#and bank rolling this matter gives her a more equal standing

[silviakundera]

I just love those Story of Kunning Palace novel snippets where Jiang Xuening gets to display that ruthless determination isn't something she left in the past life. Nooooo don't plot insurrection with XW noooooo you're too sexyyyyy

//

Xie Wei had already read the secret letter, and asked her calmly, "Tomorrow I will leave for the border, can you go with me?"

Jiang Xuening looked at him. "What are you going to do, sir?"

Xie Wei narrowed his eyes and said, "If you don't know what to do, why did you come today?"

Jiang Xuening didn't speak.

Xie Wei said, "The Eldest Princess is not dead. When the war starts next spring, she will become a hostage, which will put the dynasty in a dilemma. The court's money and supplies are just beginning to move, and preparations are still urgent. They will never go to war in advance to save someone. You want to welcome the princess back, or welcome back the princess's coffin, it's all in this thought."

Although it was indeed expected, when Xie Wei said these words, Jiang Xuening still felt her heart tremble, and there was a feeling of being caught in the torrent——

Is there any way to welcome back the princess instead of her coffin?

She was full of emotions, closed her eyes, and clenched her hands tightly.

Xie Wei suddenly laughed. "Scared?"

Jiang Xuening gritted her teeth. "How could that be!"

Xie Wei was the big winner in the end, and now that Yan Lin is full of wings, even if he raises an attack in advance, there may not be no chance of winning! What's more, how could she just watch the princess be given to death?

She promised.

Hold that piece of homeland and welcome her back to the homeland!

Only…

Jiang Xuening slowly opened her eyes. "I promised the princess that I will not miss the appointment. But sir, have you really thought it through?"

Xie Wei's smile faded, he looked back at her, and said slowly, "I will not break my promise."

I don't lose faith in people either.

When Jiang Xuening heard these words, she was a bit dazed, because she didn't know who Xie Wei had made any promises to. Until a picture emerged from the vague memory, together with the voice that was almost forgotten by her in the past, it rang in her ears.

"When will the iron hooves of the Central Plains break through the Yanmen Gate and bring Her Highness back?"

"Soon, soon."

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Bad Dreams - Bucky Barnes x Avenger (f)reader

Summary: You and Bucky are adjusting to civilian life after the Blip, some nights he needs you more then he realizes.

Warning: bit o angst, soft Bucky, fluff

Masterlist

It had been a long fucking five years alone, sure you had Nat and Steve around at the Avengers Facility. But no matter how much time you spent with them doing whatever to keep your mind busy, at the end of the day, you were undoubtedly alone. You liked it that way at one point in your complicated life as an Avenger, but after the blip, you absolutely despised it. 

No one had expected what would have happened to be so terrible and tragic, or it to even go the way that it did. You had never even heard of Thanos or what the fuck kind of weirdass monsters could exist from other parts of the galaxy until they showed up knocking. How rude huh.

Life was peaceful before hand, well for the most part; you were an Avenger, someone who was part of the team. A conjurer of flame and ash, a Phoenix held within that was not afraid to use your power, and you used it well.

Then as per usual, shit went down and low and behold you met the one and only James Buchanan Barnes, Steve’s old friend with the metal arm and troubling history. Not to mention a face to die for, or at least one that would cause a bit of a chaotic scuffle between your two friends. They clearly had other priorities apart from yours at the time which was keep Steve out of jail, don’t burn anyone, and refrain from flirting with his 90 something year old friend. You tried your best in most of those areas. Most of them. 

Nonetheless, you fell hard and fast for the blue eyed man, and him the same for you, his feisty little firecracker with a heart as big and bright as a dragons. So when he went to Wakanda to lie low and get some much needed help. You followed.

With a heartfelt goodbye and a lasting kiss, he went under for a couple long weeks until Shuri and her expert team of scientists were able to fix what those bastards at Hydra had done to him.

For a short yet blessedly peaceful amount of time did you and your dark haired lover live safely within the Wakandan borders. In a small and beautiful little village by a lake, a hut all your own to shelter you from the heat and rain that poured hard onto the earth, and most wonderfully of all you had Bucky.

Life was simple for the first time in a long time, you spent the days helping out the locals and teaching the children how to properly swing a stick in defense, you know completely normal leisure activities. Spending the evenings making a big fire to tell stories under and cook the best food in Wakanda.

And the nights? You spent those wrapped up in Bucky’s arm, although most times you would be the big spoon which he loved more then anything in the whole world. Telling you it’s not just because you’re naturally warm, but that he’s been admittedly a bit touch starved from the years alone and lost. And for that you would always hold him closer.

Then that fateful day came crashing into your lives like a waterfall against rock, your friends had shown up claiming some being called Thanos was coming to take a stone out of Vision’s head. Yeah that was a new one.

The battle wasn’t terrible, but it wasn’t great either, you were able to save many lives by scorching the beasts that pursed onward. Letting whips of flame slash hard against the enemy with great skill and force from your bending. Then the world seemed to still, and the wind swayed the trees oddly.

Then HE came, the Titan from another world, he threw down all in his path without an ounce of mercy or remorse. You and Wanda were so close, so damn close to stopping him, but then he threw you back with the whole force of the gauntlet and a moment later Vision was dead.

Your head was bleeding and a fresh scar had marked your jaw in a bloody red slash from the impact. Though your mind didn’t have time to register nor care as Thanos abruptly disappeared into oblivion, leaving a confused Thor in his wake. Much like the rest of the Avengers.

Then to your horror, one by one, your friends began to turn to ash and dust. Gone. You raced for Bucky nearby, praying to who’d ever listen to spare him or you for that matter. You just needed ten more seconds and then you could have held him one last time, touched his precious skin, ran your fingers through his long dark locks.

Looked into his ocean blue eyes, but no, the universe laughed as you gasped in panic, then it snickered as you screamed. Cheering you on as you sobbed in a cyclone of your own fire until the ground was scorched to shriveled dry earth. And no more tears could fall, your throat raw and heart broken in two.

Your world was gone, a memory forever kept locked inside your heart and soul. He was gone, he was your world, Bucky made your life better and you his.

For the coming months you were a mess, an angry and frustrated wreck of a person. Functioning by sheer will power and Natasha to keep you afloat in your new dreary little world of nothingness. You envied Steve for his ability to keep most of his shit together, and where almost enraged by Tony who had everything still intact. Pepper and a child on the way, how cruel the universe appeared.

You would wake up in the middle of the night sweating, your heart racing a mile a minute and usually part of the wall behind you would be burnt and blackened. You never set fire to anything thank god, but fuck, your heart hurt so much.

You wanted to scream most days, but as one year rolled into two and then three, the dull dreary ache in your body subdued to a tiny flicker of sadness. It became almost nonexistent during the day as you went about Avenger business, only to burn hot and angry at night.

You wanted to move on and forget, but you couldn’t, he was too important. They all didn’t deserve to go like that, none of them. And so another year passed, then it was year five since the blip, more months passed on. Until out of nowhere something or perhaps someone miraculous lit the way into a new sense of hope.

Resulting in the return of everyone who had been lost before, including your Bucky. And from that moment after the battle, when at long last you had finally found him, you knew life would never be the same.

——

Rain pours relentlessly from outside your apartment window, a rhythmic pitter patter near your bedside that aids in keeping you asleep and unbothered for the time being. No sooner do you reach the climax of your dream that consists of you being chased by a giant monarch butterfly with no weapon but a sandbox plastic shovel, do you wake. Strange dream.

All your senses flooding back into you as you feel for your lover in the darkness, your eyes still closed as you do so. Your hand slides across the crinkled bedsheets to no avail, the spot next to you is undeniably empty and rather cold.

oh, Bucky.

Cracking one eye open you glance at the alarm clock where it reads 1:10am in big red letters, illuminating the nightstand that it sits on. You take in a deep breath and roll onto your back to stare up at the ceiling, this has become a reoccurring event with Bucky in the following months since his return.

In Wakanda things were different, it was like a nice prolonged vacation away from all your problems and responsibilities of the world. Now, you two have an apartment somewhere in New York City all your own. Bucky goes to therapy and does his best to integrate back into his new role as a civilian while you work as an Avenger part time. The other half used for being a supporting loving girlfriend to Bucky and a hacker on the side for extra cash in the bank.

You get it though, he’s adjusting the best he’s able to manage right now, and even when he swears the nightmares are gone for good. You know him too well to believe that shit, you can see it in his eyes, he may have been a master assassin at one point. Now he’s with a skilled and almost equally as weathered Avenger who’s seen her share of people really going through it.

It’s not like you were doing any better, you’d wake up screaming in the dead of night from another nightmare involving losing Bucky again. That only lasted for a month or so, but still, it sucked and hurt every damn time. So you get it, nightmares can be a bitch.

Blinking the bleariness out of your eyes, you yawn into the darkness and take a moment to listen to the sound of the rain. It’s peaceful and calm, and though you’d like nothing more then to roll over and fall back into the dark comfortable void of sleep. You long to see Bucky again, even if you saw him not even two hours ago.

Pulling the blanket off of your body, you slowly sit up and face the blurry window that overlooks the glowing city, well more so the park close by. Pushing some hair out of your face, you stand and take a brief moment to stretch before letting your right hand emit a beautiful blue flame.

It proptly lights up the dark room into a shadowed yet still visible one, with a lazy proud smile, you move for the opened bedroom door. Your flame lights the way down the hall until you wander past the tiny kitchen and stop in your living room to the sound of heavy breathing coming from the far end.

You give a lopsided smirk to no one in particular as you pad over to the man who’s sweaty and shirtless on the wooden apartment floor in nothing but his boxers and a single blanket that’s not covering much. Well he sure looks like a hot mess, your hot mess that is.

He gives you an apologetic glance before staring tiredly back at the nearby wall. You extinguish your flame and gently nudge his leg with your sock, “How’s the floor?” You ask with a tinge of humor to lighten the mood.

He lets out a breathy laugh before looking back up at you, “Solid.” Quips Bucky in reference to the hard floor and perhaps his take on the makeshift bed, always one for a bit of humor huh.

Chuckling you crouch down to better meet his shadowed gaze, “I guess so,” You mutter with a shrug, “....afraid I might burn you in my sleep?”

Shaking his head, he gifts you the flash of a smile, “No. Not this time Y/N.”

You smile back before sitting down next to him, you look down at his hand before reaching out to take it without any resistance, “I know it’s the nightmares Bucky.” You whisper softly, your eyes sincere and true, “You don’t have to hold it all in okay, I don’t.....I don’t want you to do that.”

Letting out a reluctant sigh, Bucky frowns, “I know Y/N....I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, I just love you too much to see you hurting. I’ve missed you for what feels like a hundred goddamn years and I don’t want you to slip away from me..” You add with a sad smile, “Never again.”

Squeezing your hand gently, Bucky nods, “You’re not going to lose me okay. I promise you that much alright. I love you Y/N.” And he means every word.

“That’s good then. Can you at least tell me something to ease your mind from what’s bothering you?” You ask with a hopeful smile, “Please. Remember what the therapist talked about with speaking your thoughts and feelings....it’s like emptying a treasure chest or some shit.”

“Right.” Laughs Bucky, “Can’t say you’re going to find any gold in here.”

“Shut up I don’t care.” You muse with a shrug, “I’m here to listen.”

“As the lady wishes.” Retorts Bucky with a half-assed bow that caused you to break out into a small smile at his cheekiness.

“Wait.” You pause.

“What?”

“Can we sit on the couch for this I wanna lay next to you.”

Rolling his eyes, Bucky fakes his annoyance as you patiently await his answer, “Fine.” He confirms, quickly standing up and taking you with him, “But you gotta lay on me I’m kinda cold now.”

Bucky falls onto the large comfortable couch with a dramatic huff as he pulls you onto his shirtless body, “Weren’t you just all sweaty?” You wonder with a raised brow as he quickly wraps his arms around your waist.

“Yep.”

“Gross.”

Bucky chuckles, “Well you’re making me talk about my feelings.”

“That’s because you won’t talk about them with your actual therapist.” You sass back.

“I hate it when you’re right.” Mutters Bucky into your cheek as you snicker at his adorably dramatic self.

“I think your brain short circuited and misplaced the word hate for absolutely love and adore.”

“Maybe.” Adds Bucky as he steals a sweet kiss, “I’m still working through things you know.”

“Okay smartass. Now tell me what’s on your mind.”

His chest rises as he takes a deep heavy sigh, he stares out the nearby window that keeps the rainy city from being bothersome. You can’t completely see his face due to the darkened room, but you’re close enough to see the way his face turns into a frown.

Suddenly you think maybe you shouldn’t have bugged him to speak about his nightmares. Until he purses his lips together and glances those big beautiful blue eyes down at you, the flash of a smile revealing itself in a split second.

To give him a bit more confidence and perhaps to calm his nerves, do you reach a hand up to gently caress his stubbled cheek, “Was it the Starks again?” You whisper softly in question, knowing how much it still haunts him. Among all the others.

Closing his eyes, he leans into your touch, “Not this time.” Mutters Bucky before taking that hand in his as he rests his head against the couches puffy arm. “Someone else.....Someone who got in the way. Wrong place wrong time.”

“oh.” Slips from your mouth quietly, you’re not sure what else to say, but you’re still hoping he’ll speak a little more about it. “Do they have anything to do with your list?”

It’s a shot in the dark, but you’re well aware of Bucky’s goal to make amends with his past and the people tied with it, maybe someone might be linked to it by chance.

Bucky takes another weighted breath, you can just sense how terrible he feels about this person. “Bucky take your time, it’s okay I’m right here.”

Looking for a positive sign you watch as he closes his eyes once again before moving his head a little bit so that it rests against yours, “I know....it’s just, difficult.”

“Always is.”

“Yeah.”

Kissing your forehead, his flesh arm wraps around your waist as he makes himself more comfortable before continuing, “I was in some government building at night.....tasked with eliminating some special high end target. I finished the mission in under a minute, but uh....there was a civilian who saw everything.”

“Oh shit.”

“Yeah.” Mumbles Bucky against your skin as he takes a moment to gather himself, soon he shifts underneath you once more before letting out a soft breath, “I shot him.”

A bang of sadness washes over you in that brief second and then a sparking anger for what Hydra had forced him to do. You keep silent and wait for Bucky to continue on with his story.

“That guy I killed. He um....he uh, he didn’t deserve that....but I had to.” Bucky’s voice is shaky as he puts his words together, “And you know what’s the worst about this?”

“I’d like not to imagine it but I know you should tell me.”

“You remember Yori?”

“Of course, he takes us to that great sushi place sometimes.”

Bucky squeezes his eyes shut as he hugs you tighter against his bare chest for some kind of comfort, his voice nothing but a regretful whisper, “I killed his son.”

Your eyes soften as he reveals who this mystery civilian was, “Damn.”

“Out of all the people in this world and I meet the man who’s son I murdered for Hydra.”

“That’s almost a sick joke.”

“I know. God I’m so fucked up.”

“No.” You protest softly while he hides his face in your neck, “I know you’ve heard this a thousand times but that wasn’t you. It wasn’t the real James Buchanan Barnes alright, you didn’t have a choice. Those fuckers took that away from you.”

“I know Y/N, but I still did it.”

“Bucky look at me.” You ask kindly, to your genuine surprise he lifts his head from your neck to look into your determined gaze, “You’re not the only one here who was manipulated and had their freedom taken from them by Hydra. I’ve done terrible things too, but you know what? We were never truly ourselves then, they molded us into their weapons and now.....they can never touch us again. You understand me?”

Tears whell up in Bucky’s shimmering eyes at your truthfully honest words, he had temporarily forgotten that you were once an unwilling participant in Hydra’s mind stone experimentations many years ago.

“I understand....” Mutters Bucky as he swallows hard, “what would I be without you?”

Giving him a small tearful smile, you gently wipe away a stray tear from his cheek, “A little bit more alone I’d say.”

“You’re a hundred times braver then me you know that? I couldn’t image five years without you and these fucking nightmares.” Admits Bucky as he moves to rest his head in the crook of your neck, “I’d go insane.”

Appreciating this close proximity and his heartfelt confession, you smile into the darkness, “I think I did. Thing is about shitty situations like that....life moves on and finds a way. I have you now, I thought I would lose you forever.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.��

“Me too.”

[marvelwritings]

Can't tell me there's no point in trying

Summary:  Peter travels back in time, get's a concussion and Tony takes care of him, even though in his mind, Peter has been blipped for three years.

In hindsight, the exact memory of when they started researching how to travel back to the past is lost on him. It’s just that he had been so devastated, after Tony’s death, that his emotions had reached through to the only person that somewhat knew what he was going through. Peter didn’t want to compare Wanda’s situation with his, after all, Wanda was the one that was forced to choose between the love of her life and saving the universe, but the weight of their grief was the same none the less.

Wanda had approached him while he was out on patrol, and though there was not set plan, Peter was willing to try anything to get Tony back. They started of their plan by seeking help from Doctor Strange, and when that hadn’t worked,  Peter had snuck in and stole -borrowed as he preferred to call it- a few books that might have been helpful for their goal. Between going to school, patrolling, putting up a front for his friends and aunt -and as of late Happy-, and searching endlessly for a scrape of hope, Peter had worked himself to the bone. It would all be worth it though, if their plan came to fruition.

It hadn’t worked the first time, nor the second time, and neither did the third. Failed enough times that Peter’s heart sunk into his stomach, and that he carefully tried to convince Wanda to try something else. The spell was eerily straightforward with very little need for ingredients, nothing more then saying two sentences and having a personal item of the person they strived to reach, and if they hadn’t managed to work it out in three attempts, Peter assumed, though the idea rendered him dejected, it would never work.

Until he went out on patrol again that night. One moment he was excitedly talking to Karen, animatedly retelling the story of how he managed to stop a bank robbery, as it the AI hadn’t witnessed it, and the next he tried to shoot out a spiderweb to building so he could swing over, only for the web to hit nothing but air.

‘Ow, wow’, Peter floundered, trying his best to reach something and prevent himself from slamming on the ground -again-, but he failed. He banged into a tree at full speed, colliding head first and tumbling down while hitting every branch possible. That was the first sign that should have tipped Peter off. There were no trees in the middle of Queens. Under normal circumstances, he would have considered that, but the heavy impact is not working well in his favor.

Landing on the ground on his stomach with a hard thud, his body, and specifically his ribs, screamed in agony, and he rips the mask off without considering his predicament. Anyone could walk by and see the face beneath the mask. Still, Peter can’t breath with the way his ribs object, but at least without the mask it’s fresh air he inhales.  

He turns around and struggles to get on his back. His hand instinctively slide over his stomach, protecting the hurting area. Come to think of it, every area on his body hurts. Peter knows the logistics of cracked ribs, and savvies that even with the aid of super healing, it’s not going to repair in a few minutes times.

He inhales as a small as he possibly can, despite knowing he shouldn’t, and braces himself for running back to May’s and his appartement. He can’t stay here, where anyone could walk up to him and attack him while he’s down. He laughs incredible, at least aunt May, and Tony of he was still here, would be proud of him for calling it a day.

When he blinks his eyes open though, he’s met with nothing but grass and green for miles, and a blurry vision that tells him he has a concussion. While trying to sit up, his visions spins like  he’s a part of a rollercoaster, and his stomach turns uncomfortably.

‘Oh no,’ Peter moans, ‘aunt May is gonna kill me.’ It’s the only thing he can say before he has to swallow back bile and decides it’s best to be quiet from now on. He struggles to his feet, stumbling a few times before successfully finding his footing in the grass.

His vision does not clear, but he forces himself to take a few steps in any direction anyway. Wondering if seeing all these trees are because of his concussion, Peter freezes when he hears tiny footsteps approaching the opening his still currently residing in. It’s accompanied by children’s crying, the hairs on his arm standing up at the sound. Perhaps it’s a trap, but Peter has never done well ignoring a child ever since meeting his baby sister.

‘Hello?’ he calls out tentatively, squeezing his eyes shut firmly to clear it, but it doesn’t help.

‘Hi’, an adorable voice answers back to him, a head peeks out from behind a bunch, as if the child is equally as curious about Peter as Peter is about her. He can only notice she does this because blurring colors that inch closer little by little. The girl sniffles, ‘I hurt my foot.’

Peter is out of his depth here. He’s only ever impressed children by swinging them around in the sky, but his body will not allow that right now. Instead he tries to focus on what he would do if Morgan was the one that was hurt. Adopting a tone only Morgan has ever heard from him, Peter crouches down on his knees. His ribs creak in dismay, but he ignores it firmly. Someone needs him right now.

‘Oh that’s not good. Does it hurt a lot?’ Peter himself cannot assess the damage.

‘No I guess not’, the girls splutters, pulling up her foot to show Peter.

‘Okay, that’s great. Do you live for away from here? I bet that if I take you back home, your parents will give you a lollipop because you were so brave.’

‘Oh’, the child cries out in wonder, pain in her foot forgotten completely at the mentions of dessert. Peter can’t help but smirk a little, bribery works on Morgan every time too. ‘I’ll show you, but you have to carry me okay?’

Peter can’t think of a worse activity for his injured body to sustain right now, but he’s not about to let a kid down.

‘It’s a deal, lead the way and hop on up.’ His tone is cheerful, even though he has to bite back pained groans by biting his lip.

The girl shows no hesitation and follows his lead immediately, giggling in delight.

‘So, do you want to play a game on the way over?’

They end up playing I spy with my little eye, which Peter loses every time, and not only because he can’t see straight at the moment. The girl, being clearly very young, is a spitfire, which is good because it means Peter doesn’t have to talk during the trip.

It gets increasingly harder to carry her the longer he has to endure the pain, but he knows that salvation is near when the girl, points to a brown blob in the distance. ‘That’s it, there it is. Put me down, I want to get my lollie now.’

Peter obligates, and watches as she runs without any regard for her painful foot, smiling to himself. He hears the door of the house open, and a male cadence calling out and sounding so joyful he must not have noticed Peter yet. He can only imagine the weird sight that must be, to see a stranger bringing home your daughter, but Peter can’t move away yet. His body has stopped listening to his commands.

‘Daddy, daddy, can I have a lollipop, Peter said I could if I was brave, and I was! He said so himself.’

Peter assumes she points to him, and his smiles weakly, although he’s having trouble even finding the strength to do that. Once he walks a little further, he should rest for a bit, close his eyes for the briefest amount of time. Before it get’s to that point though, Peter hears a glass mug being dropped on the ground. The sounds is piercing in contrast between the quiet forest and the intrusion, but that’s not the weirdest thing.

‘Peter?’ That same cadence exclaims, the voice breaking of the syllable. It’s strange, because for the briefest moment Peter’s mind flashing the name Tony at him, but the man is long gone.

Peter just about handles frowning at the direction, a weird knowingness to the exclamation, like the man somehow knows who Peter is.

‘How do you-?’ The sentence is cut short when a wave of nausea slams into Peter again, and he can’t keep himself upright this time. His knees buckle, his eyes roll into the back of his head, and the ground nearly welcomes him with open arm. Before he can collide with it again however, in such speed Peter can’t phantom the man being fast enough, he instead lands between the mans arms. All the strength has left his body, and Peter can do nothing but let his head roll onto the man’s shoulder.

‘Pepper’, he screams, so shut up it comes across as hoars, pulling Peter even closer to him than thought possible. ‘You’re okay kid, you’re okay. I promise you’ll be okay.’

---

Peter comes too slowly, groggily, as if moving through solaces. The logical part of his brain, of which there is much, screams at him to panic. He doesn’t know where he is, he can only vaguely remember the events leading up to his current situation, and he can’t ensure his safety or anyone else’s furthermore, but the smaller part of his brain soothes him.

Tells him everything is fine and he’s safe. It’s rare that Peter feels that way. Even at home with May in their appartement, there’s a constant need to be alert. Peter snaps awake from every little sound, his body turning rigid from the forceful transition between sleeping and waking up, even if the cause was only a door creaking.

It doesn’t make any sense for Peter to be this tranquillized right now, or any other time for that matter. He groans, pained, fluttering his eyes open to find himself in a dark room with the windows drawn. His eyesight is still blurry, his head is still pounding beneath his skin, and because there’s no acute danger to be detected- his spider senses tell him so, though he hasn’t learned to trust them completely yet- he allows his eyelids to droop closed again.

A warm, calloused hand strikes through his hair softly, while a thumb strikes out the frowning lines that pain flashes put on Peter’s forehead. Peter realizes with a startle that his not alone, and that must mean his Peter tingle has failed him, but can’t force himself to push the hand away. It’s nice to experience a loving touch after so many rough handlings, and the memories of lab days with Tony, car rides with Happy, building Lego with Ned and cuddling with MJ render him immobile. He longs so fiercely to feel safe, to be safe, that he leans into the touch like a cat being petted.

‘It’s okay Pete, just go back to sleep.’ A rough voice rumbles from besides Peter. All the rest he previously had, flies out of the window, as his entire body fill up with adrenaline. That voice belongs to a man that’s long gone, a man that sacrificed himself to save Peter and paid the ultimate price for it. That voice can only originate from a ghost.

Peter practically jumps up, opening his eyes and looking in the direction where the voice came from, but he miscalculated how fast his concussion would go away. He stumbles, faceplanting into the body that held Tony’s voice, and was only held up by the grace of the other man. Again, there were bouts of pain, but not only from his physical ailments.

The fire that Peter imagines to be inside of him, the one that destroys everyone else around him but leaves him, unfortunately intact, burns up from the remnants of his heart. He’s tried very hard to move on from Tony’s death in the past few months, and he had almost convinced himself that he was over it. That would be a flat out lie though, and Peter Parker doesn’t lie. The agony of the situation had just been shoved to the back of his mind, while Peter took on so much so he wouldn’t have to touch upon it, to prod in it. It peeked out every once in a while, when Happy would tell May about his life and an anecdote with Tony would be told, or when a poster with Iron man on it drew his attention, but it’s easier to pretend to be okay then to deal with the truth.

‘Hey Peter, I’m glad to see you too, but don’t get too excited now bud.’ Tony laughs, but the tone with which he says it sounds grief stricken, with the barest hint of hope coating the edges. He lowers Peter back down into the bed, and Peter has to bite back a sob at how comfortable the sheet caresses his skin, and how gentle it is on his wounds.

He shakes his head vehemently, trying to clear it and be able to think logically. He wants so badly that Tony is actually here, but there isn’t any way for that to be true, unless.. Peter gasps, memories piercing through the fog in his head. Unless Wanda managed to do what they set out to do. And that would mean that It’s no weird fever dream. Peter’s hand clench up in Tony’s shirt, pulling him down so Peter can meet him in the middle and hug him. He still can’t see the expression on Tony’s face, but he prepares to be rejected, and can’t find it in himself to care. Even if Tony pushes him away after barely a brief second, at least Peter still did something he had set out to do for months now.

That doesn’t happen. Instead, Tony grabs him even tighter, a gentle hand cupping the back of Peter’s head as he curves his body around him.

‘Tony’, Peter whispers, the first tears starting to track a path on his cheeks. ‘Tony.’ Sobs are building up in the back of his throat, unable to be contained for much longer, and as they escape, Tony doesn’t scold him, or tells Peter to stop, but he starts to rock the both of them.

Peter can’t be sure, but he thinks he feels splatters of Tony’s tears on his shoulders as well.

‘Morgan’, Peter says nonsensical after a while, sobs are still heaving his body, but he’s had experience pulling himself together in need before, and right now he needs to know Morgan is safe.

‘Is she okay?’ he asks Tony, with a clumsy tongue. The crying has made his weak and aching body even more exhausted, the rocks reminding him of babies being cradled and normally he wouldn’t want to be seen as a baby, but he doesn’t care right now. He just want to enjoy being around Tony again.

‘Morgan?’ Tony laughs, sniffling quietly like he’s refusing to let Peter knows his been crying too. ‘She fine, she’s probably playing in the barn again even though Pepper tells her she’s not allowed. She’s a bit of a menace, just like you Pete.’

At that, Peter sobs turn into heaves, his entire body shaking with the force of them. All the grief of the past few months, the guilt that Peter has carried knowing it’s all his fault, is all coming to a head now. It’s his fault that Tony’s dead, it’s his fault Morgan has to grow up without a father, and it’s his fault the world doesn’t have Iron man to protect them anymore. He’s tried to so hard to make it right, but how can he? How can he ever be the person Tony was, when he’s just Peter Parker.

‘Kiddo, please calm down, you’re gonna make yourself sick’, Tony soothes despairingly. He lowers peter again but stays close, his hand going back to striking Peter’s hair. ‘You’re okay, I promise you, I won’t let anything else happen to you.’ Tony is getting chocked up again, but this time he doesn’t try to hide it. ‘Not again.’

‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry’, Peter whispers, his voice wrecked by the amount of crying he has done. He wants to talk to Tony, explain what happened, spend time with him and beg for his forgiveness, but Tony shushes him, and he’s asleep before he can argue.

----

The next time Peter struggles to consciousness, he senses their presence; Morgan, Pepper and Tony, and he knows without a sliver of doubt that its them. He shakes with the knowledge. The room he’s in, his room as Pepper had told him upon visiting for the first time, is scattered with spiderman toys, and even a few posters on to wall to complete the image. The sight is ridiculous, but Peter laughs at it all the same. He tries to keep the smile on his face, but melancholy isn’t easily beat.

At the very least his concussion seems to have gone away since waking up a first time, and all that’s left to remind him he took a fall is a vague pounding in his head, and the nausea. It’s not as bad as before, and Peter takes the reprieve with greedy hands.

The hustling and bustling of the family, alive and well, downstairs is crustal clear to Peter’s advanced hearing. It’s strange, being back in the lake house without it seeming so bleak. After they defeated Thanos, and Mister Stark died, Peter’s mind helpfully supplies, he had only been here twice. Pepper tried her best to come back, to give Morgan a home away from the home they owned in the city, but too much had reminded of the husband she was forced to burry, so they moved fairly quickly.

So it unusually to see it the way it was supposed to be. Lived in, with Morgan’s giggling and Pepper’s pretend scolding voice, with mister Stark chuckling quietly to himself, a perfect little family. It’s supposed to emit a warm, honey affection bleeding through every crack, and it’s a shame it isn’t anymore.  

‘Morguna, go play with your toys for a second, I need to talk to your mom about something very important.’ Spying on Tony leaves a bad taste in Peter’s mouth, but he can’t help it. He’s been so devoid of any scraps connecting him to Mister Stark, that he’s willing to forgo manners.

‘Is it a surprise?’ Morgan asks, mirth in her voice. She’s so much younger than Peter ever remembers her being, because he’d never got to witness her at that age. His heart clenches, the hurt still so fresh.

‘You know what little miss, as a matter of fact it is, so you better scoot, or we might not be able to get in time.’

Morgan squeals in delight, and Peter hears her little footsteps sprinting outside. Peter smiles, he knew Tony would be a good dad someday. The downstairs is quiet for longer than normal, and Peter suddenly turns worried that Pepper and Tony caught him.

Then, Pepper speaks up again. ‘You can’t keep spoiling her you know. She’ll turn into a monester by the time she hits fourteen.’

‘She’s fine,’ Tony placates. Peter visualizes Tony pressing a kiss to the top of Pepper’s head, the only weakness the woman has, which he takes great advantages of. The issue seems to be settled, the playful disagreement put to rest.

Peter ponders over what to do next. He’s so extremely awkward, and despite hoping for an opportunity like this one, he has no idea what to say to Tony.

‘Oh Tony, is it really him?’ Peter freezes, so caught of guard by the heartache in Pepper’s words. She sounds both optimistic and demoralized, as though she has had her hopes up for so long she can’t risk it again.

‘It is Pep. I know it is, I saw it in his eyes.’

‘But how?’ Pepper questions extensively. ‘He was blipped, just like so many people. None of the others have come back.’

‘I don’t have all the answers Pepper, God knows I wish I had. All I know is that my kids back, do I need to question why?’

Hearing, outright hearing mister Stark say Peter is his kid, has Peter tearing up, something sharp sticking at his ribs and feeble heart. It hurts just as much as he longs to overhear it again.

‘He might be able to bring the others back. Tony, I get why you don’t want to hear this, but he could be the key to helping millions.’

‘He has to be nothing but healthy alright? Maybe he can help, maybe he can’t, but all I’m sure of is that I’m never,’ Tony’s voice sinks lower and even more venomous then before,’ putting him in the line of fire again.’

I’m okay, Peter thinks, needing to scream it to Mister Stark’s face that he didn’t do anything. It wasn’t up to anyone, just like it wasn’t up to anyone to save Tony either.

‘I’m sorry’, Tony utters, sounding defeated and, honestly, old. ‘I’m sorry, but I just got him back, and I can’t, I can’t lose him again.’

‘It seems like the first step in ensuring it never does it to go up and talk to him. Go to him Tony, say what you couldn’t say three years ago. And’, Pepper swallows thickly. ‘Tell him we all love him.’

Peter’s grateful he won’t be forced to initiate the first move by walking downstairs.

‘Underroos, I’m coming up so you better not be sleeping anymore.’ The flawless transition between vulnerable and slipping into his role a cool role model is staggering, but it doesn’t surprise Peter in the slightest anymore. He’s spend too much time with Tony for that to be the case.

He doesn’t know what to do with his body, how he’s supposed to respond to seeing Tony in person again? Part of him wants to lung at his mentor, while the other part hisses at him to act like a normal human being. Peter ends up sitting down on the bed, standing in front of  the door, hiding behind the closet and finally back to bed in the span of however long it takes Tony to reach the room.

By that point, Peter is too distracted by the glimmer of his past to overthink the encounter. He remembers the lego set as if it just happened. It was the first bout of Peter’s interests that Tony listened to wholeheartedly. After the battle with Thanos, it had slipped Peter’s mind completely. He had no idea Mister Stark had this thing in his home.

‘I asked May if I could take it with me, when I moved out here’, Tony says with melancholy, taking a seat by Peter on the bed, but leaving a considerable distance. He’s not looking at the lego set at all, instead dividing his full attention on Peter. Swiftly his eyes roam Peters face and posture, sucking in all the little details Tony hadn’t been able to discern about him after a while.

‘There’s so many of that stuff in her apartment, but this one was the most fun to put together, because it’s the death star you know? It has all this detail and it took forever to make but that’s all good, cause there’s so much detail and-’

‘Pete’, Tony sounds chocked up, like the façade he was forcing himself to wear is already slipping. Peter hasn’t even said anything yet. ‘God kid, where the hell di you come from? I’ve tried everything but I-‘, he takes a deep breath and pinches the bridge of his nose. Peter has only witnessed mister Stark crying once, so it’s a shock that it occurs again. ‘I didn’t know how.’

‘Mister Stark-’, Peter stops, cutting his own sentence off. Is he even supposed to say anything? Is he supposed to blab the secrets of the future. His Spidey scenes are distinctively ordering him not too, but Peter itches to all the same. ‘I don’t think I’m supposed to say,’ he settles on, ‘with the butterfly effect and all.’

‘The butterfly effect? Kid what in the world are you talking about?’

‘You know, like in the movie, where he can travel back in the past but it always alters things for the worst?’

‘Yeah, I’ve seen the movie’, Tony asserts, almost deadpans. ‘What does that have to do with anything?’

‘Just- just please trust me Mister Stark’, Peter pleads, hands beginning to tremble with the need to reach out for reassurance. The memories of the one complete hug Tony had ever given him sparking a longing in him.  ‘Do you trust me?’

‘Of course’, Mister Stark firmly agrees.

‘Then don’t ask me how,’ even to his own ears the desperation is tangible, ‘please.’

Tony clasps his hand on Peters shoulder, a ground weight to which Peters never endings zing in relief. Before he can stop himself, he’s crumpled in, his head on Tony’s shoulder while his hands twist in the back of mister Stark’s shirt. The reciprocation is immediate.

‘I’ve missed you’, He chokes out, feeling rather annoyed at himself that all he seems to be doing is crying. His time here is limited, he can sense it, the hunch that time is of the essence and he doesn’t posses much of it, and he refuses to waste it on more tears.

‘Me too, Pete, more than you know.’

‘I think I have a pretty good clue’, Peter laughs bitterly, it’s not the same really. He’s only been missing mister Stark for a few months, the man in front of him has been missing him for three and will need to miss him for two more years. The buzzing in the back of his head grows louder. Another stroke of Parker luck, he spend most of the time he had with mister Stark unconscious.

Whatever, he can’t change it now, but he has a few more things to say before he needs to leave.

‘Tony’, he begins, using Mister Starks first name to ensure he understands how important this is. He pulls away, just enough to be able to look Tony directly in the eyes, but what he sees there is nothing short of panic. His hand tighten, softly guiding him back but Peter resists.

‘Please don’t tell me you have to go again.’ It seems that despite Peter intent, Tony savvies more than he’d like. Peter smiles bitter.

‘It’s not your fault.’

‘What?’

‘What happened on Titan, when he blipped all of us, me, that’s not on you mister Stark.’ Peter repeats patiently, watching as Tony’s face hardens.

‘Peter-‘

‘It’s not. You couldn’t have protected me any more then you did. I’m sorry it turns out the way it did, but I need you to know it’s not on you.’

‘I should have done more.’ Tony insist, raising his voice a few octaves. Downstairs, Morgan asks Pepper why her dad is so close to yelling. ‘I should’ve, you were my kid Peter, are my kid, and I failed.’

‘You didn’t fail’, Peter yells back just as loudly, he stands up from the bed, subconsciously trying to appear taller so he has more say in the situation. ‘Because if you already failed then what did I do? I’m still here and you-‘, he cuts himself off once again, almost spilling all the secrets.

Tony approach him like he’s an animal that needs to be handled with care. ‘I don’t know what you’re on about, but I’m a grown man Pete, I can take care of myself.’

‘But I-‘

‘Ah, ah, ah, not talking back, I’m the adult here. Zip it kid. How about this, we’re both not to blame alright?’

Peter isn’t convinced Tony believes that, but it’s still a weight of his shoulders to have said it to Mister Stark, maybe, in the future, when he pins the blame on himself once more, he’ll think about this moment. He nods.

‘I have to go now Mister Stark’, The words tumble out of his mouth before he realizes that it’s the truth. Whatever is going to happen next won’t wait much longer.

Peter walks over to the window and opens it, ready to swing out after saying goodbye. He can’t go and see Pepper and Morgan, it’ll upset them as much as it’ll upset him. He’ll see them back in his time.

‘Wait,’ Tony screams, as I Peter was going to leave without a goodbye. The embrace he pulls Peter in is heavier this time, loaded with the upcoming goodbye’s. It’s still nice though, and Peter enjoys every second of it. Tony presses a kiss to Peter’s temple then holds it there when he asks; ‘How long do I have to wait before I see you again.’

Peter swallows painfully and considers lying to make Tony feel better but, ‘two years’, he eventually confesses, figuring that he can at least give that little piece of information.

Mister Stark simply hums, but Peter notices his tears nonetheless. With one last, solid squeeze, Peter wiggles out of the embrace and tries to stall his own tears. It would hurts less if he could go back to find Mister Stark there, if only he had a way to warm Tony.

He’s pretty sure he can’t go into too much detail but; ‘Mister Stark, when it happens, please hold on. I can’t lose you either.’

‘Okay Pete,’ Tony assures, his hands shaking with the urge to drag his kid back, safe in his arms. ‘After this is all over, we’re going to hold a movie night okay? With pizza.’

‘And Star Wars?’ Peter asks hopefully. Mister Stark laughs, his eyes wet. The smile is all Peter demands before he jumps out the window, not waiting for an answer. He prays that he’s done enough without messing anything up. He hopes.

---

When Peter makes it back to his own time, his phone pings with a message.

It reads; ‘Hey kid, still up for a movie night?’ send by Tony Stark.

[sunlightandsuffering]

Prompt : they are both famous and secretly dating.

tbh I don't know what this is or if it makes any sense at all, so sorry anon for butchering ur prompt, but I'm a basic bitch and I like my drake, so like this is gonna be pain bcuz my favourite song on the new album is just pain and I can't stop thinking about a fucked up celebs relationship to it, just ANGST AND PAIN!! 😭😭 but those lyrics hit, can't believe I wrote a song fic ugh circa Tumblr 2015 jfc I'mma write a happier ending to this in another prompt 😂 bc someone else asked for the same thing.

Fucking Fans

I'm still working on me

Eren stands at the Met Gala, holding Mikasa by the waist, giving a cramped smile for photos and keeping her close. People call their names and cameras flash and his beloved blinks, hiding her face into his shoulder as the lights overwhelm her.

He looks down at her lovingly as some jackass reporter yells about a cheating rumour and her pretty face pinches up. Eren is quick to comfort her with his touch, both hands gripping her waist reassuringly as he decides it's time for them to go inside.

"Come on Miki," he kisses her forehead and she nods, accepting. Neither of them wants to think about those rumours, the damage and the pain they bring up is too much and it's all his fault, he knows, but he can't undo it.

The guilt eats at him and she holds his hand tighter, the despair takes him and she cuddles him at night.

They're together now but sometimes Eren wonders just how it happened, how he came back from falling so far. How she took him back when he fucked up so massively.

And I'm coming back better for you

The day he shows up on her door step again is the day of the biggest awards show of the season, the one he knows she's going to kill and probably sweep several categories. Just because she's that amazing. He finds her where he expects, in her apartment, the address Armin gave him, doing her own hair and makeup, humble Mikasa just like always, ironing out her own dress. He shows up in a suit with as many white roses as he can fit into a bouquet and ready to leave if she still hates him, which she has every right to.

But he's been through months of therapy, gave Armin control of his bank account, and check himself into rehab thrice, every time he was even inching closer to relapse.

He's not fixed, but he's better, marginally, and he wants her to know it, know he still loves her at the very least.

She opens the door, beautiful even without makeup, and wearing a white slip and her pretty red mouth parts in shock.

All he can do is hold out his roses as tears leave his eyes at seeing her for the first time in months.

Most times it was my selfishness and your helplessness that I took advantage of

It was so easy with Mikasa, she was so devoted to him. So loving and sweet, always there for him.

She'd wait up, let him do what he wanted, never wanting to stifle or control him. Too afraid their tenuous relationship would crack and they'd break up.

A part of him blames her for it, for being so willing to let him do what he wanted. She'd been passive, unsure how to insert herself, had minimal complaints, letting him ruin his life party by party, late night after late night, drugs and alcohol all of it.

But he knows he can never hold her accountable for his own actions, and the day she's finally done with his bullshit is both the best and worst day of his life. She finally says no, and it begins his path to fixing himself. Because hitting rock bottom is losing the most important thing in his life, and that's Mikasa.

You sit in the house and I be out and I know you're worried, up

The problem with her passivity is he knows it's not passivity at all, she just doesn't know what to do, how to fix him. Eren has always had a temper, and she's known him for a long time, knows he'll lash out and behave worse if provoked. So she'd reacted as best she could, leaving rehab pamphlets out, asking him to stay in and watch movies, bake with her, anything other than going out to party.

But he'd stumble home every night and see her asleep on the couch, waiting. Always there to pick him up instead of a cab, not wanting the paparazzi to get a hold of him, she was always there.

And you try and block it out

They lived in a bubble, they pretended it didn't happen. They didn't acknowledge when he was too hungover to shoot the next morning. She'd brew him coffee, get him through the day, flush his drug stash when they checked, both his saving grace and biggest enabler.

Even when he's kissing her for more than just an on-screen kiss, lips drinking her in like a man starved, and the next morning she finds new girls in his bed, she keeps quiet.

They're a mess, but every time she dutifully kicks the girls out and drags him to the shower.

I'm so sorry for letting you down

When he'd first become famous, he hadn't known what to do with himself. He'd been scouted for how many movies, tv-shows, underwear commercials, brand deals. It was a whirlwind as Hollywood found their new boy wonder, handsome, smart and a nice boy.

His best friend, and female love interest in their debut movie, Mikasa, who had followed him to Hollywood on nothing more than a whim, was equally bombarded with fame and fortune. They'd always been close, always best friends, but never quite more, no matter how much they both obviously wanted it. It never progressed beyond a few acted kisses.

Still, they got an apartment together, and Eren had thought it was the start of something great, he was living the dream. Rich and famous with his best friend, the girl he'd secretly loved since he was young.

He'd been content just to stay up late and watch movies with her before work, to visit her on set and bring her donuts. They were Hollywood's shining stars, two kids sickeningly sweet in love even though they weren't officially dating, they were as good as.

At the advice of his agent, he'd started doing more, started picking up a few other gigs on the side, modelling, but he kept it small, he didn't want to overwhelm himself, and he still wanted time for Mikasa.

It had gone well, they'd taken fame okay, and Eren had been proud, neither of them had a sex-scandal or a pregnancy scare yet. They'd even been inching towards finally being something more than just friends, a few heated looks, some on-stage kisses to finally get the ball rolling.

Then Mikasa had been cast in an upcoming romance movie and her love interest hadn't been Eren, it had been Jean.

That had been the start of his spiral.

He'd never meant for it to get so far out of control, how many movies he started doing, how many promotions. Meanwhile Mikasa, smart, brilliant Mikasa stuck with smaller projects and only ever one at a time, preferring to keep close to their apartment. He was all she had, and she was all he wanted.

Nights when I just needed to hold somebody

He misses her, lays in bed awake at night thinking about her, how long it’s been, when was the last time he saw the curve of her face in person and not in a washed-out picture on a magazine. Girls in and out of his apartment, trying to fill the empty void inside him, and nothing works, nothing ever works. Because he’d fucked it up, said he didn’t need her, told her he could do it on his own, fame wouldn’t take him. Called each other names, every one in the book, screaming matches over stupid shit, if he should take that job, what she was doing with Jean, how she was eating, if she was eating enough.

The toxicity was palpable in their apartment until finally Mikasa just left and he broke.

Feeling overwhelmed, should've told somebody

Fame takes him like a drug addiction, actually it comes with a drug addiction, heroine, cocaine, molly, all of it. In trying to ditch his Hollywood’s sweetheart, good boy image he diverts his life so radically he doesn’t know if he can ever get back to where he was. He loses weight, barely gets by, he doesn’t even understand how he’s still getting booked, but people want him even more now that he’s Hollywood’s bad boy. Meanwhile Mikasa is disgraced now that he’s ‘thrown her away’ even though it was the other way around. Last he heard she lived in a little apartment on the upper east side, leaves only to work, and to fly up to see their families. He hasn’t seen his parents in months, doesn’t want to. Doesn’t want to see the look in their eyes when they realize how skinny he’s gotten, how his body lacks muscle, skin barely clinging to bone, gaunt and lifeless.

He needs help, but he’s spiraling, he’s committed and no matter how many times Armin tries to get him into rehab, he never goes. What’s the point Mikasa is gone, he’s not getting her back, all he has now is the money, the drugs, and the women.

Picturin' it's me sending chills through your body

He hears she’s dating Jean now and somehow, he gets worse.

Every fear he’d ever had comes to life and he gets angry, his temper coming back full force. The past few months he’d barely been getting by, not really living, but his rage awakens him. She’d told him no, that they weren’t dating, never so much as kissed outside of work. What a fucking lie.

How many girls he takes home that month he doesn’t know, how many paparazzi photos of women leaving his apartment, how he dreams it’s Mikasa under him, not some rando.

He sees her on the cover of some magazine, walking innocently with Jean and it sends him into even more of a rage, but under it all he wishes it was him, doesn’t matter that they were never official, that it only happened a few times, he wants her back. But Eren’s never been good at navigating his emotions, so he clings to his rage like a lifeline.

I just probably should've chilled 'til I saw you

When they ask about her in interviews, he doesn’t answer. Not until that once, when he lets it slip and he watches Armin wilt in real time from behind the camera as he spits the words, “I think it’s obvious, she’s with Jean now isn’t she, right after she was with me, figure it out yourself.”

The insinuation is lethal, cruel, mean and he knows it’s not true, but he says it anyway. He knows she didn't do it, but still the coincidence hurts too much, the very thought that there might have been something romantic going on with them before makes him want to throw up.

The interviewer looks shocked before he brightens up at the tidbit of information, like a vulture picking apart the last pieces of his heart, massacring it further, but Eren doesn’t mind the pain anymore. It fuels his rage and that’s all he has these days.

How am I supposed to get to know somebody?

When the rage wears off months later and Mikasa has done nothing, no comment on his interviews, no appearances, no angry texts, just silence, he becomes numb. Then the sadness sets in, because losing her romantically isn’t even the worst part, he doesn’t even have his best friend anymore, he’s lost her too.

She’s become a recluse, a hermit, he hasn’t even seen her with Jean on the magazine covers lately. Distantly he knows it’s because their movie is finished filming, and she was probably never dating him in the first place.

He goes to awards shows in hopes of at least catching a glimpse but she’s gone into hiding, there’s rumours she’s back in their hometown, but he’d never visit, not with the disgrace he’s become. He tries to date seriously, tries to talk to other actresses, but it’s all so vacant, disingenuous. All they want him for is his image, there’s nothing real about these women anymore, everything is fake, plastic right down to their boobs. Nothing like Mikasa, who was pure to her core, even in the face of her fame.

If we broke it off then you know it wasn't painless

He'd cried for weeks after she'd ended it, despite it being entirely his fault.

Armin had cancelled all his engagements and Eren hadn't left the apartment, curling himself up on her empty mattress, her room a barren wasteland.

He'd only eaten when Armin forced him too, and only come out of his hibernation after his mother had called to yell, Armin holding the phone right in his ear, the first time he'd spoken to her in forever.

If she got a watch then you know it's not a stainless

He’s got money, but it means nothing. Mikasa has money too, it doesn’t even matter. What has it all been for? He doesn’t even know anymore. All he’s gotten from his acting career is trust issues, more money than he knows what do with and the loss of his best friend and the only girl he’s ever loved.

It’s all a blur now, he acts, he models, he does PR. Armin makes him a schedule and he follows it. They meet with his nutritionist and his personal trainer, and he starts working out again, eating real food, not just smoking, and drinking coffee to supress his appetite.

Armin is the only reason he’s still a functioning human being as Eren hits rock bottom. The only one left to try and push him out.

I was out here fucking fans, I was shameless

He knows he fucked up, it’s why he starts therapy.

The shit he’d done, high off his own fame and arrogance, it’s messed up and he he knows it now. All the girls, all the money and the drugs, ignoring Mikasa’s concerns, dragging her down with him.

He doesn’t blame her now, he knows none of it was fair, she was justified in leaving. They were toxic, their half on, half off relationship, how he'd commit to the drugs but never her.

He can still remember the first time he kissed her, really kissed her, Eren and Mikasa not two characters on screen. It was after their first awards show for their movie, he’d been so excited, so delightfully sober, he couldn’t help himself, she’d been so pretty in her white dress, he’d leaned down before he could stop himself. The first night they’d had sex, her moans, her soft cries of pleasure, nothing had ever measured up since.

It had been bliss, for about a month or so and then they’d really been discovered, and it had all been shot to hell.

All the fans, all the women throwing themselves at him, his eyes couldn’t help but wander despite Mikasa always being the most radiant in the room. He had her love, he’d had everything, but that insidious voice in the back of his head had wondered. Thought the grass was greener on the other side, wanting to explore fame at the same time they’d finally started their relationship.

You was at the crib reading stories that they sent you

They’d kept it casual at Eren’s insistence and Mikasa’s heartbreak, his rock had been willing to allow it for him, for the chance to finally explore their relationship. But he could see how much it hurt her, the tabloids were the worst part, every day a new cover, another apartment he’d leave, another hookup in the parking lot. And he could barely justify it to himself, why he did it, why he continued to do it? He had everything he could ever want in Mikasa, the girl he’d loved since forever, finally in the palm of his hand, willing to give herself wholly to him.

And yet fame had called him more, and the people he was hanging out with only encouraged it, the famous lifestyle, drugs, sex and rock and roll.

Everyone was doing it, so why shouldn’t he?

Most of that was bullshit but some of it I did do

The rumours spiralled out of control after a while, there was nothing he could do, it was over, they had too much on him.

He'd been telling himself lies that maybe she was with Jean on the side, that she had the same opportunities as him, she could go out and sleep around too.

As if Mikasa would ever even consider it.

He’d finally given into being exclusive, seeing the toll it was taking on Mikasa, after Armin smacked him upside the head and told him he was going to lose her if he didn’t get his shit together. Eren had finally realized how irreversibly he was fucking up his relationship, but by then, it had been too late.

When they finally started truly dating, monogamy and all, it had been far, far too late. The backlog of photos the paparazzi had was ridiculous, any opportunity they got to demonize him they took.

He and Mikasa been casual at the time of all the photos, sure, but anyone would buckle under the weight of constant articles about their significant other cheating. Eren became the villain in his own story, and Hollywood loved it, ‘Bad Boy Eren Yeager Ditches Mikasa Ackerman’. He still remembers the headline, it was the straw that broke the camel’s back, she’d come home, dropped the offending magazine on the coffee table and hidden in her room for the rest of the night. He’d slept outside her door, and the next morning he’d been woken by her stepping over him to leave, bags packed.

It was sad, they’d never even officially dated to the public, they hadn’t gotten to that point. She’d wanted to reveal it at some awards show by taking him as her date, thanking him in her speech, her boyfriend, Eren Yeager. Overnight the paparazzi had singlehandedly broken them up for shit he hadn’t even done.

He had no one but himself to blame.

Hard for me to justify the women I was into

Looking back, he can’t say why he did it or what the purpose of all the models that looked eerily like her were for. Maybe he was trying to fill the empty space in his heart, maybe he felt neglected by her friendship with Jean and how obvious the man’s feeling for her were, but for one reason or another, he’d slept his way through about half of the Victoria’s Secret fashion show, and award shows were awkward these days. Meeting the eyes of all the talented women he’d hooked up with in such a professional setting was uncomfortable at best.

How many more did he not even remember, to high off drugs and alcohol and his own ego?

Especially when the whole entire world wished they had you

He’d seen it in how Jean looked at her the first time they’d walked the red carpet as promotion for their movie. The tall man was a b-list actor and he’d been invited to the pre-screening, and he’d watched Mikasa the entire night. His gaze wasn’t moved by Eren’s arm wrapped protectively around her waist or his chin resting on her head, nor the possessive hand on her thigh.

They hadn’t even been fooling around back then, but he couldn’t help himself, he didn’t want Jean’s eyes on her. She was also Mikasa Ackerman, and the whole world thought she was just as beautiful and amazing and perfect as he did.

But she was his. His best friend, love of his life, his everything

If only he’d treated her like it.

Probably made you want to hit the streets on everything

She doesn't take him to the awards show the night he comes begging, but she lets him inside her apartment. Lets him help her with her hair, something he's sorely missed. Something he's familiar with, been braiding her hair since they were kids.

He helps her put it up into a beautiful twist.

And when Jean knocks at her door to take her to the awards show he lets her go, kisses her cheek and tells her how much he loves her, how she's going to win it all and he'll be waiting her when she gets back.

And then she leaves, walks away with another man and Eren thinks he deserves it, it's his penance, how many times has she felt this same way, how many women has he been through?

Probably made you want to pour bleach on everything

He discovers not a single remnant of himself in her apartment, no pictures, no clothes she's borrowed. Even his old sweatshirt, her favourite one is gone. Hell, even their award for best-onscreen-kiss is gone.

He finds it all in a crumpled box under her bed and it's his own fault for snooping, their photo crumpled up and misshapen, riddled with water damage. Probably from her tears if he had to guess.

Probably made you want to kill me on everything

She comes home that night and Eren is surprised, he'd expected her to go to Jean's. Hadn't really believed she was going to come back. Had resigned himself to sleeping on the couch and waiting till tomorrow when she'd come home dishevelled and covered in hickeys and bruises, the kind good sex gives you. The kind he'd never really allowed himself to give her.

That's when she'd really broken and he'd been so fucking happy when she'd thrown her purse at him. No more of her her silent rage, her forced smiles. She'd kicked and screamed, cried in his arms only to hit him brutally with a pillow, chasing him to the end of the couch. Hands restraining his wrists, as she curses him out, tears running down her beautiful cheeks sparkling in the moonlight, she's a vengeful goddess and he deserves every second of her wrath.

She collapses on top of him in a heap of sobs and all he can do is hold her, hating himself just as much as he's sure she does.

Yeah, trust, I know that

He wakes the next morning with her weight in his arms, and he holds her like he never wants to let go.

He's lucky she's even here with him right now, that she didn't kick him out on the spot. That she even cares enough to still fight with him. He kisses her forehead softly, he knows.

Yeah I kinda hate this but whatever have angst 🤷🏻‍♀️

[thoughtfullyyoungduck]

Birthday

Summary: could you do a hs losers x reader where the readers new to town and hates her bday bc each year her past friends and family had always forgotten or did nothing so when richie finds out her bdays coming up he tells the losers and they all plan a special surprise party and richie saves up and gets her something super special and the losers r all like wow he’s never gotten anyone anything like this b4 so she finds out that he likes her or something so it’s like the best bday she’s ever had

Richie bikes swiftly passed you, faster than he usually does, which can only mean he’s trying to surpass you. You barely refrain from flipping him the bird in public, as you too throw your weight into peddling. It’s no use, Richie is more athletic than you by a long shot, and he’s been practicing with Eddie for track. You’ll never be able to catch up with him with no viable effort.

‘You asshole,’ you yell out to him, noticing an elder woman pledging through her yard too late to stop your exclamation. She regards the both of you with malcontent, stabbing her hark too brutally in the soil of her allotment for it to be a coincidence.

‘Not my fault your short legs can’t reach the peddles.’

You growl, lifting up from your saddle to race faster, but Richie sees you do it and does nothing but laugh.

Any other time you might give him hell for it, but today, you are in no mood to indulge in Richie’s escapades.

It’s your birthday, and while for most that equalizes a fun day stacked with presents and cake, to you it stands for a day full of misery.

Your birthday is cursed. And no, that is not you being dramatic. At your ninth birthday, your cake got slammed into floor, therefor ruing the gift your parents had been working on for weeks, and which was their only present.

At age ten, you fell off your brand new bike into a ravine and had to go to the hospital to get eleven stitches. On your fourteenth birthday, you and your parents got into such a huge fight they send you up to your room and forbad you from sneaking down at any point in the day.

There are more examples to back up your claim for the terrible birthdays, but you have tried to desperately block them all out, so you won’t rehash them.

That’s why your so peeved that Richie is forcing you to the quarry.

‘If you could tell me where I’m supposed to be going to bet u could find a short cut and be there faster than you.’

‘Nice try Dora, I’m not telling you anything. It’s a surprise.’

‘Alright, I get two attempts. If I can’t guess where we’re going, I’ll do your homework for a week.’

‘And if you do guess it?’

‘Then you owe me a favor and no matter for what reason I cash it in, you don’t get to complain.’

‘Fine, bring it miss know it all.’ Richie slows down to slide next to you, the wind picking up as the two of you descend down the mountain. His smile is mischievous and cheeky, probably too confident to think you’ll be able to reckon the spot he has in mind.

If only he knew that you had limited the possibilities to two places, the exact amount of guess you were granted.

‘Hm, are we going to the arcade?’ Your first theory is. Richie doesn’t have anything on him right now, except pennies that have been rinkeling inside his pockets the entire bike ride, the only thing he needs to go to the arcade.

Richie smirks, and shakes his head. ‘Try one my dear, may I say that the odds aren’t in your favor right now?’

His impressive ego in the way he taunts you with the right answer fuels your desire to be right. ‘Are we going to the Barrens?’ You sing, smiling wide as Richie’s shrinks.

‘Eh, no?’ He says, but he sounds petulant. ‘Fuck this shit, what gave it away?’

‘A girl never reveals her secrets’, you say covertly, forgetting momentarily about the agitating day. You suspect that might have been Richie’s intention.

It’s not like the Barrens is such a stretch in the first place, the losers and you have made that place your own, but you do hypothesize that he may have planned something special for you.

Your theory turns out to be true, as you can spot a long table at the end of the dirt path you and Richie are currently riding on to get to the clubhouse. The table is stacked with a variety of candies, your favorite, drinks that are sweet enough to rot your teeth, something Richie should be more aware off - having a dad who is a dentist-, and a giant cake with eight candles on. Each one representing a loser.

You say nothing as you approach, in a sneaky way torturing Richie a bit more before revealing that you’re at the verge of tears of this nice gesture. Richie slows down his speed by dragging his shoes along the dirt, glances darting nervously towards your face.

‘I know you said no parties, but how else was I supposed to show off my rocking dance moves?’

‘Do you mean the moves you make that look like you’re dying?’ Stan chides, him and the rest of the losers rolling up behind you two. They’re all walking next to their bikes, and Bill’s hands are smudges with cake residue he somehow missed while cleaning up. They didn’t want to be here before you and ruin the ‘surprise’, but it’s clear everyone has worked hard to organize this for you.

‘Fuck you Stan the man, the color green doesn’t fit you.’

‘Happy’, Bev grounds out, leveling Richie with one look, the way only Bev can, and then address you. ‘Birthday.’ She hugs you despite you still holding your bike, and you let it clatter to the ground with a loud bang.

‘Thanks Bev.’

‘Happy Birthday’, the other losers also call out, because there’s just too many of them for each to wait their turn.

‘We hope you don’t mind we don’t have any presents, we spend basically all of it getting ingredients for the cake, which we had to redo- twice.’

They don’t offer any other explanation about why the cake had to be remade two times, but by Eddie’s scowl you can fill in the blanks.

‘No, honestly, this is already too much.’ It is too much, but their efforts are so kind and heartwarming that you have to bit back a happy squall. No one has ever bothered to organize anything for your birthday, whether it be purchasing a two dollar present or even ordering a cake, but these people that you had met less then a year ago were willing to scramble together all the money they could, just so they could turn your day special. Thank god for moving to Derry.

For the first time in years, your birthday has brought smiles and laughter, and no tears and weeping moods.

‘Nonsense my dearest young lady, this is but a blip on our radar, a speck of dust on the tv, nothing compared too-‘

‘Can we please cut the cake now? Before something else goes wrong with it?’ Eddie glowers, refuting to wait for an affirmative.

‘Don’t forget the candles,’ Ben says as he follows Eddie to the table. You’re about to join them, when a hand on your wrists stops you.

‘Hey, Y/N? You really don’t mind this right? I know you said you didn’t want anything but I know how nice it is be caught off guard with something like this.’ Richie rubs the back of his head as if that makes him see any less anxious. It’s incredible how smart someone can be while simultaneously also being so dense.

‘Richie’, you say as you smile, unable to hide it any longer. ‘It’s amazing, thank you so much. If there is any way I can repay you I’ll do that. I’m really happy with this.’

‘That’s good, not that I was worried about it, who isn’t a fan of everything I do?’

Rolling your eyes only spurs Richie on, but it’s become an automatic response now, you can’t help but do it.

‘Oh, I almost forgot. I did get you another gift. Two actually, if you count my huge dong as one.’

‘Gross Richie, why do you always have to add something sexual to everything?’

‘It’s my game babe, love it or leave it. Anyway, here is the gift if you want it. If you don’t that’s fine too.’

‘Don’t get all shy on me now Rich’, you tease as your bump your arm into his while grabbing the package. ‘I’ve just gotten used to your antics.’

The package isn’t heavy, but it also isn’t light. It’s wrapped in enough layer that you can’t feel what’s inside of it just by holding it, but that was probably Richie’s intention. That or he is simply horrible at wrapping up.

While you carefully peel off each layer, you begin to speculate on what it could be. It could be a gag gift, but Richie looked sincere, and his eyes behind his glasses are magnified in true anticipation, a gag gift wouldn’t illicit that response.

As soon as the final layer is detached, you gasp, armored by the actual gift. It’s a blue bracelet, covered in butterfly pattering. You once mentioned having a similar one as a kid that you loved but lost one day while playing outside and had been sad about for weeks.

You can’t believe Richie had kept it in his mind, and had gone out to look for it.

‘Richie… I don’t even know what to say right now.’ You exclaim, squeezing the bracelet in your hand tightly, a blush covering your face. Richie’s mimics yours. ‘Thank you’, you say while reaching out to him and kissing him on the cheek. Richie face burns a brighter red.

‘Yeah… glad to be of service.’ His mind is ball parks away, and he is left dazed.

‘Come on Y/N, it’s time for you to blow out the candles.’

You go easily, letting your hand linger around Richie’s, deciding mentally that you’ll do it tonight before you go home. Your birthday has already been better than anything you could have imagined, and maybe it has one more miracle left to give. If Richie says yes to your question about going on a date, then this will truly have been the best birthday you have every had. By the love struck expression Richie is walking around with, you have an inkling as to what his response might be.

You blow out your candles, but you don’t need to make a wish. You already have everything you could possibly want.

----

‘Off course that asshole buys her a gift, but never returns the money I loaned him so long ago. I’m not a fucking bank.’

‘I think it’s cute.’

‘No, Eddie is right, I’m also waiting on my refund.’

‘It’s adorable he bought her something, he really can’t hide his crush anymore.’

[moldisgoodforyou]

jealous

wordcount: 3k

warnings: cursing, mentions of sex

______

After a little bit of bribery, Rafe convinced Sophie to come with him to a charity event he was representing his dad at in Columbus. Once Rafe had committed to Ohio State, Ward immediately began making contacts in Ohio and broadening his impact, putting Rafe to work - and still keeping him tied to the family business as much as he could. To convince Sophie just a little bit more (even though it wasn’t necessary, she’d stand by his side no matter what), he got the help of Allie and Julia to pick out a new dress for her and surprise her with it the morning of the event. 

Once she learned that Ward wouldn’t be attending, she was a lot more excited for the event. Rafe made a show out of picking her up, coming to the door with flowers in hand. Word moved fast in the sorority house and by the time Sophie made it downstairs, there was a whole discussion in the groupchat about who the cute boy was wearing the suit and waiting outside their door. When she came down in the dress, red lipstick and all, he whistled, motioning for her to twirl. 

Sophie grinned and rolled her eyes but spun for him. “Are those for me?” 

He handed her the flowers, beaming. “Yes they are. You look incredible, baby.” 

She blushed, shaking her head. “You don’t look so bad yourself. Here, I’ll be right back, let me run these up to my room.” She accepted the flowers and turned on her heel, striding upstairs. 

Allie and Julia came back downstairs with Sophie, wearing matching grins. “Clean up nice, Cameron!” Julia called out with a smirk. “Yeah, do you have friends that'll buy us nice dresses and take us to galas?” Allie chimed in, laughing when Sophie gave her a shove on the way past. 

“Ah, this one already tried that. Didn’t end well.” Rafe teased, sending a pointed glance to Julia. Julia’s cheeks heated almost instantly and she flipped him off, shaking her head. “You said we’d never speak of it again.” 

“Pretty sure that was my rule.” Sophie interrupted, taking Rafe’s arm. “Leave my boyfriend -” 

“Sugar daddy -” 

“Oh my god, I told you to quit that -” 

Allie cut both the girls off with a pointed “hey!” and Sophie rolled her eyes. “Julia, hush, Sophie, you go have fun. Snag us a bottle of fancy alc.” 

Rafe laughed and waved goodbye to the girls, escorting Sophie out. “They’re fun. I’m glad they’re your friends.” She shook her head, laughing. “Sometimes I am not. Hey.” 

“Hey.” 

“You did a good job on the dress, I’m impressed.” 

He smirked and helped her into the car, then ran one hand up her thigh. “I have to admit, I picked it out more for the slit up the leg than anything.” Sophie giggled and tugged on his tie to pull him in for a kiss. “Think we can sneak away early tonight?” 

“We have my room available from...” He paused, thinking. “Eleven to midnight. The gala ends at ten thirty.” 

She laughed, messing with the radio once he got in to drive. “We’re really scheduling sex like an old married couple?” 

“We won’t have to when we’re old and married.” Rafe responded without missing a beat, then instantly realized and blushed, fumbling with his words. “Uh, I mean. Um. Yes, uh, but only because we have the roommates - I mean, next year, we’ll both have our own rooms, so -” 

She cut him off, amused by his embarrassment. “I’m just messing with you. Besides, that’ll give you more than enough time to finish.” 

“Sophie! Take it back. You know that’s not true.” He pushed her shoulder playfully, shaking his head. 

“It was true after your formal.” She smirked, loving the way he squirmed when she teased him. The rest of the short ride was spent like that, with mindless flirting and teasing about sex, until he had to make her find directions to the venue. 

When he parked, she moved to get out right away, but he reached over and grabbed her hand before she could get out of the car. “Hey, wait. Uh, I should maybe warn you -”

She raised her eyebrows. “Now you decide to warn me about something? Right before we’re going in?”

Rafe winced. “I love you?”

“Uh huh. Not the time. What do I need to know?”

He spoke quickly, knowing he was in trouble. “My ex will be there and she’s liked every picture of us together on Instagram and texted me that she was excited to see me this weekend.”

Sophie sat back in the seat, taking a deep breath as she processed the information. “Who? And you didn’t tell me this, why?”

“Brooklyn. And, uh...that’s a good question, Sophie. You know, I really appreciate your critical thinking skills, have I ever told you that?” He gave her a half-smile, trying to cheer her up without success.

“Rafe?”

“Yeah?”

“Please shut up.”

“Yes ma’am.”

She rolled her eyes and got out with him, taking his arm when he offered it as they walked inside. Sophie didn’t ask much about his previous relationships, just noted when he brought it up infrequently and tried to reassure him that whatever his ex had told him, they were wrong and he was a great boyfriend. She only regretted not pushing more about it now, when she was about to meet the girl. 

It was almost amusing watching him go into entertaining mode the second they stepped in and the first person came over to greet him - it was the same presence he commanded at parties, just remarkably more professional in that environment. After a solid hour of Sophie just standing by while Rafe made polite small talk, dinner was announced and they glanced over the table arrangements to find their spot.

“Oh, fuck.” Rafe mumbled under his breath, spying his ex’s name featured right next to his and Sophie’s. She noticed her name was written as Sophie Cameron, but decided to hold her tongue on the mix up.

She furrowed her brow, taking his hand. “It’s a minor thing, Rafe, I’m sure it was a simple mistake -”

“What? No, no.” He shook his head and pointed to the name Brooklyn Rowley at the head of the table. She nodded once in recognition, pretty sure her heart was sinking to her stomach at the moment. “Oh.”

“You know what? It’ll be fine. It’ll be fine, we won’t even have to talk to her, there’s fourteen people at the table. It’ll be fine.” He repeated, trying to reassure himself more than Sophie.

She let him lead her to the table - that was already full except for their two seats. Brooklyn practically jumped up out of her seat when she saw Rafe, grinning ear to ear. “Oh my god, Rafe, hi! Here, come sit next to me.”

Rafe gave Brooklyn an awkward side hug in response to her attempted bear hug, pulling out Sophie’s chair before taking his seat. “Brooklyn, this is my -”

“I’m Sophie.” She interrupted, giving the girl one of the fakest smiles Rafe had ever seen. “His girlfriend. It’s nice to meet you.” She reached across Rafe, extending her arm to shake Brooklyn’s hand.

Brooklyn pretended to be surprised as she shook Sophie’s hand. “Oh!” She elbowed Rafe teasingly. “She’s cute, Rafe. Didn’t think you’d jump into a relationship again, after.” She gave him a sly smile and touched his arm. “Well, you know.”

Sophie steeled herself, pouring herself a generous glass of wine from the table. Rafe gave a nervous chuckle and nudged his foot against Sophie’s under the table. “We’ve been together for four months now, there’s no jumping into anything. I’ve known Sophie since we were at least fourteen.”

“So you didn’t meet at school? Sophia, do you go to Ohio State with us too?” Brooklyn’s eyes flitted to Sophie’s fingers curled tight around the wine glass, asking the question right when she took a sip.

“No, we met in high school. We’re both from the Outer Banks.” Sophie explained, ultra-polite. “But I go to Ohio State, we just happened to end up here together.”

“Right, right. So you’ve met the family and everything. Has he taken you to the Bahamas house yet? The view is gorgeous.” Brooklyn grinned, touching Rafe’s hand again.

Sophie resisted from gritting her teeth as Rafe gave her a pained glance. “Um, no. I haven’t been.” She tried racking her brain and vaguely remembered a brief mention of the Bahamas from Sarah talking about their summers, but didn’t realize there was a whole vacation home involved.

“Oh! That’s funny. He took me after, like, two months.” She paused for a second to look Sophie over, pleased her words were clearly taking effect. “But it’s like, more of a summer house anyways, so the timing must not have worked out with you two yet. I mean, we went over Christmas break that one time, but -”

“We stayed home for Christmas this year.” Rafe interrupted, resting his hand on Sophie’s thigh under the table, but in clear view of Brooklyn’s line of sight.

Brooklyn nodded, not backing down. “So, Sophia -”

“It’s Sophie. But go on.” Sophie shot back an equally tense smile, feigning interest.

“Right, sorry, Sophie. There’s this gorgeous little private beach you can go to, you should go. If he ever takes you.” She touched Rafe’s shoulder and Sophie bit the inside of her cheek hard, feeling ready to snap. “Oh my god, Rafe, remember when we were drunk and we almost got caught on the beach?” She giggled. “Good thing we weren’t actually making love that time, but my top was off and everything, it was so embarrassing.”

“Sounds like it.” Sophie replied dryly, stepping on Rafe’s foot with her heel under the table. As much as she wanted to gag hearing about the two of them ‘making love,’ she just swallowed another big sip of wine instead. He let out a pained, quiet groan and Brooklyn frowned. “Is something wrong?”

“No, no, I’m fine. Just, uh,” he gestured to their empty plates as they waited to be served. “Hungry, I guess. Hey, you’ve been to Barcelona, right? Sophie’s studying abroad there this summer, I’m really proud of her.” Rafe squeezed her thigh under the table, and Sophie relaxed a tiny bit.

Brooklyn shook her head. “No, I’ve been to Madrid. Spain is like, so much better in the off season. But that’s so exciting! What are you doing, how long will you be gone for?”

“It’s through my architecture major. I’m sure I’ll visit Madrid too at one point.” Sophie reached out and straightened Rafe’s collar, just for an excuse to touch him and stake some possession. “It’s for three months.”

“Three months...” She repeated, turning her attention to Rafe. “Are you going to be able to handle that?” Brooklyn laughed, glancing back at Sophie. “He was always so needy, isn’t he?”

“No. I haven’t noticed. We have a healthy relationship.” Sophie replied pointedly before Rafe could open his mouth. 

“Right, of course.” Brooklyn gave her a grin, like she was sharing a secret with Sophie and Rafe wasn’t literally in between them. “Give him time, it’ll show. You said you’ve only been together for four months, right? That’s like, so soon in the relationship. Like, Rafe and I -” 

Thankfully, the servers came to their table and interrupted them just as she was about to finish her sentence, and Sophie visibly relaxed as the speaker for the night started talking. Rafe leaned over and murmured in her ear. “I’m sorry, Soph.”

She just gave him a tight smile in response and turned her head, kissing his cheek chastely. Thankfully, the rest of the dinner was occupied by the guest speakers and left little room for side conversation, until the dance floor was opened up after the dessert. Sophie had limited herself to the single heavy pour of wine, while Brooklyn hadn’t held back and was clearly tipsy.

When the three stood after the last guest speaker, Brooklyn leaned into Rafe, giggling as she steadied herself on his extended arm. “Oops! Sorry. I’m kind of a lightweight.”

“Oh, I used to not be able to hold my liquor. In high school, I think.” Sophie couldn’t resist the dig and Rafe sent her a warning glance, taking her hand once Brooklyn was upright.

“Not all of us got blacked out at high school parties, Sophia, some of us had priorities.” Brooklyn told her pointedly, and Sophie only rolled her eyes. “But you’re in one of those trashy sororities, right? So I guess it makes sense.”

“Brooklyn, watch it.” Rafe cut in, sliding his arm protectively around Sophie’s waist. Sophie shook her head, keeping her eyes locked on Brooklyn’s. “It’s fine.”

“You could at least not be so obvious.” Brooklyn stated, taking a sip of her drink.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Sorry, it’s just.” Brooklyn gestured to Sophie, to her dress and shoes, and lowered her voice conspiratorially. “There’s more to like about him than just the money, you know? Open your eyes, Rafe, you’re being used.”

Sophie’s jaw dropped and she took a quick step forward without even processing all the words that Brooklyn had said. “I can’t believe -” Rafe grabbed her around the waist and stepped in front of her, in between her and Brooklyn. “Sophie, don’t.”

She glanced over Rafe’s shoulder at Brooklyn and her smug smile, then looked back to him with a pleading look. He shook his head, almost imperceptibly. “Meet me out in the hallway?”

She only relented when he kissed her quickly, trying to calm her down more. Sophie reached into the inside of his suit jacket and pulled out the keys, placing a possessive hand on his chest for a steadying breath. “Fine. I’ll be in the car.”

“Aw, you’re leaving? It was nice to meet you, Sophia!” Brooklyn shot her a grin and Sophie grit her teeth, giving Rafe another look again, but he turned her away with both hands on her shoulders. “Ignore her. I’ll talk to her. Go.”

He kept his eyes trained on her until she left the dining room, then turned to Brooklyn, his tone icy but quiet so they didn’t make a scene. “What the fuck was that?”

“Come on, Rafe.” Brooklyn shrunk back a little, pouting. “You’re telling me that’s all real? Seriously? She’s so stiff.”

“Yeah, because she was trying to be polite while you were nothing but rude all evening.” He shot back, arms folded. “I thought you could be civil and finally mature about this. I guess I was wrong.”

“You’re not serious.” She rolled her eyes and reached out for Rafe, only for him to flinch away from her touch. “I mean, look at her. You think she compares to me?”

“No. She’s miles beyond you. She’s so damn clever, she’s fucking gorgeous and she’s loyal as hell.” He paused, a wave of hurt flashing across his face. “Unlike you.”

That seemed to break Brooklyn and her shoulders slumped, face dropping. “Rafe, I...I didn’t mean to hurt you -”

“Am I wrong?”

“He initiated it -”

“Am. I. Wrong.” He spoke evenly, nose flaring.

She sighed quietly. “No.”

“Goddamn it.” Rafe exhaled, nodding once. “Okay. That’s all I needed. Don’t text me again.” He turned sharply on his heel, ignoring her call after him. He strode out to the parking lot and got in his car where Sophie waited in the passenger seat, letting the door slam shut behind him.

Sophie was about to start on an impassioned rant until she noticed his set jaw and tense shoulders, and she reached over, combing one hand through the hair at the nape of his neck. “You alright?”

“I love you. So fucking much. You know that?” He asked after a moment, pressing his head back into her palm.

“I do. I love you too.” She hesitated. “You don’t believe any of that, what she said. Right?”

“No, god, of course not.” He cracked a grin at her. “If you were with me for my money you’d have let me pay for your jewelry tonight.”

Sophie rolled her eyes, tugging teasingly on his hair. “I have perfectly fine jewelry, it’s ridiculous, not to mention unethical, for you to buy me a new something for every event -”

“I know, I know.” He laughed and leaned over to catch her lips in a kiss. “I’m kidding, baby. You look stunning, no matter what you’re in.”

“I could have taken her, you know.” She squared up in her seat and pretended to punch the air. “Two hits and she’d be out.”

Rafe shook his head, grinning. “I know, that’s exactly why I held you back. Remind me to not get on your bad side.”

“You’ve already been on my bad side.” She informed him, lightly punching his arm. “I think you’re in the clear for a while.”

“Just a while?”

“Yeah, I gotta keep you on your toes.” She paused, trying to gather her thoughts. “Is she - um, can I - do you have her blocked? I don’t want to overstep, but -”

“No, that’s a good idea. Go ahead.” He handed her his phone once it was unlocked, starting the car and backing out. “All of that was so fucked up, what she said.” He scowled. “And I promise I’ll take you to the Bahamas, it just felt early - I mean, I was nervous to even bring you to the Christmas party, much less family vacation, that’s unnecessary pressure for you -”

“You’re fine, Rafe.” She rested a reassuring hand on his thigh. “I promise. I don’t care about that. She was just trying to get under my skin.”

“I’m really sorry, I promise. I didn’t think she’d be that way or I would have just gone and switched tables with someone.” He frowned and stretched his arm out, resting it across the back of her seat. “She was so touchy.“

“I would have done something if she touched you again.” Sophie scowled, letting her head fall back against his arm. “I don’t like that.”

“Yeah? You jealous?” He resisted a grin, loving the way her nose scrunched up in the scowl.

“No, I know you’re mine.” She slid her hand up his thigh, squeezing once. “I just don’t like other girls flirting with you. It doesn’t feel right.”

“You’re the only one I want flirting with me for a long time.” He reassured her, sending her a smile. 

Sophie shoved his shoulder with a grin, shaking her head. “Cheesy.” 

“Yeah, and you love it.” 

“You know I do.” 

taglist: @whoeveniskendall @kkmaybank @karsinner @outerbanksbro @outerbankspreferences @randomficsandshit @sunshineitsfine44 @jailcalledlife @tovvaa @moniamaybank @illbesafeforyou @dontjinx-it @freddymaybank @jjmaybankzz @g4bster @oopsiedoopsie23

[meowdymista]

For my first RDR2 event, I was paired with @sunspott / @polybigbang. Their art was for a playlist on spotify called Going’s All We Know, and I’ve tried to incorporate the mood of the playlist into my first impression of the art.

You can read my submission on AO3 or follow through with the read more :)

Still No Rest

Feet are itching again, plus it ain't like we can stick around much longer. Going is all we know, even if we ain't got nowhere else left.

Things had been too steady of late. They had been too safe, had slipped away far too easily, had pulled moneybags out of places that should have fought back but hadn't even batted an eye.

Arthur pushes back his hair, greasy and long, off his brow. The clouds above are smoky and dark - a storm, just as anticipated.

Maybe he jumped a little too far too fast today. Maybe if he hadn't been so on edge waiting for something to go wrong, they could have deescalated the situation. Maybe lives could have been spared, but it’s not like the guilt isn’t scratching the ridges of his brain like a dusty gramophone needle.

What makes you any different? You who's always scraping for a scrap of some sort. Them trying to do the right thing and crossing your path to do it. Better you than them, right? Like Daddy always said, if they didn’t want to die they should mind their own business.

A new start: isn't that what they had promised themselves? A new state, a new town, a new camp: a clean slate that he had managed to bloody in a record three days.

Every bullet that screamed past his ear left his bones ringing with that too familiar dull tired ache. Every blade that snagged his clothes instead of his skin embittered him. The tiniest of voices hummed with the thought that maybe, maybe, he should fight that craving for carelessness and even tell someone about it… but the beast he’s become scowls and reminds him with a low growl that then they would stop him. They would take him off the front line, teach the gangly adolescent John - who is a far worse shot - to replace him.

It's not even jealousy really, he reasons as he slips his journal away and stretches into a stand. They need him. Need his gun, his eye, his blade. Worrying them isn’t an option, especially right now. He doesn’t need to make them doubt his reliability, or question whether they’ve misplaced their trust. He knew in his heart that if anyone in the gang confessed the same, he would refuse their gun, even if he needed it - and afterwards? In the weeks, months, years to come? He would always pick someone else. Someone less vulnerable. Someone he never doubted or needed to protect.

Which is how he ended up going out with the feller Dutch had picked up when they were up North. He’s had a few too many close shaves under Hosea’s watchful eye of late as he struggled to conceal the beast's rearing head. The old man was onto him, his brown eyes still boring into him, even after Copper found his way to him.

Bill, on the other hand, is always game for a ruckus. He has as much of a temper as he does, and can match him drink for drink. Some of the stories he lets slip prickle him - like the beast recognising a party equal, a fellow host. He says nothing. Doesn't validate them, doesn't acknowledge them or aim to empathise, he just accepts the added weight of tar and grudges home with another bottle.

“Arthur?”

"M'tired," grunts Arthur, walking past Hosea, boots scuffing the dry red earth beneath them. “Besides, you know how it is. Sometimes bullets fly no matter what you do.”

Hosea doesn’t dignify his excuse with a response, and despite the poker face, Arthur can feel the guilt twist a little tighter in his gut as he sets about washing his arms and face in the barrel by the food reserves. He knows nothing good would come from trying to explain the truth of the situation... How a glimpse of a little boy in his peripherals is as sure a sign of upcoming thunder as lightning flashing in the distance. His not-brown-not-blond tussle of hair brushing the wind with fat drops of rain… rain that never came, leaving Arthur to water the ground with blood, like somehow it could make him feel less like he’s drowning in the driest desert outside of New Mexico.

He pats his pockets for the cigarette he had rolled earlier, until, retracing his steps mentally, he sighs in disappointment. He had been about to light it when it all kicked off. Or rather… it had been in his mouth whilst he tried to align yet another match to the tobacco when he had caught the eye of another patron and decided to swap the nicotine for some adrenaline.

His fondness for Bill always grew at moments like this. Bastard heard one cross word and his guns were out before he found his balance.

Deflated, he uncaps a beer instead, emptying it, tossing it aside and grabbing another, before spotting the girl devouring a bowl of stew a stone's throw away.

"Who's she?" he asks before Hosea can try to raise the day’s events.

"Your new ward."

Arthur stops, scoffing, growing angry when the elder doesn’t back down. "Nuh uh! No way! I just got rid of Johnny! Get Williamson to do it!"

"You'd trust him with her?"

"Sure! Why not?" He glances back at the girl despite himself. His index finger is itching again. "Or get Marston on it. Ain't like he's doing much else."

"John is still learning how to take care of himself, and Bill…"

"He ain't gonna beat up a little girl." Restless, his feet shuffle beneath him, his beer swapping hands before touching his lips again. "And ain't like he's gonna have interest in her."

"You think he wouldn't do it just to prove a point?" Their eyes meet briefly before Arthur's gaze drops. "People who are insecure are far more dangerous than those comfortable in themselves, never forget that Arthur. Besides, I'd rather not expose her to the prejudices she can get any day of the week. She ought to feel safe here, don't you think?"

He finishes the dregs and tosses the bottle, preferring to change the subject than admit he’s right. "Where’d she come from? She got any family?"

"She left her cousin back east. Came this way looking for her mother but she’d passed meanwhile."

"So… what’s the plan? We taking her back east?"

"Sure as shit you ain't!"

The girl has stepped around the table, legs planted apart, hands folded across her flat chest, her hair as free and untamed as her temperament. She is glaring something fierce, making the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end in a fight or flight instinct.

Hosea chuckles softly, eyes bright with pride. "I reckon she's one of us now."

"Well, does she have a name?" asks Arthur, incredulous.

"Jackson." She jerks her heart shaped face in a defensive greeting. "My name is Tilly Jackson."

"Well, Miss Tilly Jackson, you always so fierce?" He stalks the couple of steps to the nearest crate of whiskey and pulls one free.

"You always this stupid?"

"Hey now, Miss Jackson," interrupts Hosea before Arthur can bark. "We don't talk to each other like that here."

"He started it!"

"And you’re sitting with Mrs Matthews when you’re done so she can keep an eye on you!” He ushers her towards Bessie to keep her out of harm's way before turning back to his first product of adoption with a raised brow.

"You sure know how to pick ‘em.”

"Try coming back just half soaked some time. Might make them go easier on you."

Arthur scoffs, his rebuttal dying in his throat. He dampens the ash with another swig.

"I want you to take her with you when you go out."

His scoff is solid. "No way."

Hosea straightens up, watching him, using his body language to ask the questions.

"I ain't taking her out. You want her shot?"

"You intend to shoot her?"

"No, course not-"

"Then what's the problem?"

Arthur's eyes roll in exasperation, his finger flexing around the neck of the bottle like it's a button that will win the argument if he squeezes tight enough. "The problem is other people shooting at us."

"You intend to get shot at?"

"No, but-"

"Then I see no problem."

"That don't mean we ain't gonna get shot at!"

"Why would you get shot at?"

'Cause that's what I set out to do most days, he wants to counter. And if I ain't likely to get shot, I'm likely in jail or black out drunk in a saloon someplace.

Instead he closes his mouth, any excuse dead before it passes his lips.

"I'm not asking you to take her with you to rob a bank, Arthur." Hosea's tone is firm but still soft - a talent of his. "But while you're out looking for leads, or even looting a homestead or something… She's nifty."

"Hosea, I-" He trails off, distracted by the clip of notes Hosea is picking through, and downright thrown when he passes him the thinned out clip. "What's this for? I gettin' paid to be a nanny now?"

“This-” Hosea holds up a couple of notes before putting them in his pocket. “-is for arguing with me. This is for the box, as it seems you’ve forgotten to pay the camp's share, and this-" He casually holds out the last few dollars to the side like he’s ashing a cigarette. A small brown hand slips it away as both Hosea and little Miss Tilly regard him smugly. "Is for a mark well scammed."

"You mean-?" He checks his pockets, ears growing hot. "You son of a-"

“Ah-ah! Language!” Dutch swaggers up with a smirk like he has been watching the introduction unfold in its entirety. “C’mon, Arthur, you have to give it to her. She’s talented!”

“Might finally have picked up a smart one, eh, Dutch?” winks Hosea. Arthur scowls and turns on his heel, leaving them laughing and praising their newest addition.

****

Arthur remains cool and calm the next few days, hunting local and sticking close to camp. Every time he approaches his horse, the little girl is waiting, watching him with her fierce brown eyes.

"Where we goin', Mr Arthur?" She asks as soon as he's within earshot. "Do I need anything bringing?"

Every time he offers to pay double what Hosea has offered her, and every time she refuses to discuss the terms of their negotiation. Every time he curses everything under his breath, keeping his language savoury for the child nearby. Every time he scowls, and every time he gives her a grunt of "naw, we ain't going far" before mounting up and lifting her onto the rear.

"I can ride myself, ya know?" She shoots one morning as Arthur leads his stead into a trot away from camp, heading towards the softer, greener terrain that’s barely visible on the horizon. "Properly. Not side saddle."

"Good for you."

"If I had a horse I would show you."

"And run off with the money we got, huh."

She bristles. "I ain't no snitch."

"Sounds like somethin' a snitch would say." He pops the cork from a half full bottle of rum and takes a swig. Replacing the bottle, he notices her scrunching her nose in disdain. “Got a problem? I can take you back to camp.”

“You sure don’t drink much water,” she comments drily. “You ain’t worried ‘bout heatstroke out here?”

“Liquor’s hydrating,” he scowls, pushing the horse into a canter.

“Pretty sure it ain’t, but you do you. Besides, I got dibs on your things. We all gotta start somewhere, right?”

Arthur snorts angrily, adrenaline prickling the hairs on the back of his neck. “You sure as hell do not, princess. I ain’t going nowhere!”

Miss Jackson hums sarcastically. “Sure you ain’t. You don’t eat, don’t drink anything under forty proof, don’t talk to no one-”

“If you don’t like it, I can drop you right here!”

“Go ahead.” Her tone is defiant, but it doesn’t escape his notice that she grips his sides a little tighter. “Mr Matthews was pretty explicit about what he’d do to you if you tried.”

He stews the next mile or more, not speaking up until he finally dismounts for a break at the change of terrain.

Wide open spaces always helped to ground him, even though it could make vanishing into thin air difficult. To some extent, it forced him to not be so careless. In others, it made it easier to kid himself that he had never crossed the threshold into civilisation, let alone crossed a kind faced waitress.

Listening out for creeping cougars and restless rattlesnakes, he crouches down by the water’s side and splashes his face, washing off the worst of the sweat and dust that’s caked itself into every pore available. The girl makes no move to dismount, so he takes it upon himself to refill her canteen as a gesture of goodwill.

“You don’t got to stick to us, you know.” She turns her big brown eyes from the sky onto Arthur’s face. He shuffles his feet awkwardly, focusing his attention on brushing out the biggest clumps of dust from the horse’s mane before they continue. “If you need me to take you somewhere-”

“And what’s a girl to do then? Hit the road with a couple dollars?” She fixes him with a look that is too old for her face. “Naw, I think I’ll stay with youse a little longer.”

“That’s alright, but we’re gonna have to be moving on real soon.” He bites the inside of his cheek, trying to ignore the unspoken reminder that it’s because of him and his actions. “It ain’t like we can promise to be back up this way any time in the near future. If you change your mind-”

“I won’t change my mind about them, Mr Morgan.” She shivers in a breeze that only seems to touch her. “No, sir. They had me bound real good for real long, but I don’t need ‘em. I won my freedom, Mr Morgan, an’ I ain’t going back.”

He risks a glance, curiosity getting the better of him. Her eyes are sparkling as bright as the water's surface, but her jaw is clenched tight. He debates riding further, doing what he can to get them set up at the fishing spot Hosea had heard about as they moved through the state to their current set up, but the child looked too old. Too tired. Too existentially exhausted.

Plus, when you get low enough, it's like some things will follow wherever you go.

“Let’s stop here a while.”

As predicted, Miss Jackson double takes. “Don’t you want to get to where we’re headed?”

Arthur shrugs. “Ain’t like there ain’t food to be foraged here. Nothing to come raising any hell or bother us into raising it for them. Reckon this spot’s as good as any.”

He turns his back to her as she dismounts warily, focusing his energy on starting a small campfire they can add to.

"I ain't goin' anywhere if you wanna swim." He grimaces as his words come out gruffer than intended. "I got clean clothes in the saddle bags here if you want 'em for the trip back or to swim in even. Can't imagine that skirt is the lightest when it gets wet."

"You ain't wrong, Mr Arthur, sir. Thank you for the offer but I think I'm just gonna stick to paddling for now."

"Sure."

It's not his first choice. This land is a little too dry for his liking, but that's what comes with being so close to the desert. Money means nothing to nature, besides she provides everything and more than what shops and butchers supply. Who needs civilisation when there's the wilds to retreat into? When there is wild carrots and rhubarb aplenty, fresh meat, shelter, all for the low cost of taking what you need as you need it?

The fire started, he sets out to look for fuel and food. Crouching down to check dung and disturbances in the foliage, he finds the damage is minimal. He swears again, taking a swig of whiskey from his satchel.

He doesn't really remember a time he didn't drink, but he knows this is different. He knows this isn't a choice on his behalf. The demon demands fuel as a child demands milk, and like the fool he is, he provides without much hesitation. Anything for a glimmer of peace from the screaming child in his mind.

He scoffs at himself and straightens up, looking around on the off chance some animal is dumb enough to be caught out in the open - and as luck would have it, a pronghorn buck is grazing a stones throw away.

He inhales deeply, taking aim with newfound focus, and fires.

The pronghorn bolts, but it's no contest for the bullet soaring his way. A mournful cry bleats through the undergrowth as it flees. He follows, as loud as he likes given the rip of the shot would have blasted a warning to anything within earshot. Breaking through a wall of cacti, he spots Miss Tilly aghast in the shallows as the buck splashes into the lake he had washed up in on their arrival.

He keeps going, realising the buck is heading for a wet escape. Shedding his guns as he runs, he wades in after it, shouting.

The buck is swimming in deep water, leaving behind a trail of blood behind with every baleful bleat, leaving Arthur with no option besides taking a spur of the moment swim or going home with an empty stomach.

"C'mere!" he cries, breaking into breaststroke. The buck is slowing, every cry growing more lamenting and mournful. "Stop! I can make it stop, just come a little closer."

It's crying weakly by the time he manages to reach it. He throws an arm over its neck and fumbles for his hunting knife, but the blood proves too thick and one small fumble sends it disappearing into the depths.

"C'mon," he grunts, tugging the wounded animal with him as he kicks his way towards shore. "You ain't gonna get any lighter."

He struggles towards shore, gasping assurances every chance he gets. When his boots finally scrape the bottom, he whistles for his mount with the last of the air in his lungs.

He finally releases the animal, using both hands to search for a knife or a pistol - something to end its suffering quickly. Drowning the thing felt too callous, too slow, too-

"Will this be enough?"

Arthur, still gasping for breath, hair dripping into his blue eyes, pauses, surprised. A small hand is proferring a flip knife, her small face reflecting the distress of his own. Recovering, he nods quickly, thanking her as he takes the tool from her and advising her to look away and cover her ears. Obeying doesn’t lessen the heart wrenching last cry of the animal, but on opening her eyes again, she decides it is less painful than watching the poor thing struggle as it drowned.

Arthur is holding the animal, counting, as though held to some strange code to make sure it is dead before removing the tool of choice. He shakes the knife under the surface and folds it up, passing it back to her with a grunt of thanks. She takes it, still in shock at the unexpected show of violence.

He pushes the carcass out of the water, promising to be back soon before swimming back to where he caught the animal. Watching his head disappear under the surface, she is left with the silence of the cooling body nearby. It looks strangely peaceful staring off into the east.

Arthur swims back, pushing back the sodden mop of brown hair as he wades out with sopping boots and a shiny carving knife he must have dropped earlier. He advises her to leave him to it if she’s squeamish, and she refuses up until the animals guts plume onto the sand.

From a distance, she watches him carry them away from their makeshift camp, covering them up with some leaves and branches to disguise the worse of the mess but leave it readily available to the creatures due a feast. Returning to the body, he begins to carve with care, piling steaks onto canvas. He wastes as little as possible, even wrapping the exposed neck of the head in canvas before tying it onto the horse. He turns to the water, notices her watching and walks over.

“Reckon we’re almost done here,” he calls as he gets close enough. “Just gonna wash up and we can get going.”

“You always butcher your kill before going back?” she asks.

He huffs, a twinkle in his eye. “Sure, when I don’t plan on walking back. Figured you’d rather hitch a ride than straddle a dead deer.”

She shudders, making him laugh as he kicks off his boots and setting them aside to dry from earlier. He doesn’t remove his clothes, just pulls a bar of soap from the saddlebags and asks if she minds if he doesn’t dry off. She herself finally admits internally that she feels grubby. She had washed and washed and washed, and eventually came to accept the grime was not going to wash off her. Too much dirt, too ingrained, too repeated to ever shed properly…

She follows him, still keeping her distance. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything, just keeps scrubbing suds under his nails, over his forearms, into every fibre of his shirt. When she finally feels brave enough to speak up, she takes a deep breath, and on a whim decides to splash him.

He turns around, frowning, before picking up on the giggles and grinning himself. His arms are stronger, thicker, longer - the retaliation engulfs her with a responding tidal wave that leaves her gasping for air. In the small glimpse she makes of him, she notes the guilt and the apology on his lips as he believes himself having gone too far, but she’s too quick. She pushes him in the chest and tries to swim away as quick as she can, squealing the whole way.

Their laughter disturbs the birds in the branches, and they take flight, not that either of them notice. They play until the sun lowers to kiss the leaves around them. They share the bar of soap, and Tilly takes refuge in his disinterest. He lets her wash. She lets him wash. Both of them keep their distance when appropriate.

“Perhaps we oughta ride back in the morning,” Arthur muses when he notices how much she is shivering. "It's only gonna get colder, and at least we've got a fire going here."

“I don’t mind making the ride.”

He chuckles, eyes soft. “Miss Tilly. You’re dead on your feet, and sure as hell will be dead in the saddle. I can fall asleep just about anywhere if you’re alright with the tent and bedroll? Hell, it’d make a nice change to waking up to Susan and Dutch arguing, huh?”

“You ain’t wrong...” She is still hesitating. Arthur tried to shake the thought of what she must have been through and instead tells himself that it's standard practice to be wary of new folk. She could feel safe in camp because there were more people to keep tabs on one another. Out here, it was just him, her and the stars, and since when did the stars ever do anything to help?

“Listen. Choice is yours. I’ll ride through the night if that’s what you want, but I promise you’re safe with me.” He checks the barrel of his revolver, counting the six bullets nestled inside before snapping it in place and holding it out by the barrel. “Here. I can’t give you both in case we get jumped, but I’ll stow the long arms on Wyn if that makes it easier.”

She sits in silence for a long while before nodding slowly.

“Alright then. You get to eating your fill while I set you up for the night.”

*****

She wakes up, well rested and warm. She takes a few minutes to lay there, watching the shadows of the flies buzzing on the canvas above before finally crawling out in search of fresh air.

Owain is grazing not so far away, but Arthur is nowhere to be seen. His long arms are still stashed, the fire just ash now. Panic rises in her throat, torn between the fear of him being jumped and him abandoning her willingly.

She frets, pacing, checking their reserves. No, she has no clue where the hell he has taken her so she doesn’t know where to even start on trying to return to Mr Matthews and Mr Van der Linde. She curses him for being so spoilt as to be threatened by a little girl.

“Mornin’, Miss Jackson.” She flinches, immediately retreating from the greeting. Arthur is frowning under the brim of his hat as he dismounts the small bay coloured horse. “Everythin’ alright?”

“I thought you left me,” she admits, still choked up. He seems surprised, then bashful, trying to hide it by patting the neck of the horse he has with him.

“Naw. There was a herd moving through here early this morning and I remembered about you wantin’ a horse of your own.” He gives her an awkward nod. “Whaddaya reckon? She rides pretty nice. One of the smaller one, but she seems friendly enough. If you wanna keep her, I’ll set you up on mine until we can get this one broke in properly if tha’s alright?”

“Sure.”

“Awesome.” He begins to pack their things away, tacking Owain and bribing both steads with sugar cubes.

“We going hunting again?”

Arthur puts away the brush and pats his horse’s neck. “Naw. Today we’re headed to Greyhound Station.”

“Why?”

“Boring stuff. Check to see if anyone’s tried to write us. Check for bounties and that we ain’t most of ‘em. See if there’s any jobs goin’, keep an ear to the ground in case there’s money to be had. You know, standard outlaw stuff.”

“I ain’t ever been on a wanted poster yet,” she muses. “That I know of anyhow. Knowing the Foreman Brothers, they’ll be tryin’ to frame me for something.”

“The Foreman Brothers?”

“The… gang. The ones I was with when Dutch and Hosea found me.” Arthur hums in acknowledgement but doesn’t press it. It’s like he knows it’s a big bruise still there after months of riding with them. “They was wrestlin’ to hang me or bury me alive. Never did find out which since I managed to wriggle off the wagon without them noticin’. So much for family.”

“Y’all were related?”

“Yeah.” She spits off the side. “Good riddance to ‘em.”

He hums. “If anybody tries to pull that with you again, you lemme know. I’ll get ‘em before they blink.” He rummages in his saddle bag and pulls out a glass bottle of clear liquid. She frowns as he takes a greedy few gulps before offering it to her.

“I ain’t much a fan of the bottle, Arthur.”

He throws her a look of befuddlement over his shoulder before understanding befalls him. “It weren’t my first choice, Miss Jackson, but I’ve yet to learn how best to store water if not in a bottle of some kind.”

“Water?”

“Water,” he repeats with a shake of his head. “Whiskey’s the other side if you want some.”

“I’m good for now, Mr Morgan,” she smiles, raising the bottle to her lips, squinting at the sunburned strip that’s the back of his neck. “Maybe some other time.”

[after-avenging-hours]

Heart Skip [15]: Steve x Reader

Series Summary:  A soulmate AU where from the moment you are born, two partners share a heartbeat.  They race in times of joy, slow in times of sadness, and they skip at the same moment.

Word Count: 2617

Warnings: None

Heart Skip / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 /  Part 9 / Part 10 / Part 11 / Part 12 /  Part 13 / Part 14

Gif Credit

The splattering of water droplets against tile is the only sound that fills the empty space of the bathroom.  Steve’s broad frame nearly fills the small shower stall.  He stands unmoving, shoulders tensed, one hand pressed to the tile as his head hangs low.  He’s so lost to his thoughts; he doesn’t even hear you approach.

You place a tentative touch to the center of his back, stepping behind him.  He inhales sharply, snapping out of it.  He glances at you from over his shoulder before pushing off the wall and turning around.  He sees the concern in your eyes and pulls you in close.

“I’m okay,” he tries to assure you.

You press your cheek to his chest, the water droplets pressing into your skin and sliding down your neck.  “No, you’re not.”

He holds you tighter, resting his head against the top of yours.  You wrap your arms around him and mold your body to his.  You both need this.  To feel as much skin to skin contact as possible.  Not to incite anything sexual, but because both of you need the reassurance.  Need to know that, at least physically, you were both still okay.  You had come far too close to losing each other.

Steve fingers ghost up and down the length of your spine, feeling the reflection of your heartbeat against his chest.  Slowly some of the tension in his body begins to ease.  Not everything, but at least it’s a start.

“I should have gone back for him,” he whispers just above the sound of the shower.

“Steve…”  You squeeze your arms around him.  “There’s no way you could have known.  And even if you had…  There was no time.  You had to stop Schmidt.”  You lift your head from his chest to look into his gaze.  “None of that is your fault.”

His eyes are sad as he looks back.  “It feels like it is.”

You lift a hand to cradle the back of his neck, pulling his head down until your foreheads touch.  You both stay like that until the water begins to turn cold.  You reach around him to shut off the water before leading him out of the shower. You both towel off together.

“What can I do to help with the mission?” you ask.  You’re so sick of feeling useless, you’ll do just about anything.

Steve meets your gaze for a moment, thinking it over.  “Well, I can’t exactly walk into SHIELD headquarters stark naked, now can I?” His lips quirk into a small grin.

You raise a curious brow. “What did you have in mind?”

 “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” you grumble quietly, pulling the uniform taught over Steve’s torso.

He grins down at you in amusement.  “If you’re gonna fight a war, you gotta wear a uniform.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re damn lucky I created this based on your actual measurements.  It’s supposed to be hanging off a mannequin, not going into battle.  This suit isn’t going to protect you like your other one.” Your fingers fiddle with the straps going down his front, making sure they’re at matching lengths leading to his utility belt.

“I know.  I’ll be careful.”

You release a low sigh when there’s not much else you can mess with.  “I guess it’s a good thing I don’t work there anymore either.  I’d totally be fired for this.  I may have been the one to make it, but it’s still stealing from the government.”

“We’re not stealing it. Only borrowing,” he grins crookedly.

You raise an unamused brow. “Borrowing without asking is still stealing.”

“If it means that much to you, we can give it back when I’m done.” He chuckles.

You shake your head and attempt to suppress a smile. “Just shut up and kiss me already.” You tug at his uniform to pull him into a kiss. His gloved hands move up to cup your cheeks as he kisses you long and slow.

“Cap, we gotta go,” you hear Sam from the other room.

You both pull back with equal sighs of disappointment.  “Duty calls,” Steve mutters, eyes flickering over your face.

“Good luck, soldier. Stay safe.”  Your hands give his uniform one last squeeze before you pull back.

He nods once.  “You too.”  He steps forward for one last quick kiss.  “I love you,” he breathes against your lips before moving back.

“I love you, too,” you whisper, turning away as he begins to head for the door.  You don’t have it in you to watch him leave.

You move to the pile of clothing that Steve set aside after changing into the uniform. You reach for the jacket he had been wearing during the fight against Bucky. It’s dusty and smells like gunmetal and smoke, but it’s still warm. You find yourself slipping it on over your shoulders trying to draw comfort and strength from it.

“Are you ready?”

You turn to find Fury standing in the doorway. “For what?” you ask in confusion.

He lifts his good arm, a set of car keys dangling from his hand. “You’re my ride.”

You follow him outside to the nondescript van Maria had been using. You scramble into the driver’s seat as Furry climbs into the back where he’ll be hidden from view. He gives you a set of directions to a private airfield nearby where he has a helicopter waiting.

You follow his directions, trying to take back roads and avoid popular areas to stay off SHIELD’s radar. You’re not even sure how much time has passed by the time you make it to the airfield. Based on your accelerated heartrate, you can tell that Steve has already gotten himself in a world of trouble. Your hands tighten around the steering wheel as you do everything you can to stay calm.

“So, what now?” you ask after parking on the runway near a black helicopter.

“Now?” Furry responds, before you hear the back door to the van slide open. “Now, you stay here where it’s safe until we get back.” He exits from the van and slides the door shut behind him.

“Wha-” Your jaw drops and then you quickly scramble out the door. “Hey, that’s not fair! I’m here to help!”

Fury releases a long sigh and looks at you with zero amusement. “You want to talk to me about what’s not fair? What’s not fair is getting hunted and nearly killed by the very agents that I trained. What’s not fair is having the agency that I have dedicated my entire life to stripped apart in a single day. What’s. Not. Fair. Is having to send your boyfriend to destroy the one thing that was going to be my legacy of protection for the world. So, yeah… you can throw your tantrum and cry all you want, but that won’t change the fact that the best place for you is here. Out of the way, where you can’t get hurt, and where you won’t jeopardize the mission.”

All you can do is stare, mouth agape as he walks away from you and heads for the chopper. The rotor blades soon begin to spin and once the wind picks up, you’re forced to retreat back inside the van. You slam the door shut like a sulking child and watch as the helicopter lifts into the air and disappears out of site.

You sigh loudly and drop your forehead down against the steering wheel. With nothing but silence engulfing you, your thoughts are left to run rampant in your mind. No matter what you did, Fury would only ever see you as Steve’s weakness. The chink in Captain America’s armor. A nuisance. Something to be pushed aside, or locked away for safe keeping.

And maybe he was right. You would have been captured by those Hydra agents if Maria hadn’t come for you when she did. Fury had actually told her to prioritize finding you first, because you were a greater risk to lose to Hydra, than Steve. You couldn’t even manage to stay out of their crosshairs for a single day. What in the world did you expect to be able to do against an entire building and three Helicarriers full of those people?

“Stupid,” you berate yourself, squeezing your eyes shut as they begin to sting. You try to fight off the tears, knowing that if Steve can sense your distress, he’ll become distracted. Yet another thing to add to the list of why you’re his weakness.

Your breath catches when you feel a jolt in your chest. And not a good one. Your eyes snap open and the blood drains from your face. Something is wrong.

Your heartbeat sputters and struggles to keep going, despite the lag that seems to be on the other end. Steve is hurt. Bad.

And you’re all the way out here.

You lift your head back up and find your hand moving to the keys in the ignition. Gritting your teeth, you push your despair to the side and steel your resolve. “Screw this.”

Turning the ignition, you bring the van back to life and make a U-turn on the run way. You’re not entirely certain how to get back, with all the random turns and loops Fury had you take in order to get to the air field. Now that you think about it, the crazy route probably had more to do with confusing your own sense of direction, so you wouldn’t be able to get back on your own, and less about the defensive maneuvers to keep Hydra off your tail.

With a determined huff, you pick a direction and drive, letting your instincts and your connection to Steve guide you. After traveling a few aimless miles, you manage to catch a freeway entrance. From there, the rising smoke in the distance is the only confirmation you need to know you’re heading in the right direction.

You watch in the distance as the last helicarrier left in the air slams into the side of the Triskellion. Your stomach flips upon the impact and you just know that Steve is still on that ship. You pull over abruptly on the side of the freeway and jump out of the van. Your knees slam into the pavement as you bend over and expel what little food you’d had earlier that morning.

Rising back up onto shaky legs, you wipe at your mouth with the back of your hand and stumble around the van. You walk off the freeway and into the copse of trees that line the bank of the river. You lean your weight against the trunk of a tree as you get a front row seat to the horror show before you. The last hellicarrier is steadily losing altitude as the other two burn in a fiery heap of rubble upon what’s left of the Triskellion.

You watch as pieces of debris fall from the belly of the flying ship, and mixed in the middle is a body clad in a red, white, and blue uniform. When his body hits the water, your vision swims and your knees give out once again. You are certain that these are going to be your final moments in this world, when a second body falls out of the ship and dives straight into the river.

Your heartbeat slows and it becomes the only sound you can hear, ringing in your ears. Time seems to come to a standstill.

Then, suddenly, two heads pop back up to the surface.

You release an audible gasp, finding the strength to get back on your feet. You stumble like a newborn fawn, tripping over tree roots and rocks as you make your way down the river bank.

“Steve!” you don’t even feel the water against your legs as you rush forward to help the man dressed in black carry him to shore. The man releases his metal grasp from the strap on Steve’s shoulders, setting him down on the muddy river bank. “Steve!” you call out to him, a choked sob leaving you as you take in the cuts all over his face and the wound on his torso.

A weak cough escapes him and a dribble of water leaks from his open mouth. You whimper in relief when he continues breathing. Your fingers brush against his jaw, tears spilling over and running down your cheeks.

The man in black shifts his weight and begins to step back.

“Wait!” you lift your gaze to meet his. “W-where are you going?”

He stares back at you blankly. “I don’t know.” His voice comes out broken and raw. He turns away and takes a few more steps.

You quickly scramble to your feet. “Bucky!” The man pauses once again, his posture stiffening. “You are Bucky, aren’t you?” you question carefully.

He keeps his back toward you for a long moment, before turning his head just slightly. “I don’t know,” he repeats, this time with anguish in his voice.

Your heart breaks for him. “There’s a van pulled off the side of the freeway, just a short way up. The keys are still in the ignition,” you tell him. “And here,” you quickly shrug out of Steve’s jacket that you’ve still been wearing. You hold the garment out to him. “To cover up your arm.”

Bucky looks down at the metal appendage and frowns before slowly turning toward you and taking the jacket with that same hand. He hesitates for another second, before lifting his gaze to yours once more. “Thank you,” he says the words strangely, like he’s grown unused to the phrase.

“Thank you for saving him,” you respond, glancing briefly back at where Steve lays.

Bucky nods once, stiffly, before turning and disappearing into the brush.

You release a shaky breath and crumple down once more at Steve’s side. The wound at his stomach is continuing to bleed and you know that if you don’t get help for him soon, you will both probably die anyway.

You reach for the commlink in his ear and pull it out. You hope that the thing is water proof, but it’s the only way you’ll be able to contact anyone else. You tuck the device into your own ear. “Hello? Is anyone there?”

All you can hear for a moment is static, before that cuts out and you hear a voice. “Y/N, is that you?”

You sigh and drop your shoulders in relief. “Nat! I’m with Steve. We’re on the west side of the river. He’s hurt. I think he’s been shot.”

“Keep pressure on the wound. We’re coming to you.”

“O-okay.” Your hands shake as you place them over the blood-soaked patch on his uniform. He groans in pain as you apply pressure to the spot, but continues to remain unconscious. “Don’t you die on me, Soldier,” you try to say firmly, but your voice breaks.

It feels like hours have passed by the time you hear the beat of a helicopter. Looking up, you recognize Fury’s copter as it flies above you and lowers onto the freeway. Nat and Sam burst through the trees moments later.

Sam kneels down on the other side of Steve, opening a first aid kit to begin triaging the wound. Nat gently grabs your shoulders and pulls you back. “Hey, you did good,” she encourages, pulling you to your feet.

“Is he going to be okay?” you ask.

“An ambulance is already on the way.”

Your breath catches in your throat as you look down at the blood covering your hands. “Oh God…” you barely manage to get out, before the world fades to black.

Part 16

[tweedlydumbtweedlydoo]

Rafe Cameron x reader (pt 1)

Summary: You, a pogue and Rafe Cameron, a kook are friends of benefits, secretly of course. But what happens when you get pregnant?

A/N: Soooo I may or may not make this into a series??? I started writing and couldn’t stop and actually wrote out 2 more parts to this if you guys are interested :) 

OBX Tag list is at the end. Let me know if you want to be added xx

**MASTERLIST**

Requests: {OPEN} CLOSED

I am currently taking requests for:

The Vampire Diaries/The Originals

Elijah Mikaelson

Damon Salvatore

Criminal Minds:

Spencer Reid

Derek Morgan

Supernatural (I’m only up to season 2, so please don’t request something with spoilers)**

Sam Winchester

Dean Winchester

Outer Banks (Netflix):

John B Routledge

JJ Maybank

Rafe Cameron

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NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNERS

You and Rafe never meant to hook up in the first place. You two were supposed to hate each other, being from opposites sides of the island and raised different ways but alcohol will make you not care who you’re with if you’ve had enough of it. It was a late night at the Boneyard. You ventured out to the beach, away from the party, when Rafe had followed you. He plopped down next to you in the sand, equally as drunk as you. A few glances at each other and you two were tongue tied, laying in the sand. You two found a quiet and secret spot on the beach and hooked up, then passed out in each other’s arms. You woke up the next morning still wrapped in his arms. You had quickly moved away from him and pulled on your clothes, cursing yourself for letting yourself fall into bed or in this case, the sand, with a kook, the biggest kook asshole of all. He found himself thinking the same thing about you. So, you two decided to never speak of it again. It was all just a drunken mistake. 

~

However, a week later at the next party, you two found yourselves in the same place. Then the next week, and the week after that. Eventually you began sneaking around, you at his house when his family was gone or vice versa. It was just sex at first, but then something out of the blue happened.

“Do you want to go out to dinner tomorrow? You know… like a date?” Rafe had asked one evening. He rubbed the back of his neck nervously as he stared at you.

You were taken back, but you surprised yourself by agreeing, “Sure.”

The next day the two of you took the ferry off the island, away from anyone who could see the two of you together, into Greenville, NC, a short two hour drive and spent the day walking around shops, getting ice cream and later dinner. It was a nice day to the two of you. There was no kook or pogue talk. It was just you and Rafe.

After that, the two of you made it a weekly occurrence. Every Saturday was spent in Greenville, sometimes you ventured to other cities around there. Both of you lied to your family or friends if asked about Saturday’s. Rafe would tell Kelce and Topper that his dad had business on the mainland he had to attend to. You would tell the pogues, you were working or spending time with family. They never second guessed you.

~

Everything was great until you and Rafe were strolling down the main street in Greenville, passing a small boutique that baby clothes in a window caught your eye. You opened your phone and checked the date. You had been so busy with Rafe you hadn’t even noticed; you were 3 weeks late.

“Hey, you okay?” Rafe had asked, giving a small squeeze to your hand.

You nodded, “Yeah, I’m great.” You faked a smile and put your phone back in your pocket. The next day you went to the store and bought a pregnancy test. 3 minutes later your life changed.

~

You waited a few days before you headed to Rafe’s. You knew you shouldn’t have stopped by but you couldn’t wait until Saturday, you needed to talk about it now. That was your first mistake.

When you arrived, it was too late. Rafe and other kooks, including Topper, Kelce and some other kook girls were hanging outside, sitting around a bonfire. They had already seen you.

“Rafe, what the hell is a pogue doing here?” Topper asked.

Rafe had looked up and saw you walking this way. His heart skipped a beat when he saw you, but he kept his face serious, “I’m not sure. Maybe I left something at the restaurant?” He asks, standing. The girl that was all over him, falling back on the couch.

Your heart dropped when you saw them, but there was no turning back now. Your heart broke when you saw Rafe and some girl cuddled on the couch.

“Pogue, what the hell are you doing here?” Topper shouted as you walked closer.

“I need to talk to Rafe.”

“Why would your pogue ass need to-” Topper started, but Rafe put his hand on Topper’s shoulder, interrupting him, “It’s fine, Topper.” He walked past Topper and roughly grabbed your arm, tugging you away from the group and back to your car.

“What the hell are you doing here, y/n?” Rafe snapped.

“Rafe let go of my arm.” You whimpered, trying to pull your arm away, but his grip only tightened, and he put you between him and your car.

“It was agreed we wouldn’t show up at each other’s houses.” He finally let go of your arm. When you got a good look at him, his eyes were red and dilated, white powder on his nose.

“Oh my god, are you high right now?” you asked, going up to rub the stuff off his nose, but he smacks your hand away, “What does it matter to you? You’re not the boss of me.”

“You’re high right now.” You breath out in disbelief, shaking your head, “What the fuck, Rafe?!”

“Oh, shut the fuck up. Stop bitching, it’s annoying.” He huffed, his hands going to his hips.

You were taken back by his tone. The Rafe you had come to know and love, gone and replaced with stranger. “Rafe… This isn’t you. You aren’t the one to get high and snort cocaine!”

His hand slapped your car right next to your head and you flinched. His face got close to yours, “You don’t know a damn thing about me. We had a few good fucks and that’s it.”  

Your eyes filled with tears, “Rafe, come on you’re scaring me.”

He rolled his eyes, “Get the fuck out of here. I don’t want to see you again. You’re just a dirty pogue. a good fuck. That’s it. That’s all you were to me. Nothing more.” He seethed through his teeth before pulling from you and storming off back to his house.

The second mistake was thinking Rafe and you were more than fuck buddies or could be more than just a pogue and a kook.

~

You knew you couldn’t go home. Your parents were at home and you were a mess. Tears blinded your vision and your body raked with sobs as you drove. You knew where you needed to go. You needed your best friends.

~

You pulled up to the Chateau and was thankful to see the van, JJ’s bike and Kie’s car. You pulled yourself out of the car and trudged your way up to the door. You never knocked but you did anyways. You were probably a stranger to them, and you didn’t want to just walk right in. You had blown them off multiple times to see Rafe and you knew they probably didn’t even want to see you. When the door opened it was John B, “Well look who decided-” he begins but then takes in your appearance, “What’s wrong? What happened?” He quickly let out.

You let out a sob, hanging your head. He quickly pulled you into his arms, looking back at the other pogues who stood from their place on the chairs and couch.

“Shh… It’s okay.” He sooths, walking you inside and closing the door.

“What happened?” Kie asked, her hand going to your back.

“Who do we have to fuck up?” JJ pipes up, cracking his knuckles, “I’ll fuck them up.”

“We’ll take out whoever caused this.” Pope says.

You let out another sob, “You’re going to hate me.”

John B shook his head, “No we won’t. You’re our friend… tell us what happened.” He led you to the couch and sat you down, sitting next to you, his arm still wrapped around you. Kie sat on the other side and handed you a tissue.

JJ and Pope stood in front of you, arms crossed over their chests.

“It’s okay, y/n. You can tell us what happened.” Kie said softly.

You sniffled and wiped your tears, looking down at your hands, “I made a mistake. A big mistake…”

“It can’t be that bad. Unless you hooked up with a kook.” JJ laughed, but his laughter quickly dying down when he saw the look on your face.

“Oh shit.” Pope whispers.

You let out another sob, “I fucked up.”

John B slowly rubbed your back, “Tell us what happened.”

You sniffled and blew your nose before telling them the story about how you and Rafe hooked up, became friends with benefits then began dating. “……. And to top the cake I found out I was pregnant.” You then told them the story about how you went to Rafe and what happened.

The pogues listened to you tell your story, holding back any anger they had and never once interrupted you.

“So yeah. I fucked up.” You sniffled, glancing up at the pogues.

“I’m going to kill him.” John B stands from his seat.

“I’ll get the gun.” JJ says, standing from the floor.

“I’m with you guys.” Pope announces.

“Let’s kick some kook’s ass.” Kie says standing.

You quickly shook your head and stood, grabbing John B’s arm, “Please don’t start anything. Please.” Your eyes are pleading, “It’ll only make it worse for you guys.”

John B’s tense with anger and he softens to your touch, “Fine, I won’t leave now, but I’m not making any promises that I won’t kick his ass if I see him.” He wraps you in a hug and kisses your head, “You’re not alone in this.”

“Never.” JJ says, wrapping you in a hug.

“We’re family and we’ll always have your back.” Kie says, following suit.

“Pogues forever.” Pope says, wrapping his arms around Kie and JJ. It’s a pogue sandwich and you’re right in the middle. You telling the pogues what happened; that was not one of your mistakes. It was one of the best things you could have done for yourself.

PART 2

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A/N: Do I see something there with John B and reader?? Hmmm. Well, what do you guys think?? Should I do a part two? 

OBX tag list: @emmalvei-blog​ , @tregua-oca​ , @weirdbiwitch​ , @losers-club6​

[kristoffs-lullaby]

A Guide on How to Not Confess to Your Best Friend

(Hi!! This is late I’m so sorry ;; but here’s my part for the exchange! @ninjago-valentine-exchange) [ Plasma B | 2.9k words]  Kai was awful with feelings.  He might have played himself off as cool (or at least tried to) but when it really came down to it.. he was a mess. He could dish out flirty comments all he wanted but that didn’t mean that he knew what to do with them if the other party ever decided to retaliate. And that’s not something he figured about himself until Skylor. Maybe that’s why he’d liked Skylor so much. No he didn’t entirely enjoy the moments where his brain staggered and he looked like an absolute fool, but it made him want to try to keep up. If there was one thing he hated, it was being stunned into silence because that just meant he was losing. And Kai didn’t lose. 

While things didn’t really work out with Skylor relationship-wise, he still learned something about himself. And maybe their whole dynamic and the loss of it was what led to the chain of events that he still couldn’t quite believe even as he was living through it. 

Kai didn’t think much of it at first. That’s just how he and the other three Were. They teased each other. Poked fun at one another. Cracked jokes. And sometimes it would be at one another’s expense. Sometimes they’d take it too far and one of them would get pissed and the other wouldn’t understand Why until they had a much needed conversation about limits and boundaries. 

But that never came up when this particular brand of teasing and banter kicked off and maybe it should’ve been obvious way back then that he didn’t mind Jay crossing  this one specific boundary. But Kai was stupid and Kai was oblivious. 

It started as an off-handed comment about how maybe Jay had chosen the wrong sibling to date when Nya refused to side with him in a very heated debate about cake. Like the traitor she was, she took Cole’s side on the whole thing. Kai was at least glad to see that there was no bad blood between the three of them when Jay struck an, admittedly, low blow by bringing up how Nya was backstabbing him for Cole again just like in their former relationship.

That didn’t mean he didn’t want to witness SOME sort of drama. So he sided with Jay. Which led to an uproar. Which led to Jay saying what he did. 

And it was a joke. Kai knew it was a joke. Nya and Cole knew it was a joke. And Jay had obviously meant it as a joke. There was that buffer though and he couldn’t understand why. 

He reasoned with himself that he was having trouble keeping up with all three yelling at each other. All the while he was stuck in the middle and that was why he didn’t say anything immediately and instead took a swig of his soda. But even those few seconds he bought himself apparently weren’t enough because he didn’t even have the time to register the words he planned to say before his mouth had made the decision for him. 

He was playing along apparently. 

“Obviously. I’m much better looking than Nya anyway. Don’t know what you ever saw in her.” Kai hung his head and shook it in disbelief. 

“HEY!” 

It’d been months now and that one moment had spurred on their little unspoken challenge. A competition of sorts. 

Really what they were doing was full on flirting with each other but they’d play it off as if it were a game between them to see who could fluster the other first. Until it wasn’t a game anymore. But neither of them was willing to admit that it wasn’t. And it grew to be a frustrating occurrence because everyone else knew what was up except those two idiots apparently. 

Kai was currently winning though and that’s all that mattered. Yup. All that mattered.

“Hey Romeo!”

Kai’s head snapped up at the nickname. (There was something to be said about the fact that they’d gotten used to using them but he wasn’t about to be the one to bring it up). He watched as Jay jogged up to him before the blue ninja leaned over to catch his breath as soon as he was at a closer distance. Kai wanted to laugh at the fact that the guy was a whole Ninja and still ran out of stamina a lot quicker than Dareth. It was kind of sad, actually, but he couldn’t help the fond eye roll it got out of him. 

“Hey Sunshine.” Kai supplied as he draped an arm over Jay’s shoulders lazily when the other boy finally stood his full height. “I’m guessin’ you have some big news. That or you’re dying to see me and I just took your breath away.” 

Jay snorted and shoved at his chest before ducking under Kai’s arm and side-stepping away from the touch. 

“No. And if you’re about to detail whatever daydreams you have about me it’s gonna have to wait-” 

“Shit. Is there danger?” Kai’s face dropped instantly as a million and one bad scenarios ran through his head. Geez being a ninja was hard.

“No, no, no.” It was sort of cute the way the blue ninja waved his hands around frantically. He was so animated when he spoke and it wasn’t something that was lost on Kai. If anything it was something he found endearing. He couldn’t tear his eyes away. How could he? Jay made it incredibly hard to ignore him. That’s probably why most people he came across labeled him as ‘annoying’. And maybe Kai had used the word against him in the.. not so distant past. But it wasn’t exactly right. Jay just had that sort of presence that demanded attention and sometimes it was a bit overwhelming but.. it wasn’t exactly a bad thing either.

Jay tapped a finger against his chin and looked him up and down. ”Your fashion sense might be a danger to society.. but other than that?”

“You take that back. You’re just jealous I rock everything I wear.” Kai crossed his arms over his chest and squinted. The absolute nerve. This brat was asking for a beatdown during training later. 

“Not jealous. Buuut. I do appreciate the view you’re right.”

“Why you-”

“Here.” Jay interrupted and shoved something in his direction. 

It was wrapped haphazardly. It reminded Kai of something he’d whip together when he was like nine. Back when he hardly knew how to use scissors and the tape dispenser was one of the greatest enemies in his life. Ah the good old days. The longer he looked at it the more ridiculous it looked. It didn’t even look like it had been wrapped with the same wrapping paper all the way through. More like Jay had scraps of various different ones and decided to stick ‘em together. Which.. Actually suited him. This very much screamed JAY. But why was he giving this to him..?

“C’mon dude I know your favorite person in the world just gave you a kickass gift but  you don’t gotta stare at it like it’s the best thing you’ve ever seen in your life when I’m standing right here.” Jay sounded nervous. It was subtle and he played it off well (too well. Since when was Jay good at hiding it?) but Kai could tell in the way his voice rose just a decibel above its usual tone. It was also in the tic. Jay had a habit of looping one of the drawstrings of his hoodie around his finger when he was anxious. 

“My bad. Hold on let me get a good look at you,” This was totally payback for earlier. “Yeah. How could I even question it. Nothing compares.” he determined with a wink to send it home. 

Jay scoffed and was bordering on the edge of giving up this round too if the light pink dusting his cheeks was anything to go by, but in the end it looked like he was going to stand his ground this time. That was fine. This little exchange wasn’t over and Kai had plenty of time to sweep up a tally for the score from right under him. 

Or so he thought. 

Nothing could have prepared him for what happened next. 

Which sounded a lot more dramatic than it really was but what the hell was he supposed to do with this? 

Kai had spent that night restless. A restless night wasn’t foreign to him in any way. From time to time the red ninja had trouble sleeping. If he spoke out about how occasionally he’d lie in bed and just mull over every little detail from the past week, one of the other ninja would make some smartass remark about how Kai only found time to actually use his head at the worst possible time. Or maybe they wouldn’t and they’d understand. But he wasn’t going to try his luck. He’d rather protect himself than be vulnerable in a way he knew would hurt if they didn’t take him seriously. 

But this time he wasn’t lying in bed thinking about all the morbid things that came with being a ninja. This time he was glaring daggers at the stupid red bracelet tied neatly around his wrist. Because what the hell? 

It was so nice  and sweet and yet.. Still the most sinister gift he’s ever received. Because while it left him with this feeling of hope and joy, he was also afraid that the same hope that was so innocently sitting on his wrist would burn him. He was the fire ninja and he was afraid of getting burned. How ironic was that?

Kai draped his arm over his eyes. 

..And the smug look on Jay’s face when Kai couldn’t fight back the rising heat in his cheeks. Ridiculous. 

It was fair when they stood on equal ground. When they met on a mutual battlefield. But now Kai’s gone and dug himself into a trench. No. He’d fallen into it. He liked Jay. Dammit. And he let him win. 

Kai kicked his legs in the air in frustration before sitting up. That’s it. If Jay thought he was going to get away with this he was sorely mistaken. It was on and he was going to go all out. Go big or go home right? Right. 

And a month later the plan was kicking into motion.

“Can you remind me why we have to dress up again?” Jay asked. 

“We’re going undercover, I already told you.”

“Oh okay.” 

Kai wasn’t sure if Jay actually believed him or not but he was going to take it. On the one hand that could’ve read as a sarcastic remark because no Kai wasn’t the smartest tool in the shed and didn’t think this plan all the way through BUT Jay was also the type to just take things as they were.. For a bit. At least until it finally settled in that he didn’t actually know what he was doing then he’d start questioning again. Which Kai was banking on it not being for a while. 

“Well are you ready?” Jay looked up at him expectantly. 

Kai would have loved to say ‘Yes’. He really would have. Except.. 

“I just realized I don’t know how to tie a tie,” his lips drew into a thin line. What he’d done certainly wasn’t right. He knew Jay wanted to laugh. He knew it. Kai didn’t even have to look up at the dumb amused smile on Jay’s stupid face to know that. But he did anyway. And sure enough there he was trying his hardest to hold one back. 

Kai rolled his eyes and looked down again, the embarrassment washing over him just a little too roughly. 

“What, really?”

“Yeah. Never really been invited to events and stuff growing up and well I mean who was gonna teach me anyway even if I had been?” his mouth snapped shut as soon as the words left his mouth. Sure he had a streak of not knowing when to hesitate but god damn since when had it gotten this bad? Probably a while ago. This was not the time to bring up his fucked up childhood and admittedly he wanted to move away as quickly as possible before he could get any sort of response dripped in pity. 

But in true Jay fashion, the comment was the last thing he was worried about. And in true Jay fashion.. he was also full of surprises. 

Before Kai could even apologize or change the subject, there were hands slowly guiding themselves around Kai’s neck. They were Jay’s, that much he could process before his brain started buffering. He couldn’t say anything or even react to the extent that he was internally. Which was absolute chaos. 

Kai’s eyes flickered to the red fabric of the tie and lingered there for a second as he watched it being carefully tied in a way he knew would take him a while to master. His eyes wandered to the soft hands at work and he briefly wondered how they weren’t rough and scarred considering all the tinkering Jay did on top of ninja work. And then finally his eyes landed on Jay’s face and the way it was too adorably scrunched in concentration with his tongue sticking out and all. 

It took him far too long to realize when Jay was finished and he begrudgingly added another point to Jay’s side of the scoreboard in his head. 

Kai had to stop letting him stun him into silence. 

..Some other day. 

Because now they were staring at each other with Jay’s hands frozen in place on Kai’s chest and suddenly Jay was leaning in too close and- It was a kiss. It was a little messy and not at all how Kai imagined this going if it ever happened at all. But it was a kiss. And it was still perfect. 

Kai had wondered before if he’d feel a spark of electricity or if Jay would be able to feel the hot fire that burned Kai’s body without mercy on his lips. Now he had the answer. Or at least half of one. But suddenly it wasn’t important anymore. Suddenly it couldn’t even come close to it being his first thought when he could taste the sweetness of Jay’s favorite banana yogurt on his tongue. Or when he tried to imagine literally anything softer than this moment but only came up short on that end as well. Or when his hand cupped the other ninja’s freckled cheek and it fit there like it had always meant to be there. 

They pulled away after a few beats and Kai’s eyes snapped open and all too suddenly he was pointing an accusatory finger at Jay.

“You ruined it!”

“..Huh?” Poor Jay looked so lost and a little dazed. 

“Your ruined it!” Kair repeated as if that helped any. “I was supposed to trick you into this whole “mission” thing,” he threw up air quotes “but really I was GOING take you to this very nice dinner that the whole team helped out with and surprise you!” 

“And.. why can’t we still do that?” Jay looked at him like he was crazy and like he didn’t understand a damn word Kai was saying. Which.. fair.

“Because the whole point was to eventually tell you how I feel tonight and you were supposed to be so shocked by it and I’d get to see the look on your face and revel in it and finally get my revenge!”

“Huh..? Revenge for what?”

“THE BRACELET!” Kai held up his arm and pointed at his wrist where, sure enough, the red bracelet was still clinging to. 

It took Jay a second or two but soon enough the realization was starting to dawn on him. And he laughed. The bastard laughed while Kai was fuming and beat red from the whole thing. 

“But you beat me again,” Kai dragged a hand down his face and clasped his hand over his mouth trying to hide his blush as much as possible. “You got me. You beat me. I’m the most flustered and I-” he choked trying to form a coherent thought. Feelings were hard, how did he ever think he’d be able to push out an actual confession that night? 

“You were one step ahead and I look like the fool again for letting this affect me so much.” In true Kai fashion he didn’t understand immediately that Jay having kissed him first meant something very very important. He wasn’t smart and he never claimed to be in his defense.

“Kai.”

“WHAT?” 

Jay looked like he was considering something before eventually huffing a breath of air through his nose and shaking his head in disbelief.

“You know I gave that to you on Valentine’s Day right?”

“What?”

Jay pointed to the bracelet.

“Valentine’s Day. I was goooing to ask you out but. You kinda just stormed off like the whole thing pissed you off so.” 

Oh.. OH. Kai was an idiot. He didn’t know how many times he’d have to repeat to himself that he was just flat out stupid until his braincells got the memo and actually did their job.

“I’ll give you twenty bucks if you agree to never talk about this again.”

“Throw in a kiss and you’ve got yourself a deal.” 

“Deal.”

“Now how about that Dinner?”

Jay would later make fun of Kai for perfectly timing his whole scheme to fall on White Day. To which Kai would slide him another twenty to have the blue ninja pretend like he thought Kai had done it on purpose.

 Next year he would get him back on purpose. 

[milo-my-beloved]

chapter four of stupid things!

Read on AO3 // Playlist // Buy me a coffee?

Sorry this chapter is so late! I've had a lot of difficulties... but I hope you enjoy it!

On Monday, Inej wakes up to over a hundred messages. Groaning, she turns over and considers suffocating herself in her pillow, before forcing herself to unlock her phone.

You have been added to a new group chat.

99+ new messages.

Jesper: Sup bitches

Wylan: Hello! :D

Jesper: I thought we could use this to organise date nights

Kaz: It’s my turn to choose.

Jesper: ik dumbass

Kaz: Meet outside the library at 6pm on Friday. I’ll organise transport.

Jesper: doesn’t sound sketchy at all

Wylan: Is there anything we need to bring???

Kaz: Wear fancy clothes.

Jesper: are we gonna rob a bank?

Kaz: If we were, I wouldn’t bring you.

Jesper: rude

Inej scrolls past the rest of the messages, ignoring the endless bickering. Her finger hovers over the mute chat button as she imagines the headache that her dear friends are about to cause her, but locks her phone instead, sitting up. Surely they can’t be that bad? Besides, she would hate to miss out on anything.

{o0o}

By Wednesday, Inej is massively regretting that decision. Even she didn’t think Jesper is capable of starting that many arguments, and his incessant flirting with Wylan is going to be the death of her.

On Thursday, she runs into Kaz on her way home from class and they grab a coffee together. They find a bench tucked out of the way of any foot traffic and chat for a while, but Kaz refuses to tell her what his plans are for this weekend.

“God,” Inej says, leaning back in the seat. “Is Jesper addicted to his phone? I swear, I’ve never seen anyone send that many messages.”

Kaz raises an eyebrow. “Are you surprised?”

She shrugs, tipping the last of her latte in her mouth. “I shouldn’t be, I suppose.”

“What have they even been talking about?” he asks, taking their empty cups and tossing them in the bin beside him. “I muted the chat about an hour after Jes made it.”

Inej blinks a few times, staring out into the fields coated in mist as she reevaluates her life choices. Why did the universe decide that these would be her friends?

She groans, dramatically flopping sideways onto Kaz. “I should have done that days ago.”

{o0o}

When Friday finally rolls around, their evening plans are still a mystery to everyone but Kaz. No matter what schemes they had come up with, Kaz had refused to tell. Wylan had asked him politely, claiming the not-knowing is bad for his anxiety (which is probably true, actually) and Inej had even offered him a bribe, to no avail.

(Jesper had just pestered him over text. Inej doesn’t have the heart to tell him that Kaz has blocked his number.)

The three of them look ridiculous, standing outside the library in their fanciest clothes. Wylan is wearing a plain black suit, his bow tie slightly askew, while Jesper is wearing a colourful suit jacket and black jeans. A few students give them weird looks, but most of them are too busy with their own lives to give more than a few seconds thought towards them.

When a limo pulls up instead of Kaz’s shady minivan, Jesper’s mouth falls open. Kaz pushes the door open, sticking his head out. “Are you coming, or what? And Jesper, shut your mouth.”

Jesper and Wylan clamber in first, Inej gracefully sliding in after them. She self-consciously runs a hand down her dress, the purple silk soft against her palms.

“You look beautiful,” Kaz whispers while Jesper and Wylan are distracted by a bottle of champagne waiting for them, and she blushes.

“So do you,” she replies, smiling at his entirely black suit. Apart from their day at the beach, she’s never seen him out of a suit, but she can see why he wears them.

“Hey, Kaz,” Jesper interrupts, pouring the champagne into four glasses. “Will you tell us where we’re going yet?”

“Nope,” he replies with a smug smile.

“How did you afford all this?” Wylan asks, looking around at the luxurious. “Did you actually rob that bank? Without us?”

Kaz rolls his eyes, and Inej stifles a laugh.

“You’re not far off, Mr Van Sunshine,” Jesper laughs, sticking his tongue out at Kaz. “He’s always been secretly rich, but no one knows where it comes from.”

“His terrifying glare?” Wylan suggests.

“His suits?” Inej offers.

“I think it’s his sparkling personality,” Jesper answers with a wink.

“Oh, shut up,” Kaz mutters, just as the car comes to a stop.

No one moves for a moment, until Kaz rolls his eyes and climbs out first, muttering something to himself. He extends a hand to help Inej out, but he leaves Jesper and Wylan to fend for themselves as he leans over and gives the driver some instructions.

“Just in here,” he says, ushering them all towards a shady looking door. Jesper and Inej share an incredulous look, and Wylan looks like he is itching to run in the opposite direction of whatever this is.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Kaz grumbles, opening the door to reveal a dark corridor. “It’s the back entrance. Someone owed me a favour.”

There’s another blank silence where no one moves.

“I swear no one is going to get murdered and no crimes are going to be committed. Good enough for you?”

Inej can’t help but smirk at how nervous Jesper looks. Usually, he’s up for anything, but he keeps shifting his weight and staring into the long, dark corridor. Wylan, beside him, looks close to passing out.

“Oh, come on guys,” Inej says, stepping (with only a split second of hesitation) towards the doorway, her voice filled with false confidence. “I’m not having you ruin my hot date.”

Kaz doesn’t smile, but his eyes sparkle with that mischief she has come to love. In return, she gives him a glare that roughly translates as ‘I better not get stabbed, I like this dress without the blood stains, thank you.”

Begrudgingly, they all follow her inside, the metal door clanging shut behind them and shrouding them in darkness.

Now her eyes are adjusting, Inej can see a small gleam of light coming from around the corner, so she follows that, praying that she won’t trip over something or walk into a wall.

“This has to be the third sketchiest thing you’ve ever made me do,” Jesper mutters at the back of the group, and Inej hears Kaz snort in response.

“What were the other two?” Wylan whispers nervously, but no one answers him.

Inej comes to an abrupt halt when she reaches the end of the hallway, her mouth dropping open. Kaz must have been telling the truth about the back entrance, because standing in front of them is the most glamorous restaurant she has ever laid eyes on. Inej doesn’t think she has seen so much luxury in one place before; it looks like something straight out of a fairytale or a magazine, the huge chandelier above them dazzling her.

A waiter arrives quickly, shaking hands with Kaz. “Right this way, my friends,” he says, ushering them over to a booth away from the bustle of the kitchen and the other diners. “Here are your menus,” he continues, handing them out, “and I will return in a few moments for your drinks orders.”

“Thanks, Rotty,” Kaz answers, oblivious to the three wide-eyed stares he is getting from around the table.

Somehow, it reminds Inej of the night where she first met Kaz. Hopefully this time they won’t have to worry about getting arrested.

“What’s everyone having?” Kaz asks, and Inej realises he’s ignoring them on purpose. “I hear their duck is excellent.”

“I’ve never been to a super fancy restaurant before!” Jesper exclaims in a whisper shout. “I don’t know what half this stuff says.”

“Uh,” Wylan says, looking at his menu like it personally offended him. “I’m not that hungry…”

Kaz rolls his eyes. “How about I order for everyone, hm? Unless you have any objections, Inej?”

She shakes her head, her mind still swimming as she tries to figure out how Kaz managed to book a table in such a lavish restaurant. Maybe Jesper is onto something with the whole bank robbing thing, she muses.

Sure enough, Kaz orders for them all with no hesitation. When Jesper starts awkwardly shuffling in his seat, he adds, “Dinner’s on me, by the way. It’s only fair, after all.”

Everyone stares at him for a minute, floundering for something to say. Suddenly, Inej starts laughing, leaning her head forward onto the table as she tries to stifle her giggles and ends up hiccupping instead. Wylan joins in with a nervous chuckle, but Kaz and Jesper just stare at her, amused.

“‘Nej, you okay?” Jesper asks eventually as Kaz pats her back in what he hopes is a soothing motion.

“Yeah,” she manages to gasp out, trying to take some deep breaths. “Sorry, it’s just-” She bursts out laughing again as another table looks away, distaste written all over their faces. “It’s just so surreal.”

Luckily, the food arrives before she can embarrass herself any further.

Kaz must secretly be some kind of psychic, because there is no way he somehow knows exactly what Inej’s taste in food is. Whatever he’s picked out for her - some kind of posh pasta, she thinks - is maybe the most delicious food she has ever eaten, and if she wasn’t in public, she would be making all sorts of inappropriate noises as she eats it.

“Mmm,” Jesper moans, clearly not having the same reservations. “I think I can die happy now.”

Kaz rolls his eyes again, but Inej can see the smile peeking out from behind his fork.

Clearly, his food magic is also working on Jesper and Wylan, because they look equally happy with their choices. She has never seen Jes inhale a plate of food so fast, and he usually eats quite quickly. Wylan looks like he’s considering making out with the sauce left on his plate, and Inej decides that if she dropped dead right now, she wouldn’t even be mad.

“I can’t take you people anywhere,” Kaz complains, his eyes twinkling with the light of the chandelier. Inej laughs as Jesper pouts, and the waiter reappears to take their plates away.

{o0o}

“So,” Jesper says in the limo on the way back to the library. “Who has the best taste?”

“Me, clearly,” Kaz answers without hesitation. “You all like what I ordered for you, didn’t you?”

“No, silly.” Jesper whacks him lightly on the arm. “Who organised the best double date?”

Wylan actually raises his hand before speaking. “I liked bowling.”

Inej crosses her arms. “Of course you did. Was it the actual activity, or the fact Jesper was practically grinding-”

“Woah, ‘Nej, let’s not scar the poor boy,” Jesper cuts in, blushing almost as much as his boyfriend. “My favourite was dinner, actually.”

“I liked the game night,” Kaz states, “But I’m sure you’ll all accuse me of being biased.”

“Beach was best,” Inej declares, leaning sideways into Kaz. “So, who wins? It’s just a four way tie, isn’t it?”

“Well,” Jesper exclaims, “We can’t have that.”

There’s no sound but the noise of the traffic outside for a minute or two, and then Jesper jumps like he’s been electrocuted. He smiles, but Inej sees the mischief in his smug grin and immediately senses danger.

“Rematch?” he offers, and she sighs.

tag list below! ask to be added or removed :D

@hrtbreakprincess / @tooindecisivetopickaurl / @kazcoded / @saltyfortunes

[jj-bxby]

Where Do We Go? |Chapter One| JJ Maybank x Reader

Summary - Y/N is a Mainlander who has just moved to The Cut. When she meets her new neighbor, she just may have found the family she’s been searching for, and more.

gif credit @toesure

Warnings - None

Word count - 1.8k

A/N - This is the first fanfic I’ve written in about 3 years, so I genuinely hope you all like it! Gimme all of the three C’s: comments, concerns... cuestions. This is only the first part of the series, so if you would like to be tagged, just ask!

It’s never easy to start something over, especially when that ‘something’ happens to be your entire life. 

If given the option, you would have left your home a long time ago, but there's only so much that a 17-year-old can do on her own. You smile drunkenly as you feel the summer sun shining on your skin, wind whipping your hair around your face wildly. The scent of the briny sea lingering in your nostrils as you pull into the road leading to your new home. 

Outer Banks is supposed to be Paradise On Earth, and you can see why. After only being here for a few hours, you have already decided that you wouldn't really mind if you never leave this island again. A life on your own is what you’d always dreamed of, and you’re still a little dazed at the fact that it's finally your reality. After all of the sleepless nights consisting of fights, double shifts at the hotel near your house, and what seemed like an entirety of planning, you can finally go off on your own adventure.

You pull your car into the drive of the new home. Your new home. Cutting the ignition, you hop out of the beat-up Jeep and begin unloading your suitcases to bring inside. Off in the distance, you spot a group of kids that seemed to be around your age, all dancing to a beat blaring from one of their speakers. Beer cans were seized in each of their hands, and a joint was fixed between the lips of one boy. They all were giggling and chanting as a brunette boy tried to chug his drink, the booze dribbling out of the sides of his mouth and onto the grass. The happy sight made you let out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding. You were such a straight-edge compared to these teenagers, never having had more than a sip of your mother’s wine while she wasn’t looking. Seeing them all with broad smiles plastered on their faces made you anxious, but yet something within you yearned to join them. To spin and howl and beam with all of them until the day turned into night, and the night turned into dawn. Maybe you would be able to fit in here after all, even if it takes some smoothing of your rough edges.

The group all looked in your direction after the dark-haired girl pointed you out, all of them pausing their twirling and jumping to acknowledge the new girl. They all give you a look of friendliness once your eyes meet, but the blonde with the joint flashed you a big smile and waved his entire arm at you, clearly wanting to be the center of attention. You felt your cheeks turn a shade crimson when you realized they were looking at you, but you give them a grin as you wave back before returning to pull all of your bags up to the front porch. You turned back to get one last look at the teenagers before you had to set foot in your house. The set seemed to have realized that the new neighbor may not want to hear their noisiness, as they had pulled their speaker and cooler a little ways away to the dock near a house, which you assumed had to belong to at least one of them. 

Turning back to face your new front door, you took a deep breath to still your mind. This is it, this is your new beginning. 

•

Okay, so unpacking is pretty damn boring as it turns out. And honestly, with weather this nice, how can I be expected to stay focused on a task that’s just so dull? I, at least, got my bags inside and some clothes placed in drawers, but it didn’t take long before my mind wandered and I step out into the backyard. This house may have seen some better days, but the view is to die for. Living life on a lake may not be ideal for everyone, but it is for me. Fishing, hammocks, and laying on a boat on a sunny day are all I could ever ask for. Even though I may not have a boat yet, I do have a hammock, and I’ll be damned if those aren’t good for some afternoon and I-have-a-lot-of-shit-to-do naps! I spot a couple of trees a few yards away from my new home to set up my new napping spot. After I finish tying off the support ropes into sturdy(ish) knots, I crawl into the netted bed, only needing steadying myself by flinging my arms around once (which, might I add, is quite good by my standards). Finally being able to rest my body after all of the moving and anxiety of the day feels so lovely. With the glow of the soft evening sun warming my skin in small beams through the tree leaves, I hardly notice how heavy my eyelids become, and definitely don’t mind when I drift off into sleep. 

My dream is filled with the small party of teens from earlier today, but this time I’ve joined them. Now, I’m jumping and cackling with all of them while sneakily stealing the snapback off of one of the boy’s heads. I’m giggling as I toss my arm around the dark-haired girl and blonde boy, turning to give him a cheeky smile as he looks to me. Suddenly, his face is all I see. 

“Hi… Uh, hey? You awake?”

I rush to stand up and immediately regret it. As I try to get up, I end up flailing like a fish and tumbling out of the hammock, falling onto my back and groaning. I look up to see where the voice came from, and find blue eyes piercing into my own.

“Shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to spook you like that. Here, can I help you up?” The boy asks, extending his hand to me. I gladly accept the help and get to my feet. I see that it’s now dark out and the stars are lighting up the night sky. “Again, I’m really sorry I scared you. But maybe be more careful next time getting outta that hammock, yeah? You kinda looked like a fish flopping out of water,” the boy chuckled, running his hand through his hair. Is it me being tired or… is he being extremely cute? 

I gave him a little smile as my cheeks flush with color. “It’s alright, I’m not broken or anything. But, I do think that the least you can do for so rudely interrupting my nap is telling me your name.”

“Oh right,” the blonde chuckles, ”I’m JJ. My friends and I are actually throwing a kegger tonight at the boneyard, and I was trying to be neighborly and invite you. You know, make friends and all? You seem about our age, sixteen or seventeen, right? Life here is much easier with friends, you know. Oh!” JJ exclaims, “Do you know where the boneyard is?” He questions. When I shake my head at him, he grins at me mischievously. “Shame. Guess I’ll have to drag you there so you can join in. But first, I’ve gotta get your name.” 

“Y/N,” I respond while smoothing down my hair and picking a few pieces of dirt from it. “But ‘The Boneyard’ sounds pretty ominous, what kinda place are you taking me to? And I don’t even know you or your friends, really. So how do I know you’re not just kidnapping me?”

JJ reaches over and pulls a small twig out of my hair. “Well, Y/N, I don’t know you. How do I know you aren’t some kind of axe murderer? Besides, do I look like I need to kidnap a girl just to get her attention?” JJ asks me with a smug look on his face.

“Touché, JJ. I guess I can come to this ‘boneyard’ with you.” JJ holds his hand out to me for a high-five, grinning wildly. I roll my eyes and slap his hand weakly.

“Wow, I literally just felt myself become depressed from that high-five.”

I give him a little shove on the shoulder and start to walk ahead of him. “So, ya gonna take me to this “Boneyard,” or what?”

“Yes, however, you are going the exact wrong way.”

“Oh.”

“C’mon, doll.” JJ takes my small hand into his and starts off towards the Boneyard. From being a few steps behind him, I can just make out the outlines of JJ’s shoulder blades peeking through the sides of his cut-off tee. The heat rose to my cheeks, realizing that this incredibly attractive boy is now taking me to meet his – likely – equally attractive friends, and he’s a major flirt. How in the hell am I going to keep up with this man? Figuratively and literally, his legs are way longer than mine, and I’m practically stumbling over my own two feet just trying to keep the same pace as him.

“So, Y/N, you’re from the mainland, yeah?” The boy questioned, looking over his shoulder to check on me as I nodded to him. “What in the hell made you move to The Cut?”

“Um, well, that’s a bit of a long story as to why I moved. But, what’s The Cut? Is that what you call it here?”

“Well, The Cut is the south side of the island, its where all of us who’re in the working class live, The Pogues, if you will. Figure Eight is where all of the Kooks come from. Y’know, the ones who sit around and play with Daddy’s Money all goddamned day,” JJ spat out the last part. “I’m just wondering why you would choose to move to our side, especially when you had a choice in the matter. I grew up in The Cut — All of the pogues did. Why not go full Kook?”

“Well, back on the mainland I was from a working-class family. I dunno, I wouldn’t have fit in with all of the mansions, and country clubs, and board shorts, I don’t think.” I shrugged my shoulders at him, “I wasn’t made for that kind of life.”

JJ nodded understandingly before beaming at me, “Well, I think you’re going to fit in quite well here, Y/N.” The boy stopped walking and I came to stand at his side, our shoulders brushing against each other. “Welcome to the Boneyard, babe.”

It truly was a sight to see. Teens were sat on fallen driftwood, all huddled around different bonfires, red solo cups in hands. Odd mixes of sunburned kids, girls dressed in oversized tees and jean shorts, preppy-clothed boys all mingled together, seeming to put aside any inequalities just for the night. People drifted from group to group, some gathered at the keg, and some simply standing and chatting as they drank. I grinned at the view ahead, knowing this was only the first of many parties to attend. I look to my side to see JJ’s blue eyes focused on me, and I tried to swallow down the fluttering feeling in my chest.

“Let’s go warm up, yeah?”

•

@midnightmagicmusings

[jiaraendgame]

Dress Code

Summary: Close to summer vacation a massive heatwave hits the Outer Banks. Kiara decides to dress comfortably to combat the unbearable temperatures despite the strict rules of the Kildare High dress code. When things take a turn the Pogues take a stand for Kie.

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of over-sexualization of female bodies. Bad writing and probably editing issues even though I’ve read it through many times. Probably slightly out of character for Kie. If I missed anything let me know!

A/N: This was a request from a lovely anon a while back now. I apologize how long this took! I do hope you enjoy it. It is way longer than intended, but once more I can’t write anything short. Original concept is from THIS post made by @maybanktho​ I had fun writing this one though I lowkey struggled writing for Kie so I won’t lie this is NOT my best work. This has a lot of dialogue compared to my normal description heavy writing. Hopefully it’s not as trash as I think it is. I haven’t been in high school for a few years now so I used a lot of the dress code concepts that I remembered from back when I was in school. Regardless I hope you enjoy the Platonic!Pogues. Let me know what you think?

Word Count: 7.5k. Oops.

Gif Credit: @jjbanks​

Summer in the Outer Banks was swiftly approaching, and with it came the scorching heat and sticky humidity. While the Kook Academy was lucky enough to house central air conditioning throughout its halls, Kildare High wasn't as fortunate. No matter how many fans they ran, and windows opened, the halls of Kildare County's finest educational system felt like a sauna. The sweat and body odor radiated off the teens, and there wasn't much they could do about it.

You'd think for living on an island, the dress code in the education establishments would be a little more relaxed all things considered. Unfortunately, much like most government-run systems, a set of rules were in place to keep the teens in line. While Kildare High didn't have uniforms like the Kook Academy, they still had standards in place that told them what was and was not appropriate apparel.

Kiara was one of if not the biggest activists in Kildare High. Always fighting for environmental improvement and equal treatment and opportunity for the females of The Cut. While Kie rarely broke the rules at school unless there was good reason to do so, she would, on occasion, bend and seek out loopholes in the standards set around her by her peers. Today was one of those days. While she knew her parents would detest her resilience, Kie decided that it was beginning to become too hot to bear the standard dress code.

With Summer break a few weeks away, she thought surely the teachers and staff would let it slide as temperatures continued to rise. Thursday afternoon was to be the hottest it has been thus far on the island. There was no way she could stand her normal capris and t-shirt combo today. Instead, she chose to wear a white and blue tie-dyed tank top accompanied by a pair of jean shorts. While she didn't want to make it too obvious, she was working against the dress code, she made sure her tank top covered her shoulders by no less than two fingers worth of fabric. While the technical rule asked for three-finger coverage, she didn't think anyone would notice. She also made sure her shorts came at least to her fingertips, though, depending, they would occasionally rise up a smidgen past the parameters set, but she couldn't help that they would rise up as she walked.

These rules were mediocre at best. If Kie had a longer torso and arms, admittedly, it would make wearing shorts nearly impossible to do. She saw it time, and time again, the taller girls get dinged on their shorts being too short, not hitting the required length set by mere arm length measurements. The tank top rule was arguably as frustrating as her male counterparts got away with wearing muscle tanks and were left alone, provided the sides weren't gapped open too far down their abdomen. The whole system felt rigged against you if you were a female. No low-cut tops. No crop tops. No tank tops unless it covers your shoulders with at least three fingers width of fabric. No shorts that went above your fingertips when you had your arms down. The list goes on.

While the dress rules circled Kie's mind, she chose to ignore her second-guessing. The school wasn't going to stop her from seeking some form of comfort during this heatwave. With her mind made up and her outfit on, she headed out of her house with a quick shout goodbye to her parents. Waiting for her was the old VW Van that the Pogues dubbed The Twinkie. The windows were down, and she could hear an upbeat reggae tune flowing from the crackling old speakers. She smiled and waved to the boys jumping into the open side door.

"Good morning, boys." She hummed out.

"Morning, Kie." The brunette boy driving spoke out as he pulled into the road headed towards their final destination.

"Good is questionable, but morning regardless," Pope spoke out, his nose buried in a textbook likely studying for the math test that was to be held this morning.

"You are way too chipper for this early in the morning, Kie." The disheveled and groggy blonde boy drawled as he slings his arm around her shoulders.

"You do make a good pillow, though." JJ continues to speak, leaning his head on Kie producing fake snores from his lips.

Kie sighs at the already sticky boy leaning on her as it is too early in the morning for his antics. "It is way too hot to be leaning on me right now, JJ, get off." She shoves his side lightly.

"Aw, come on Kie, you know you love me." A small chuckle leaves his lips.

With a roll of her eyes, she slides to the left, relieving herself from the boy's arm. The heat was already rising this early morning. More confirmation that she made the right decision to wear something that would help alleviate her discomfort. Kie reaches over and flicks the brim of Pope's hat, causing him to swat lightly at her hand.

“Hey, come on now, if I don’t get this last-minute studying in, I don’t know if I’ll survive Mr. Hew’s test. It’s too early to be thinking about factorial algorithms right now.”

“Exactly it’s too early for that so… let’s just fix the problem” JJ reaches over, clasping the book closed and tossing it to Kie.

“Man, stop it, give it back!”

"Pope relax, if any of us is prepared for this, it's you. You got this, okay? Now stop stressing and have some breakfast!"

Kie pulls out a container from her bag, opening it to reveal Mr. Carrera's freshly baked banana bread. The smell permeates the van filling the boy's nostrils. A tan arm reaches out, swiping one from the container and promptly shoving half of it in his mouth.

“Don’t have to ask me twice!” JJ speaks crumbs falling from his overstuffed mouth.

"JJ, that's…" Kie pauses only to have her sentence finished by Pope seconds later.

“Disgusting…” he nods in agreement. Politely reaching over and snatching a baked good for himself.

“Hey! Don’t forget the driver now! Don’t make me pull this van over.” John B pipes up from the front seat.

"Relax John B, we could never forget you." Kie speaks, handing the brunette his slice of banana bread. Finally, then taking the last slice for herself, savoring the sweet symphony dancing on her tongue.

With the Pogues finishing their breakfast courtesy of Kie and her father, it wasn't long before they pulled into view of Kildare High. A slight unanimous sigh leaving their mouths. Another day here is another day closer to having the best Summer ever. Kie thought to herself. As the van slowed, the group of friends were quickly greeted with the humidity kissing their skin. With the lack of wind flowing through the gapping windows as the van parked with a clank, JJ slides open the side door.

Jumping out of the van, the blonde Pogue speaks up. "It should be illegal to have to go to school when it's this hot out. We should be hitting the waves right now."

“You know there was actually a case that a school in New York City shut down due to an extreme heatwave in 2018.” Pope chimed in standing beside JJ.

“If only we were that lucky, I would kill to be out on the HMS Pogue right now.” John B forcefully shuts the driver’s door.

JJ holds his hand out for Kie to grab, and as she grasps it, she can feel the sweat form. A slight grimace graces her face as JJ practically peels Kie off like a piece of tape stuck to the sticky seat in the van.

"You know boys… I don't say this often, but days like these, I so desperately want to skip."

"Ooh, look at Kie thinking all rebellious today." JJ winks at her a smug look twinkling in his eyes.

“Shut up JJ, I’m not like you. I don’t ditch out whenever there’s a good swell to surf.”

JJ clutches his chest, mock offended by her comment. "You're just jealous that instead of taking the Spanish quiz last week, I was out living my best life." he chuckles.

“You guys are ridiculous, let’s head in before we are late again. I’m really not feeling detention today.” Pope starts towards the doors, JJ and John B in tow.

“When are you ever feeling detention Pope?” John B jokes.

Kie quickens her pace and bumps her hip into John B for pestering their friend. Entering the doors of the school, it was clear everyone was feeling the heat today. Maybe I can actually get away with this, Kie hoped. As she glances around, she sees many others also ditching the likes of the apparel parameters set up by the school district.

The Pogues meandered their way through several other kids from The Cut. The occasional "What's up!" and nods being given as they reached their destination: room 204, Math with Mr. Hew. Pushing through the door, they rush for seats in the back of the class. The boys had the jump on Kie, noticing there were only 3 seats open towards the end of the classroom. JJ playfully shoved John B as he rushed to the one farthest back sliding into the chair with a smack. A smirk adorned his face triumphant of his victory. Pope and John B glanced towards each other before the second chair was stolen by Pope, who was now sitting adjacent to JJ.

“Come on! You guys always get the good seats.”

A laugh leaves the two boys' lips. "Sometimes you gotta fight dirty JB." JJ calls out, looking over to Kie, who is farthest from the remaining seat.

Kie stands between desks shaking her head at the boys who, within 2 minutes of entering the classroom, caused a commotion over something as simple as seating arrangements.

"Come on, Kie, one more seat left; you aren't gonna let John B beat you to it, are you?" JJ's playful tone rang in her ears. Though she knew better than to join their early morning antics, the enticement was there. She knew they were right; the back seats were the best to sit in, especially in Mr. Hew's class. It was seconds after JJ spoke that John B started to head for the chair, a "No way," leaning his lips at the boy's teasing words.

She had to think quickly as John B was sure to get there before her when an idea popped into her head. JJ was right. Sometimes you gotta play dirty, she thought. She went to take a step, and in a forward trust fall fashion, Kie squeaked her voice to mimic panic to grab the boy's attention as she purposefully tripped on a desk leg. She knew he wouldn't let her fall, well as long as he believed it was real.

John B being the guy that he is, was quick on his feet as he caught Kie's arm and pulled her weight toward him, so she fell into his chest rather than the floor. Straightening her up, John B scans his eyes over her looking for any injuries before asking if she was okay. Being in front of him, Kiara had a better angle to get to the desk before the boy knew what was going on.

"My hero John B!" Kie dramatically peaks her voice playing a damsel in distress. "Thanks for the help, sucker!" She laughs as she pushes John B's shoulders back and dashes to the open seat next to JJ.

"Oh! Oh no, you don't!" John B swiftly wraps his arms around Kie's torso and twirls her as they erupt in laughter.

"Dirty plays, my man! I told you to watch out." JJ laughs at their friend’s rush to get the seat.

Before Kie realized it, her top was riding up, revealing her midriff, and her shorts slid up her thighs. She knew she had to adjust herself quickly, even if that meant losing the good seat. However, it was already too late. A booming voice calls out over the classroom.

"Routledge, Carrera, Maybank, Heyward!" The stern yet irritated tone called out to the four Pogues. John B quickly placed Kie back to the ground. Their attention was now focused on the man in a Hawaiian top and khaki shorts who stood in front of the room.

"Why, good morning to you too, Mr. Hew, what a particularly sweltering day we are having, isn't it?" JJ mockingly spoke while the rest of the Pogues gave him the side-eye wishing he would have kept his mouth shut.

"I've had enough of this disruption." The heat had everyone in a cranky mood today. This didn't exclude the teachers as Mr. Hew scolded the Pogues hooligan behavior.

"Mr. Hew, honestly, we didn't mean to get you upset, we just wanted to find good seats, and we may have gotten a bit carried away." John B tried to back pedal his friends out of the mess they started to no avail.

"I don't care for your reasoning Routledge; my classroom is not your jungle gym. If you four continue this today, you all will receive zeros for your tests." The seriousness rang out in his words.

"Sir, isn't that a little harsh all things considered? The bell hasn't even rung yet, we didn't mean to cause any harm." Kiara spoke out protective over the Pogues, knowing a zero on this test would affect all their grades. While JJ didn't care, he needed this grade to pass the class, and Pope couldn't risk a drop that would threaten his scholarship. John B rode the middle line, his grades not as bad as JJ's, but still at the risk of being lower than necessary for a smart kid when he chooses to use his head. Kie's grades were up there, not at Pope's level, but enough to be noticeable if she failed. They were never the golden kids, but who was when they came from The Cut? The closest one to being a model student was Pope, but even he would get caught up in the actions of his friends.

Mr. Hew looked over to Kiara, ready to refute her prominent yet protective attitude, but before he spoke, another problem arose. Kie's shorts were scrunched up much higher than the fingertip limit. While she was able to cover her midriff before any notice happened, she hadn't had the chance to pull the hem of her shorts down her thighs before she spoke in defense for the Pogues and their grades.

A sigh left Mr. Hew's lips. "We have a problem here, don't we Ms. Carrera," he spoke, facing her. He was giving her an out, to admit she had an apparel problem, but Kie wouldn't give in. Maybe she could talk her way out of it, she hoped.

"What do you mean, sir? I don't think anything is wrong other than you threatening zeros on our tests." She attempted to bring the attention back to the group and their earlier horseplay. To no avail, Mr. Hew shook his head at her.

"Kiara… please place your arms down and fingertips straight." He spoke to her before turning away from where she stood and pulled out the school handbook. Mr. Hew was a big stickler for that thing. He read it and abided by it like it was the bible itself. The Pogues looked on at her confusion, scrunched up in their furrowed brows and watchful eyes.

Kiara did as she was told trying to pull the hem down in the process, but with no luck, her fingertips reached well past her shorts. The hem just hitting her middle knuckles. She was busted.

"Sir, before you say anything, this can be fixed. I am not in any violation here. Just hold on."

"Stop. Kiara, you know the rules. The dress code is very clear to all students. You can't come around here dressed like that." The tone in his voice was condescending. This was enough to set her off. She would not be patronized over a rule that had no logical substance to them.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Hew, correct me if I'm wrong, but are you telling me that because my shorts ride up a bit with normal movement, I am dressed in a manner that isn't appropriate?" She questions his notion, over the hypocrisy that females were held to standards that ridiculed the human body.

"I am saying that you should have known dressing in those would cause provocative allure that is much too revealing to your fellow students." He pauses before clearing his throat and speaking again. "Now, you have to go change or be sent to in-school suspension for the rest of your day until you find appropriate items to wear in class."

Kiara scoffs at the perceptions being placed on her as they were demeaning to her as a female. She wouldn’t stand for the blatant sexism occurring in front of her. The Pogues quickly realized that this was not going to end well.

"Excuse me, are you telling me that I am creating a distraction with my body because I dressed in shorts. Do you not understand how entirely sexist that is?" Kiara had had it with the blatant disregard of her body, feeling like she was being looked at as an object and not a human.

Her voice continued to get louder as she ranted on towards the red-faced teacher growing angrier by the second. "This is ridiculous. The boys can have half their abdomens peeking through the sides of their tank tops and not be causing a distraction, but as a female, if I am showing too much of my thighs, this is a problem. You are sexualizing mine and other female bodies like we are a piece of meat. This is so screwed up; these rules are against the females of this school and praise the boys due to our sexual organs. News flash, we are all human and guess what it is beyond hot outside. So, I am sorry I chose to dress with comfort in mind and not the worry of stimulating the sexual minds of my peers because I am showing my thighs. God forbid I wore a bathing suit, right? Now that would really be a distraction."

"Carrera! Out of my classroom, now!" The teacher boomed his hand, gesturing towards the door.

"Oh, I'm sorry, are my thighs too distracting for you, sir? Are they turning you on? If so, you are the one with the real problem here, Mr. Hew. Doesn't look too good if a single human feature is causing all this trouble for you, does it? The sexualization of the female body in this society is sickening. Wearing shorts is not provocative, and if you think it is okay to patronize someone for their choice of clothing, then you sir are the one with the problem. The length of my shorts is not a reason to sexualize myself or any girl. We should be able to dress comfortably on a hot day without being looked at as an object. I-"

“Out! Carrera get out of this classroom and go to the office. You are done for the day!” Mr. Hew was fuming with anger at Kiara’s words as he fumbled his last warning to the girl.

The Pogues and the rest of the class had their eyes wide, and mouths dropped to the floor. Kiara was always passionate about the rights of women and how they were treated compared to men. Even in something as minuscule as a school system dress code, the everyday over-sexualization of females and their bodies was pitiful. She wasn't upset that she was being sent out of the room; she was angry that people viewed her and others as just a piece of meat prime for their viewing pleasures.

Kiara grabbed her bag and swiftly left the classroom, visibly distraught. She never expected this day to end up like this, but here she was. As she went to the office, the principal was already made aware of the incident. Without a second thought, Kiara was given one day of in-school suspension starting tomorrow. Followed by a two day out of school suspension that was to begin the upcoming Monday morning for her lash out in the classroom and accusatory words towards her teacher. All things considering, she was let off with a light sentence. Her parents, however, wouldn't be as lenient.

With Kiara out of the classroom, the bell had finally rung signally for class to begin. Mr. Hew tried to bring order back into place as the Pogues all glanced over at each other. Unsure of what to do. While they always poked fun at Kie when she went on her tirades to them in the past this time, they came to the realization that she was right. She and fellow female students were treated with a bias towards them when it came to the dress code in place. It wasn't fair, and they knew they had to do something about it, they just weren't sure of what.

JJ is frantic and as subtle as a bull in a china shop whips out his phone, quickly texting the other boys. In shock of what took place, he started to brainstorm ideas.

JJ

Did you guys see Kie? My god, she was fuming!

 Pope

We all saw her idiot. She made valid points though

 John B

Yeah, she's right, it really wasn't fair for her to get dress coded. Look at all the times JJ comes in with his muscle tanks on, he's always flashing his nips, but no one says anything.

 Pope

You aren’t wrong, but what are we gonna do about it?

 JJ

Hey man, I resent that statement. Really though, we gotta come up with something! If it were us in this situation, you know Kie would have our backs.

 Pope

We could protest? Maybe petition to get the standards changed?

 John B

How? It’s not like we can come in here with short shorts on, that would just look like a big joke.

 Pope

We need to figure out how to stand with her in solidarity in some way that isn’t foolish.

JJ

OMG

JB THAT’S IT!

 Pope

I am NOT wearing short shorts! JJ, it's out of the question.

 John B

Yeah, man, I'm not really following you here.

 JJ

No, you idiots! Ugh, okay mandatory meeting at the Chateau after school! I have an idea!

Pope and John B glance at each other with a nervous look lingering in their eyes. When JJ was the one making plans, you never knew what was gonna happen. There was a reason he was never in charge of their past excursions.

While the day dragged on, the boys were anxious to get in contact with Kie. She wasn't answering her texts. That was never a good sign, likely meaning her parents didn't take the news too well and confiscated her phone. With the final bell signaling the end of the day, the boys hopped into the Twinkie and were off to The Wreck. They wanted to check in on Kie before their gathering back at the Chateau.

The boys lingered outside for a moment before stepping into the bustling restaurant. They glanced around and quickly made eye contact with Mr. Carrera. He greeted them with a begrudging expression written on his face. Pope takes a step forward and speaks on behalf of the boys.

"Hey there, Mr. C. we just wanted to check in and see if Kiara was okay? Do you think we could talk to her for a moment?" The boy's polite and soft manner caused a sigh to leave Mr. Carrera's mouth.

"My delinquent of a daughter isn't here right now. She is at home and will remain there for two weeks but thank you for asking about her. While I don't condone her or her friend's actions, at least it's clear to me you boys look after her. Even if it is in a questionable manner." The tough but concerned father looked over the boys once more hesitantly, happy to know his daughter had people who cared about her, unlike when she was in the Kook Academy.

"I will tell her you boys visited, but you won't be able to speak to her for a little while. She won't have access to her phone as part of her punishment. Now, if you don't plan to order anything, I'm gonna have to ask you to leave." The stern figure spoke to them. It was clear Kie's father was never too keen on her Pogue friends and lifestyle choices, but over time he has come to warm up around them knowing they made his daughter happy. That's all he could ever want for her is for her to be happy and feel loved.

"Right well, thank you, sir, for the update. We are sorry to bother you." Pope speaks, taking a step back as the other boys turn to head out towards the van.

Once outside, they started their trek back to John B's. The windows were down while they cruised the bumpy dirt roads of The Cut, allowing the air to flow through and dance around the boys' heat-stricken bodies. They all pondered just how to help Kiara's situation.

Hours had passed since they got to the Chateau, and with beers, in their hands, JJ finally opened his mouth eager to tell the boys of his brilliant idea. "Okay, so the stand with Kie meeting has officially been called to order and boys do I have the best plan." A mischievous smirk plastered itself across JJ's sweaty sun-kissed face.

"Yeah, something about you and "best plan" doesn't exactly go together there, chief." Pope chuckled.

"If I recall, your last "best plan" ended with us getting into a scuffle with the Kooks and Kie having to break it up. So, let's hope this plan of yours isn't as disastrous." John B chimes in.

"Alright, alright, shut up, you guys. Just because my plans don't always go to plan doesn't mean they don't get the job done. Sometimes we have to go off-book."

"What do you mean, off-book?" John B eyeballs the blonde confusion on his face.

“Well, you remember what Kie said? Her body is overly sexualized while us guys get away with wearing basically whatever we want. That pesky little rule book faults girls but favors the boys.”

“I see what you are saying, but I’m not quite sure I’m following.” Pope pipes up.

"Shirtless. We go to school tomorrow, shirtless." JJ blurts out his thoughts, the other boys go wide-eyed. "If they are going to sexualize thighs in shorts, but not our practically bare abdomens when we wear cut-offs, then why not just show up without shirts on at all."

"You know… that could work. It's like…" John B snaps his fingers together, searching for the words he wishes to speak.

"It's like reverse psychology or whatever!" JJ completed John B's train of thought.

"Yes! Okay, I'm in. Protest the unjust sexualization of female bodies under the dress code. For once, JJ, you might actually have a great idea."

"What can I say? I was due for one eventually, right? So, what do you say, Pope?" The blue-eyed boy turns to Pope, who has been awfully quiet during this whole process of discussion.

The boy sighs towards his friends, who wore goofy smiles on their faces. Excited for their scheme. "I don't know… it seems frivolous at best."

“Can’t we just get a petition going instead and collect signatures to change the dress code to be more fitting for our tropical climate?”

"Aw c'mon man, you know a bunch of teenaged signatures isn't gonna fix anything. The school board isn't going to budge on this, and neither will the parents unless we make a show of the ridiculous rules instead." John B tries to reason with the boy whose eyebrows were knitted together, detesting the thought of showing up to a school environment shirtless.

"Pope man, he's right. They aren't going to listen to us, when have they ever? If we want to show Kie support, then we will have to do it our way… Pogue style." JJ urges the boy.

“Just think of it like this man… When has there ever been a moment where Kie didn’t have our backs?” John B asks the boy.

"Well… she always stands by us even when we make stupid decisions." Pope recalls starting to realize how much Kie does for them.

"Exactly! So, we need to do this for her. It's not for us." John B and JJ go back and forth, continuing to push at Pope's buttons, urging him to go along with the plan.

“It’s for Kie. She always helps you study when she knows you are stressed about a big exam.”

“And she always encourages you and your scholarship. Even if she teases you for being on the math team instead of playing baseball.” The boys chuckle as they continue back and forth.

"She is always bringing us food or getting us leftovers from The Wreck knowing otherwise there would be times we wouldn't eat. Or attempt to eat expired goods." John B eyeballs JJ.

“It was one-time man… but really. She is always bringing us beer and snacks when we go out on the HMS Pogue.”

“Always getting us out of trouble when the Kooks come around talking shit.”

"Making sure we actually take care of any injuries we get, so they don't get infected."

“Being a shoulder for all of us to lean on when we need it.”

"Come on, Pope, she's always keeping an eye on us, and all the while still enjoys slumming it with us and our crazy antics. She is a Pogue, and we can't leave her hanging."

With a moment of silence, Pope ponders his options. Knowing his friends are right despite how silly the protest would be. He soon speaks up, "Never leave a Pogue behind, right?" He smiles as the other boy’s cheer ecstatically to have convinced the more conservative boy to go along with their big plan.

"So, it's settled. Tomorrow bright and early, the shirtless protest begins." The boys all share a handshake in agreement.

As the boys awoke from their designated spots in the Chateau, they proceeded to get ready for their protest plans. Just as the previous days, the forecast was calling for high temperatures and humidity, making it the perfect day to pull off their scheme. With John B and JJ loaded into the Twinkie clad in nothing but their shorts and shoes, they were off to retrieve Pope hoping he hadn't had second doubts. Like clockwork, the boy strolls out of his home and jumps into the back of the van book bag in tow. The Pogues huffed as they noticed the navy-blue shirt adorning their friend's frame.

“Pope… the plan?” JJ questions furrowing his brows.

"If either of you thought I would be able to step outside my house without a shirt on to go to school, you two are nuts. No way would my pops let that fly."

The other two hum acceptingly knowing he was right. As they drove along the roads towards the school, the boys all eagerly shifted in their seats. Their plan was chaotic at best, and the moment they would step into those dimly lit halls, all eyes would be on them. As John B parks the van, he looks back at his friends.

“Well, it’s now or never boys. Let’s do this.”

"Pogue style baby, let's go!" JJ cheered more eagerly compared to the others.

"Here comes detention…" Pope spoke as he tugged the fabric over his head, exposing his bare chest to match his friend’s "outfits" boasting nothing but shorts and a set of shoes.

“That a boy Pope, let’s do it for Kie.”

“For Kie!” John B and Pope called back in unison.

The boys walk tow in tow together towards the building, already catching the gazes of the other kids from The Cut. The whispers and giggles soon to follow. While the stares made Pope uncomfortable, JJ was eating up the attention. John B also taking the comments he'd catch in stride.

"Looking good, JJ." A redheaded girl calls out to him, he smirks and gives her a wink before turning to her friend's eyes widened.

"You are enjoying this a little too much, JJ." John B chuckles.

"Hey, it's not my fault; they like what they see."

“Like they need to feed your ego anymore,'' Pope nudges his friend, laughing.

"Aw, don't worry, bub. I see some eyeballs looking at you too." John B pesters the boy who is clearly not as comfortable in this situation as his friends are.

"Shut up, and let's just do this." The boys appear in front of Mr. Hew's door. Ready for the chaos that is sure to let loose as soon as they are spotted.

Entering the room one by one, the Pogues nonchalantly scurry to the back of the room. As the bell rang, more comments and a few winks, whistles, and laughs passed their classmate's lips. The stir of commotion quickly alerting Mr. Hew to their presence.

"What have I told you, boys, about-" He pauses, fully taking in the shirtless boy's appearances. He shuts his eyes, brings his hands to his face, and rubs over his features in frustration as he sighs and whispers to himself. "In god's name, what is even happening."

"I do hope you boys packed shirts to go along with your textbooks today." He sternly speaks. "Or will you three be joining Ms. Carrera for in-school suspension today?"

"What do you mean, sir? We are just here to peacefully protest."

“What in god's name do you think you are protesting boy?” Mr. Hew continued to grow more infuriated with the site in front of him.

"I believe that our cause is quite clear, sir." Pope speaks.

“We are protesting the unjust rules enforced upon the lovely ladies of our student body.” JJ chimes in, his lip perked in the corner of his mouth.

"Considering how Kiara was treated yesterday and others in this very establishment, it is our job to bring awareness to the unfair treatment. We all got bodies, sir, and quite frankly to sexualize one specific gender and not the other is biased."

"If you boys don't quit this nonsense immediately, I will have you escorted out of the classroom. This is your only warning."

"So, you have nothing to say on the biased standards set here at Kildare High?"

The straw had finally broken the camel's back in the humidity dense classroom. Mr. Hew raised his voice, causing the students to stare on their eyes full as the Pogues were reprimanded.

"You boys have no respect! When have you ever followed the rules? I do not make the handbook, but I will enforce the guidelines as that is my job—something you three clearly do not understand. If you don't grow up and follow the rules even when you don't agree, you are bound to get yourselves into serious trouble. Now I will not ask again. Put on your shirts of leave. Immediately." Their teacher red in the face huffed out his tyrannical words to the three boys who continue to stand their ground. Not budging at his request.

The creak of the door opening sounded, shifting the Pogues' focus as a familiar face stepped in the room. Kiara steps in a red pass in her hand, indicating she was coming from the in-school suspension office. Kie draws Mr. Hew's attention away from the boys. The boys smiled towards Kie, waiting to see her reaction, hoping she would be proud of them.

"Sorry to bother you, sir. I was just coming in to grab today's course wo- oh my god." her words trail off, seeing her Pogues standing side by side shirtless chests puffed out in a defiant demeanor.

“What did you guys do?” She speaks out in shock as Mr. Hew turned towards the girl.

"If it isn't the lady of the hour. I'm sure you knew all about this. Still causing trouble when you aren't allowed in the classroom. Tell me, Carrera, is this idea of a protest a joke to you?" His hateful language spews out towards the girl. The boys ready to jump to her defense, but Kie was faster at the draw then them.

"Do you truly believe I am that obsessed with getting a rise out of you when it was unlikely, I would witness it, sir? That is a bit ridiculous, I'm not in any way responsible for this. These knuckleheads are on their own with this one." She chuckles at the thought.

“I find it unlikely you wouldn’t orchestrate a protest as you have many times in the past Ms. Carrera. Now tell your boys to drop your plan.” The accusatory teacher huffed.

"Even if I was a part of this, which I am not. If I told these boys to stop, the chances of them listening to me are slim at best." Kie stood her ground soon, having the Pogues chime in.

"I'd have to agree with Kie, sir, she really wasn't involved in all this," Pope spoke out as the other two Pogues hummed in agreement to his words.

"This was all us baby, straight from our brilliant minds." JJ beamed at the thought of his plan, causing this much of a stir.

"Even if she asked us to stop, we wouldn't. She doesn't deserve to be treated as an object by yourself or the mandated rules in an outdated handbook. None of the girls here do." John B spoke in a brotherly tone, protective over his friend.

"That is, it, I have had it! Enough with the nonsense, there will be no more of this. Carrera, Heyward, Maybank, Routledge out of my classroom now!"

"Gladly," JJ spoke, gripping his bag and walking towards the old door covered in chipped and peeling paint. The other three followed his lead stepping towards the exit. Once out the door and a few steps down the hallway, they notice Kie being quieter than expected.

“Kie?”

“You good?”

The boys spoke as she stopped in the crossway of the building. She turned to face the boys at first with an unreadable expression displayed on her face. This made the others anxious, worried she was mad at their actions.

"I cannot believe you guys did that." A smile spreads across her lips, followed by a laugh. The boys quickly relax. John B places his rough hand on her shoulder.

"Thank JJ, it was his idea."

"Yeah, I was just gonna start a petition, but this fool thought it would be better to bring a physical awareness to the biased culture you have to face." Pope offers a sweet understanding smile towards Kie.

"Well, I'll be damned JJ Maybank with a plan that didn't end in bloodshed." She pokes the boys exposed skin.

"Hey, they don't all end in bloodshed!" The crew looks at the boy knowingly.

"Okay, maybe they do sometimes, but I was due for a successful plan eventually!" The blonde headed boy shrugs.

"While I wouldn't call this entirely successful JJ, I would say it was endearing. And damn funny, did you see Mr. Hew's face?" The girl continues to walk, leading the boys down the hall, passing the office door.

"Uh, Kie, you missed our stop," Pope called out.

"Did I, though? I mean, we are already in trouble. Would you rather spend the day in a stuffy office or out on the waves?" Kie's rebellious words give rise to the boys.

“Hell yeah, that’s our girl! Let’s go! We can swing by JB’s and swipe the boards out front!” JJ rushes towards the doubled door exit of the school building, Kie quickly following suit.

"Guys, this is gonna make things so much worse!" Pope calls to his friends.

"Come on, bubba, live a little. Can't be any worse than what your dad's gonna say later! Better enjoy the freedom while we still got it!" John B jogs backward, speaking to Pope. The boy sighs and pushes his friend's shoulder, spinning him forward as they make their non-stealthy escape from the dimly lit school halls of Kildare High.

The delinquent group of teens jump their way into John B's van, making a quick but noisy getaway as the engine roars to life. The exhaust sputtering out smoke as they pull off the school property with haste. The group laughs and cheers as they head towards the Chateau, ready to start a day of rebellious fun skipping out on the school parameters. The humid air grows thick and sticky as the morning sun hits its high point.

After the pit stop at John B's, the Pogues gathered the necessities for the day. JJ strapped the boards to the van while Kie and Pope rummaged the kitchen for any edible snacks and remaining beers they could pack. John B took his time to gas up the van while the others changed into their swimwear.

As the day went on and the heat rose, the Pogues spent their time together laughing and splashing in the water. Catching as many waves as they could feeling the cool touch of the sea on their skin. Hours had passed, and the group grew tired, opting to sit on their boards as the waves rolled passed them. They knew they would have to call it a day soon, having to face the consequences that awaited them.

The calm silence circled the air around the Pogues. All content with spending this time together. They were always the happiest spending days like these together—nothing to stop them from having these moments together. The content energy filling their lungs.

"I just wanted to thank you guys again," Kie spoke, looking between the boys she so lovingly called her best friends. They meant the world to her, and she would never not appreciate them even on the days they got under her skin.

“It was nothing Kie, you would have done the same for us.” JJ calls out over the roar of the ocean surrounding them.

“He’s right you are always by our sides when things go south, it’s the least we could do.” Pope chimes in.

Exactly, we wouldn't leave you behind; it's not in the Pogue nature." John B smiles wide, knowing his group always had each other's backs.

"You guys are idiots, you really didn't have to get yourselves into trouble over me. Regardless that was really sweet of you all, and I love you fools for it." Her words rang out with love and admiration for the group.

"I suppose we should head back in, we can't avoid the world forever, though I wish we could." John B calls out as he starts to paddle back to the shore. Pope following suit. JJ looks over to Kie, a smile on his face happy to have helped his friend today, knowing he would do anything for them no matter the consequences he faced.

"Hey, JB! I'm crashing at yours tonight." JJ calls out, shifting his weight as he paddles to follow the boys. He looks back at Kie who is looking up toward the late afternoon sun, a peaceful look settled across her face.

"Earth to Kie, you coming in?" He calls back to her, bringing her attention to the boys who are halfway towards the shore now.

"Yeah, I'm coming, just taking my last breath of free air before I go home." She half chuckles, knowing she isn't wrong. Her parents are bound to add more time to her previous grounded sentence. Though that wasn't what was really on her mind.

As the Pogues gathered on the beach sand sticking to their wet toes, they dry off with their towels before heading towards the van.

"Hey!" Kie calls out, catching the three boys' attention. Without another word, she throws her arms around them, embracing their arms as they quickly respond to her notion. Even JJ, who wasn't much of a hugger, found comfort being in his friend's embrace. It was his safe space, his real family. They all felt it. The love and endearment they held for each other. No matter the crazy adventures they would go on, they knew at the end of the day they had each other.

The crew broke away and headed back towards the Twinkie. As the boys loaded up the boards, Kie grabbed the remaining snacks from the cooler and passed them out once everyone was settled in. The side door closed with a metal clang as they ventured their way to their drop off spots.

The ride back flowed with casual conversations between the four, smiles, and laughs adorning their faces. As they approached Kie's home, she found herself lost in her thoughts. The feeling of having people care for you so much that they risk getting into trouble on your behalf warmed Kiara's heart. She couldn't have asked for a better group of friends looking out for her. While this isn't the first time they would go down together in trouble as a group, surely it wouldn't be their last.

Tagging some mutuals who hopefully won’t hate me for tagging them in this monstrosity. @jjbanks​ @john-benderr​ @void-maybank​ @northcarolinanative​ @outerbongs​ @tomfreakinghollandneedsaoscar​ @bricksatanakinswindow​ @pit-zuh​ @sguymon21​ @outrebanx​ @outerbankslut​ @hmspxgue​ @jellyfishbeansontoast​ @drewsephsmiles​ @scandalousfemale​ @moldisgoodforyou​ @ad-infinitums​ @futuretaxcheat​ @ptersparkers​ @rudysbay​ @drewswannabegirl​ @lenaandcalliope​ @diverdcwn​ @mermaidssonshipss​

[thewritewolf]

Old Ways, New Age Chapter 4

A major akuma attack hits and Ladybug has to seek out heroes to wield the miraculous if they will have any hope of stopping them.

@marinettemarch

Enjoy!

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

Read on Ao3

“As much as I hate to say it… the best place I can hide it is in my own room for now.” Ladybug sighed and looked at her partner with a serious expression on her face. “Do you think you can hold off the akuma long enough for me to take this back?”

Chat Noir was staring off into the distance, where the head of… something… was poking over the buildings. His tail swished behind him, low and lazy. He nodded.

“I’ll do my best to keep it distracted.” His eyes landed on her. “Hurry back though, okay?”

“I promise. Now get going, and I’ll meet up with you as soon as I can.”

With a grin, Chat Noir gave her a quick salute and leapt off the roof. A moment later, he soared back into view, propelled by his extending baton. She watched him go for a few seconds longer before taking out her yoyo and swinging away.

On the way back, her mind was racing. She had been banking on hunting down Namdak to keep the miracle box safe - but now she was going to be distracted by the akuma battle for who knows how long. Would he be bold enough to try again? If she hid it somewhere else in the city, would he be able to find it? Or would she end the battle only for it to have vanished?

The thought of some random civilian - or, even worse, an agent of Hawkmoth - finding the miracle box outside during the coming battle sent shivers down her spine. No, she’d tuck it in her room and hope that the same paranoia that made the Guardians so cautious would keep the box safe for tonight. At least then if it disappeared, she could be sure it hadn’t fallen into Hawkmoth’s hands.

She’d hidden it away the best that she could and was about to leave her room when she got a call on her yoyo. Lowering her hand from its throwing position, she backed into a corner before opening the yoyo to answer the call, ensuring that the view of her room was minimal.

“Something up, Chat?”

“Uhhh yeah I don’t think-” A wall of noise from an explosion nearby on his end drowned him out. “-and we’re gonna need some help on this.”

“Help?” Ladybug blinked down at his video image. “How much help?”

“Um…��� The scene behind Chat was a blur thanks to his running and even her partner was a little hard to make it with how the screen was shaking. “How about two? Someone strong—” He cut himself off to duck and the wall behind him burst into rubble. “And maybe some insurance, too. Are there any healing miraculous?”

Ladybug cupped her chin and narrowed her eyes. “I’ll see what I can do. Can you keep it busy for a little while longer?”

Even in the middle of a fight, he took a second to flash her a grin. “For you? Anything.” A shadow fell over him and his grin evaporated. “Gotta go, LB!”

His screen went dark and she put the yoyo back on her side. Her mind racing, she pulled out the miracle box from its hiding spot and looked over the miraculous at her disposal.

This was the first time they’d had to call on new miraculous heroes since the Miracle Queen fiasco - everyone she’d already brought out was out of the running for now. At least with the miraculous they’d used before.

Someone strong… The physically strongest miraculous was Stompp, the Ox kwami. Hopefully that was what Chat meant. On the bright side, since she had never called on it before, she could give it to practically anyone she wanted.

As for insurance, well… she wasn’t aware of any healing abilities outside her Ladybug Cure, but the ability of the Snake miraculous, Second Chance, was a good runner up. Although that did mean that Luka and probably Adrien, too were out of the running.

Her eyes widened with realization. The two she had in mind might not be the perfect fit for the miraculous, but they would be the best fit she had. After checking her notes for her friends’ schedules, she hid the miracle box away as best she could and hoped that she could bring down this akuma in time.

-----------

Ladybug landed at the front door of a gym. Quips and puns could just barely be heard above the explosions and maniacal laughter of the akuma of the day, none of which was all that far away from where she was standing. Even more worrying was the occasional tremor that shook the city - was it a giant amok, or a tunneling one? Practically everyone with any sense left was long gone.

Which just left those who were too caught up in their own competition to worry about something as trivial as an akuma attack.

Upon entering the building, she peered into the various exercise rooms looking for her duo of potential heroes. Despite being inside, the sounds of battle still reached her, driving her to move faster in locating them. As much as she wanted to keep them separate for identity purposes, she had no idea if Chat would be able to hold on that long.

She breathed a sigh of relief when she opened the door to a basketball court to see the two of them locked in the middle of a game. One which only had a passing resemblance to basketball, judging by Alix’s rollerskates and the obstacles set up on the court.

Alix noticed her first, giving her a double take as she tried to dribble across the court.

“Ladybug?!”

The price for her inattention came immediately when she collided with Kim. Ladybug watched the basketball bounce forlornly past her and hit the wall. Clamping down on the last minute doubts she had about them, she walked over to the pile of athletes as they were trying to get to their feet.

“Woah!” A grin spread across Kim’s face. “Did you come to coach our match, Ladybug? Pipsqueak over here could definitely use some pointers.”

Finally getting her skates under her, Alix shot a glare at him. “You wanna try that again, airhead? Cuz the scoreboard sure as hell doesn’t agree with you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Kim snorted and crossed his arms over his chest. “Not my fault you’ve got all those dirty tricks to get ahead.”

“You-!”

“Cut it out and listen to me!” Ladybug had enough of their bickering at school - she wasn’t about to tolerate it now. “There is a big fight going on and we need help. Who’s in?”

“Oo, oo, pick me!” Kim raised his hand and put the other on Alix’s head and shoved her back slightly. “I, uh… Let’s just say this isn’t my first lap around the pool.”

Kim gave an obvious and exaggerated wink to Ladybug, who could only pinch the bridge of her nose in exasperation.

Alix rolled her eyes. “She said she needs help, not someone that she’ll need to babysit. Besides,” Alix added with a knowing grin. “I’ve been hoping to hop into a fight for ages now. Know what I mean, LB?”

Ladybug put her hands together to cover her face, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. When she felt a little more composed, she looked back at them.

“I’ve got two miraculous here - the fight is going that bad. Are you still interested?”

Alix and Kim looked at each other for a moment before nodding. Ladybug gave them each her usual speech and handed them the miraculous - the Snake for Alix and the Bull for Kim. Both seemed surprised at the specific miraculous they got, but took it in stride.

With two new heroes in tow, Ladybug rushed out of the gym and hoped that she would make it in time.

-----------------

As he examined the locking box trap that had captured his hand, Master Namdak took a moment to respect the chosen of Creation. Fire and boldness were likely pairs when dealing with those who wielded the miraculous, but deviousness and cleverness were a rare pearl.

Sadly for her, mere tricks were not sufficient to guard the miracle box - another reason why it needed to be returned to the order.

Tapping the box twice with his staff, the hinges flew open and the trap dropped to the ground, leaving the miracle box securely in his hand.

He leapt out of the room and stood on the rooftop. Deep in his bones, he knew that he needed to leave for Tibet soon. The journey was long and the return home would be equally as arduous. He stood still, quietly taking in the scenery. His eyes roved the horizon, taking in the sight of a city from two hundred years in the future.

Which was when he saw the villains that had been so helpful in acquiring the miracle box. They were locked in a desperate battle against the heroes of this city. Despite himself, Master Namdak was drawn closer to the fighting. Even setting aside his time spent removed from the world, it had been long decades since he had last seen the miraculous in action. Curiosity could not be ignored.

He watched from a rooftop as a team of four heroes battled against the puppets of the butterfly and peacock, saw the ebb and flow of the battle.

Master Namdak had long years of experience - he could see the clash of personalities apparent on the heroic team. By all rights, a lack of cohesion ought to have been enough to destroy them.

And yet... despite that, Tikki’s chosen held them firm. They followed her instructions without question, no matter how baffling they might seem. Her knowledge of the miraculous strengths was astounding as she used each power of her allies like a familiar tool in her armory. If circumstances were different, perhaps she could have been a Guardian as well. Perhaps even risen to the rank of Master, like himself.

But they fought a losing battle. Even with aid, Master Namdak knew that they were on the backfoot and edging closer and closer to defeat.

He turned to leave.

Long moments passed, but he could not take a step forward.

He looked over his shoulder at the heroes battling against evil, his heart torn between duty and compassion.

[darker-soft-starker]

Gold Digger / Sugar Baby Starker AU 

Warnings: some nff mentions, mentioned erectile dysfunction

-------------------------

Tony isn’t Peter’s first wealthy boyfriend.

His laundry list of previous entanglements is by no means lengthy, however it is somewhat selective. The criteria is simple: men with money - lots and lots of money.

Four years ago Peter been desperate. Six weeks behind rent his landlord was threatening to have him evicted, electricity already cut off, he’d dropped out of school to work three jobs. The cost of his aunts cancer treatment was so high even the most dubious loans couldn’t cover them. Everything was beginning to pile up with no way out.

So, in despair, he became an escort.

It was high end and he got lucky. One of his very first clients was a man so wealthy he practically exuded dollars from his pores, dropping a ten thousand dollar tip on Peter on their first night. The man seemed to like him, hiring Peter again and again, dressing him up in designer clothes and taking him to the most exclusive venues. 

Peter would have enjoyed it, had the man not been the scum of the earth.

No matter exorbitant his gifts were it never made up for how bad a man he was. Money couldn’t cover up his drunken racist remarks. Lavish luxury couldn’t excuse how the man looked down on the poor, literally spitting on the homeless as they passed them on the streets.

By the time Peter had cycled through a few rich clients he’d more than covered the cost of his aunts treatment, their rent paid six months in advance. He could even afford to pay off his student loans and move out on his own. He resigned with the escort agency, keen to get his life back on the straight-and-narrow.

Except, he had a taste for it, now. The creature comforts, the luxury cars, the attention. The satisfaction he got from ripping off perverts who hired him because his young face made him seem underage.

The things he had seen made his stomach turn. How was he supposed to go back to a normal life knowing what he knew about Hollywoods seedy underbelly beneath its glistening city lights?

So, he went out looking for them. 

They were all the same. Incredibly privileged men with more money than humanity, morally bankrupt despite their bulging bank accounts. All wanting something young and pretty on their arm and warm in their bed - no matter how much they have to fork out for the illusion of a smitten partner. 

It only ever took a few sweet words, wide eyes and wandering hands to hook them in and drain them dry. 

Once Peter would have his fill he’d sell their secrets to rival companies, then to law enforcement. It was by no means a humanitarian endeavour, but it made him feel good in the same way donating to charity did.

And he looked damn good doing it.

------

Peter had met Tony on a cloudy Monday morning.  

He’d heard all about Tony Starks philandering antics and his acerbic personality and pegged him to be just like the others, just another playboy looking for something to play with.

So he managed to get hired as Tony’s personal assistant, hamming it up as a meek, clumsy newbie. As the weeks progressed, the more flimsy Peters’ outfits became, one too many buttons open on his thin dress shirts, voice soft, eyelashes fluttering as he leaned in close to the man to pass him his coffee or a contract. 

It was the same drawcard he’d used for all the affluent assholes he’d dated prior; whether a high powered lawyer or a CEO, they all seemed to have a weakness for simpering submissive types, those who dropped things too many times, those who played dumb, didn’t engage in intellectual conversation. 

It took Peter an embarrassingly long time to figure out that kind of behaviour didn’t interest Tony for anything more than a one-night stand. 

Sure, he’d caught the end of Tony’s prolonged stares more than once, had noticed the appreciative leers whenever he bent over a table or to pick something up, but it wasn’t enough to truly engage him.

It wasn’t until one day, Peter frustrated and exhausted from a poor nights rest, had spoken back to the man with a scathing remark that Tony had really started to pay attention.

Tony likes bossy. Tony likes being challenged by someone he considers an equal. Once Peter dropped the facade of wide-eyed innocence, proved his smarts and snarked back it was like reeling in all-too-willing fish.

They’d been bantering all day, mostly light-hearted, because apparently that’s flirting, according to Tony and Peter can’t fault him for that. 

Peter had been teasing Tony for hours, all his usual tricks. In the afternoon he’d squeezed behind Tony’s chair and set his hands on the mans shoulders, lightly massaging the tight muscles through his shirt. A treat for all his hard work Peter had simpered, going back to their discussion on quantum field theory.

“I know what you’re doing, you know,” Tony had said, but relaxed into the touch anyway.

“Do you? Is it working, Mr. Stark?” Peter had asked, hands coming down to stroke at Tony’s chest. The man had near purred as Peters hands trailed over his pectorals. 

“It’s definitely working. At least let me take you to dinner first.”

So he did. Peter had been wined and dined that night, followed by the best fuck of his life, riding the man in the backseat of Tony’s car. And the rest was history.

Back then he’d only forecasted the longevity of their relationship to be a few months. A fleeting romance, however long enough for Peter to get into Tony’s wallet and for Tony to show his true colors.

Except, Peter is still waiting, is the thing.

Despite all his expectations and his fevered observations, Tony hasn’t slipped up yet. With the mans combined net worth and reputation, Peter had expected more than one skeleton cluttering his closet, red flags and scandals waiting to be uncovered.

The only secrets Peter finds in two years are the ones Tony whispers into his skin at night, his deepest insecurities and worst memories.

As time drags on Peter is beginning to suspect that maybe he rolled the dice wrong and maybe Tony just isn’t a bad guy.

Not long ago they were in Paris. They’d sat upon their terrace drinking coffee in the morning sun, making up life stories of the people passing below. Tony snorted at a particularly funny one and looked at Peter with such unadulterated affection and said:

“I fucking love you, Peter Parker.”

That was new.

------ 

The guilt is also new to Peter.

It’s not that Peter has never experienced remorse, but he’s not once felt a single modicum of contrition for the men he’s played or the luxurious gifts he took with him.

Peter keeps waiting for Tony to give him a reason to cut him off. Keeps waiting for the incriminating tabloid pictures proving Tony’s infidelity, anticipates some white collar crime to sneak into the newspapers, or like his last boyfriend, a violent temper.

But it’s been two years and Tony has yet to slip up. His interest hasn’t waned, his hands haven’t wandered. Peter would know - he’d set Tony up on three seperate occasions and the man is unfailingly faithful. 

The only thing that has changed is the ever increasing way in which Tony softens for Peter, how the fondness reaches his eyes and is woven into his words.

Tony isn’t Peter’s first wealthy boyfriend, but he has been his longest. The longer their relationship continues it becomes considerably clear that Peter miscalculated terribly. 

Because, despite public opinion, Tony is a good man. A really fucking good man.

Peter is never left wanting for intimacy or possessions, the only absence in his life is misbehaviour. Of course Tony isn’t perfect, he has his vices. He drinks too much, works too hard, loves like it’s going out of style. He spoils Peter and values everything he has to say. It’s the worst.

So, the guilt.

Peter feels lied to. The public, playboy persona of Tony Stark does not align with reality at all. Peter went to Tony for his transactions but Tony ended up giving him his heart instead. 

It was Peter who was supposed to do the ruining, not the other way.

------

Galas were never really Peter’s thing.

There was too much ceremony and exaggerated decorum for it to be any real fun. Any entertainment was usually in the form of a high profile guest tripping over themselves or a rowdy politician overindulging on the free alcohol.

Tonight it was to commemorate some new arts centre. They’d been there for an hour already but it felt like entire night was dripping by in slow-motion, minutes bloated in boredom. 

Peter is sullen, given up playing nice with the socialites and pretending he has anything in common with these people. He just wants to be at home in the jacuzzi, being hand-fed caviar and truffles. Is that honestly so much to ask?

As he’s about to suggest as such to Tony, a hand touches his wrist to get his attention. 

He frowns, looking over as some guy gestures to him, eyeing him up and down.

“How much?”

Tony’s arm around his waist keeps him upright as he politely removes his arm from the strange mans grasp.

“Excuse me?”

The man, short, stout and wielding a fat cigar between his fingers like a weapon, points at the diamond encrusted necklace dangling from Peters neck. The pendant, a large bejewelled spider, rests heavily against his sternum, hung by a solid gold plated chain.

“My niece loves the creepy fuckers,” the guy says by way of explanation, smoothing his tie down upon approach. “Got a thing for them. Has her own pet tarantula, can you believe?”

The arm around Peters waist tightens.

“It was custom made,” Tony supplies, pressing a kiss to Peters cheek whilst squeezing his hip. “Just for Peter. Cartier were generous enough to make it for our anniversary.”

Peter smiles at the mention, looks every bit the doting boyfriend as he leans into Tony further, winding his arm around the older mans waist. The man never fails to exude an effortless, old-school debonair charm, the satin lapels of his tuxedo reflecting the lowlight of the chandelier glow.

The stranger nods, chest hitching with a laugh. 

“Anniversary, huh? Well, congratulations,” he commends, nudging Tony with his elbow. “How long? Six weeks? Six days?”

“Two years,” Peter says, voice hardening. 

“I’m sorry, who are you again?” Tony adds, flagging down a waiter and scooping two flutes of champagne from the tray. “Do you know this guy, baby?”

“Nope,” Peter replies, accepting a glass from Tony with his free hand, toasting their glasses together with a clink. “No idea. I think he works here?”

“Does your manager let you mingle with staff?” Tony adds. “Isn’t that so adorable, honey?”

“So adorable,” Peter agrees, smiling at his lover. 

He enjoys watching the scowl form, the flustered, sheepish twitch of the mans lips as he struggles to find something to say.

“Excuse me,” is all the man says, turning on the spot and disappearing into a crowd of haute couture.

Tony lets go of his waist to turn further into Peter, hand coming up to trace the delicate chain up to the bump of his collarbone. It really is an exquisite piece, Peter concedes as Tony’s fingers grip the pendant, using it to pull Peter closer.

Peter goes willingly, flushing their bodies together. He slips both of his hands onto Tony’s hips, wondering if he could get away with snaking them into the mans back pockets, if he could squeeze Tony’s ass in public view. There’s something arousing about being crass in a formal setting like this, surrounded by Los Angeles’ elite and foregoing all of their staged propriety.

Tony must sense the intent because his gaze surrenders to Peter’s, leaning in to place a placating kiss on the corner of Peter’s mouth.

“Tony, Tony,” comes the chiding tone of Obadiah Stane. “What have I said about being indecent in public?”

“To only do it if I’m getting paid for it?” Tony quips, but loosens his grip on Peter nonetheless to shake his hand with his associate. 

Obadiah gestures to Tony with the hand that holds a glass of whiskey, speaking to Peter. “Think’s he’s a wise guy, doesn’t he?”

Peter smiles demurely, hand coming to rest on the back of Tonys neck. He knows better than to think that the man actually wants to hear his opinion on the matter.

“And, please remind me, which of us graduated college at seventeen?” Tony retorts not unkindly. “I think I’m absolutely qualified considered to call myself wise, wouldn’t you say Pete?”

It’s not Peter’s function to be funny in this play, so he swallows the already formed quips and nods, fingers stroking at Tony’s hairline as he pastes a wide smile on his face. 

Tony tugs playfully on Peters pendant, pulling him in for a chaste kiss. “Why don’t you get us some more drinks, sweetheart. I’ll come find you.”

Glancing between the two men, Peter agrees, letting his fingers brush the back of his neck as he walks away.

It’s not the first time Tony has tried to shield business from him, won’t be the last. In the early days Tony would rave ad nauseam about his company, all the tech being developed, conjoined at the hip to his office. He’s been quiet about it, lately. 

Peter doesn’t know what that means and reminds himself that he shouldn’t actually care. He’s done nothing to earn Tony’s trust, after all. 

When he reaches the bar he orders himself a vintage wine, sipping it as he cooly observes the room. 

The elite. The upper echelons of society. Or so they call themselves, as if they aren’t just every bit animal as Peter, if not more. As if the room isn’t full of criminals and adulterers, their wealth built on the exploitation over the lower ninety-ninth percent of the rest of the world. 

While Tony talks shop Peter leans against the edge of the bar, sipping, observing. He spots Pepper Potts in the distance and raises his glass to her when she nods to him. 

She doesn’t make much effort to hide how little she thinks of him, which is a shame, Peter thinks. He is ever so grateful for her hiring him as Tony’s PA those two years ago. 

If she hadn’t taken a look at his heavily falsified resume and considered him a shoo-in then where would he be right now? Probably on the arm of some lower level wall-street rat, which would be comfortable, but not where he wants to be.

It doesn’t take Tony long to finish, clapping Stane on the back and ambling over to the bar. He takes in the curved line of Peter’s inelegant slouch with unashamed appreciation, loafers skipping with a squeak against the polished floorboards as his step falters.

“That just for you?” Tony asks, nodding towards his half drunk wine. “You ready to go home, doll?”

Peter tucks his elbow into his chest, protectively clutching the glass closer to him. “Mhmm,” he hums agreeably, taking a large sip and downing the rest, watching Tony watching him. Once drained Tony offers his arm.

Depositing the empty glass on the glass counter with a clink Peter takes his arm, rolling his eyes at their antics, grinning nonetheless. 

They wave to various dignitaries, trust fund babies and political hopefuls as they make their departure, promising nebulous future appointments and catch ups, none of which will happen, but they all like to pretend. 

Outside in the cool fall air Tony pulls a stack from his back pocket, depositing it into the hand of the nearest valet. The woman scurries off to retrieve their car as soon as the notes nestle into her palm.

A sleek sports car, a model that Peter has never seen, pulls up while they wait, a woman covered in silk slipping inside. Tony whistles at the seamless lines, the near silent growl of the engine as it takes off into an opportune gap of traffic.

“I want one,” Peter says, transfixed at the gleaming paintwork. He turns to Tony and tugs on his tie. “In rose gold.”

“In rose gold,” Tony echoes softly into the night air, rolling his eyes. Peter can already see him mentally pulling out his checkbook as he smooths his tie down. “Anything else, baby?”

Peter only smiles as the Audi pulls up, slipping into the far end of the backseat and pulling along with him. He still has an ounce of refinement from his aunts lessons in him, so he waits until they have left the parking lot to sink to the car floor inbetween Tonys knees. 

This isn’t a hardship for him at all. In fact, having sex with Tony is his favorite past time.

With practised movement he slithers his hands up Tony’s thighs, spreading them apart. Their driver turns up the music as Tony’s zipper slides down.

Tony is predictably soft when Peter pulls him out, lazily fondling his length, Tony’s eyes getting progressively hazier as his cock gets stiffer. Peter enjoys laving the head with kitten licks, Tony’s soft groan as he licks his way from the base back up before taking the entire head into his mouth. 

It takes a while for Tony to get fully hard. Peter knows he’s insecure about it but it makes their age gap more apparent - and incredibly arousing.

Seated like a king upon his throne Tony hums in satisfaction, gently brushing his knuckles against the high crest of Peters cheek.

“So good at that, darling. Want to push your pretty head down and fuck your mouth.”

Peter groans affirmatively around the flesh in his mouth, encouraging Tony to do just that as he reaches for the older mans hand. 

“God, I love you,” Tony breaths, gently thrusting up.

Peter’s glad his mouth is occupied with Tony’s cock so he doesn’t have to reply.

------

When they get home after the gala Peter has worked Tony up enough to get thoroughly fucked against the windows of their bedroom, come shooting all over the glass. They shower and stumble into bed shortly thereafter. 

Under the sheets Tony curls into Peter, placing a sleepy kiss on his bare sternum, the warm exhalations from the mans nose tickling his skin. 

It’s not until Tony falls asleep that Peter allows himself to return it, pressing his lips into the older mans hair and sighing into the greying strands. Not for the first time he wonders if he’s in over his head.

There’s a slimy feeling all over his skin. Tony loves him. Tony is good and he loves Peter. Peter, who came into this relationship because he thought the man was made of too much stone to bleed. 

Somehow under all of the glamour and supposed moral superiority he’s become the very type of snake he’s been trying to ruin these last years.

He’s been a fool for staying this long, allowing himself to grow fond. Peering down at Tony’s vulnerable form, Peter knows he shouldn’t stay. Can’t stay. Better late than never to do the right thing, isn’t it?

Tony deserves better.

------

It’s for the best, he tells himself.

Sad, but resolute, starts pulling away. He surreptitiously packs his things, stays longer and longer at their Beverley Hills apartment until Tony begins to notice his prolonged absence. 

One night they are having dinner out at some high-end restaurant, Tony preoccupied on his phone. It’s happening more and more lately. Once there was a time where the man would determinedly dedicate the entire night to making Peter see stars without touching his phone once.

Maybe he’s losing interest in Peter after all. 

The thought shouldn’t make his chest hurt.

“Sorry about that, baby,” Tony says as he hangs up, reaching over to take Peters hand.

“Work comes first,” Peter appeases, squeezing Tonys fingers before pulling away to re-arrange his napkin.

Tony looks at him, eyes searching for just a moment. 

“You come first, Pete. You mean everything to me, you know that right?”

Peter nods, throat tightening up. He offers Tony a smile he knows must look flimsy and sips his wine to avoid saying something stupid.

“Me and Obie are working on something, baby. Something big. I know I haven’t been around much, but trust me when I say it’s going to be worth it.”

The hopeful, earnest smile on Tony’s face makes Peter feel like the worst person in the world.

However fine their food is, all Peter tastes is guilt.

------

It takes a few weeks but he makes his arrangements. 

Every day spent apart feels like a sandpaper scrub to his heart, leaving him raw and aching. When they’re together Peter hides his the wet pinprick of his eyes until Tony isn’t looking, only allows Tony to take him from behind so in his head he can call it fucking instead of love-making.

Tony Stark loves hard. It isn’t fair of Peter to take advantage of that anymore. 

So he picks fights. Begins acting like the vapid airhead he pretended to be when they first met. He spends less time in their bed and watches as Tony looks at him with increasing sadness.

Peter wants to be the type of guy that Tony deserves, but he isn’t. He might not have much money of his own but the one thing he can give Tony is the opportunity to be with someone who didn’t use him.

Turns out it’s Peter that’s just like the others, after all.

------

More and more time is spent at their alternative apartment, then May’s apartment. He tries to figure out what his life is supposed to look like, after. The sadness is distracting, but it doesn’t have any right being there.

He scrolls through endless online job listings, but ultimately his efforts are fruitless.

How is he supposed to explain the gaping gap years on his resume? What are his applicable skills? Being a money hungry sugar baby?

Not only that, but Tony Stark is nothing but high profile. Over the last two years Peter has been in countless pap photos, endless grainy TMZ clips. How is he supposed to go back to a regular life when he’s had articles written about his relationship?

It makes him frustrated and depressed. It makes him miss Tony who best waved away all Peters worries with a kiss and stream of distracting words.

He tries to stay away.

The need to be in Tony’s arms again wins over his moral crusade.

-----

On a midday venture back to the the mansion in Malibu, Peter intends to only be there a little while. Maybe have lunch with his - with Tony. 

He thinks he really should pick up the last of his belongings until he stops dead in the living room, color draining out of his face as he spots the older man.

“Tony?” he slowly approaches, hovering by the sofa. “You okay?”

Tony sits hunched over upon the sofa, head buried into his hands.

“S’all gone,” Tony whispers, burying his face deeper into his palms. 

“What do you mean,” Peter asks cautiously, moving closer and sinking to his knees to kneel between Tony’s legs, loosely clutching at the mans wrists. “What’s gone, babe?”

Tony gestures vaguely to everything around them, lifting his face from his hands long enough to indicate at their surroundings. His hands shake as they are brought back to his mouth, eyes red.

“You. Them.”

Peter shakes his head, guilt coming at him for a whole different reason. “I don’t --”

“They voted me out,” Tony interrupts, voice hoarse. “I put everything we own into this new deal. It was gonna earn us billions, baby - and when they accepted the board voted me out - he fucking framed me --”

“Ssh, hey,” Peter soothes, leaning inwards to press a kiss to Tony’s jaw. “It’s okay, Tony - “

“After this deal I have nothing,” Tony shakes his head, refusing to meet Peters eyes. “I threw all our chips in knowing it was a good bet. Fucking Stane, I swear to god I’m --”

Tony runs out of steam, his head hanging low, the defeat making the man look smaller. Shame and fear roll off of Tony in waves, his hands visibly shaking, chest hitching.

Something in Peter snaps and he lets go.

“I know I don’t tell you this enough,” Peters voice cracks, “but I love you. I really fucking love you.”

“I’m losing you too,” Tony whispers, wrecked. “I can see it. You don’t want me anymore, and why would you? I have nothing to offer you.”

Peter shakes his head, peppering kisses over the glistening tear trails on the mans face, resolve solidifying. It breaks his heart to see Tony like this - how could he ever think of leaving him - the only thing Tony ever wanted from him was unconditional and free.

He may not be what Tony deserves but Peter has always been selfish.

“I’ve lost everything, baby. I’m nothing.”

Peter shuffles closer on his knees, tilting his head down to capture Tony’s red-rimmed gaze.

“You’re everything. I don’t care if you don’t have a single penny. I want to be with you, okay? You’re my Tony.”

Tony smiles wetly. “And you’re my Peter. You’ll stay with me?”

Peter nods, kissing him sweetly, an idea forming into his mind as his anger grows towards Tony’s former associate. The fucking nerve of anyone knowing the real Tony Stark and wanting to hurt him sets his cells ablaze. There’s one way to right this wrong, to prove himself.

"If you’ll have me - and... if you want, I’m going to help you.”

Tony blinks, expression going serious. “What do you mean?”

Peter grins wryly. 

“Let’s just say I know a thing or two about getting into someones skin. Stane won’t see me coming.”

[fromiftowhen]

fic: and you decide what you think of me

Hey anon! Originally this was going to be my post for the undercover day for Chenford week, but it didn’t work out. That day ended up being i’ve got the real thing (and nothing else matters), but I liked this enough to keep it in my gdocs until this meme came around. 

And then I opened it up and realized it was about as finished as it was going to get. So I’m doing something I don’t typically do, and posting it here instead of on ao3... because it’s finished, and there (probably) won’t be more, but it’s not quite as complete as I usually like my fic to be. 

So, enjoy! (Feel free to ask about any of my other WIPs!)

(The Rookie -- Chenford. Rated T. 2235 words.)

It’s not that Tim hates undercover work. It’s that he hates the roads it can lead a person down, the way it can consume a life and ruin a marriage and throw his world off its tidy, easy axis. 

So he never volunteers, he never takes the chance, his career never suffers for it, and his axis stays as it should. It can’t change his life again if he doesn’t get involved. 

Which is why, of course, it somehow falls directly in his lap, and he never sees it coming. 

Or. She does, actually. And he never sees her coming. 

He couldn’t have seen her coming if he tried. 

——-

He’s just finished his beer when she crashes into him, long brown hair brushing his cheek, and her stumble is just controlled enough, just the exact right amount of pressure, that he knows it’s intentional. 

“Babe!” It’s loud, louder than necessary in the relatively empty bar, and he wants to ask who she is, what she’s doing, but. 

“I’m sorry, just help me out here,” she says, and her hand is on his shoulder and she’s kissing him, quick and dirty like they’ve done it a thousand times before, like they know each other, like he’s her safe place to land. 

It feels like coming home, in the weirdest way, but not to any home he’s ever recognized. 

“Sorry,” she whispers, just a breath against his lips as she pulls back. There’s a tiny flash of recognition in her eyes as she takes a step back, like maybe she’s seen him before. And maybe in a different life, maybe, they knew each other, because she feels a little familiar. His skin pricks in what might be recognition, but he can’t place it. 

“Yeah,” he clears his throat and wishes his beer wasn’t empty. He glances around, checking to see if she’s clearly trying to get away from someone. What the hell is going on?

She holds herself like law enforcement, strong muscle and confident, challenging eyes. He feels like he’s being read, and he doesn’t necessarily like it. 

“What in the hell—“ he starts, but she just smiles, and he wishes he didn’t immediately feel warmer, better, somehow. 

“Thanks. See you later,” she whispers, shaking her head, and it’s like the tiny motion distracts him, because the next thing he knows, she’s gone. 

——-

He’s still reeling a little when Grey calls him into his office the next morning. He shouldn’t even be surprised to see a flash of long brown hair as he walks in, but somehow, he still is. 

“Sergeant Bradford, I hear you may have walked into an undercover op last night.”

He glances at the woman. “More like it fell into my lap, sir.”

Grey glances between them, and maybe he’s about to introduce them, but he misses his shot. 

“Semantics,” she mumbles, reaching a hand out. The press of her hand is firm, so different from the way her fingers had floated against his shoulder last night. He wishes, half-heartedly, that he could stop thinking about it. 

“Lucy Chen,” she says, and the name sounds a little familiar, maybe. 

“Tim Bradford.”

She nods, like that was the expected answer. “Sorry about last night. I recognized you from a couple joint crime scenes last year, and I needed to blend in a little to keep my cover, so..” She trails off, and he doesn’t need her to fill in the blanks. 

“Agent Chen is working an undercover assignment to help bring down a big drug ring out of Malibu. She was hoping you’d be willing to lend a hand.”

He glances at Grey sharply before he responds. “I don’t work narcotics, sorry.”

Grey nods slightly, but Lucy looks undeterred. It’s a little aggravating. 

“Then it’s a good thing I’m not a narcotics officer,” she says, smiling. “Agent Chen,” she says. “I’m a profiler with the FBI.” 

And it all clicks into place, that nagging familiar feeling. A kidnapping case last year, and a high profile bank robbery a couple months after that. He’d been first on the scene for both, and she’d come blazing in, lots of energy and questions and earnest answers, a little hard to miss. 

He nods. “Not a big fan of feds, either.”

“Ouch, Sergeant. I won’t take that personally.” She smiles, and he hates how he already feels a little doomed. “But I’m hoping you’ll reconsider. I just need a little backup, and it turns out a few of our principle suspects saw me with you last night, so it’d be easier to keep that part of the cover the same.”

“Aren’t there a thousand colleagues you could rope into this?” 

“We’re trying to keep as many of my colleagues out of the early stages of this, in case they need to go undercover at some point. This is a months long operation, and my part in it is small, it’ll be over soon. Yours would be even smaller.”

He glances at Grey, who gives a tiny shrug. Super helpful. 

“What exactly would I be doing?”

She grins, like she knows she has him. “Basically exactly what you did last night.” He wants to ask if that means she’ll randomly kiss him and disappear again, but he stays quiet. “Just help me blend in a little, maybe keep the creeps away. Nothing life changing.”

He rolls his eyes. He wants to say no. He wants to stop thinking about the fact that he hadn’t kissed anyone in months, before last night. 

He wants to say no. He means to. 

But she sticks out her hand to shake, a deal, a promise, and nothing in him can say no. 

——-

He’s regretting his inability to say no the next night, shoulder-to-shoulder on the edge of the dance floor in a crowded club at what is alarmingly past his normal bedtime. The music is loud and the crush of bodies makes him equal parts annoyed and on edge. 

Agent Chen — Lucy — though, she looks like she lives for it — the noise, the music, happy, laughing, loud people all around her. She looks alive, vibrant and carefree, and it’s distracting in a way he couldn’t have prepared himself for. He has no frame of reference, but instinct tells him that’s just how she is. 

She’s anything but distracted though. He watches her, the way she’s clearly taking in her surroundings, keeping her eyes on their target for the night. 

“Fun crowd, right?” She half-shouts over the noise and he raises his eyebrows at her. If she says so. 

He shrugs. 

“I spend the majority of my day behind a desk, reading files,” she explains. “I spent most of my 20s behind a desk, actually.”

He leans closer, so he doesn’t have to shout. “This doesn’t seem like an assignment a profiler would usually take.”

She shakes her head. “It’s not, unless you spent most of your 20s behind a desk and woke up one day bored and craving an adrenaline rush and basically demanded some real field experience.”

The honesty surprises a laugh out of him and he smiles despite the crowd, despite the noise. 

“Kidnappings and bank robberies aren’t enough of an adrenaline rush?” He asks, and her eyes absolutely light up. He doesn’t want to notice it, but it’s impossible not to. 

“So you do remember me.” It sounds like a gotcha. 

“I remember the cases,” he mumbles, glancing away. 

“Mhmm.” The way she’s looking at him readies him for another question, but their suspect moves onto the dance floor and she grabs his hand before he can react. “C’mon.”

She pulls him out on the dance floor, and he’s a little embarrassed at how easily he lets himself be dragged. It doesn’t feel like work. 

“Dancing wasn’t part of the agreement,” he says as they stop just a ways away from the suspect. 

“You don’t have to dance, bud. Just stand there and look pretty.” He wants to protest, and he definitely rolls his eyes, but he lets her step into his space and wrap her arms up around his shoulders. The song isn’t slow, and suddenly neither is his heart rate. 

“Come on,” she urges. “Act like you’ve danced with a woman before.” 

He huffs out a sigh and lets his hands skim her waist lightly, pulling her in so she can look over his shoulder easily. 

“Better?” He half-grumbles, his eyes scanning the dance floor around them. 

“Mmm.” Her soft reply is distracted. The song slips into something louder, faster, and she presses against him, her hair brushing the side of his neck. He vaguely wonders if it looks as intimate as it feels, pressed together close as the music pulses around them. 

“What is it you’re looking for exactly?” He asks, pitching his voice just loud enough she can hear over the music, even though his lips are basically buried in her hair. 

“Body language.” It’s quiet, and she shifts against him to move them slightly. “We’re putting together profiles on the major players now, so when the op develops more, when we have to send someone in really undercover, they’ll have as much inside information as possible.”

“Body language?” Her hand slides to the back of his neck and he tenses. 

“It can tell you all you need to know about a person sometimes.” 

He rolls his eyes. He doesn’t disagree, necessarily, but it feels flimsy to base any real assumptions off of it. 

“For example,” she continues, “you tensed when I touched your neck. That tells me you either really don’t like being touched there, or you really do.”

He feels extremely aware of every muscle in his body now, how they’re at risk of tensing and giving away secrets he isn’t even aware he’s keeping. 

“But whether or not you enjoy being touched there isn’t really the question I’m directly trying to answer. It becomes what else can your body tell me about why you tensed up that can help me figure out if you enjoy it or not?”

“Good lord,” he mutters. 

“But of course, I’m not going to go dance with that guy, so it means looking for nonverbal clues and observing the way he interacts with people.”

“What does that—“

Her other hand drags across the back of his neck, her nails raking the skin lightly, and he tries so hard to keep from tensing, from reacting in any way. 

“— Teach us about a suspect?” She finishes, and he doesn’t know her, not really, not at all, but the laugh in her voice is unmistakable. 

He nods, but doesn’t let himself respond otherwise. 

“It helps us figure out how to approach him, who to send in, what to focus on. Does it need to be someone he’s intimidated by, does he need to exert force over them to trust them, how does he interact with men versus women, or in a group dynamic? What are his weaknesses, physically, emotionally?”

“Seems like a lot of work,” he says, and maybe it seems a little too bookish, a little too clinical for him to really invest in, but she doesn’t need to know that. 

She leans back, and it’s the first time he’s seen her face in several minutes. He’s not sure he knows her any better, but the look on her face makes him think she knows him better. “It is,” she says. “But I excel at my job.”

She leans back in, and it goes like that for another hour as she tracks the guy around the club, peppering in little facts and details about what he’s doing and what it means about his personality. 

Some of it, honestly, is distant white noise to Tim, her voice pleasant and upbeat, her words carefully chosen but bold. He does his job, he holds her close, he scans the dance floor, he keeps her safe. 

——-

He walks her to her car after their suspect leaves, and he’s all too aware it’s the first time he’s not been touching her in over an hour. He walks with his hands in his pockets and wishes he didn’t spend so much time thinking about what she’s reading into that body language. 

She smiles when they stop at her car. “Thanks,” she says, and he shrugs.

“No big deal.” 

“No big deal,” she echos. “So, if I need you again, you’re in?”

“I guess.” 

She laughs. “Well. It’s not a no. I’ll take it.” He watches her glance away and then back to him, her eyes falling on his lips, and it doesn’t take a body language expert to read the signs. 

She leans up on her tiptoes, presses her lips to his quickly and runs her fingers along the back of his neck.

“Sorry,” she murmurs, pulling back. “Just wanted to see what it was like when it wasn’t for show.”

He swallows and nods. “And?” 

“Just as good as the first time,” she smirks, backing away toward her car. She waves, getting in the car, and he thinks he smiles in return.

Just help me blend in a little, maybe keep the creeps away. Nothing life changing, she’d said. 

He’s definitely not the expert here, but he’s pretty sure she was wrong. 

He runs a hand over the back of his neck as he turns to head to his truck. 

She feels a little life changing.