count: 3.2k

a/n: look at me posting kinda consistently and shit

chan watched as you left the building with jaemin and his friends, head flooding with thoughts of you and his realization.

since when did he like you like that? he’s known you for years, why now was he falling for you? why not last year when he didn’t know who to ask to the dance or earlier this year when he needed a plus one to an important swim meet? you ended up going as minho’s date to both of those things, and chan had ended up taking some random girl.

but it didn’t matter, he couldn’t have asked you to those things as anything more than a friend anyway. whether he fell for you now or a year ago or any time, he needed to cut it out.

it felt inappropriate to have feelings for you. you were the manager of a team that he was captain of and there was a feeling of responsibility that came along with both of those positions. and even if that didn’t matter, how was he supposed to know if you thought of him any different than you thought of the rest of the boys? if anything, you seemed less interested in him than any of the other boys. he probably got one hug for every five the others got, ten if it was hyunjin or minho.

he was sure you saw him as a brother. a good friend, and that was all. you obviously didn’t see him as anything else, or you wouldn’t have left with jaemin. but that was fine, because it would be inappropriate if you did. it was inappropriate that he did.

he tried to think back and figure out when his feelings changed. he couldn’t pinpoint anything specific that would have changed the way he feels towards you, but it made sense of things. like why he had been extra focused on you the past weeks and why minho’s actions were bugging him now, even though they were the same as always. he was forced out of his train of thought when someone called his name.

“chan, you coming?” changbin called from a few feet away, the boys already heading for the door, which chan failed to realize as he was caught up in his own thoughts.

“yeah,” he began, “uh, yeah, sorry.”

he figured it best to go with the boys. they would offer some sort of distraction from the fact that you were with jaemin at that moment, and a bunch of his friends. plus, he had made a point of expressing that he was going out in his attempt to get you to stay with your team and not leave with NCT, so it would look weird if he didn’t go now.

the boys piled into felix’s car. his family had came to the meet and drove his car along with another one, leaving his since they knew the boys would want to hang out after the meet. all of the boys fit in the large crossover, but it was definitely not legal to have that many people packed into one vehicle.

finally deciding on a small ice cream shop, felix pulled into the small parking lot and shut off the car. the boys immediately stormed out of the car and into the diner.

after ordering their ice cream and sitting down, the 8 of them began to chat about the days events. chan didn’t bother to tune in much. that is, until he heard a certain subject being discussed.

“he seemed pretty nice,” seungmin joked, “you know, for someone from NCT.”

“no joke. and he’s pretty, too.” added changbin.

“hey,” felix began, “you trying to steal y/n’s man?”

chan interrupted the bantering, “what about that guy came off as nice to you guys? he was creepy! like, who walks up to a stranger and asks them to leave late at night with them and their friends? that’s weird!” he paused, “and he didn’t even acknowledge that we were there! isn’t he supposed to get, like, permission or something?”

“permission? yeah, from her dad, not her 8 annoying best friends, dumbass.” hyunjin responded.

“seriously, how are you guys so chill about this? we don’t know the kid or anyone on his team.”

“y/n’s a big girl, chan, she can handle herself.”

“against a group of that many guys?” chan scoffed, “yeah right.”

“chan, why are you automatically assuming they’re going to hurt her?”

“why are you assuming they’re not?”

“i don’t know, maybe because there’s no history of NCT being a bad school? maybe because none of those boys have a record?”

“they’re top athletes, hyunjin, you really fucking think the school would let that type of shit on a public record if anything happened? and risk their reputation?”

hyunjin let out an unamused laugh, “we’re top athletes too, chan.” he gestured to everyone around the table, “we have clean records.”

“yeah, clean as long as minho’s assault charge stays expunged.”

he mumbled, pushing his chair back and standing up, headed for the door.

minho stood up with him, moving to grab his arm and stop him from leaving, “are you forgetting i caught that charge defending y/n?”

chan shrugged his shoulders, pulling his arm from minho’s grip and continuing his path to the door, “it’s just an example, minho.”

“how are you gonna get home?” felix called before he could leave.

without turning around, chan responded, “i’ll figure it out.”

and the door shut behind him.

the 7 boys looked at each other, felix practically pulling minho back to his seat to stop him from following chan out the door. that was expected, minho was a hothead, but chan was usually calm and practical, even when upset. and he knew better than to make a scene in public.

“jesus,” jisung laughed, “he flops one race and he turns into a 2 year old having a tantrum.”

“yeah,” minho let out a scoff that the rest of the boys played off as a laugh, “because it’s race he’s pissy about.”

meanwhile, you were sat inside of a fast food restaurant surrounded by a group of curious boys.

“stray kids, huh? aren’t you going to get, like, guillotined for conversing with your enemies?” a boy, who jaemin had identified as lucas, joked.

you laughed, “nah, we keep the competition in the water.”

“tell that to that one guy, he seemed like he didn’t get that memo.” spoke another one of jaemin’s teammates, one you couldn’t remember the name of.

you cocked your head to the side in confusion, and he continued.

“blonde, curly hair. bang, maybe?”

“oh, chan!” he’s just upset about his race, i think.”

“whatever his name is, he’s scary.” spoke the boy you think introduced himself as jeno.

“yeah,” jaemin chuckled, “honestly, i thought i was gonna get my shit rocked. like maybe i’d asked his girlfriend out or something.”

you blushed, letting out a surprised laugh “girlfriend?”

did it really seem like you and chan might be a couple? did chan really seem jealous that jaemin asked you to hang out? you felt butterflies in your stomach at the idea. despite being out on a ‘date’ with jaemin and surrounded by his attractive friends, you still found yourself feeling weaker at the thought of chan than any of the boys around you at that moment.

“yeah, he did not look like he liked the idea of me asking you out, to be honest.”

you didn’t think it was possible, but your face reddened even more. before you could respond that chan was just always super protective of his team, your phone went off, signaling that you’d gotten a text message.

you held your phone up, “speak of the devil.”

channie: hey, let me know when you get home safe, yeah??

you smiled at the message, typing a quick reply.

y/n: gotcha

chan’s message reminded you that it was indeed a school night, and that you should probably head home. you slid your phone back in your pocket and turned to jaemin.

“hey, i should get going, there’s school tomorrow. see you around?”

jaemin shot you a big smile, pulling his phone from his pocket and holding it out for you.

“i would love to see you around. i’ll text you?” he questioned, to which you responded with a smile, taking the device from his hand.

you typed your number into jaemin’s phone, sending yourself a message from it so you would have his number, too.

“need a ride home?”

“no, thank you,” you replied, “i’ll call a cab or something, you stay and have fun. thanks, though!”

you called for a taxi and send a quick message to chan.

y/n: just called a taxi. on my way home.

channie: he isn’t giving you a ride?

y/n: i didn’t want one

chan, sitting in the backseat of his own cab, felt his stomach drop.

channie: did something happen? are you okay?

y/n: i’m fine, just didn’t wanna make them leave just because i wanted to head home.

chan relaxed into his seat.

y/n: how about you guys? headed home soon?

channie: i am. i’m not sure about the others.

y/n: ?

channie: i left early

y/n: still upset about the race?

chan sighed just as the taxi pulled into his driveway. he stepped out, handing a wad of cash to the driver and telling him to keep the change.

he stepped into his house and headed straight to his bedroom, falling onto his mattress. he stared at your message for a few seconds before replying.

channie: something like that.

y/n: it was probably just an off day, don’t beat yourself up about it!

chan looked at your message and tossed his phone on the bed beside him, pulling an arm over his face and groaning in frustration. he was worn out from the day, not even having the energy to shower the chlorine off of himself, he decided he was just going to go to sleep as soon as possible. just as he was nearly dozed off, his phone let out a ding.

y/n: home safe and sound! night, chan

he didn’t bother typing a reply, letting himself fall into a restless sleep.

chan woke the next morning sporting the same outfit as the day before. he grabbed for his phone to check the time, having a mini heart attack when realizing he only had 40 minutes to shower, get ready, eat, and drive to school.

he jumped up, grabbing a random assortment of clothes and headed to the bathroom. he hissed when he got into the shower and felt his skin burn, it was cracking from not having the chlorine washed off of it from the night before.

he and the rest of the boys always had cracked knuckles and chapped lips from being in chlorine so much, but it got significantly worse when the chlorine didn’t get washed off as soon as possible.

he hurried to ready himself before jumping into his car without eating anything. if he wanted to get to school on time, he’d have to skip breakfast.

chan arrived in the school with five minutes to spare, which wasn’t a completely unusual amount of time, just a bit less than he would usually like. heading to his locker, he caught sight of you standing in front of your own, staring down at your phone. he offered a small “hey” as he walked past you and opened his locker.

upon noticing him, you shut your phone off and shoved it into your back pocket.

he looked from you to his locker, speaking as he focused on putting what he needed for the day in his bag.

“have fun last night?”

“yeah! the NCT boys are super nice. you guys would love them!”

“yeah,” chan mumbled, “i’m sure i would.”

with that, you walked past him and towards your first hour class, playfully shoving him as you passed him. it earned you a small smile, and that was enough to make you think his mood from the night before had improved, but he still felt the same cloud of confusion and frustration as he watched you walk down the hallway. he hated himself for thinking it, but just for a small second, he wondered if maybe it would be easier if something had happened and you didn’t like jaemin and his friends.

you and chan didn’t share any morning classes, so he wasn’t able to see you again until lunch, and that was probably good. he decided it would be best to attempt to shove his emotions as far down as possible and act as normal around you as he could, hoping maybe the feelings would go away as quickly as they had came.

because of this, he made no attempt to sit by you at lunch, but tried to converse with you normally, just as the other boys did. just like he did before he realized his feelings towards you. the boys were making it very difficult for him to keep his calm, though, when they wouldn’t leave the topic of you and jaemin alone.

“so, y/n,” jisung teased, “you gonna leave us for NCT and your hot new boy toy?”

you threw a fry from your plate at him with a laugh, “he is not my ‘boy toy’ jisung, he’s my friend. plus, i’d never leave you guys.”

“even if NCT beats us in competition again?” minho pouted.

you smiled at the boy sat across from you on the table, leaning down to rest your elbows on the table as you spoke, “even if they beat us in comp this year.”

minho smiled at you from across the table, eyes glancing over to chan seated beside him for a moment before focusing back on you.

it was obvious to minho that chan had feelings for you, and vice versa. how no one else had caught on he had no clue.

minho thought of himself as a good friend. good friends help their friends out, and even though maybe the idea of pissing chan off after the shot he’d thrown at minho the night before could have been enough for minho to pull a stunt, it did help that good could come out of it. after all, maybe a little jealousy was the shove chan needed to finally ask you out.

minho decided that since chan wasn’t even looking at you, choosing to stare down at his food instead, he would make him look at you.

he reached cross the table and ruffled your hair, “that’s my girl.”

he snuck another glance at chan. it was apparent that although he hadn’t been looking at you, he was listening to what was happening. his head had slightly raised and his eyes were locked onto minho.

deciding to push his friends buttons a bit more, minho locked eyes with chan and cocked his head, pulling a painfully obvious fake look of concern, “you look grumpy, bud, what’s up?”

chan forced an equally fake smile back, sitting up straight and dropping his fork onto his lunch tray with a loud clang.

“just tired.”

minho hummed in response, barely acknowledging chan’s response before turning back to you.

“y/n, i gotta go to the library before lunch ends. come with?”

you nodded, not having caught on to the tension between minho and chan. it wasn’t hard to miss, especially when no one else at the table was paying it any attention either.

“actually, minho.” chan stood from his seat and placed a hand on minho’s shoulder, “coach wanted to see you. you know, about your race yesterday.”

minho raised an eyebrow, “can’t he talk to me at practice?”

“nope,” chan offered no further explanation before grabbing his tray and heading to dump it in the trash. he motioned minho to follow him, “let’s go.”

minho jogged to catch up with chan as he lead them both to an empty hallway.

“isn’t coaches office that way?” minho gestured in the opposite direction.

chan scoffed, “you know damn well that was an excuse. come on dude, stop fucking with me.”

minho raised his eyebrows, feigning innocence, “what do you mean?”

“oh my god minho, you know what i mean.”

minho shrugged, “clearly not. why else would i be asking?”

“because you’re a fucking prick.” chan muttered.

he sighed, running a hand down his face and taking a deep breath, “i know you know i like her, okay? i mean,” he put his hands up and mimicked quotation marks, “‘i would never do that to you.’” he let his hands fall to his side, “you knew before i did. so stop being an asshole. i can’t make the stupid crush go away if i’m pissed off 24-fucking-7 because you’re hitting on her.”

chan ran his hands through his hair. he’d never even admitted it to himself out loud before. this was the first time he’d heard himself say it out loud. he didn’t know if saying it out loud or telling someone would help, but minho obviously already knew. there was no harm in admitting something to someone who knew before you did.

“chan, this is how me and the rest of the boys have always been around her. like yeah, i’ve amped it up a bit recently so you’d finally get it through your thick fucking skull that you’re in love with her and i’ll calm it down again when you’ve stopped being a pussy, but it’s not something that’s going completely away. not from me, not from any of the boys, and honestly dude, probably not from jaemin. you can’t expect her to stop having fun with her friends simply because you’re crushing on her. not even when you’re dating her.” he paused before continuing, “if you end up dating her. jaemin seems to have more balls than you.”

chan groaned, “i know, minho.”

“then make a move.”

“i’m not making a move.”

minho frowned, “what? why not?”

“i’m just not, minho.” his words came out harsher than he’d intended, “but can you please just stop? just until i can shake these stupid fucking feelings, then you can go back to trying to get into her pants.”

minho shoved him, “if i wanted into y/n’s pants, i’d be in them.” he nudged chan again, “but seriously dude, why shake reciprocated feelings?”

chan finally brought his eyes to meet minho’s again, “what?”

minho feigned confusion, “what?”

“repeat that.”

“repeat what?”

“the thing you said about feelings.”

“oh,” minho began, “i said why shake the feelings?”

“that’s not what you said.”

minho frowned, “i’m pretty sure that’s what i said.”

“no,” chan pressed, “you added another word. what did you say?”

minho shook his head, pretending to think about it. “no, i think that’s like word for word what i said.”

chan shoved him, “minho, seriously, what did you say?”

instead of a proper response, minho looked towards the ceiling of the school. he’d given chan enough advice for the day.

“i think that was the bell. i gotta go. see you at practice!”

“minho!” chan yelled as minho jogged down the hallway. the bell had most definitely not sounded, “asshole.”

[talesofesther]

Anchor - Part 2

Five Hargreeves x Reader

Masterlist with the other parts

See part one for important notes 

A/N: since so many people liked the first part, I'm posting part two a little earlier ♥. Also, I'm sorry that this chapter is a little bit smaller than the first one, but I wanted it to end where it did. If you wanna be added to the tag list, let me know.

"Jesus, who designed this fucking house?" Y/N muttered to herself.

She has been walking around the mansion for the past ten minutes or so, but it seemed a lot more than that. After their little breakfast reunion Klaus took Y/N to his room where he was insistent he wanted to learn how to knit, she presumed it was to keep his mind busy. She intended to leave the house because honestly, she felt like she was intruding. But if Klaus's begging was anything to go by, she was forced to stay.

And right now Y/N's after a bathroom. Klaus did offer to show her where it was, but she assumed the big house was filled with them so of course, she said "I can handle it".

She couldn't.

And for her luck, after turning what felt like the 100th corner, she bumped into someone.

"Oh god I'm so sorry" after Y/N backed away from the person she just collided with, she looked up to see a not so amused Five looking down at her.

The boy just adjusted his clothes, took a deep breath, and muttered "it's alright".

Ever since Y/N was a little girl, she was observant. She might be quiet sometimes, but she was always aware of the little things going on around her. And when Five clutched his side a little uncomfortably, she didn't fail to notice.

"Are you hurt? Is everything okay?" The girl's voice was timid but somehow demanding. And for the first time, she eyed Five up and down without an ounce of nervousness.

Five looked down at his side and then back up at the girl, he couldn't understand why her eyes showed genuine concern. For a stranger, for him.

"It's nothing. What are you looking for?" His voice was as serious as it was this morning, if not more. His eyes remaining on her.

Y/N let out a huff of air "a bathroom, I think I passed through every room in this house twice but I couldn't find one".

That made a tiny smirk appear on the boy's face, he was so used to this house that he forgot how it could be a literal maze for strangers. "Just go down this hallway, turn left and then enter the first door to your right. You'll get there"

Five was definitely not expecting the bright smile that appeared in Y/N's face when she said "Thank you". It made him gulp and avert his gaze from her eyes. The weird feeling in his stomach was back.

"No problem" he tucked his hands on the pockets of his shorts, his mouth forming a thin line and he only looked at her again when she walked past him to go down the hallway. As he watched her retreating figure he shook his head and told himself to snap out of it. Someone as tainted as him, shouldn't even deserve to be friends with someone like her, let alone...

He stopped his own dangerous thoughts.

_________

It's been a while that Y/N was once again chilling with Klaus in his room, they were both sitting in his comfy bed, sometimes they would talk but it was mostly a comfortable silence. Besides the fact that his room was a bit of a mess, it was actually very cozy, Y/N particularly liked the Christmas lights hanging around his walls. They made her happy.

But a sudden knock made her raise her head towards the door.

"Get up you two, we're going" Five walked in, seemingly agitated. Y/N furrowed her brows.

"Where?" Klaus stopped messing with his wool ball and glanced up at Five as well.

"Save the world"

"Oh is that all? Great" Klaus's comment made Y/N chuckle, she adored this man. Five shot a glance at her and in less than a minute they were already heading out.

But just outside Klaus's room, they ran into a man running inside another one of the rooms. Y/N was about to say something but Five beat her to it.

"Where have you been?"

"Jail, long story. Where's Luther?" The man answered and Y/N made a face that could only be read as 'what the fuck'. Honestly, this family has no limit.

"Haven't seen him since breakfast" Five answered him like this was just another normal day. And just now Y/N noticed he was standing right beside her.

The man finally came out of his room, putting on some kind of vest. "Shit, Allison is in danger". Just then he noticed the girl between Five and Klaus, looking at her with a questioning look.

Y/N noticed. "I'm- I'm Y/N"

"She's my friend, new addition to our little team" Klaus said as a matter of fact.

"Huh, I'm Diego" he didn't seem to mind her all that much, none of them did actually. For the most part, she was glad.

"So you- you know..." Diego asked while he did the last buttons of his vest.

Y/N let a small smirk appear on her face. "Everything, basically. I had a... A very insightful night with Klaus, about the end of the world apparently" she finished for him.

Five gave a side look at the girl. He was still figuring out if he was happy, upset, or sad that she got involved in all of this.

Next thing Y/N knew she was inside a car, apparently going after Luther. They found him in a bar, and just by seeing him sitting there all alone feeling sorry for himself, the girl almost felt sad herself.

Diego insisted on talking with the big guy alone, so the trio walked back and leaned on some tables. While they were walking Y/N couldn't help but notice that Five was limping, a lot. So she leaned a bit closer to him and asked. "Are you sure you're okay?"

Five felt her inching closer to him, he could almost feel her body heat on his own skin. It made him shiver, made his heartbeat just a little bit faster, his body was tense and for the first time in years he was afraid his voice would betray him. Why does she worry so much? What is happening to him?

"I already told you I am fine" that came out probably more harsh than he intended to, but he had to stop whatever it was that she was doing with him.

"Okay, I was just worried" she answered, putting more distance between them than there was before.

Five wanted to ask why, but he held himself back.

Not long after, Luther was rushing out of the bar, almost breaking the door in the process.

_________

They were all once again in the car, this time Y/N was in the front seat while Five drove and the other three siblings sat very close to each other in the back. Luther looked like he was too big for everything.

Y/N's gaze was focused on the passing landscape outside of the window almost the entire drive. She was almost sure Five didn't like her, not one bit. Or at the very least he was annoyed by her presence. She was just trying to be nice, and in her defense, she was genuinely concerned about his well-being. The guy was limping, what was she supposed to do? At least ask if he's okay right?

The girl rubbed her eyes and forced a stop to her thoughts, it wasn't worth it. She knew nothing about any of them, and it was probably better to stay that way.

"Can you go any faster?" Luther's voice caught her attention, but she didn't turn her head.

"Ask me again and I'll burn you with the cigarette lighter" this boy was definitely something else.

_________

It wasn't long after they all reached a cabin in the middle of the woods. Luther rushed out of the car just as fast he rushed out of the bar earlier. The other siblings followed shortly after so Y/N went in as well.

The sight inside the cabin squeezed her heart with an unpleasant feeling. There was a woman on the ground, Y/N presumed it was Allison, she seemed to have a deep cut on her neck and the ground already had a pool of her blood.

Luther held the woman close to him, saying things to her with his broken voice. It seemed like his whole world had crumbled. Y/N knew the feeling.

***

Thank you for reading ♥ the next part should be out soon. And if you have any idea about how this story should progress or anything you would like to see in it, please send me an ask or message and I’d be happy to include it. ♥

[spooderboyandtincan]

Hibernation

“Mr. Parker!”

Peter’s eyes flew open, blinking rapidly. “Whassup?”

The teacher glared down at him, her hawk-like features sharpening. “Perhaps I can direct your attention elsewhere,  Mr. Parker, since your desk seems to be so fascinating.” She slipped a blank sheet of paper on his desk. “Pop quiz, everyone!”

Peter hummed drearily as the room filled with groans, glares heating the back of his head. He shivered miserably and picked up his pencil, wishing he had worn a sweatshirt instead of a thin t-shirt with a science pun on it. 

He closed his eyes and tried to imagine curling up in his bed, warm and cozy. Nice and warm, lots of blankets, hot chocolate, sleep….

Mmmm, sleep. 

“Peter!” Ned hissed, poking his side. “Pete!”

“Hmmm?” 

“Dude, you okay?”

“Yeah,” he mumbled, glancing vaguely at his friend’s face. “Yeah, of course.”

Ned squinted. “Yeah, right. You need the nurse.”

“No, I don’t.” Peter scribbled a circle on the paper. “I’m one-hundred percent fiiiiiiiiine.”

“Dude, everything you just said convinced me you’re not fine,” Ned said. “Peter, really. Did you sleep at all last night?”

Peter thought back. Actually, he’d slept incredibly well, falling asleep before his head hit the pillow. “I did. Really good, actually.”

“Did anything happen during your… internship?” his best friend whispered confidentially.

The boy shrugged. “Haven’t gone out for a few days. So, no.”

Ned frowned at Peter, who rubbed his eyes vigorously, his hands shaking slightly as he fiddled with his pencil. 

What was going on with his friend?

~~~~~

Happy glanced up to look for the kid, scanning the crowd. He spotted Peter, and his friend, Ted, or Fred, or whatever. 

The kids stopped at the car, Ned squinting worriedly at Peter, saying something Happy couldn’t hear. The back door opened and Peter slid in, waving quietly to his best friend. Ned smiled and shut the door. 

With a heavy sigh, he slumped against the seat and closed his eyes. Sleep. 

“Kid?” Happy said, looking in the rearview mirror. “You okay?” 

“Mmhmmm.”

“You don’t look so good.”

“‘M just tired.” 

Happy raised his eyebrows. “Sure, kid.” 

He drove to the penthouse as fast he could.

~~~~~

Peter staggered to the elevator, ignoring Happy’s offers to help. “No, really, I’m just tired. I’m tired, that’s all.” 

“Okay, kid, I got it. Now go to sleep, or I’ll call Tony and May.”

He barely made it to his room without collapsing, falling onto his bed and kicking off his shoes, snuggling under the blankets and curling into a ball. 

Within seconds he was deeply asleep.

~~~~~

Tony fiddled with a button on the cuff of his fancy gray suit as Pepper spoke. It felt like the meeting had gone on for days, but in reality it had only been a few hours. Though those few hours hadn’t been exactly short. He was surrounded by old geezers who probably didn’t have their own teeth.

Plus, it was Friday, which meant Peter was already in the penthouse.

He pulled out his phone quietly and did a quick check on Peter’s vitals. His heartbeat was slow, his temperature cool, and was deeply asleep. Tony nodded, satisfied his kid was okay.

“-and that concludes this meeting, ladies and gentlemen,” Pepper finished, neatly stacking the papers in her hands. “Thank you for your attention.”

“Glad that’s over with,” Tony muttered as they dispersed, getting up from his seat and pulling off his jacket. “Thought I was about to die from old age.”

Pepper rolled her eyes. “More likely to die of cold, Tony. It’s freezing in here.”

~~~~~

The inventor walked through the penthouse, rubbing his eyes. First he checked the couch for Peter (empty) then continued to Peter’s own room.

He knocked gently on his door before pushing it open and moving to sit on Peter’s mattress, pressing a kiss to Peter’s forehead and smoothing back his soft curls. 

Tony frowned suddenly and felt his kid’s forehead. “Jesus, you’re cold, baby. FRI? What’s his temp?”

“Peter’s temperature is at 79 ℉,” she answered. 

“What?!” Tony bolted to his feet. “Read his vitals.”

“Heart rate sixty beats per minute, blood pressure 70/80 mm Hg.”

Without thinking, Tony scooped a limp Peter into his arms and sprinted to the medbay.

~~~~~

“He’s hibernating?!”

Helen nodded. “It’s his spider side. It was cold enough today to send him into hibernation.”

Tony paled even more as he took this information in. “How do we fix him?!”

“Tony, calm down, take a breath. He’s gonna be okay.”

He took a shaky breath, massaging Peter’s smaller hand between his. “How do we wake him up?”

She smiled. “As far as I can tell, it’s best to warm him up slowly. That includes warm blankets, and lots of cuddles.”

~~~~~

Tony wrapped his arms around Peter, rubbing his back, the boy’s head resting on his chest. He kissed Peter’s temple and smoothed back his curls before starting to order Happy and Rhodey around.

“Get his Iron Man blanket, it’s his favorite, he needs it,” he ordered. “Get his nightlight too, he can’t sleep without it, and his teddy bear. Oh, his Spider-Man hat, get that. And find a weighted blanket, he has one in his room, it’s dark blue.”

Tony ignored the eye roll Rhodey gave him, and kissed Peter’s forehead gently. 

“You’re gonna be okay, tesoro, I got you, Dad’s got you. You’re gonna be okay.”

God, he wished Peter could wake up right then.

~~~~~

Tony sat up in Peter’s hospital bed, reading aloud from some sort of science-y book about spiders he thought his kid might enjoy.

“‘Spiders have blue blood. In humans, oxygen is bound to hemoglobin, a molecule that contains iron and gives blood its red color. In spiders, oxygen is bound to hemocyanin, a molecule that contains copper rather than iron,’” he read. “How about that, kiddo? Pretty cool.”

Peter stayed silent. Tony tucked the many blankets more firmly around him, picking up his hand and running a thumb across his knuckles. 

“‘During the 16th and 17th centuries, it was believed that a bite from a species of wolf spider would be deadly if the victim did not dance to a specific type of frenzied music. It inspired a dance called the tarantella.’” Tony snorted. “Now that I would like to see.”

Without one of Peter’s witty comments and high-pitched giggles, it was a lot less funny. 

He sighed at the boy’s pale, lax face. “I miss you baby.” He dropped his forehead to Peter’s. “I miss you so much.”

~~~~~

Peter gradually became aware of two things; the soft snoring in his ear and a loose hand in his curls. 

He was warm and cozy in a pair of strong arms.

Peter hummed quietly and buried his face in Tony’s chest. 

He let himself slip back to the comfortable darkness. 

He was safe with Tony.

~~~~~

“You know what I mean!” May insisted as Tony stared at her blankly. “The teddy bears with lavender and rice in them, you put them in the microwave and they get nice and warm. Please don’t tell me you’ve never heard of those.”

“So what, you eat them?” 

“No!” she scoffed, “They’re all warm and fuzzy. I got one for Pete when he was little, but it had a hole and we had to throw it out. Maybe it’ll help?”

The inventor smiled.

The inventor smiled. “Maybe.” He reached for his Starkpad on the bedside table. “Would he like an Iron Man one or Spider-Man one? Nevermind, I’ll just get both. FRI, speed order.”

Barely fifteen minutes later Happy entered the room, holding a box. “Package.”

May blinked and stood to take it. “That was fast. These are super cute, Tony. I’ll go warm them up.”

“How’s he doing?” 

Tony sighed, combing his fingers through Peter’s curls. “His temp is a lot warmer. He’s getting better.” He smiled and kissed Peter’s forehead. “Aren’t you, bubba?”

“Good.” Though people thought he didn’t care about Peter, Happy privately thought of himself like his uncle. “That’s good.”

May walked in a second later. “Nice and toasty.” She slipped the hot bag underneath the blankets, under Peter’s socked feet, and placed the other one by his side.  “There we go.”

There was a whining sound from Peter as his fingers twitched. Tony rushed to move the bag closer to his skin. “There you go, baby, you’re okay. You’re okay.”

May laughed when Peter’s fingers closed around the warmth. “Aaw.”

~~~~~

May helped Tony tuck Peter in, which was hard to do when lying in the same bed. 

She kissed Peter’s forehead, gazing fondly at him. “Goodnight, honey. Larb ya.” May smiled. “Night, Tony.” She walked to the couch, lying down and grabbing a blanket.

“Night.” He shifted and circled his arms around his kid. “Goodnight, Petey. I love you so much.” He kissed his cheek. 

~~~~~

Tony woke up to whimpering. His eyes snapped open.

Peter was awake. 

“Peter?” he gasped, bolting up in bed. “Oh, no, shh, don’t cry, shh. What’s wrong, buddy?” He cupped the boy’s face anxiously. “Are you feeling okay? Are you hurting- does anything hurt?” He pressed the call button frantically. “What’s wrong?”

“‘M cold,” he whined, reaching for Tony. Tony gathered him in his arms, rubbing his back to give him some sense of warmth. 

“Oh baby, I got you, shh. You’re okay, we’re gonna get you warmed up. You’re okay, shh.” 

He looked worriedly at the layers of heated blankets and hot packs. “It’s okay baby.”

“Peter? Tony?” May mumbled from the couch, slowly sitting up. “What’s wrong?”

“May- May, Peter’s awake! He’s cold, we-we need to heat these up.” He grabbed the Iron Man neck warmer. “Here.”

May jumped to her feet and took it. “I’ll be right back.”

Cho rushed in a second later. “What’s wrong?”

“He woke up, he’s cold. Should he be cold? Is something wrong?” he asked worriedly. 

“No, I think it’s just the shock. He came out of hibernation early, maybe his body isn’t quite ready.” 

“Hey Peter,” she said to the boy. “This is gonna warm you up, but it’s going to make you sleepy, okay?”

She took a syringe and pushed a clear liquid into his IV. “There.”

“Hmm,” Peter mumbled, which was the equivalent of “thanks.”

“Do you feel better, tesoro?” Tony whispered, still looking worried as ever.

Peter paused, his eyes hazily focusing on Tony’s face. “Hun’ry.”

“You’re hungry?” he cooed. “Oh baby, of course, don’t worry.” Glancing towards Helen and May, he said “Someone needs to make some soup.” 

May volunteered, and about ten minutes later she hurried in with a steaming bowl of chicken noodle soup. 

“Okay, bubba,” Tony murmured. “We got you some soup, okay? Can you open your mouth, sweetheart?”

Peter’s mouth opened. Tony blew carefully on the spoon before scooping it into Peter’s mouth. Peter swallowed it, then glanced beggingly at the bowl.  

The inventor quickly gave Peter another spoonful. “Is it too hot, baby?”

He shook his head slightly. 

After nearly half the bowl was gone, Peter’s eyes began to droop.

 “‘M tired.”

Tony immediately set the bowl on the table and gently helped his kid lie down. “There you go, sweetheart. There you go.” He kissed Peter’s forehead.

 Peter snuffled quietly, curling his arms around the neck warmer and grabbing Tony’s arm like a koala. Tony lay back down and pulled the covers up to Peter’s chest.

“Do you feel better?” May asked, combing back his curls. Peter hummed an affirmative, eyes closed.

The inventor wrapped his free arm around Peter, burying his face in his soft curls and kissing them gently. He smiled in relief, drinking up the sight of his now sleeping kid. 

“Goodnight, honey,” May whispered. She kissed his temple, then stood and flopped wearily on the couch. “Try to get some sleep, Tony, okay?”

Tony shrugged. “I’ll try.”

It didn’t matter to him. Peter mattered.

He was surprised that when his head hit the pillow, his eyelids began to feel heavy. The rush of relief and love for his kid, his baby, had taken a toll on him.

“I love you,” he whispered. “I love you, bambino. More than you’ll ever know.”

Peter was okay.

~~~~~

/DO NOT TAG OR REBLOG AS ST*RKER/

~~~~~

Tag List: @imissyoutoo @aj-that-person @tonystark-deserves-better @nathaly-ab @skeeter-110 @peter-and-tony-vlogs @teammightypen @joyful-soul-collector @loveliestdisappointment @depuella @scwene-qween @honeythepooh @pixiethefirecat7 @spider-man-lover @bringitonvoldie @queen-of-sarcasm-25 @roxy3457 @memilon @iron-loyalty @gralaca @bitchingpretty @pillowspace

If anyone wants to be added/ removed let me know!

[the-bee-graveyard]

The Fine Line

Chapter One

Wow, you stayed around long enough to read chapter two, thank you! Warning, this chapter’s going to be angsty because we’re getting more Brenda and Teresa interactions, you have been warned. 

It will usually take me about a week for each chapter, but I was really excited so I wrote this one quickly. Sorry for any spelling/grammar mistakes. 

Chapter summary: Minho and Sonya hold their plotting circle on the beach, and Brenda and Teresa are forced to be there together. Their plan has a very, um, what’s a good word, interesting outcome. Platonic Thomas reunion. Sonya and Minho finish each other's statements a little bit. This chapter’s going to be a bit longer because I wanted to do a few different events in this chapter, but usually I’ll try to stick to three parts/POV’s per chapter.

Let me know what you guys think! I love feedback!

TW: MENTIONS OF DEATH

Tag list (let me know if you want to be added): @izzymultifan

Chapter Two: The Fine Line Between Hatred and Hesitant  Friendship

Part One: Teresa’s POV

Teresa had been an only child before the flare destroyed her life, but she was convinced that fate gave her Thomas to fill in the role of her brother. Sometimes it felt like she loved Thomas more than herself, more and more as she realized all the horrible things she’d done. 

That's why it killed her knowing Thomas was mad at her.

He didn’t notice her standing near the tables meals were ate at, he sat with his back to her next to Newt. Frypan, Gally, and Minho saw her though, Frypan waved to her. She spoke to him yesterday, and he’d been quick to give her a second chance, and she was grateful to him. She needed the win yesterday after Brenda blew her off quickly.

She saw Brenda eating at a table with Jorge, glaring at her as she walked over to Thomas. Frankly Teresa didn’t care, she didn’t need Brenda’s permission to speak to Thomas, and Brenda couldn’t force Thomas to stay away from Teresa. He probably wanted to do that enough on his own anyways.

“Tom,” Teresa said, tapping her old friend on the shoulder, her voice small. “I’d like to speak to you for a moment. In private.” Newt looked up at her first, glaring at her. Thomas looked up at her next, his expression less rebate than Newt’s.

“Of course Teresa,” Thomas said, getting up off the bench. They walked over to the edge of the group of tables.

“I wanted to apologize,” Teresa said. “I tortured Minho and I got almost the whole right arm killed and I hurt you in a way I can never heal, and I can’t take those things back. I’ve wanted to so badly but I can’t. I understand if you never want to see me again, if you hate me, I can live with that. I just want you to know I regret it. If I could do it all over again I’d kill Ava Paige myself Thomas, I swear.”

Thomas didn’t speak for a moment, it had to be the most suspenseful moment of her life. 

“I don’t hate you Resa,” Thomas said. “You saved Newt, I can’t hate you after you did that. And it’s not just that. I can’t hate you because I see me in you. I can see how easily I would’ve done the exact same thing you did, most people would have. You were manipulated Teresa, I can’t blame you for that. And I’ll never forget what you did, and I can’t speak for everyone else here, but I’m willing to forgive you.” Teresa pulled Thomas into a tight hug.

“That’s good to hear, because I’m pretty sure Brenda and Newt have already made up their minds on me,” Teresa said. Thomas chuckled.

“Newt’s the kindest person I know, and you saved his life. He’ll come around, Minho did, and you did worse to Minho than you did to Newt. Brenda’s stubborn, but she’ll come around too. She just needs time, everyone does. You can't expect everyone to just welcome you back with open arms, even if you did make the cure.”

“I’m surprised Vince even let me stay.”

“Oh he didn’t want to, Jorge fought on your behalf. Jorge said you’re just a child, and that Mary would’ve forgave you. He doesn’t like it, but he let you stay.” Teresa closed her eyes for a minute and pictured the kind doctor that saved Brenda’s life, Mary. She saw Mary’s lifeless body. She did that.

“I’ll make them forgive me one day Tom, I’ll do something.” Thomas offered her a friendly smile.

“I know you will Resa, you always do.”

Part Two: Sonya’s POV

They’d formed a circle on the beach. Sonya sat in between Aris and Harriet. Minho, Gally, and Frypan sat on the other side of Frypan, Minho and Gally’s hands intertwined. Brenda and Teresa sat on the other side of Aris, as far apart as two people next to each other could be. Harriet had her head rested in Sonya’s lap.

“Are we ready to start?” Minho asked. Everyone nodded, including Sonya. 

“I assume you’ve all figured out why we’re here based on the absence of two people,” Sonya said. “Minho and I talked, and we’re sick of Newt and Thomas dancing around each other, so we’ve decided to do something about it, but we’re going to need your help. We’ve already discussed a plan.” Frypan raised his hand. “Yes, Frypan?”

“Is anything going to be against the rules?” Frypan asked.

“Absolutely, but nothing that big. We’re breaking the rules right now so don’t give me the speech,” Minho said.

“So what’s the plan?” Teresa asked. Sonya didn’t know how she felt about Teresa. Teresa had gotten Mary killed, both Aris and Sonya herself captured, and almost got her brother killed, but she also saved Newt’s life and everyone else seemed to have forgiven her.

“Our plans in phases,” Sonya said. “We’ll start phase one tomorrow morning. Minho’s going to go talk with Thomas later, and get him to talk about Newt. Minho’s going to have a walkie-talkie behind his back. Gally’s going to have the other walkie-talkie so Newt can hear everything nice Thomas says about him. Any questions?” Brenda raised her hand.

“What if Thomas doesn’t say nice things about Newt?” Brenda asked.

“Bren, sweetie, you’ve spent five seconds around Thomas before. You know he will. I officially declare this meeting of the get Newtmas together club disbanded, we’ll regroup tomorrow to discuss our progress,” Minho said as he stood up.

Part Three: Brenda’s POV

“Brenda! Wait!” Oh dear lord. Brenda sighed and turned around to see Teresa running towards her.

“What do you want?” Brenda asked as she kept walking, but Teresa had already caught up to her.

“I just wanted to tell you Thomas forgave me.” Teresa didn’t dress like most of the people at the safe haven, she wore a blue and white dress and her black hair down, because everything about her had to be special. Brenda rolled her eyes. Someone needed to give this girl a job and a reality check.

“Yeah, I know. He’s an idiot, that’s old news.” Brenda tried to walk faster to get away from the girl, but Teresa had longer legs and caught up with ease.”What the hell do you want from me?”

“I want you to like me,” Teresa blurted out. “Or at least, I want you to not completely hate me. We could’ve been friends Brenda, I want that.”

“If you don’t remember, since you seem to have very selective memory loss, WICKED killed my father and brother. My brother probably died in your precious mazes. If Jorge didn’t smuggle me out of WICKED when he worked for them, I would have died in your precious mazes,” Brenda lashed out. Forgiving Thomas for building the mazes was one thing because his apologies were genuine. Teresa was only sorry because everyone told her she ought to be. She didn’t see her fault in anything. 

“I was a child Brenda, and I did what I was told. If Jorge told you to build a maze, you’d do it, wouldn’t you?” Teresa said. 

“Don’t you ever compare Jorge and me to those heathen’s and you,” Brenda snorted. 

“Please Brenda. One chance, that’s all I ask for,” Teresa pleaded, her big blue eyes starting right into Brenda’s soul.

“Fine,” Brenda sighed, already regretting this. “One chance. If you ruin that I’ll push you off the cliffs, I swear.” 

“Thank you!” Teresa said, throwing her arms around Brenda, who shoved her off quickly. “Too soon.”

“Forever is too soon for that Teresa,” Brenda replied, trying to ignore the sudden coldness in the spots where Teresa’s arms had previously been. 

Nope. 

Not today fate. 

Not this one. Literally anyone but this one.

Part Four: Newt’s POV

“Heyyyyyy there Newt,” Gally said, putting one of his arms around Newt.

“What are you up to?” Newt deadpanned. He’d known Gally long enough to know when the builder was up to something, and he was absolutely up to something now. 

“Jesus, can’t a guy come talk to his friend who almost died without getting shucking interrogated?” Gally snorted. “I hid a walkie-talkie in Minho’s coat pocket, and I taped down the speaker button. Wanna hear what he’s up to?” Whatever Newt thought Gally would be up to, it wasn’t that.

“I mean, sure?” Newt replied. He didn’t know what the right answer could possibly be to the question, because the fact the question was even asked seemed pretty bad to Newt. Gally pulled the walkie-talkie out of his pocket and turned up the volume.

“Hey Thomas,” Minho’s voice said on the other end of the walkie-talkie, quite clear for something that was supposedly in his coat pocket. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course Minho,” Thomas replied. Newt loved the sound of Thomas’s voice. He loved everything about Thomas really, but he had a nice voice. He always spoke softer with Newt, even when he was angry. he’d been one hundred percent aware of how in love with Thomas he was since the day they met, and not just the day in the maze, the day Thomas pulled back that curtain in the WICKED lab. Newt had pretended to be asleep,  but even then Thomas’s inquisitive nature had made his heart skip a beat.

“Don’t you think Newt’s hot?” If Newt had been drinking water he would have spit it out.

“I thought you and Gally were a thing now.” Thomas sounded even more confused then usual, so he must be pretty damn confused.

“I wasn't asking for me dumb shank. Yes or no?”

“Of course I think Newt’s attractive, everyone thinks Newt’s attractive.” Newt’s heart skipped a beat.

“What do you think his best quality is?” Minho asked.

“His hair. Or hands. Or eyes. Is this a trick question?” Thomas replied.

“Thank you for your input Tom, really helpful,” Minho said. Newt couldn’t listen any more. He looked up at Gally and solemnly spoke,

“Gally, I’m sorry mate.”

“What?” Gally said.

“I can’t believe Minho would lead you on like that. Don’t worry, I’ll reject him, I’m not interested in him anyways.”

“Newt, what the hell are you talking about?”

“Well I thought it was clear, but I’ll give it to you straight: Minho’s clearly into me, not you.” 

[themetaphorgirl]

Don’t worry, road trip part 2 is still coming, but I just really wanted to write this bit! I had fun with it, I hope you have fun reading it! Alex is a delight. And I love her and Emily being best friends.

warnings for underage drinking!

more about the boarding school babes

----------

Alex wrestled her blazer off and threw it on the floor with an uncharacteristic amount of effort. “Fuck midterms,” she said fervently. 

“You said it,” Emily said, kicking the door closed with her heel and tossing her backpack on her bed. “Thank god that’s over. Now everybody can stop whining about them, and we can get on with our lives.”

“Well, no, now we get to stress about what grades we got on them,” Alex sighed. She pulled the elastic out of her ponytail and ran her fingers through her hair. “God, it’s going to be a long weekend.”

Emily was half out of uniform already, her button up shirt replaced with a black crop top, but she stopped. “Oh! I’ve got something that will take your mind off things,” she grinned. She rummaged under her bed, moving things around until she emerged with a white carton in her hands. “Aha!”

Alex froze. “Emily Prentiss, you have got to be fucking kidding me,” she said. “You bought-” She glanced around and then dropped her voice even quieter. “You bought alcohol?”

“Not really, it’s just white claws,” Emily shrugged. “There’s like...no alcohol in these.”

“What is wrong with you?” Alex hissed. “We are underage! This is...this is illegal! We could get expelled!”

“Relax,” Emily said. “With your record, you’ll get a slap on the wrist at the most. You could tell them I told you it was a LaCroix and you believed me.”

Alex frowned. “What about you?”

“This is nothing compared to the shit I pulled back home in Italy. I’ll be fine.”

“What if we get caught?” Alex said. “Seriously, if Elle happened to stop by-”

“What about Elle?”

Alex turned around with a shriek. Elle stood in the doorway, Emily’s keychain dangling from her fingertip in disdain. “Prentiss, you keep leaving your keys in the lock. You’ve got to remember at some point,” she said. She tossed the keychain to Emily; Emily still held the white claw carton and the keys fell to the floor. “What the fuck are you two doing with those?”

Alex went pale. “We just...she just...I didn’t…”

“I’ll give you one if you don’t tattle,” Emily offered.

Elle’s eyes narrowed. “Give me two black cherries and we’ll call it even,” she said.

“You drive a hard bargain, ma’am,” Emily said, but she opened the carton and tossed two cans at Elle.

“Thanks,” Elle said, catching them easily. “Make wise choices, ladies.”

She closed the door and Alex let out a long half-strangled exhale. “Oh my god, I thought my heart was going to stop beating,” she sighed.

“See? We’re fine,” Emily reassured her. “We’ll binge watch some mindless TV, we’ll eat shitty junk food, and we’ll have a drink or two. It’ll be a nice night, and everything will be fine. Trust me.”

“Why does you saying ‘trust me’ make me more worried?” Alex said.

Emily scrambled to her feet, picked up a can, and cracked it open. “Here, try this one,” she said.

Alex took a sip and wrinkled her nose. “What fruit is that supposed to be?” she asked.

“Oh, shit, sorry, that’s grapefruit,” Emily said. She picked up another can. “Try this one. You strike me as a raspberry kind of girl.”

Alex sighed, but took a sip. “That’s not as bad,” she said. “That actually tastes like something.”

“See? I told you,” Emily said. “Just take it easy for a while, okay? You’ve been so uptight this week I thought you might explode.”

“All right, all right, fine,” Alex said. “Just one, I guess. That shouldn’t be too bad.”

They had barely gotten into pajams and gotten through the opening titles of their chosen TV show of the evening when Alex frowned and gave her can a little shake. “Oh, it’s empty,” she said. 

Emily flashed her a shit-eating grin. “See? I told you you’d like it,” she said. “Super chill. Absolutely fine.”

“Yeah, that was nice, I guess,” Alex said. 

“You want another one?” Emily said. “There’s one black cherry left, and I’m willing to share it with you.”

Alex hesitated. “Yeah, maybe one more,” she said. “It’s not like we’re going anywhere tonight or anything.”

“Hell yeah!” Emily said, tossing her the can. “Maybe the next time I talk Dave into driving me to another party with the public school kids you can come with us.”

Alex snorted. “Absolutely not,” she said. “When I’m telling my children cautionary tales about underage drinking in boarding school, this will be the worst thing that I tell them. Slowly drinking two white claws while I watch a baking competition in my pajamas.”

“Ooh, slow down, Miller, you might be too cool,” Emily laughed. “You enjoy that second White Claw. You’ve earned it.”

In retrospect, she should have kept a better eye on Alex. On the other hand, Alex was usually so level-headed and responsible it hurt, and this was not the outcome she’d expected.

They were halfway through the second episode when she heard the small sniffle. Emily slowly lowered her can. “Are you okay?” she asked.

She turned around to see Alex wiping at her eyes. She hadn’t taken off her makeup and her mascara and eyeliner made dark puddles under her lashes. “His gingerbread house fell apart,” she said. 

“Yeah, he fucked up his royal icing,” Emily said.

“But it’s so sad.”

Emily sat up. “Alex? Are you okay?”

Alex sniffled again. “He was trying so hard,” she said. In extremely un-Alex fashion, she swiped at her face with the hem of her sleeve, leaving behind a dark gray smear. “It’s so sad!”

“It’s a TV show,” Emily said blankly. “You don’t cry about anything, much less a...oh no.” She paused the episode. “Alex, how many did you have?”

Alex shrugged. “I wanted to try all of them,” she said. Her dark eyes welled up. “And you were right, grapefruit is the worst.”

Emily slid off her bed as Alex burst into tears. “Oh, no,” she said. “Oh, no. You had four?”

Alex nodded. The four empty cans were lined up with military precision on her nightstand. “Lime was the best one,” she said sadly. 

“Yeah, lime was the best one?” Emily said. She sat down next to her on her neatly-made bed. “Okay, champ. You’ve had alcohol before, right?”

“My dad, he lets me have sips of his beer sometimes when my mom isn’t looking, but...beer is vile,” Alex said earnestly. “And, and my older brothers let me have Jack and cokes when my parents aren’t around, but it’s like...more coke than anything else. Like one drop of Jack.”

“Okay, so you’ve never been flat out tipsy before,” Emily guessed. “Or drunk either.” Alex shook her head. “Oh god. Okay.”

Alex’s phone buzzed on the nightstand; she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and leaned around Emily, fumbling for it. “Oh, it’s James,” she sighed, flopping over Emily’s lap.

“Yeah? Is that a good thing?” Emily asked, patting her back lightly. “You know what, we should get you some water. That might be helpful.”

Alex fiddled with her phone. “You know, you know...James and I...we’re best friends,” she said. 

“Yeah, that’s really nice,” Emily said. “Can you sit up? You’re crushing me a little.”

Alex pushed herself up, leaning too heavily on Emily’s knee and making her wince. “James is...you know how boys are stupid?” she said.

Emily leaned back on her elbows and smiled up at the ceiling. “I do, yes,” she said.

“Jamie is...so stupid,” Alex said fondly. She looked up from her phone. “I just...want to kiss his stupid face.”

Emily sat up. “Oh shit,” she said. “What am I supposed to do with this information?”

“I just want to kiss him,” Alex said again. “Kiss his...stupid beautiful face.”

“Uh...do you need to kiss him like...now?” Emily said. “Is this an emergency? A kiss emergency?”

“Noooo!” Alex wailed. She threw her phone down on her bed. “That’s the problem! I can’t kiss him, Emily! It’ll mess everything up! He’s...Jamie is my best friend!”

“Harsh,” Emily said. “I thought I was your best friend.”

“You know what I mean,” Alex sobbed. “I just love Jamie so much and I can’t...I can’t mess everything up! By kissing his stupid beautiful face!”

“Listen, Miller...I think Jamie might be into it,” Emily snickered. “Ask him about it sometime.” 

Alex rubbed at her face with the heel of her palm. Her makeup was absolutely a lost cause at this point, the black rivulets dripping all the way down to her chin. “Maybe I will,” she said.

“Yeah, we’ll see how that goes,” Emily said. 

The door banged open and Emily jumped. “Guys, we have an emergency,” Elle said.

“Jesus, Elle, are you trying to give us heart attacks?” Emily said. “And we’re out of black cherry, so don’t even ask.”

“I’m giving you the heads-up,” Elle said. “Strauss just sent me an email. She’s going to do bedchecks herself tonight. Surprise inspection.”

“You’re fucking kidding me.”

“Nope,” Elle said. “You’d better hide all the stuff because…” Her voice trailed off. “What’s wrong with Miller?”

Alex had slid to sit on the floor, her legs stretched out in front of her. “I had four,” she said sadly.

Emily looked up at Elle. “She had four.”

“Fuck,” Elle sighed, rubbing her forehead with her fingertips. “She can’t be here when Strauss comes through.”

“What am I supposed to do with her?” Emily protested.

“I don’t know! Get her out!” Elle said. She shifted her weight. “Text your friend, the grumpy guy from Lincoln House. See if she can sleep it off on his floor tonight. We’ll tell Strauss that she...she got signed out to spend the weekend with her boyfriend off campus.”

“He’s not my boyfriend!” Alex said, slumping down further. “But I just wanna kiss his stupid face!” She sighed heavily, flexing her fingers in little grabby hands. “His stupid beautiful face.”

“Yikes,” Elle said. “No tolerance on this one, is there?” She glanced at her phone. “You’d better get her out of here fast. I’ll cover for you if Strauss gets here before you make it back.”

“I’ll try, but this might not end well,” Emily said.

----------

Hotch scowled as he leaned against the propped-open front door. “This is not at all what I expected,” he said. “Not in a million years would I imagine that you’d be dragging a drunk Alex over here, and not the other way around.”

“Yeah, well, I’m full of surprises,” Emily said. She hoisted Alex up the front steps. “Turns out Miller can’t hold her white claws.”

“White claws? All this because of white claws?”

Alex tripped on the top step and Hotch caught her arm. “I had four,” she said dreamily. Her eyes welled up. “I just wanted...to try all of them!”

“Okay, okay, you’re all right,” Hotch said, holding her up. He looked at Emily over Alex’s head. “I never thought she’d be a weepy drunk.”

“Me neither,” Emily said. “Well, she was an angry one for a second. She was shouting about her least favorite book on the way over here.”

“Pride and Prejudice is trash and it’s...it’s overrated!” Alex said. She grabbed Hotch’s upper arm. “It’s...there’s like a couple of good lines and a lot of pretty dresses but the rest of it is trash.”

“Sure,” Hotch said, perplexed. Alex let go of his arm, mumbling under her breath.

“You haven’t heard her cry over James yes,” Emily said.

Alex gasped. “Is he here?” she said. 

“No, but tell Hotch what you want to do.”

She looked up at Hotch. “Kiss his stupid face.”

“Please tell him that, I’m tired of watching him pine after you,” Hotch said. “Does she...does she not realize he’s had a crush on her for three years?”

“Not a bit.” Emily stuck her hands in her pockets. “Well, this has been fun, but I’ve got to go-”

“Oh, no, I need you to help me get her up to the seventh floor,” Hotch said. “C’mon, give me a hand.”

Emily sighed. “Fine,” she said. 

It was slow going to get Alex up the stairs. Hotch did most of the lifting, but Emily had to keep coaxing her. “Just stop crying, Miller, everything’s fine,” she said.

“Shut up!” Hotch hissed. “Do you want us to get caught?”

Alex caught the railing, stopping both of them in their tracks. “Can I just...sit down?” she said. “There’s so many stairs.”

Hotch pulled her back up to her feet. “Nope, keep going,” he said. “God, you’re just lucky that Gideon wouldn’t care about any of this.”

“Yeah, if you had Strauss for your building you’d be doomed,” Emily said. “Alex, keep going, we’re on the fifth floor, just keep walking.”

They finally managed to drag her up to the seventh floor, and Hotch scooped her up once they reached the common room. “We’ll hide her in my room until we can decide what to do with her,” he said. 

“What are we going to do with her?”

“No idea.”

He set her down on his neatly-made bed. “How’re you doing, sport?” Emily asked. “Feeling okay?”

Alex screwed up her face. Her long hair was an untidy mess around her shoulders, and the jacket Emily had forced her to put on over her pajamas was buttoned wrong. “Not...not great?” she said, rubbing her face. She paused. “Whose room is this?”

“Mine,” Hotch said. “But you’re not staying here long. We’ll have to figure out somewhere else to hide you.”

“We’re in your house?” Alex sat up. “Where’s my baby?” she asked. “Where is he?”

“Spencer’s asleep,” Hotch said. “And I am not letting you wake him up.”

Emily patted her shoulder as her face began to crumple. “He’s fine,” she reassured her. “You’ll be fine too once you get some water and go to sleep.”

“What if he needs me?” Alex said, pressing her hand to her collarbone. “He’s so little.”

“Let him sleep,” Emily said firmly. She planted her hands on Alex’s temples and kissed the top of her head. “And you need to go to sleep. I’m going to get back to my room before Strauss comes through and run interference.”

“Good luck,” Hotch said. “And don’t slam the-”

Emily slammed the door. He sighed heavily and looked over at Alex. The usually calm, cool, and collected mom friend of their group was curled up on his bed, her lower lip wobbling as she wound a long lock of hair around her fingers. “What are you crying about now, Miller?” he asked.

“The Dewey decimal system,” she said, swiping at her eyes. “They’re trying to phase it out. But I’ll...I’ll be fucked...before they make me use LOC.”

Hotch sighed. “I don’t know what I expected,” he said. “Can you get your shoes off my bed?”

She complied slowly, kicking at her boots and peeling off her jacket. The door creaked open. “You guys woke me up,” Spencer complained. He wandered into Hotch’s room, his blanket draped over his shoulder. “What’s going on? Did I miss something?”

“No, you didn’t miss anything,” Hotch reassured him. “Go back to sleep, kiddo.”

Alex sat up. “Oh, Spencer,” she said, holding out her arms. “Come here, baby.”

“No, he needs to go sleep in his own bed,” Hotch protested, but Spencer had already climbed up, yawning heavily, and tucked himself against her shoulder. “No, Alex, you-”

Alex cuddled him close and pressed kisses to the top of his head. “You’re so little,” she sighed. “Just the littlest one.”

Hotch rolled his eyes. “You guys, this is very cute, but you need to get out of here,” he said. “Come one, everybody up-”

The door opened again. “Hey, what’s going on?” Derek asked. “I sent Spencer to go see what’s happening, but-” He stopped. “Why...why is Alex…”

“She had a couple of white claws,” Hotch said. She held up four fingers. “Four of them.”

Derek whistled. “Oh boy,” he said. “She okay?”

“So far she’s cried because Spencer is small, and the Dewey decimal system,” Hotch said dryly. 

“A weepy drunk? Never would have guessed that.”

“Me neither, but here we are,” Hotch said. “Can you help me get her out of here? Maybe she can sleep on the floor in your room, since she seems determined to stay close to Spencer.”

“Uh...Hotch?” Derek said. “It’s too late for that.”

He pointed towards the bed, and Hotch turned around. They were both fast asleep; Spencer’s cheek smushed against her shoulder and her arms around him tight. “Well, shit,” he said. 

Derek clapped his hand on Hotch’s shoulder. “You can take Spencer’s bed,” he said. “It’ll be like old times.”

“Fine,” Hotch sighed. “I guess.”

[i-love-side-characters]

What did you think of the end of The Toll?

!!! TOLL SPOILERS !!! PROCEED WITH CAUTION !!!

Scythe Cult:  @honorablescythecurie @honorablescythefaraday @palli-x @book-limerence @lochscinders @a-lonely-tatertot @shellyseashell

bored? send me serotonin please <3

Okay now lets get a couple things out of the way. I haven’t read Toll in a little bit, and it’s taking forever to come from the library. Also, yes I did have it downloaded before, but I kept rereading Faraday’s journal entry when he find out Curie is dead. I know, I’m trash for them but honestly let me have this #curiedeservedbetter2021 #faradaydeservedbetter2021 #curadayforlife

Now that we’ve established that I’m just lonely and so I cling onto healthy (ish) fictional couples for my source of love, let’s proceed.

Things I remember:

 - Rowan and Citra go zoomy zoom into spacey space, but Citra’s deadish because Goddard pulled some shit and so Rowan’s going to wait a couple hundred years for her to wake up

 - Total hottie Ayn Rand shanked Goddard which is honestly a power move you go girl

 - Faraday and Munira unleashed the failsafe, which basically infected a whole bunch of people and now Scythes just kill the infected people so that there’s no suffering

 - Jeri!!! and Greyson!!! Babeys!!! Smol Beans!!! My genderfluid babey with my weird Jesus man it’s a match made by the Thunderhead (because it literally is)

 - Rowan and Citra (who renounced her Scythehood) are going to start a new colony on some random ass planet

Things I don’t remember:

 - Whatever happen with Cirrus

 - Whatever happen with Joel the Jobe Man

 - Whatever happen with Loriana and Munira who are totally in love Shusterman said Sapphic rights 

Okay Akki stfu lets move on:

Okay. I didn’t really like it. I did like Rowan’s sarcasm, but the ending fell a little flat. Compared to the other books’ endings, I didn’t really think it measured up. It was just a bit bland. Here’s why.

The end goal:

Let’s just work our way through the series to show why The Toll just didn’t really work for me.

Scythe - Book 1:

Goal/Climax:

The goal/climax of the book was clear. Citra and Rowan are fighting for the ring. Only one can get it, and the winner has to glean the other. 

The ending:

Citra wins the ring, and is ordained. Instead of actually killing (gleaning) Rowan, she slyly grants him immunity by punching him so that his blood’s DNA would transfer to the database and no Scythe could kill him.  We also got a confession scene where they tell each other they love the other. It ends with Rowan finding out that Faraday did not self-glean.

Why it works:

It is tense. We are watching the two main characters have to either kill the other or be killed. Neither want to. It is clear from their actions throughout that they harbour feelings for each other. This is a high stakes situation. And it flows nicely. We don’t have any unnecessary dialogue/scenes. We don’t have a dumb solution to the problem where a bunch of unnecessary events happen like a character death/romantic scene. They do tell the other that they love them, but the moment is quick and is not the focus of the moment. The focus is on the actual ordainment ceremony and the challenge. The solution directly addresses the main conflict of the book.

Thunderhead - Book 2:

Goal/Climax:

Goddard and Citra (now Anastasia) are presenting their arguments as to who will win the inquest. The inquest was called because Anastasia and Curie needed time to gain more votes in favour of Curie for the position of High Blade. 

The ending:

Anastasia and Curie win the inquest, and Goddard must complete a full new apprenticeship in order to train his new body. Goddard, however, has tricks up his sleeve. He had made a plan prior to the events on Endura to cripple the Grandslayers tower. The plan changes, but works to his favour and destroys the entire island. Curie, in a desperate attempt to save Rowan and Citra, locks them in an airtight chamber that will preserve them so they can be revived. With this sacrifice, Curie is forced to self glean.

“She thrust her blade inward, directly into her heart. She fell to the ground only seconds before the sea would wash over her, but she knew death would wash over her faster. And the blade hurt far less than she imagined it would, which made her smile. She was good. Very, very good.”

-Thunderhead, page 499

Why it works:

*violently screams in my head* I’m good don’t worry

It is a logical ending. If Curie and Anastasia had won the inquest and survived Endura, there would be no need for a third book, unless Shusterman had decided to write a book about Curie being High Blade and Goddard sulking in the shadows and plotting to kill her. That wouldn’t work because I don’t think there is any possible way Curie wouldn’t catch Goddard in two seconds because she’s a boss.

Many people say that Curie should have gotten Rowan to lock her and Anastasia in the vault instead of him. Rowan would have died for Anastasia, it makes sense, but that takes away from the very essence of Curie’s character. She is a truly Honourable Scythe. She knows that Anastasia loves him, and she cares deeply about Anastasia. Letting herself survive would have been completely out of character. She also knows that Anastasia is the future of the Scythedom. While it would be a great help if Curie didn’t die, as well as sparing us emotional trauma, it doesn’t make sense for her character.

This ending also directly “solved” the issue in the book. While the villain won, it was a satisfying ending. Curie is dead, that was a very smart move, because obviously Goddard wouldn’t survive two seconds if she was there. It gave us a good reason for the Thunderhead to disappear.

 *violently screams again* Curie died, yeah, no, I’m okay

The Toll - Book 3: *note that some details may be wrong

Goal/Climax:

Faraday, Rowan, Jeri, Munira, Loriana, Anastasia, Greyson, and Cirrus need to figure out what to with the frozen Tonists, all unknowing that Scythes Goddard and Rand are heading towards the island. They still need to beat him in order to make sure that the non-Scythe population won’t be subject to bias/malice/aforethought/Goddard’s ego. 

The ending:

Rowan, and Citra, who renounced her Scythehood, travel to another planet that can support life with the frozen Tonists, as well as 42 other ships carrying Tonists. Cirrus is copied into 42 different versions in order to save humanity. After being offered Citra’s old ring, Munira (I believe) returns to the Library of Alexandria. Faraday follows through with the failsafe and gleans only the suffering. Greyson and Jeri stay together on the island, and become romantically involved. Scythe Rand is the one who eventually kills Goddard.

Why it DOESN’T work:

Okay, there’s a lot to unpack here. I’m just going to go character by character and by the plot.

1. Plot - It just doesn’t make sense. The hero’s solution doesn’t in any way stop Goddard, who is the main villain. We’ve led up to this for a very long time, and Rand is the one who gleans him. If I’m correct, The main characters don’t interact with Goddard for nearly the entire book, save Rowan. The solution, to save humanity by colonizing other planets would, without Rand’s interference, let Goddard wreak his havoc on the world. Only Scythe Faraday and Morrison could truly challenge him, and even then Faraday is old and hasn’t kept his abilities refined, and Morrison is young and inexperienced and wears a denim robe.

2. Rand and Goddard’s Arcs - Rand is the one who kills Goddard. I think that this was a very interesting move, and one that made a lot of sense. Goddard has treated her terribly, it would satisfy her arc of turning against him, as well as giving her a redemption arc that would also avenge Tyger’s death. I think that this is actually a really good arc, were it not for the fact that Citra and Goddard never fought/interacted with each other. If there had been a fight, and Rand had killed him then, that would have been better and would have better satisfied the actual conflict in the book.

3. Rowan and Citra’s Arcs - In terms of Citra’s arc, I think it was emotionally impactful to have her renounce her Scythehood. But Rowan didn’t have as much of a part to play in this book as he could have had. Citra and Goddard also never interacted, which would have been very interesting since he was the direct cause of her mentor and canon mother figure’s death. It would have been an interesting scene that could have played out really well. Based on Discord texts from a conversation I had, I know an reminded that the last two pages of The Toll were incredibly impactful and beautiful. I don’t have much to say about Rowan since I don’t remember much of his role.

4. Jeri, Greyson, Loriana, and Munira’s Arcs - I paired these four together since their doings aren’t very solid after the books. Jeri and Greyson are canonically together, which I think was a great move by Shusterman. Having a main character in a healthy relationship with a canon LGBTQ+ character was incredibly impactful for me, and it satisfied Greyson’s thoughts about how he doesn’t care if Jeri is a boy or a girl, he just loves them. Loriana didn’t have as much of an arc, but Munira did have a small one. Her refusal of the Scythe’s ring let her dispense of her hatred for Scythes and their system, and let her let go of her bitter feelings about not being ordained. 

5. Cirrus’ Arc? - I do not remember enough to speak about Cirrus’ role in the books.

6. Faraday’s Arc - This is probably the one I have the most to say about. I am sorry in advance. Faraday is an emotional character. He has cried canonically twice as far as I can remember, once when he gleaned a child, and the other when he found out Scythe Curie and Anastasia had died on Endura. He is also openly disgusted with Scythe Goddard and his practices, which is why I supremely dislike his arc. It would have been so interesting to see how he would have reacted if Scythe Goddard and the heroes had interacted during the end scene of The Toll. We know he is an Honourable Scythe, like Curie, and upholds the Scythe Commandments, especially after his punishment over his breaking of the 9th commandment “Thou shalt have no spouse nor spawn.” It would have been so. interesting. to see whether Faraday would snap and attack Goddard, if he would try and talk to him, how he would react. Like with Anastasia, he would have been interacting with Curie’s murderer. The potential of that moment! Don’t forget that Faraday is definitely still in love with Curie, based on his elevated heart rate in Thunderhead, and his journal entry in The Toll. I think it would have been so interesting to see him confront her killer.

Summary:

Okay that was much longer than I intended, and I have more thoughts, but it’s 2:40 am and I haven’t slept in a while. So my summary. I liked The Toll. It was a solid book, that had funny moments, jaw dropping moments, heartfelt moments, and emotionally impactful scenes. It was a solid book.

I don’t think it compared as much to the other two, especially Thunderhead. The ending fell a little flat and didn’t carry the arcs as well as I would have liked, but honestly, I still reread it. Shusterman really managed to pull at your emotions.

Because I just beat up on the book for the last couple paragraphs, let me tell you some of my favourite parts of the book.

1. Literally any scene with Possuelo and Anastasia that dynamic was so good and him calling her “meu anjo” literally made my heart do a little happy dance the father-daughter dynamic was what we needed. It also offered a nice levity to tough scenes.

2. The Rowan-Anastasia Reunion. They ran towards each other and knocked each other off their feet. Ohhhh my god, they ran towards each other and knocked each other off their feet! That was so cute, and as someone who was a strong supporter of platonic Rowan & Anastasia, I honestly loved it.

3. Faraday-Anastasia Reunion. Him dropping to his knees in front her her, her initial confusion as to who he was, and the “perhaps the greatest of all Scythes was kneeling in front of her” part killed me. Their reunion was so well written and heart-wrenching.

4. Anastasia Cries about Curie’s Death. I feel like WatchMojo right now. Anyways, the way her emotions break after trying to repress her sadness over her mentor’s sacrifice for her.

5. Rowan’s sarcasm. Beauty. What a power move to sass the guy who’s going to set you on fire in front of 3000 people.

6. Scythe Constantine and Rand. What a dynamic I wasn’t ready for. Rand’s cool comebacks with Constantine’s sly personality just made for the most amazing dialogue opportunities. 

Thank you anon!

[omniswords]

Chronicles of a Parisian Dumbass 14

Happy Chronicles Update! I promise I'm still trucking along on this baby. I think?? We've also officially reached the halfway mark on this installment, which is kind of. Wow. That's WILD.

anyway, I hope you enjoy!

welcome to today’s episode of Luka’s Word to the Wise: whatever it is, it doesn’t have to be perfect. it just has to be good.

thanks, I.

Ivan is right. And technically, so is his Ma, who’s been telling him and Juleka this for as long as he can remember. But Luka will give them the gratification of saying I told you so when this is all over. Even though he could take a stab in the dark and guess that only one of them would take him up on that offer. And it wouldn’t be Ivan. And it wouldn’t be his Ma.

In between messaging back and forth with Bubbles over the next couple of days, Luka puts together a flyer. It’s not exactly the best—just something he threw together on one of those free graphic design websites, definitely nothing like a Gabriel billboard. But it’s punchy, and it fits the vibe, and it gets the overall message across. And more importantly, Juleka doesn’t give him The Look for it. In fact, she smiles over his shoulder when it’s done, and she rubs her fist in his hair, and she affectionately says, “Now can you chill?”

Luka only grins and throws her into a fireman’s carry for another round of ping-pong. He’s pretty sure he doesn’t know how to be totally chill any more.

They pool pocket money, leftovers from past paychecks, to put in an order for copies at the local print shop. Only Rose has ever been; she tells them she’s tagged along with a couple of old friends from an art club to print issues of the comic they’ve been working on together. It’s nice to see her take the lead, point out the best paper stocks and finishes and spot colors, whatever those are, based on what she’s overheard. It certainly beats the alternative: four barely-adults standing awkwardly at the counter, pretending they know what they’re doing.

Even if, according to Luka’s Ma, that’s most of what adulthood is, anyway.

They decide on something glossy because it makes the colors pop, and admittedly Luka has to thank his lucky, anxious stars for saving the file in every format imaginable because he wasn’t sure which one they’d need. Before he leaves them and heads to work on his bike, Juleka gives him another smile, and Ivan manages a single, subtle nod, and Rose’s eyes sparkle. And it’s starting to feel a little less like a thing he needs to do. It’s a thing he wants to do. With them.

And, well. Any bonuses are just that. Bonuses.

These days, Luka’s made it a point to bike past the bakery on his way to work, because if he’s as much of a regular as the Dupain-Cheng family claims, then he might as well act like it. To be fair, he doesn’t always stop in to talk or buy something; in fact, most times he doesn’t. maybe it’s some silly sense of hope that he’ll be seen. That Marinette really did talk to her parents about picking up an extra shift or two behind the counter. That there’s still room on the bulletin board for him—them. And most times, it is just Mrs. Cheng at the storefront, organizing displays or chatting with a friendly customer.

But sometimes it isn’t. Sometimes it is Marinette, idly staring at the window with what he can only assume is her sketchbook at her side and her apron tied around her waist. And sometimes, she looks up at him. And sometimes, she waves and smiles with all the warmth and none of the sweat of July.

That’s why he does it. For the sometimes.

The flyers, once they’re printed, are nothing short of gorgeous, but Luka can’t bring himself to take any of the credit for it. More than anything, he’s just happy to see his bandmates all in on this, even if he did jump in with both feet. Even if they do still rib him during practice about how he’s way too invested in this. (At least Mylène has only nice things to say. He’ll have to remember to order a few extra pastries just for her.)

They split the flyers into four stacks, because of course Mylène insists on helping and of course Rose and Juleka insist on going together. They run or pedal off in different directions once they’ve put a game plan together, and at least Luka can credit them for not teasing when he offers to take the third and fourth arrondissement. They all know it’s where the bakery is, in spite of how he talks up the Place des Vosges. They know, and they don’t have to say anything.

He’s still trying to figure out whether it’s a blessing or a curse to have your real-life friends on your social media accounts.

Even as he’s hanging the flyers in downtown coffee shops, in libraries, on signposts and public bulletin boards, Luka can’t stop staring. With every flyer he pins or tapes up, he finds something new to love about it. A splash of neon color in the top left corner. The jagged, cutting edges of the lettering. The blurred glow of a spotlight. Every time he looks, he gets the feeling that he’s already there. Music pounding in his ears, stage lights burning so bright and hot they make him sweat, fresh calluses on his fingertips that he’ll regret and adore later. He doesn’t think of stardom often, but he imagines this is something close to it.

At the very least, it’s what he would want to make of it.

It’s close to closing by the time Luka arrives at the bakery-patisserie; the usual lingering smells of fresh bread and sugary frosting and the easygoing music are both conspicuously absent when he walks in. But Mr. Dupain and Ms. Cheng are both missing from the storefront, and he has to double check the time on his phone to make sure he didn’t accidentally arrive too late, or that he’s not interrupting some closing routine. It shouldn’t take long; he spent almost the whole bike ride over rehearsing what he needed to say. He looks around cautiously, even clears his throat in case it gets someone’s attention.

It does. Marinette pops up from behind the counter with a squeak, and it startles him so much he nearly drops the stack of remaining flyers in his arms. And that would’ve been a pain in the ass as much as it would’ve been straight out of one of Rose’s cute romcoms for Marinette to round the counter and help him pick them up until their hands brushed over the same one.

Jesus. He really needs to get out of the house on his sister’s date nights.

He really needs to have a date night.

He also really needs to stop thinking about date nights when the person he’d actually consider a date night with is right in front of—

“Luka?”

He blinks to attention, standing awkwardly in the quiet. God, he really hopes he wasn’t staring at her when he zoned out like that. “Sorry,” he mumbles.

Marinette shrugs it off with an apologetic smile. “We’re fresh out of napoleons, you know,” she says casually, slipping past him to flip the sign on the door. “Guess you’ll just have to come first thing tomorrow morning.”

“Yeah, I guess I will—wait—” He shakes his head. “No, that’s not why I’m here.”

Marinette pauses at that. Even seems to stand a little taller, intrigued. Hopeful? “Oh…? Then why…  are you here?”

Meekly, Luka holds up one of the Kitty Section flyers and nods toward the bulletin board. Here’s hoping he—it— isn’t too much of a disappointment.

Marinette squints at the flyer for a second, and then her eyes widen and spark in delight. She looks… impressed, at least. which isn’t to say she’s never seemed impressed by him before. It just makes all the things he’s been working for a little more worth it. “Wow,” she says. “You really weren’t kidding about being in a band, huh.”

“You know it,” he says with what he prays is a casual shrug; this… wasn’t part of the script. “I don’t wear this thing on my back just to look pretty.”

She stifles a laugh, then claps a hand to her mouth immediately. “Sorry, I didn’t—I wasn’t implying that you’re not handsome—pretty— “

Oh God. She’s stammering. And it’s adorable.

Marinette composes herself with a deep breath and her arms folded over her chest. “There are pushpins in the corner,” she says. “Hang it up wherever you want.”

Except Luka can’t help feeling like she’s got her eyes on him the whole time. Either she’s coming to terms with the fact that he was telling the truth all along, or she’s… judging him. Or the flyer. And honestly, he can’t tell which is worse. “What’s wrong?” he asks once he notices she’s still staring. “Did I put it up at a funny angle or something?”

“No, just… thinking…” Her voice sounds distant, perhaps somewhere he might never find her. But then she snaps her fingers, and she says, “That’s it!”

“Uh.” Luka’s brow furrows. “What’s it?”

“Oh, just… sorry, my thoughts just ran away with me, I guess.” Marinette steps toward the flyer, brushing her fingers over it and wincing. maybe it’s just from the finish; his nails have scraped over then more than once, and it felt just as bad as a chalkboard. “I was just thinking, well…  you’ve been good to my parents and all. Why don’t we help you with promotion? You know, put postcards in the boxes or bags. It couldn’t hurt, could it?”

Luka nearly spotters, but the only thing he can manage to say is, “Where am I gonna get postcards?”

“I can make ‘em.” She says it like the simplest, most obvious thing in the world, and looks him up and down when he falters. “If… you and your band are okay with that, I mean. Cause I, y’know… dabble, in graphic design. But I don’t want to impose, if you’re okay with this. It’s your band and all.”

“I can,” he starts to say; then he stops himself, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. “I can ask them?” Idiot, he thinks. That wasn’t supposed to be a question. “I’ll let you know what they say. Have to come in bright and early tomorrow anyway, right?”

Marinette only smiles. It’s faint, almost absentminded, but that sweet little tug at the corner of her mouth is hardly lost on him. “You don’t have to.”

“Ask them?”’

“Come by.” Her bag is hanging on a peg by the register, and she’s off rummaging through it before Luka can ask what she means. He gravitates toward her more than he actually walks to her, and by the time he reaches the counter she’s fishing a card out of her wallet. It’s pink and black, decorated with the same spray of flowers and monogram as her apron. when he turns it over, there’s her name at the top, and below that, two email addresses. And two phone numbers.

He looks up, wide-eyed.

“So,” Marinette says. “Unless you’re coming all this way for a napoleon, a pear tart, and my pretty face, I think you’re good.”

“I—” Luka turns the business card over and over as though it will teach him now to speak again. “I guess so.” Does she know he thinks her face is pretty? Wait—of course she does, he gave her that note. Oh, Jesus, does she still have that thing? It’s been weeks. “Well,” he says, scuffing his heel against the tile. “Who knows. Maybe I’ll come anyway.”

Okay, that was definitely not part of the script.

But then, neither is the way her eyes are sparkling. “Well,” she murmurs. “Maybe you will.”

“I should, uh—” He jerks a thumb toward the door. “Go, um. Happy closing?”

She laughs behind a hand, glancing between him and the tacked-up flyer before she grabs a broom and sends him off with a delicate wave. And to be honest, Luka’s never been angry with nature before, but he curses the wind for being so loud that he can’t hear that giggle in his head, over and over. Almost as much as he thanks it for drowning out all the stupid things he said, and the lingering questions of why she offered at all.

Luka’s Word to the Wise, Part 2:

Progress isn’t linear but it sure as hell doesn’t mean you can’t stutter your way through getting a girl’s number and succeed.

[henrik-von-schneeplestein]

Crazy To Suppose

Ship: marvelsepticeye, background/established schneeplebro

Summary: Chase and Henrik invite Jackie, Marvin, and Jamie over to celebrate New Year's Eve. The night doesn't go the way Jackie imagined, and the end of his year is far from happy. The beginning of his new year, however, starts looking up.

Warnings: alcohol; not so much a warning but just a note that this story obviously does not take place during covid - don’t go to parties during pandemics!!!

Word Count: 1812

Click here if you’d prefer to read it on AO3 :)

--

Jackie snuggled into his blanket, flicking through channels with the remote Chase had left him with. Jamie was still sitting next to him, but Chase and Henrik had gone upstairs to put the kids to bed and Marvin had wandered off and disappeared. 

It had been a nice evening so far. Dinner was delicious - Jackie had spent more New Year’s Eves than he’d care to admit ordering delivery from overtaxed restaurants and waiting forever for it to arrive. And even aside from the homecooked meal, it felt good just to get out of his apartment on the holiday and end the year chatting, laughing, and watching Chase’s kids try to stay awake until midnight (they didn’t even make it until nine).

He heard footsteps coming back into the room behind him; Chase had said something about watching a movie until it was time to watch the ball drop, and left Jackie in charge of picking. Marvin still wasn’t back, so Jackie pitched the others some options as Chase and Henrik brought out some snacks and made themselves comfortable on their couch. He almost jumped when a voice came from right behind him.

“I’m gonna head out, but thanks again for dinner guys.”

Jackie turned. Marvin, apparently, had been in the bathroom changing into a sparkly gold dress that came to his mid-thigh. He looked glamorous and perfect as always; like a model in a fashion magazine article about New Year’s Eve. It made Jackie understand the saying “dressed to kill;” it was like Marvin was stealing the air right out of his lungs.

Chase was less impressed. “You’re gonna freeze in that.”

Marvin rolled his eyes. He walked back through the kitchen and opened the hall closet without asking, helping himself to one of Henrik’s coats, a long black one that extended down to Marvin’s knees. It was loose on him, so he ignored the buttons and just pulled it around himself. “Does this meet your standard, mother?”

Chase crossed his arms but didn’t say anything.

“I’ll bring it back tomorrow. I’m leaving this here anyway,” Marvin said, dropping a bag that looked to contain the clothes he’d worn earlier in the evening. He fished out a smaller bag, one that matched his outfit, and started putting his shoes on.

“Do you at least have your phone?” Chase asked. “How are you getting home? You don’t have your car.”

“My date’s driving.”

Jackie didn’t know why it hurt so much more than usual. Marvin went out on plenty of dates, and it was never easy, but Jackie had gotten used to telling himself that it was ok, that it wasn’t his business. Being in love with him didn’t give Jackie the right to judge Marvin’s decisions, and just because Marvin never showed any interest in Jackie didn’t mean it was a personal attack when he went out with someone else. But Jackie had thought that they would be together tonight, even if just as friends, and now he had to watch him ride off with someone else. And maybe, when he’d seen Marvin dressed for a party, he’d had the tiniest hope that he was going to ask Jackie to come along.

Headlights appeared outside the window, Marvin waved goodbye and wished them all a happy new year, then left and closed the door behind him while Chase was still in the middle of telling him to be careful. In his absence, there was a five minute intermission for Chase to rant about how inconsiderate he was and how he was going to end up dead in a ditch one of these days, and then they redirected into the movie. Jackie chose a superhero movie, since Marvin wasn’t there to complain about it, but found he only missed the way that Marvin would’ve made fun of it when they ended up watching in almost complete silence.

They caught the last fifteen minutes or so of the live footage in Times Square, and before they knew it they were counting down. When midnight struck, he found himself staring as Chase and Henrik kissed each other, swaying a little as they held each other. They were so happy. Jackie wondered if he’d ever know what that felt like.

He felt a kiss on his cheek and turned to see Jamie smiling at him. He tried to smile back as Chase and Henrik finally separated and turned to hug the two of them. He knew he should enjoy the laughter and friendship, but he was stupid enough to check his phone. Marvin hadn’t texted him.

Chase and Henrik didn’t really have a guest room, what with having five kids, but since Henrik’s kids were with their mother that night, they offered Jamie and Jackie to crash in their empty beds. Jamie accepted and went upstairs with them, but Jackie figured he’d honestly be more comfortable on the couch than in a twin, and besides, he was grateful to have the TV, especially once he was alone. He couldn’t sleep, and it gave him something to distract himself with.

He was zoning out in front of some 90s sitcom he’d never seen when his phone buzzed at around 1 am. It was from Marvin - “hey can you let me in”

What did that mean - it made it sound like Marvin was right outside. Jackie walked towards the front of the house and squinted through the window. He could see something moving. “Jesus,” he muttered. He opened the door and Marvin slipped through. “You’re creepy as shit, you know.”

“Thank you.”

“Yeah, no problem. What are you doing here?”

“I accidentally left my keys in that bag with the clothes I changed out of.”

“Oh. Is your, uh, date waiting for you?”

“God, no. He was an asshole. I took an Uber; I’ll just crash here tonight.” He took off his coat, revealing a full bottle of wine he’d been hiding under it. “We can have our own party.” He opened the bottle expertly and took a drink directly from it. Then he held it out to Jackie. 

“I don’t know if we should -”

“Oh come on,” Marvin said, giving him That Grin. “You already helped me sneak in, you’re complicit here. Besides, Mommy and Daddy are fast asleep upstairs, they’re not gonna catch us.” He dropped onto the couch, making himself comfortable in the space Jackie had abandoned.

Somehow, Marvin had a way of making it feel like they really were rebellious teenagers breaking all the rules, and the sadness that had hung around Jackie all night suddenly seemed distant, like the two of them had been a part of this secret scheme all along. He accepted the bottle and took a sip.

“Sorry if that guy ruined your night. You want me to beat him up?”

“Nah, not even worth the energy. He tried to do the whole ‘kiss someone else at midnight’ thing to make me jealous. Please. I practically invented that move.” He leaned over for the bag of chips on the coffee table and took a handful. “I mean, the crazy thing is,” he said between bites, “I used to do that with Chase, back when he was fun.” He rolled his eyes.

“What’s up between the two of you, anyway? Why are you at each other’s throats all of a sudden?”

Marvin hesitated. He wouldn’t quite meet Jackie’s eye, staring down at the wine he was swirling restlessly. “He’s mad at me for going out tonight. He thought we should all hang out, make sure you had a fun New Year’s.”

“Me?!”

“Yeah. Just cause, y’know, it’s the first holiday season since Lizzy, and he’s been worried.” That was the last thing Jackie had expected. Lizzy was his ex-girlfriend, but they’d broken up months ago, back in spring, and he’d been the one who ended it. But then again, they’d been together for two years, everyone had been asking when the ring was coming, and she really was great. Maybe he should still be upset, but he hadn’t even really thought about it. That was why he’d broken it off in the first place - he knew it made him a jerk to stay if he had feelings for someone else, and even now, his only real feeling was hope that maybe the reason Marvin hadn’t invited him along tonight was because he couldn’t take him away from a party that was meant to be for him. 

“And I would’ve stayed, it’s just that I already had those plans.”

“It’s all good. Chase is sweet, but I’m really fine.”

“I was stupid to go anyway. Honestly, I knew this guy was a loser I just… I know it’s dumb and it doesn’t really compare to your thing, but ever since Nico I’ve been weird about dating.” Nico was Marvin’s ex. Jackie didn’t like him, obviously, but the other guys didn’t either. He was weird, dark and broody, and they were pretty sure his name was really just Nick. Marvin had stayed with him longer than he’d ever been with anyone else, though. “I know we weren’t together as long and that you guys didn’t like him, but he was always sweet, y’know. And I still wonder if I made a mistake ending it.” He took another long drink. “And it’s like, any time I meet someone too nice it just freaks me out, I don’t know. Like I don’t wanna do that again.”

“That makes sense. I don’t think it means you should go out with assholes, though.”

“No. I think Anti’s snake is getting hungry; I keep stealing its dead rats to put in guys’ mailboxes.”

Jackie laughed. “You’re something else, Marvin.” He grabbed the bottle and took another drink. He didn’t even like wine, it was just nice to share. “You’re gonna figure it out.” He raised the bottle in a toast. “To a year of dating nice people, for both of us.”

“Mm, yeah.” He rested his head on Jackie’s shoulder. Jackie could feel the tickle of his long hair, smell the booze on his breath, and it made his heart beat faster. “That’s the spirit,” he yawned.

“There are beds if you think you’d be more comfy.”

“Nah.” He pulled his legs up under him. “I’m good here if you are.”

“I’m good.” He tried to fix the blanket so it was over both of them, and Marvin’s weight grew heavier against him. 

He was pretty sure Marvin had fallen asleep, so he was surprised when he heard him mumble, “I can’t believe I didn’t get a kiss on New Year’s Eve.”

Jackie leaned over and kissed his forehead. “How ‘bout that?”

Marvin hummed, now so out of it that his voice came out in a muffled breath. “Nice.”

Jackie laughed. “Happy New Year.”

 This time, he didn’t receive a response at all other than deep, steady breathing.

[dyde21]

Learning 2

Read on AO3 HERE

Summary: MJ is worried about Peter, and when she goes to check on him the next day she finds things are worse than she feared. Now can she help him see he needs help?

Michelle Jones was a bit scared by how easy it was to love Peter. What had started out as a simple fascination with an honest nerd with a bright smile turned into a school girl crush, and ended up with them falling in love and being happily together in college. Growing up, MJ never expected herself to end up in a gushy romance story. It wasn’t that she didn’t think she would fall in love, she just figured she’d be older and have a more mature, graceful descent into it.

But life didn’t care about her plans and she found herself lost in Peter’s smiles and safe in his arms. Something she honestly never expected was that her boyfriend would be an actual superhero. That really was less of throwing a wrench in her plans as much as blowing them up all together. But she was Michelle Fucking Jones. She could handle it. She’d learn, make a plan, and deal with it just like everything else in her life.

It definitely wasn’t easy at times. Having to learn basic first aid to help treat him when he stumbled into her apartment beat half to death, learning to keep up to date on all sorts of crazy villains so she could help him when he needed it, whether or not he asked for it. Having to accept that choosing to stay with him meant that there would be an unfortunate number of missed dates, or early departures. A constant worry that he might face a threat he wouldn’t be able to overcome, and the acceptance that her life may be thrown in the crosshairs eventually too.

But that didn’t matter to MJ. Not as much as he did. The way he listened to and absorbed every word she said, earnestly caring about what she was passionate about. The way he did his absolute best to be there for her when he was able to, and almost never blamed her for being upset with him. The way his eyes would crinkle when he laughed, or he’d see past her harsh words or thinly veiled lies to see what she truly meant and was scared to say. His understanding of her defensive habits built up from a rough childhood, and his patience to get through her walls. The way he gave himself for the city, while never asking for anything in return even when he deserved so much more than he had. 

Her biggest gripe with him was probably that he tried to shoulder everything on his own. He had lost so much in his life, and she knew he felt like if he tried to reach out too much for someone, he’d only lose them too. He didn’t care about taking care of himself because there was always someone else he could help first, and he saw that as more important. She admired how selfless he was, but it also frustrated her because it went beyond being humble into being neglectful of himself and harmful. But he didn’t seem to be able to accept that fact no matter how hard they all tried to get it into his head. It hurt to be with someone like that, especially because of how much she loved him. But Michelle Jones was not a quitter, and nothing was going to get in the way of them. Not her own defensive nature or his self destructive habits, they’d learn together. 

When she heard a knock on her door early on Saturday, her first thought was to look around the room to find a blunt object to bludgeon them with in return. Pulling down the hood of Peter’s hoodie that she had stolen, and needed to replace soon because it was losing his smell, she shuffled her way to the door.

Opening it, she was surprised to see her golden retriever of a boyfriend standing there looking shocked that she answered the door. She realized it had been the first time she had seen his face since he had bailed on their dinner to fight the Rhino. She couldn’t help the flash of frustration that boiled up. She had gone into the night expecting to be disappointed, but that didn’t mean it didn’t still sting when she had to send him off to save the city. 

She knew, she knew perfectly that he really didn’t want to leave. She saw him starting to resign himself to staying with her. But she also knew that if someone died because they were having dinner, it’d destroy him on the inside, and she couldn’t help but feel guilty too. Reasonably she also knew that it wasn’t their fault. Neither of them had an obligation to drop everything, always, to deal with every problem. It was impossible to solve crime in New York completely. But she also knew he had to try, so she had sent him off and tried not to let the disappointment sting too much as she paid for the dinner and left, head hung high in defiance.

Then she saw his face though. The way his cheeks seemed a little more sunken, his beautiful brown eyes seeming just a little bit dimmer. Beyond just nerves, he was seeming even more ragged lately, and she doubted it was just because of the dinner. She felt concern growing in her chest at his state. But she was at least glad to see him. She really did miss seeing him, even if they were busy. Even when they were tense around each other, the first person she always wanted to go to for comfort was him.

“Hi.” She offered, seeing as he was still seemingly reeling from being pulled out of whatever internal spiral he had found himself in. 

“U-uh hi. Yeah. I just…” He rambled, making her raise an eyebrow. She leaned against the doorframe and crossed her arms.

“I’m kinda busy.” She said, before wincing. That didn’t come out right. She knew he came over here to properly apologize, and probably had something else to tell her. It wasn’t that he was unwelcome, she just had a lot of studying left to do, and the lack of sleep and stress had made her snappy but she didn’t want him to think she was still angry about the dinner. That fight wasn’t worth it, and she had been the one to give him permission to go instead of making him choose between them that night. Ugh, emotions sucked sometimes. 

“Right! I know.” He cleared his throat. “I know. I promise I’m not here to bother you. I just… here.”

Peter offered her one of her thermos he had borrowed one night. She took a sip a bit confused until she felt the familiar taste of her current favorite tea. She couldn’t help but smile as she knew he remembered her favorite tea, even if she had a habit of changing it monthly. He still always listened and committed it to memory as if her preferences were something he needed to know more than the material for his midterms. 

“Also these. And an apology. I’m really sorry. I know I say that a lot. And it sucks. But I am.” Peter added as MJ found two boxes shoved into her arms too. Looking down, she was surprised as she saw they were boxes of that tea as well. Even when things had been tense, he still went out of his way to bring her a thoughtful gift he really didn’t have to. She wasn’t even waiting for an apology or some sort of peace offering. He had apologized plenty before and after he had left, but he still felt determined to make up the perceived slight to her.

She saw his gaze fall to the floor and she could practically see the crushing guilt he felt for literally saving people’s lives. He really was too kind for this stupid city that did nothing but chew him up and spit him back out. Moving forward, she tilted his chin up after moving her thermos to her other hand and shared a kiss with him.

After the kiss, he stared at her with that adorable slightly dazed expression he always had after they kissed. “I know you have work so I won’t distract you. I just… wanted to give you a little care package, and say I know you’ll rock this. I can proofread your article if you need me to too. Or just to get an opinion.”

Jesus, how did she end up with someone so sweet? He knew she was busy, despite being incredibly busy himself, and just wanted to support her without getting in her way. He also knew she liked getting a second opinion on her writing, and wanted to be there for her despite everything on his plate. Moments like these made her want to ask Stark for a suit just so she could beat up anyone who would dare hurt this man, just so she could keep him safe and give him the world.

“Thanks, Tiger.” She said. She couldn’t get past how ragged he looked though. The bags under his eyes were getting worse and his shoulders were sumping lower than they usually did. “Are you okay though?” She asked as she reached out to gently turn his jaw to get a better look at his profile. What normally made her heart flutter (he was <em>very</em> pretty) was now just making her concerned. His cheekbones weren’t normally this pronounced either, she had sketched them enough times to know for sure.

“Have you been eating? Sleeping? You look like shit.” She called him out, reading his expression to look for any of the rather obvious tells he had for lying. It really was a miracle more people didn’t know his identity because he sucked at lying. Or she had just spent too long staring at his face that she could read him like he was her favorite book. (He was)

“Oh, ouch.” She rolled her eyes, that little shit. He knew exactly what she meant. “Midterms.” Peter brushed off her concerns with a shrug. “Happens to us all. I mean you always look beautiful. But you also look a little less beautiful. Only stunningly gorgeous today.”

He had the audacity to look smug while trying to flatter his way out of her interrogation. No matter how sweet he was, she wasn’t that stupid. She gently shoved his shoulder. “I’m sorry I didn’t try to make myself look nice hoping you’d drop by unannounced.” She replied in a dry tone. “But Gwen and I are making sure we take care of each other. You’re still living alone since Ned moved in with Betty. I’m worried.”

MJ was straightforward like always, knowing beating around the bush with Peter didn’t usually lead anywhere. They resolved things better when they got straight to the point, that’s how they functioned as a couple. Peter would be too flighty if you let him when he was trying to hide something. His solution to hiding something was to leave, which always only made it more glaringly obvious.

“I’ll be fine. Just gotta get a lot done this weekend. Then I’ll rest next week sometime. Maybe we can have a night in, no suit, no alerts.” He said with one of the fake smiles MJ <em>hated</em>. She hated seeing him bottle up what he was feeling, and she was pretty sure even he knew she wasn’t fooled by them. 

But she was also a little startled by the desperation she could see in his eyes. She was used to seeing some sort of exhaustion, all college students had it. Even the non-super powered ones. But this almost scared her a little. Like the light in his eyes was flickering out and he was desperately searching for something to hold onto. A sort of lifeline to keep him going. 

“Yeah. Sounds nice. I’d like that.” She said, honestly meaning that. She wasn't sure if they’d actually get to have that night, but she was desperate to give him the comfort he so clearly needed right now. 

She leaned in for another kiss when her eyes saw his collarbones. “Pete, you need to eat. You’re losing weight again.” She scolded. She had also drawn his collarbones to know that they weren’t usually that pronounced either. (She drew him a lot, okay?)

She could see his own walls starting to form as he was rejecting the truth he was running from. That he needed help, like every person on this freaking planety did. “I will! I bought stuff today.” he offered, and MJ was not impressed.

“I can’t wait to read your article. You better send it to me!” With that he was off down the hallway, leaving MJ to watch him leave and lean against the doorway with a sigh. Her thoughts were now on him, and she could tell he was falling into a rut again. This happened occasionally when everything in his life seemed to pile on. 

Stepping back in, she set the tea down and texted Ned. 

<em>Peter just brought me a gift and offered to help me with work. Lemme know if our little santa shows up at your place next.</em>

There was a beat before Ned responded. 

<em>Oh shit, is he doing rounds again? He’s not Mr.Stark he can’t afford to give gifts every time he’s stressed.</em>

MJ knew that was true and walked back over to her work station, chewing her lip. Stressed out Peter around midterms was bad. But he was also left alone now, which meant it was even easier for him to push everyone away with his bad habits. MJ knew she had to talk to him tomorrow, check in just to make sure he was actually okay. Even if just for her sanity. She’d really rather find out she was reading too much into the situation and be wrong, than realize she was right. 

But that meant she had to finish her work tonight, so she could focus on him properly tomorrow. She didn’t moonlight as a vigilante, and she was a good student, so she was actually not too worried about her midterms, she had been studying properly. She just had to finish this article and she’d be good. Though some of that credit went to Gwen cause while it kinda sucked to keep yourself on track, it was easy to keep someone else focused so they worked together this term. 

When she got the text from Ned a little later, that he had indeed shown up, MJ felt more fear creep into her heart. That meant he was doing his rounds. This wasn’t just thoughtful Peter, this was panicked Peter. She just hoped he would take care of himself and get through this weekend in one piece.

MJ had to employ every trick in her book to stay focused to get through the article and not let her day be wasted worrying about Peter. There wasn’t much she could do right now, other than set herself up to be in a good position to help him.

When she finally heard Gwen come home a little later she looked up and offered a smile.

Gwen turned, one earbud in as she sang along to the music in her ears. A song her boyfriend Miles had shown her recently she recognized. She paused when she saw MJ, and her brow furrowed. “What’s wrong with Peter?” Gwen asked, setting down her stuff and moving to sit across from MJ.

Scowling at being read so easily, she crossed her arms a bit defiantly. “What do you mean?” She asked, just to be a little difficult. 

Gwen rolled her eyes, not impressed with MJ’s show of bravado. “You have your Peter scowl on.” She explained simply.

“I <em>don’t</em> have a Peter scowl.” MJ replied.

In return, Gwen gave MJ the flattest look she had ever seen on the girl. “You’re chewing your lip, your shoulders are hunched and you keep glancing at your phone. You wouldn’t look at the phone if it had to do with your work, and Peter would be over here too if it had to do with Ned. Seeing as I haven’t gotten any major news updates it means Peter’s not kicking butt right now either, which meant something is wrong with him.” Gwen reasoned annoyingly well.

MJ just sighed. “I hate you sometimes.”

Gwen shrugged, a cheerful smile on her face. “You’re not that complicated once someone gets to know you. But what’s up, is he okay?” Gwen asked, leaning forward.

MJ thought about being stubborn for a little longer, but realized she was just being moody because she was in fact worried about Peter. “I don’t know. He’s doing his rounds again.” MJ said, motioning to the tea boxes on the counter.

Gwen looked over before she sighed. “Ah, I see.”

It turned out Gwen and Peter got along pretty well, and she had joined the Friends of Spider-man club pretty quickly. In true Parker fashion, it had been an accident. He had climbed into her window one night after a fight with the vulture, half dead and bleeding. Gwen had heard the thump and MJ’s freaking out, and came to investigate. The blonde had thought she was killing Spider-man until she saw who it was with his mask off. Since then, MJ was actually grateful she had someone else to freak out with when stuck watching the news during a nasty fight, or someone she could openly complain to when it came to the more difficult aspects of dating a superhero. 

Peter had apologized about potentially putting Gwen in danger by knowing and Gwen shut that shit down hard, scolding him almost as bad as MJ had about not getting to choose whether she stays involved with him for her. That was when Gwen had cemented herself as MJ’s number one female friend.

Gwen leaned back on the chair, twirling her hair as she thought through the situation. “I assume May is okay?”

MJ nodded. “He doesn’t hide stuff like that. If she was sick he would have told us straight up. I don’t think it’s Avengers related either. He’s gotten better about telling us when he can’t give us specifics.”

Gwen nodded, sighing. “Maybe it’s just midterms? We’re all kind of a mess right now.”

MJ sighed, running her hand through her hair with frustration. “Maybe. I don’t know. He hasn’t been sleeping and he’s lost a lot of weight. Again. The idiot is also trying to hide it.”

Rolling her eyes, Gwen stood up. “Like he’s good at hiding things.” She put her hands on her hips and looked at MJ. “Come on, you need a break. I’ll order some chinese food, you choose a movie. You’re not going to get any work done like this, and I’m putting off studying.” She replied cheerfully, making MJ laugh. 

“Fine. Fine.” MJ reletened, saving her almost done article and closing her laptop. She needed a distraction and to process the new problem in her mind so she could get back on track.

By the time Gwen had finished ordering their usual MJ had chosen a movie and was curled up on one end of the couch, clutching the pillow close as she stared at the TV. 

“Aww, you don’t even realize you’re doing it, do you?” Gwen said, sitting on the opposite end and nudging MJ’s thigh with her foot.

Returning fire with a confused look, MJ tilted her head slightly. “What?”

Pointing at the pillow MJ was clutching to her chest, Gwen waited. 

Looking down, MJ saw that she was clutching the Spider-man throw pillow Gwen had gotten her as a joke gift for her birthday after she found out about Peter. Petulantly, she turned her head back towards the movie, but made no attempt to hug the pillow less. She did however scowl when Gwen’s laughter rang out. 

When her phone let out the jingle set only to Spidey news, her heart sank. “He’s not stupid enough to go out this weekend, right? He has midterms and he looked like he was barely holding himself together. He’s not that fucking stupid, right?” MJ asked herself mostly as she dove for her phone. Sure enough news reports of Spidey fighting the Rhino were at the top of her notifications. 

“I’m gonna kill him.” MJ said, glancing at Gwen who had already paused their movie and was turning on the news.

Gwen winced as she saw Rhino throw the car at him. “Looks like you might have to get in line.”

“GWEN!” MJ shrieked at her, still staring at the screen. 

“Sorry, wrong time.” Gwen offered, her eyes glued to the shaky footage. 

They both gasped as Peter was slammed against the wall by the car then the Rhino and from the helicopter footage there was a heart-stopping moment where it looked like he had been impaled. Before MJ could even begin to process that horrible reality Peter had kicked him off and continued the fight. 

When Rhino was finally down MJ felt like she had lost another year to her life. “He’s so freaking stupid. I’m switching majors and becoming an architect so I can build him a special prison so he can stay there and be safe. I’ll build him a fucking jungle gym so he can still feel like Spider-man if he wants to. I’m never letting him go out into the fucking streets again.” MJ ranted as Gwen rubbed her back. 

Then they saw the cops pointing guns at Spider-man and MJ was on her feet. “Are you serious? The fucking cops are going to shoot Spider-man because they can’t do their goddamn jobs? That they have to let a student clean up the messes they can’t with their defense fund of a budget in this freaking city?”

Gwen stayed silent. Her dad was a cop, and she knew most of the cops did like Spidey, but she also knew that orders were orders. She was also aware MJ was still in one of her spidey-panics and not actually looking for a calm rational debate about police funding.

Luckily they watched Peter vanish and they switched back to the movie, Gwen stealing glances occasionally as she saw MJ slowly come down from the rush. They finished their movie and food and both went back to work. 

By the time MJ had finished her first draft of the article she felt like she had calmed down. She knew Peter would be back from patrol by now, and hopefully eating and taking a rest so she sent him a text.

<em>Saw the alert. You okay?</em>

She knew he was probably fine if he hadn’t come crawling in her window asking for help. Which was good news. But she also always wanted to just pull him into a hug and keep him safe after she saw him on the news which she didn’t get to do when he was back at his place.

<em>I’m fine. Nothing broken this time. Promise.</em> Was his response. She stared at it for a moment, as if the text on the screen would reveal more information if she intimidated it enough. She was pretty sure he was telling the truth this time at least. “Nothing broken, he says.” She relayed to Gwen, who let out a sigh of relief.

<em>You better not be lying. Wanna read my article? Are you caught up on midterms?</em>

She responded, already pulling open an email to send it to him. She knew his response before he even typed it.

<em>Yeah, doing surprisingly well. I can use a break. Send it over.

Thanks, Tiger.</em> She responded and stared at the body of the email, debating what to say. 

Part of her wanted to scold him for going out when he had so much on his plate. Wanted to tell him he was being reckless. Another part wanted to praise him and leave him a sweet message. Hopefully give him something to smile about when he saw the message after the long fight, but that felt too cheesy.

She typed some stuff, staring at the blinking cursor. 

<em>Here’s the essay. Lemme know your thoughts. Make sure you drink water tonight, and go shower. I know you’re lazy about it after patrol.</em>

She chewed her lip, hovering over the send button. Was she too pushy?

“Oh my god, just hit send.” Gwen said, not even looking up from her own laptop. 

Reflexively MJ hit the send button before she even realized she was. “How did you know?”

“Because if you stared any harder at the laptop without typing anything it was going to catch on fire.” Gwen said, only glancing up to give her a smug smirk before looking back down. 

MJ flipped her off, which Gwen cheerfully returned.

Managing to review a few chapters from the notes she had, she finally got the email back from Peter. Scanning through it, she couldn’t help the smirk on her features. Sometimes fighting crime in spandex and geeking out over the newest electronic thing Tony made made MJ forget how smart Peter was in other fields as well. His points were well reasoned, and his critiques honest but fair. She found herself agreeing with pretty much every point he made, and almost felt dumb she didn’t catch them herself. 

“I take it he sent back useful notes?” 

“Stop reading me, Gwen.”

“Then make it at least a little bit of a challenge.”

MJ just scowled but texted Peter.

<em>Thanks Tiger, you’re the best. You actually made good points, I’m impressed. Need me to check over your essay?</em>

She couldn’t help the smile as she doodled a little spider in the corner of her notebook, spinning a web in the shape of a heart. 

<em>It still needs some work before I can show it to anyone. I’m good, thanks though. Love you.</em> Her phone buzzed. 

This made MJ frown again. “Needs some work” was his slang for not done at all. He wasn’t shy about showing her unpolished writing. He was shy about showing <em>unfinished</em> writing. That meant he was behind. And he still went out fucking patrolling. MJ threw her pen down, leaning her head back and rubbing her face. Was he trying to stress her out or was that a natural gift that came with the spider bite. That meant she needed to make sure he actually got some help with his essay tomorrow so he could get some much needed sleep.

<em>Love you too. Get some sleep, okay? I know the Rhino is annoying and I saw you get hit with that car. I can help you study tomorrow so get some sleep.</em> She practically ordered him. She knew the chances were slim, but she hoped just once he’d be a good little spider and listen to her when she was making sense.

<em>You still have studying to do too, don’t worry. I’ll be fine.</em> So much for that. She couldn’t think of a response that wouldn’t end up with them arguing with each other over text so she just set her phone down. His inability to accept help was seriously a problem and she was going to have to confront him about it after midterms. She’d drag in the whole FoS group if she needed to, because this wasn’t healthy. She knew he knew better, and she really didn’t want to date someone who couldn’t take care of themselves. Especially when she knew he could, but wouldn’t. That was the most frustrating part of it. 

Gwen must have read she was at her wits end because she closed both of their laptops. “That’s enough for tonight. You look like you’re about to kidnap Peter yourself and I stopped caring about my grades about an hour ago so we should sleep. Tomorrow we can figure out how to download the latest update of common sense into Peter, okay?”

MJ nodded, leaning back in her chair. “Yeah. You’re right. Thanks Gwen.” She got up and pulled her friend into a hug. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Gwen returned it and shrugged. “Either kill Peter, or kidnap him and put him in a zoo for safety, probably.”

MJ laughed. “We have some unused space here. We could build a nice little enclosure for him.”

Gwen rolled her eyes. “Please, we both know whenever he’s over here he stays in your bedroom.”

MJ flushed red. “Shut up!” 

Gwen just laughed and walked away, waving her hands as she disappeared into her room.

MJ made sure the apartment was locked up safely before she went to her bed, pulling the little Spider-man plushy she had gotten to see the reaction Peter would make when he saw it a little closer, and was out within minutes. 

XxXxXxXxX

The next morning MJ found herself making the trek to his apartment. She had her backpack with her work in it, one of his favorite coffees and some bagels for breakfast. She thought it might be a little early, but also knew that he was probably already up because he was allergic to sleep even when he didn’t have nightmares. What she didn’t expect to see when she made her way up to his floor though was a couple of neighbors standing nervously in the hallway.

She approached a little faster. She quickly made her way to his door, knocking on it. “Peter?”

She tried knocking again when one of his neighbors approached. “You’re his girlfriend right. Is he okay? We heard shouting and a loud crash.” They said a bit nervously. MJ’s heart kicked into overdrive. Peter almost never shouted and crashing in a superhero’s house usually meant very bad things. 

“PETER!” She called out, fishing out his spare key he had given her and unlocked the door, closing it behind her to keep out prying eyes just in case. 

Setting down her bag, she looked around and felt her stomach sink lower and lower with each thing she saw. His place was a disaster, but it didn’t look like a fight had happened. It just looked like a mess. But even just a messy apartment, it was worse. 

Then she saw the pan sticking out of the broken cabinet and she gasped. Peter <em>never</em> abused his super strength. He was also so careful with it, always terrified of hurting or breaking things. 

She finally found him next to the counter on the ground, violently shaking and she could see the tears streaming down his face. “Peter?”

“MJ…” His voice sounded so broken she felt her throat tighten at the sound and it terrified her to her core. Even injured she had seen him with more life than this. She rushed over to his side, trying to find any injuries before she touched him but he seemed fine physically.

But this apartment… she saw the pile of trash, the dirty dishes, the laundry. This wasn’t a healthy space to live in, and was way worse than anything she had ever seen before. Peter was normally a bit of a mess, but all genius’ tended to be. This was different, this was scarier. They often said a person’s workspace is a reflection of who they are as a person, and she prayed that wasn’t true in this moment because she was terrified for Peter if it was.

“Are you okay?” She asked gently as she saw him, still shaking, still crying. MJ knew just how much he hated her seeing him like this, but he wasn’t even able to put up a front. Just what was going on?

“No…” His voice confessed and MJ pulled him into her chest, hugging him as tight as she could. She kissed the top of his hair, just holding him while he shook in her arms and she tried desperately to stay in control of herself. 

How much did Peter have to be hurting to fall this far? What kind of hell was going on in his head that led him to this situation. A part of her wondered how she hadn’t noticed the signs earlier. What kind of girlfriend was she if she couldn’t even tell her boyfriend was falling apart at the seams?

She forced those thoughts deep down inside. Now was not the time to dwell on insecurities. Peter was falling apart right now and Goddamnit she was going to fix it. She was going to help him fix it himself. Peter needed help, and there was no force in the world that would stop her from getting him the help he needed. Whatever it was, whoever it neede to be, MJ vowed as she held her shaking boyfriend that she was going to make sure he got what he needed and what he fucking deserved.

But she needed a plan. This entire situation was almost overwhelming, but she had to get a grip on things right now. Help him get his feet underneath him, so they could start to rebuild.

“S-stove…” He choked out.

MJ nodded, kissing the top of his head one more time before she stood up and turned off the stove that was emanating heat. She felt his hand resting around her ankle, desperate for contact still and a lump formed in her throat. How the hell had he gotten so low without anyone noticing?

She crouched down next to him, seeing him shaking still. She recognized that too now. It wasn’t just sadness, he had gone into a full blown sensory overloaded, because of fucking course Peter wasn’t in enough hell right now. 

“Peter…” She whispered as quiet as she could, knowing he would hear her just fine. “I’m going to turn off the lights then I’ll be right back.”

“I-I fi-” She cut him off with a brief kiss to the lips, staring directly into his eyes. 

“I love you so much, Peter. But I swear to God you are not allowed to use that phrase for the next week or I’m putting on the Rhino outfit and kicking your ass myself.” 

Thankfully her little threat got the tiny smile she was hoping for and she quickly made her way over to the light switch, flicking off all the lights in the apartment so only some light filtered in from the windows. She saw the pancake on the ground, and the plate on the edge and was able to piece together what had happened. She gently picked it up and set it on the plate before she sat down next to Peter again slowly wrapping an arm around him and letting him lean into her. 

MJ could feel his fists balling up in her (his) sweater and he continued to sob into her shoulder. She whispered the quietest reassurances and just let him get it all out. She knew how cathartic a cry could be, and she wanted to just let him ride the wave and let out whatever had been building up for so long. 

“It’s okay, Tiger. Let it all out. I got you. You don’t need to be strong right now. I got you.” She reaffirmed, kissing his head again.

MJ wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, and honestly she didn’t care. He needed her in that moment, and that was where she would be.

Eventually though it seemed like Peter was able to slowly piece himself back together enough for the sobbing to become occasional sniffles. He started to move back, but she held him in place for just a moment longer, not wanting him to rush into putting up any walls. They clearly needed to have a talk, and it was going to happen now. 

Scooting over, she sat so she was in front of him, letting her legs spread on either side of his legs so they could sit opposite in the tiny area between the island and the counter.

He stared at her for a moment, and she saw him open his mouth once or twice to say something before he closed it. 

She raised three fingers. “3 rules, okay?”

Peter seemed surprised, but a little grateful for her making the first move. He nodded after a moment, still quiet. 

“Rule 1. No apologies. Not right now. I love you Peter, and I’m here to help. I know you feel bad, but you do not need to feel sorry for crying, or for needing my help. You can make it up to me later, deal?” She offered, watching his reaction very carefully. She knew Peter, and she was pretty sure what he needed right now was some structure and order. If she felt like her approach was wrong she’d stop immediately, but she slowly saw him nod.

“Okay.” 

MJ beamed at him, squeezing his knee reassuringly. “Good. Rule 2. For the next week, you are not allowed to say the phrase ‘I’m fine.’ I don’t care if you are, in fact, fine. You can’t say that. Be more descriptive, and be honest. I won’t use that phrase either, deal?” She offered, waiting, watching.

He looked at her for a moment, before he nodded again, another small smile. “Okay.”

MJ grinned and reached over to hold his hand on the floor, entwining their fingers. 

“Good. Rule 3. We’re talking. Right now. About everything we can. No running away, no getting mad, no assigning blame. Either of us. Nothing else matters right now. Not midterms. Not Spider-man. Not even the next season of the Great British Bake-off. Just us. Right here, right now. I’ll be honest with you, and you be honest with me. Deal?” She asked. 

She could see the battle in his eyes. The desperate struggle between asking for the help he needs, and his desire to avoid being a burden to others. 

She waited patiently, but continued to squeeze his hand and beg him to reach out. 

“Please, Tiger. Let me in.” She said softly. 

She saw another tear escape him as he nodded. 

“Okay.”

Getting up awkwardly, she managed to lean over and share a quick kiss with him. She tried her best to convey how grateful she was, how much she loved him. Eventually she sat back and watched him carefully. “I’m proud of you. So much. I know how hard it can be, but you’re not alone.”

Peter nodded, resting his head back against the cabinet. 

“How are your senses?” She asked, still in that same barely audible whisper. 

“They’re better now. You noticed right away.” He offered with a small smile that brought just a little bit of light back into MJ’s life right now.

“I always was observant.” She offered, earning a bigger smile from him. 

MJ gently knocked her knee against his. “So what is going on?”

She could see the battle that raged in his eyes. Years of desperate self denial warring with the knowledge he needed help. 

“Peter, you know I love you right?” She offered and he nodded. 

“I can’t stand to see you like this. I can’t date someone who won’t take care of themselves.” For the briefest moment she saw something she almost never saw on him. Pure, unadulterated fear. She’d seen him stare down villains with more tech than him and a single desire to kill him with less fear. Stamping out the flames of <em>any</em> doubt she had just caused with her point she rushed on. 

“Peter, listen. I love you. And I am <em>never</em> letting you go. Not now, not ever. But you need… help.” She said carefully. She felt like she was walking a tightrope. There were a million ways this conversation could go, but she knew it had to happen. It was probably long overdue too.

“I can manage…” Peter tried weakly, and she could still see the warring desperation on his features. That was one look she never wanted to sketch. 

She gestured around a bit. “Tiger, things look a little… rough.” She squeezed his hand, trying to pour as much reassurance as she could into him. “We all need help, Pete. If I called you crying because the stress of finals was too much, would you break up with me?” She asked patiently. A little smirk came to her lips as she saw the instant call to action as he almost looked offended at the suggestion. 

“Of course not! I would nev-”

“See?” She asked, knowing this point had been made before but hoping it stuck a little better this time. “Tiger, you have more on your plate than anyone else I know. You save the city nightly, you’re taking advanced chemistry classes, you’re dating a high-strung girlfriend, and you’re living alone. We can’t do everything alone.”

He was quiet, letting the words sink in. 

“I’m not alone…” He replied in a soft voice.

“Exactly. But you act like it.”

Peter’s eyes widened as he looked at her for a moment, and she could see thoughts forming and bursting in his head as the realization set in. She gave him the time he needed to process it. She wasn’t trying to catch him off guard, or trick him into accepting anything. She needed him to understand and accept the truth he was hiding from. The truth he thought he had to reject.

“How do you feel right now? Before I showed up.” She asked once she saw him relax a little. 

“...tired. I’m so fucking tired, Em.” He confessed after a moment. MJ knew <em>exactly</em> what he meant. It was beyond physical.

“That’s fine, Peter. You deserve to be after all the work you do. It’s normal to feel tired. But it’s also normal to do something about it.” She said and MJ could see it happening. She could see him slowly accepting the truth, slowly reaching out for the help he needed. 

MJ knew Peter’s struggles weren’t unfounded. They weren’t from a sense of laziness or pure stubbornness. Like her own struggles with emotions and letting people in, they were formed as a natural response to years of life battering the lesson into them. Losing his parents, then Ben. Having to hide his identity from the people who loved the most in order to keep them safe because there were people out there who would use them in a heartbeat to get to him. 

Peter’s walls weren’t just him being stubborn. They were a desperate survival instinct to prevent him from losing anyone else. But that had to end. He had some many people in his life who loved him who would be more than happy to help him out just a little of the amount he helped them. He just had to let them. 

“... I don’t know what to do.” His voice was a little louder, as if he was accepting the words finally. “MJ, I promise you I’ve been trying. There’s just so much. There’s just so fucking much right now. I swear I wasn’t trying to let you do-”

MJ silenced him with a kiss, knowing he was on another spiral. She leaned back after a moment, making eye contact with him. “Peter. I know you have. I’m so fucking proud. I know you have been trying. You’ve done so much Peter, I know that. You’ve managed more than what many people could with half of your responsibilities. You’ve always been my hero.” She said with as much conviction as she could possibly muster to get the message across.

 Because she was so fucking proud of him. For both trying as hard as he did, even if it had been a little misguided. She knew how earnest he was in trying to do what he thought was right, and that was what mattered. But she was also filled with pride for him accepting that he needed to change too.

Peter lowered his legs and MJ sat on his lap, straddling him. “It’s okay to not know what to do either. I don’t either. Gwen is half the reason I haven’t dropped out of my classes, and you’re the other half. Peter, you’re the reason I’ve been able to make all these connections in my life. Because you had the answers I needed about opening up, and you helped me.” She admitted, kissing him again. “Peter, you’re the voice in my head when I’m filled with doubt. It’s your red and blue spandex butt that gives me the kick I need.”

Peter laughed, but his eyes were shining at her, like she had just told him the secret to the universe. God, she was so hopelessly in love with her dork.

She pressed on just a little more, knowing they were finally there. “You know what needs to happen next, right?” She asked, reaching up to cup his cheek and give him the permission she knew he was still desperately seeking. 

“I…” He trailed off, chewing his lip. “I need to ask for help.”

MJ kissed him. Hard. God, she was so fucking proud of him. It was such a simple statement, and the farthest thing from a secret. But she knew how hard that statement could be. She knew how hard it was for her when she found herself in college still pushing away anyone who attempted to get close to her and clinging to Peter. Putting yourself out there was one of the scariest things a person could do.

When she pulled back, she gently wiped away some of his tears. “Correct.”

Peter laughed, his arms sliding to her waist. “I should be correct more often, then. If that’s how I get rewarded.”

MJ felt her heart soar that he was making jokes again. That he was slowly pulling himself back together.

She felt his fingers fidgeting on her side. “Do… you think they’ll still help me? I don’t know how much help I need but I’m worried it’s too much…”

MJ couldn’t control the laughter that escaped her as he stared at her, utterly bewildered. 

“Peter…” She said, slowly regaining her composure. “You sweet summer child, you have no idea how many people are in your corner and ready to help you.” She said, reaching her arms up to his shoulders and rubbing her thumbs over his collar bones. “We’ve been waiting for you to ask us.”

Peter’s eyes brimmed with tears again as he nodded. She could see there was still some disbelief. She didn’t blame him, it wasn’t like you could completely change years of habits in one conversation. But she could see his determination there, to make a change. That was all that was ever needed. 

“Peter, I’m pretty sure you could declare war on a country and you have enough people to overthrow it on your side.” She teased, only half joking though. She’d been around the Avengers enough with him to know they would literally walk through hell for him.

“I have had my eye on Canada…” He muttered and MJ laughed again, maybe a little harder than the joke deserved but the rush of endorphins of this conversation and breakthrough had her on an emotional high.

“So what now?” He asked, and she could see the yawn escaping him. She knew just how tiring emotions could be, let alone the fact he clearly had been putting his body through hell if that bruise that she had been doing her best to ignore was still that bad. 

MJ’s mind was already off to the races though. Plans were forming, she knew who she needed to reach out to. The love of her life needed help, and finally, finally asked for it. She was going to make sure he fucking got it. She knew he had to be in control, he had to make the choices if he was going to learn, but she was going to give him every fucking option out there. 

MJ saw him watching her patiently, a slightly goofy smile on his face as he must have known she was deep in a plan.

Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, MJ knew it was show time. “Okay, how much can you trust me this week?” She asked, a fierce determination in her tone.

Peter cocked his head to the side like the fucking golden retriever of a boyfriend he was. “Completely.” <em>Jesus</em>, how did he answer that so quickly and so honestly like that? He was way too good for this hellhole of a city.

Not even bothering to hold back the smile that she was pretty sure was most of her face now, she nodded. “Okay. You’re in complete control this week. You get the final say in everything, but I want you to just listen to me for now and I will do everything I can to help make things better anyway I can.”

She saw his eyes regarding him, flickers of an old doubt creeping in.

“You’re busy with midt-”

“Neither of us will fail our midterms either. I promise you this won’t be putting me out, deal? Let me help you, please. I promise you I want to be doing this, more than you know.” God, it was true too. She finally had a chance to give him just a little bit of the world he deserved, something MJ had been wanting to do for years.

Peter slowly nodded. “Okay, I trust you.”

She gave him a quick kiss before standing up, taking his hand and helping him up. 

“Okay. First things first, this place needs… help.” She said gently, and Peter laughed. 

“That’s an understatement. MJ, I appreciate you being gentle, but your snark won't scare me off. Promise.” He said, squeezing her hand. MJ couldn’t help but smile in return. Even when she was trying to be accommodating to him, he was still trying to reassure her that she didn’t need to change for him. 

“Okay, this place is stressing me out just standing here. You need to survive midterms and you’re not going to do that here. So pack your duffle bag you use for trips with some clothes, and bring all your Spider-man stuff too. You’re staying with us this week.” She ordered.

Peter’s eyes widened but he slowly nodded. He moved to his room to start, but he emerged a second later, eyes downcast. “I… my clothes… laundry…” He muttered out, and MJ could see the shame rolling off of him. She walked over, nudging his shin with her foot until he looked up at her. “We have washing machines too, dork. Just bring some stuff, preferably whatever doesn’t have your blood on it.” She offered with a smile. 

He slowly nodded and went back to packing. MJ was hardly going to fault him for not doing laundry. She understood how with everything piled up, it could just be another knife of shame in his gut, but it wasn’t like she had never had to steal Gwen’s clothes because she had nothing clean.

MJ glanced around the apartment while she waited and felt the lump come back in her throat. She wasn’t grossed out as much as sad. She knew that for it to get this bad, everything really must have piled on. He was usually pretty good about cleaning, from helping his aunt while growing up. The place was also barebones now. It hardly looked lived in as much as just where he crashed between activities. But she already had plans on how to help turn this into more of a home, and knew two women who would be more than eager to help him. 

When Peter returned with the duffle bag she saw him glance around. She could tell he was hating himself again so she stepped up. “Now get all the stuff you need for school, okay?” She ordered, snapping him out of his monologue as he nodded and started to gather his laptop and textbooks. MJ walked around, making sure nothing had to be unplugged or was left on, knowing he wouldn’t be here for a while.

A couple of minutes later and he was done. He stood near the door with his two bags, looking at the pile of dishes with unbridled disgust. She stepped into his line of sight, smiling at him. “Everything Spidey is hidden?” He nodded. “Good, now come on. Don’t worry about this place, I already have plans for this, okay? You’re not the only college kid with a dirty apartment.” 

Peter looked at her a bit wary of her plans but nodded with a smile. “Thanks MJ. I’m s-”

“Rule 1.” She interrupted, crossing her arms. 

He rolled his eyes but nodded. “Thank you for helping me, MJ.” 

“Better.” She offered, kissing him before turning him and shoving him out the door. “Let’s go, we still have work to do and my place smells better cause Gwen is obsessed with those air scent things.” 

Peter laughed, and they were able to make small talk as they made the trip back to her place, as she sent a text to Gwen.

<em>Peter is staying with us for the week. He finally asked for help. Time to rally the forces.</em>

A block later she got a text. 

<em>Thank God. He can learn! I assume you have plans? We’ll have a war council later.</em>

<em>So many. Operation Fuck-Parker-Luck is a go.

I’ll leave the fucking to you.

Gwen! I hate you. So much.

Love you too, I’ll bring home his favorite pizza tonight.</em>

MJ rolled her eyes, but glanced back at Peter who was looking at her confused. 

“Gwen is getting Pizza tonight for us.”

“She doesn-”

“Peter, do you really wanna tell Gwen not to help right now? You’re gonna be locked in an apartment with us for a week, I think you’re better off staying on her good side.” She offered and saw Peter let out a defeated sigh. MJ just smiled and squeezed his hand. “Good boy. I really don’t wanna listen to her yelling at you again.”

“Me neither.” Peter said, but she still saw the smile on his face. She knew Gwen was probably the best person to counter his chaotic energy with her own. MJ was probably the most stubborn out of all of them, but Gwen definitely was the more fiery. She remembered one time after a stupid fight she had with Peter, where it had really boiled down to her taking out frustration with school on him, and Gwen had literally locked her out of the apartment until she went and apologized to him.

By the time they made it back to the apartment, Peter looked practically dead on his feet. When she had done her check of his place to turn stuff off she saw how little food he had. She knew his physical state had to be awful as well. 

Ushering him into her room, she let him store his stuff while she moved back to their kitchen and made a quick sandwich. She knew he needed to sleep but wanted him to get a little more food in him first. She could worry about stuffing him full of food properly later. At least this week would give her plenty of time to try out the new recipes she had been collecting.

She knew the first problems she would tackle if she was going to get help for Peter, so while her zombie munched away on the sandwich with his eyes closed, she sent texts to Nat, Wanda, and Pepper. Just to give them a heads up that Peter had to talk to them later. She wasn’t going to make choices for him, but she knew the opportunities he had but was refusing to see so she just had to present them for him. 

By the time she had shuffled Peter back to her bedroom and into comfier clothes she had gotten back affirming messages from all of them to meet later. For now though, she got Peter to lay down and cuddled next to him in the bed, pulling his head against her chest as she carded her fingers through his hair.

“My paper…” he mumbled out, barely conscious. 

“Just sleep for now, Tiger. I got you. Everything will be fine.”  She muttered, kissing the top of his head.

“I know.” He muttered, pulling himself a little closer and he was out cold.

MJ just continued to run her fingers through his hair, so proud of him. So ready to help him. So full of love for him. She knew she had a long week ahead of her, but with him in her arms she never felt more ready for it.

[awesomefairytailfan]

Fanfiction

So I Going to be starting a Dynasty Warriors fan fiction series here and on fanfiction.net that does not mean I'm going to stop uploading funny picture text images and this is the first chapter no real conversation hasn't even been proof weed by who's going to start it just me talking to my tablet with my speech to text thingy and the protagonist who I haven't made a name for it yet from Canada before the pandemic contemplating on his situation in ancient China.

In less then a week I should be able to have someone check over this and we're going to go through the first chapter. Maybe I should call this first chapter an opening.

Chapter one am I just in a dream?

The last few weeks I just keep asking myself the same question over and over is this all a dream is this just one big dream now? Being in ancient China don't let me know when on the calendar I supposed to use don't even know if this world has an equivalent of it no it's not my world I'm not some sort of super badass in my own world but in this world I am strong I take damaged easily when I woke up in this world or made me fell asleep in my own I found myself walking for I don't know I have no watch on me but I found a number of people being attacked by wolves was completely convinced at that point I was in a dream so I figured let's go wake myself up by grabbing a big stick in it packing them but then something funny happened I found myself running faster than I ever had outside of video games I attacked the walls and I actually sent them major damage one of them jumped me from behind I barely even noticed it then I'm headed to the ground and killed it the people said to me you must be a music Warrior what what Lord do you serve have you gone to fight someone named on Don Zillow do you know who that was I'll talk about what I know about him in a bit I noticed a a small irritation in my back I asked them to look at it and they said I got a small Scar from where the wolf attempted to bite me to death I said Tiny bite me to death I need a doctor my day say no it's only a minor scrape especially to a Musa Warrior I asked him to speak English but they responded what's English? I said it was the language we was speak they said no we speak Mandarin I decided yep I'm definitely in the dream at that point sorry running myself into a tree it hurt a bit but I actually broke the tree in half some people showed up who I did not say from the walls and they'll ask me what was going on and they was saying the Musa Warrior saved us stick just flying off the ground and then done to me I have noticed a big annoyance I was hungry luckily they wanted to have a feast for me shall we walk back to the village and order for us to get some food and number of them dead some things I'd rather not talk about with the Wolves sad don't let stuff like this go to waste I asked him where we are I think they were pretty Pacific and I'm like okay no idea what that means I asked them what country we are in they said China I started finger to myself find it this really wasn't the dream if I'm somehow stuck in China and I don't know what time they asked me a bunch of questions where I'm from Canada over a great ocean and I also said my ancestors are technically from the same land mass as here but I think that continent is actually farther than where my home line is from China don't let me know for sure I'm not an expert in distance of countries and all that have I got that today prepared a small feast they did tell me it was a small village and I had to agree smaller than my hometown and no technology anywhere I was thinking if this is my life now I am going to be I'm going to be so bored but I got offered a lot of free food took some adjustment for me to actually eat things was never no I'm already ten but never was normal to begin with I've always had Asperger's I'm supposed to take medication not going to be able to in ancient China I guess nobody knew about the calendar I kept calling the Christian calendar I think that's what they mean by the years we use never did find out if it was after or before Jesus Christ and then I found the weirdest ability of all I'm super strong now a bunch of heavy wooden blocks was about to smash a kid I pushed the young child out the way thinking suicide maybe I'll wake up but those heavy things did not even hurt me they say see you must be a Musa Warrior can you protect our small village from the evil Don Zillow I told them it's probably the best kind of job I can do for now I'm and told them I never really add something you could call an actual job told them I was on disability a lot of what I say they constantly laughing did not believe they saw me at 2 Mighty and magnificent to be considered disabled in my own world

and they did not believe that I wasn't actually Chinese I was clearly not from this world but I'm constantly moved on I managed to do a number of odd jobs around the town with superhuman strength and with all my time watch and consuming recreational entertainment I managed to entertain them when they had down time which allowed them had more because I could make jobs a lot quicker and easier the kids found me hilarious adult sometime Tom me not to talk about certain things on topics the way I did say good yeah don't want to upset them too much this lasted for about a month I think and tell the town faced its biggest danger of all I was actually the first one to notice that because I had to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night I noticed the fire off in the distance and decided to wake the town mayor of not knowing how dangerous it was noticeably closer the mayor said evacuate everyone we can he started shouting knowing immediately Dan got it was super dangerous I'm like danger fire luckily with my always completely loud voice and my ability to one very fast it was less than like 4 minutes before everyone what's going out of bed quickly the mayor told me top send some trees flying out an amount I think I managed to save the town Catching Fire for like 15 minutes then luckily. Got every one to evacuate and get them money and thinks it could carry but eventually the whole town went up in Flames nobody died everyone had close to travel in but the town was found dead I might have just went into fire except at this point there was so much time passing I believe mostly I wasn't dreaming anymore and that just would have killed me mosa Dean man in the village was talking with the mayor of the town a bunch of the kids were asking can't you make everything better can't you make all the fire damage go away I had to say I don't I can't do anything like that and I don't even know what we were going to do next his not my decision I don't know the knowledge to make that decision and the News came from the mare he decided we're going to one of the Cities some of the people protested we were just beep on ourselves in the danger of the Warlords and on Zillow fighting but the mayor said only a city trying to accommodate so many people at once our hometown is destroyed we do not have the resources to build another before the winter and then we started going towards the city I figured if I can get everybody to the city NeNe I could earn some extra money and you some future knowledge to benefit Chinese Society in general not like I can make them ocracy happen but maybe I couldn't please how much stuff they're about to plant or how quickly they can do harvesting I know a bit about that stuff we travelled as fast as we can and I often had to find myself killing animals with whatever I could it wasn't really that dangerous I beat the crap out of them they could barely do anything to me we had to sweep in pants and a like but I usually got a good night sleep despite being on main source of Defense because while they decided the high people on Sentry Duty and to have somebody wife buy me to wake me up they had to wake me up a few times like that but no one got killed and one day I bet after we started going for that day we were on a big we went up a big hill and then we saw the city I was thinking nice city maybe get to look around but Polly should spend at least a few days after we get there with the townspeople who take good care of me some of them said I'm might be needed to get a job or Join one of the military armies when I asked about it I wasn't thinking I'd probably do that I like saving people but never really been much for military outside of playing video games it was going to be a few hours on our way down that's when the biggest action happened that I wanted to wake up phlegm when I kill somebody.