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wheelsup · 3 years ago

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the taming of the shrew | two

if i be waspish, best beware my sting

after some setbacks, penelope is willing to do anything to get you back on board. but has spencer already ruined things?

A/N: hello! im so sorry that this posting schedule is super inconsistent. the more i thought about this chapter, the less i liked the more technical aspects of it. but! i hope you enjoy to plot aspect of it nonetheless <3 thanks for reading!

category: fluff, slow burn series, spencer reid x fem!reader

wc: 4.4k

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Since that phone call with Penelope, she’d been over nearly every night for a week with plates of treats and onslaughts of apologies. Each time she came knocking, you told her there was no amount of persuasion that could change your mind. And yet the following night, she’d be there, a new type of pastry in hand and a new set of reasons why Spencer was worth the trouble.

First, she brought blueberry muffins and reasoned that deep below that prickly exterior, he really was everything she promised –– sweet and caring. But that must be deep, deep down. Like, The Lost City of Atlantis, deep down, because you didn’t expect it to surface any time soon.

Then, she brought fudge brownies and explained that his behavior wasn’t personal –– he was getting snippy with everyone lately. And while you maintained that anybody would have a hard time getting along with Spencer, you were absolutely positive that it was now impossible for you.

Quite frankly, it wasn’t just Spencer who was unwilling to play nice. You hated him. More than you’ve ever hated a stranger.

You wished him a lifetime riddled with minor inconveniences that would drive him to the edge of insanity. You wanted him to miss all his trains by just a quarter of a minute; close enough so that he could see it leave the platform, knowing he almost made it on. You wanted him to constantly feel like he was about to sneeze. You wanted his socks to be perpetually wet, and if he should happen to put on a dry pair? You hoped he stepped in a puddle.

That was all you could think about as you laid out on your couch, munching on one of Penelope’s lemon bars while she paced around your apartment. She kept going on and on advertising Spencer to you. As annoying as it was, she was also saving you a ton on groceries that week.

For the most part, you filtered her out. Not a single word that came out of her mouth was believable anymore, especially not when she was talking about Spencer. Despite what Penelope thought of him, you saw in him what she refused to accept.

As her speech came to a close, she looked at you like she expected a response to dignify her prattling.

“Give it a rest, Penelope. He’s a lost cause,” you laughed dryly. “He doesn’t need –– nor does he want –– anyone in his life.” At the very least, he definitely didn’t want you.

“Yes, that’s the problem!” If you’d been listening to her, you would’ve heard her saying the same thing. “He doesn’t want to date!”

Your head just about exploded when she said that.

There had been countless, fruitless conversations about this, and all along she saw the gaping hole in her supposedly airtight plan?

“If he doesn’t want to DATE, then WHAT was the point of this?!” Your fingers pressed the bridge of your nose; you suddenly felt a headache coming on. Funny how it always happened around the time of day that Penelope came to visit.

Penelope stopped pacing. She stalked over to your couch, picked your legs up by your ankle, and moved them to make space for herself. You begrudgingly sat upright as she took her place beside you.

“Because he’s not himself anymore. He’s not open like he used to be. Not to the people who care about him the most, and certainly not to the world.”

Penelope toyed with the hem of her dress, distracting herself from her quivering lip before pressing on, “Spencer Reid has always wanted love. And it’s not right that he no longer believes he can have it.”

You hadn’t seen Penelope look so desperate until now. It was concerning. Because what could make her look so hopeless? What could make Spencer so hopeless?

“Penelope, I don’t know what’s wrong with your little friend, but… there’s a lot more bubbling inside him than you’re letting on.”

She chewed up the insides of her cheeks, wincing to herself at your incredibly accurate claim.

“You are hiding something, aren’t you?” You narrowed your eyes on her. You were no detective, or whatever exactly her team did, but she was just awful at concealing her thoughts.

“It’s not my story to tell,” she murmured.

She could already feel herself about to give it away and doubled down her mental defenses against it. Focusing extra hard on keeping Spencer’s privacy intact. If only you knew her track record with secrets, you’d be proud of her for staying quiet this long.

“What isn’t your story?”

“That his girlfriend died last year.”

She spilled it before she even realized what she was saying. You’d just asked so nonchalantly that she forgot she was talking aloud. Penelope turned purple, terrified now that the whole truth was out there.

You couldn’t even take satisfaction in the fact that your trick worked. You were just as mortified as Penelope, and if you weren’t already sitting down, you knew you’d need to. You assumed there was something deeper going on with him, you didn’t think it was a dead girlfriend. That was some Nicholas Sparks shit.

“He pretends like he’s fine but I know he’s not. And if he found a way to move on, maybe he’d start feeling as okay as he claims to be,” she sniffled before snot could run from her nose, tears lining the rims of her eyes. “I know I should’ve given you the full picture, but I didn’t think you’d go for it if you knew…”

You were too floored to process it all right away. This added a whole new layer of complicated to an already uneasy arrangement.

“Well, I know you’re right about one thing. I would’ve said no.”

She gave you a set of pleading eyes, praying you’d see where she was coming from.

“I know,” she whispered defeatedly. “But maybe... now that you know, you can understand why he acts out the way he does.”

“Penelope, I can’t just… make someone move on, or –– or get them to believe in love! Especially when it’s fake.”

How on Earth did she expect you to pull that off? Did that guy from A Walk to Remember move on when Mandy Moore died? You hadn’t seen the ending of the movie, but you assumed not.

“I’m sorry, this is just… a lot bigger than the favor I thought it was ––”

“What if I could return it?” she cut in. The gears in her head started to turn, figuring ways to patch up the holes she made.

“There’s nothing I need from you.”

That couldn’t be true. Penelope looked around the room and it didn’t take her long to think of it.

“I can help you sell your art,” she tempted, gesturing to the scattered canvases. “You make all your income from this, right?”

You didn’t want to give any fuel to her fire, but you nodded. “What if… what if you didn’t have to settle for local buyers? What if I told you that you could make way more money selling them to the whole world?”

You chortled at her idea.

You were a local artist, through and through. Your art got put in local galleries and sold to local buyers. Nothing more, and that was fine with you. You realized it a long time ago that it was just a pipe dream to think you’d be more.

“I’m serious! You could get a separate painting studio, and stop living in one? Huh?” She wrapped her hand around your shoulder, waving the other in the air, urging you to picture it with her. “Imagine this: a kitchen that’s separate from your living room. A bed, inside it’s own four walls, and more than twelve feet from where you cook your meals.”

Pushing aside her so blatantly insulting your apartment, if that were a possibility, you’d want nothing more. But it already sounded foolish and you hadn’t even heard how she planned to pull it off.

“Penelope, I’m fine where I am. I make the money I need, and that’s... it’s fine.”

She gave you a pointed look. “You know, I can hack all search engine results to make sure you are what comes up first anytime someone enters the word ‘painting’, right?

An airy chuckle left your lips. Of course she could. You patted her thigh twice and stood up, prompting her to follow you to your door –– hopefully, so she can show herself to the other side of it. “Still no, Pen.”

“Just take some time to think about it!” Her voice carried through the wood as you shut it on her.

There was this one bench in Kenilworth Park – the one that overlooks the crystal clear pond – that you’d always been able to rely on to fix any problem.

There was hidden magic in the bushes that sprawled out from the edges of the water, surrounded by spiky green blades of overgrown grass. A simplicity you loved in baby ducklings paddling into the tiny body of water, swimming close together so they don’t get lost in, what seems to them, a whole ocean. And clarity provided by the freshest air in the world, under the shade of the big oak trees on a late summer afternoon.

But at the present, none of that came close to being enough.

The artist’s block started off as a minor inconvenience, but without your permission, had stretched into weeks of steadily declining motivation. Each new idea felt even worse than the last, and you were acutely aware that there would come a point where you’d officially hit maximum capacity for how awful they could get.

Still, that didn’t seem to light a fire under you. You happily coexisted with the blank pages of your sketchbook. Staring down at them, laying open on your lap in their stark-white glory, you felt like you were playing a waiting game. If you stared long and hard enough, maybe they’d flinch.

Unfortunately, you never got to find out who won, because your phone rang inside your pocket. As if the caller had interrupted an incredible genius at work (which couldn’t be farther from the truth), you hastily raised the phone to your ear, slamming your sketchbook shut.

“Hello?” Your voice wasn’t as kind as it could be for someone with nothing better to be doing. Two seconds later, you learned who was calling and came to regret it.

“Hi, This is Rebecca from District Arts, calling with a message from Andre ––”

“Oh, hi!” you tried to walk back your previous tone, straightening up in your seat and pitching your voice higher, “Yeah, I’ve been waiting to hear from him!”

While Rebecca intimidated you, Andre happened to be your closest friend at the gallery. He worked closely with the artists to curate their collection and help them make sales.

“Does he want to sort out what to set the opening bid prices at for my new pieces?” A handful of days ago, you sent him pictures of your new work and were waiting to hear his thoughts. You’d always been able to trust his opinion, and a vote of confidence from him might be just the thing to inspire you.

“Uhm…” There was a criminally long pause on the other side of the line, ended by Rebecca’s weary inhale. “Unfortunately, we’re calling to inform you that your pieces will not be included in the next rotation.”

For a minute, you weren’t sure what to make of what she said. You’d never heard those words before.

“What – what do you mean?” you laughed nervously. She probably misspoke. Perks of friendship aside, Andre always included you in sets.

“Ugh, let me just get him…” her voice faded away as she put the phone down.

That wasn’t exactly the reassuring statement you were looking for. In the time it took for the call to switch hands, your confusion finally melted in. And then quickly boiled into anger.

The District Arts gallery changed their entire collection every two months. The pieces shown accepted rolling bids throughout the full eight weeks, finally selling at the end of term to their highest offer. After that, the pieces got taken down, sent to happy new owners, and the entire gallery reset with entirely new works.

So if you missed one rotation, that meant waiting two months to get back in.

“Andre, how am I just cut from the gallery!” you barked before he could get a word in. If he didn’t like your work, he could’ve just said so.

“No one said that ––”

“Okay, let me rephrase.” You pinched the bridge of your nose, something you found yourself doing quite frequently lately, and took a deep breath in and out. It was seemingly just for show because it did absolutely nothing to calm you down. “Why wouldn’t you put me in the next set? I’m in all of them!”

“I know you are!” He sounded just as upset. “It’s just that… we give you the biggest space we have, because you always manage to fill it up. But this time… I’m not so sure you can.”

“That’s ridiculous,” you scoffed. “What makes you say that?” You asked that, but you knew.

“You’ve only finished three pieces… I’m worried how you’ll deliver seven more before we set up.”

“But… it’s four weeks away, I could do ––”

“And it took you four weeks to make what you have... I’m sorry. We couldn’t take that gamble.”

He took your silence as an opportunity to turn off the work talk and speak, just friend to friend.

“You know that I trust you and I’d hold that spot if I could. But, I also know what you’re going through right now, and… I don’t know, maybe letting yourself rest would be a good thing?”

Your heart paused. By, “knowing what you’re going through”, you assumed he didn’t mean the little artist’s block.

“If you’re implying that I can’t do my job because of what happened with Cyrus –”

“I’m not, I’m not....” he backtracked as quickly as he could. “But take another look at the paintings you showed me and tell me if they feel like you.”

Even if he was right, you wanted to fight him. You wanted to cry. You wanted to beg that you didn’t need that big space; you were willing to downsize and just turn in the three that you had. Even if they got shoved into the corner where hardly anybody bothered to look. You just couldn’t afford to go two months without the income.

But even with tears beading up, you realized that the gallery couldn’t afford it either. They needed to bring in money and you couldn’t do that for them this time. So they were right to go to someone who can.

“Right,” you sniffled, recollecting yourself so he can’t hear the shakiness in your voice. “I understand. It’s a big risk, like you said… It’s for the better.”

Andre tried to thank you for being understanding and spewed some sort of encouragement. The words flew over your head. You managed to toss in a few ‘mhmm’s and ‘sure’s at the right places to coast you along until the call finally ended.

As soon as it went dead, you dropped your phone to the side and brought your hands to your face, rubbing them furiously over your cheeks. Your fingertips pressed hard into your eyelids, trying to forcibly reabsorb the tears threatening to spill.

It almost worked, until you tried to breathe.

A full sob escaped in that one gulp of air and you succumbed to it. But the loud crunching noise of some pedestrian walking over the falling leaves destroyed your sense of privacy, and you quickly wiped away all signs of your breakdown. The crunching stopped just short of your bench and on instinct you flicked your eyes up to see who the intruder was.

You did a double take. It was him. That fucking asshole.

He was standing there, looking dumber than you could even remember, with his hands in his coat pockets and a curious look on his face as he watched you cry. Tucking your sketchbook under your arm in haste, you made it a point to stand up with as much aggression as possible, rolling your eyes at him.

“Don’t worry, I’m leaving,” you barked. “No need to yell at me this time.”

You bristled past him, barely refraining yourself from checking his shoulder as payback. You wanted to believe you were better than him, but it did sound incredibly tempting. He stood there for a moment before turning on his heel and following you.

“Wait,” he groaned.

You didn’t listen, neither stopping nor slowing down.

“I said wait,” he huffed as he caught up to you, popping up at your side and jogging along as you kept going.

“Yeah, because I need to listen to a guy who yells at strangers in bookstores.”

Now that you’d brought up the elephant in the room, your feet started moving even faster, working double time to get you away from him.

Damn the fact that he had those long legs. He didn’t even break a sweat trying to keep up. He was inescapable.

“Well, if you waited like I asked, you would’ve gotten an apology for the ––”

“Gee, thanks!” you yelled, stopping for only a second to turn to him and give him a mocking bow of your head, hands clasped together like you were praising at his altar. “I was waiting with bated breath for that! Thank you, kind sir, for now my life can go on.”

“Look, I’m actually sorry,” he snapped. Then in realizing the irony, softened his voice, “I’m sorry for being rude. I was having a bad day… not that that’s an excuse.”

You stared at him blankly, just watching his mouth moving quickly and waiting until it finally stopped.

“Did you need something?”

“Did you… did you not hear what I just said?!”

“No, sorry,” you smiled, voice sweet like sugar. “My ears filter bullshit. Wanna try again?”

He scoffed, looking away like he couldn’t believe you before stepping even closer. “What’s your problem?”

“Me!? The fuck –– what the fuck is your problem?” You turned and stormed off again, seething at his audacity. Spencer just couldn’t relent his annoying tendencies and followed yet again.

“My problem is that I’m trying to be nice, and you’re not letting me!”

You got a good, hard laugh out of that. “Okay, first of all, having to apologize for yelling at me and pushing me isn’t exactly the best starting point for the journey of becoming a nice person.”

“Like I said, I was having a bad day.”

Under your breath, you muttered, “Well, I hope this one’s even worse.”

“Why are you such a ––” He stopped himself from finishing that thought. Even in his worst mood, he wouldn’t cross that line.

But he didn’t need to finish it, you knew exactly where he wanted to take it. The soles of your shoes scraped against the loose gravel as you came to a grinding halt, ears ringing.

“A what?” You turned to face him, a sarcastic smile on your face growing wider as he started to shrink more and more. You got up close in his face, daring him to say what he really wanted to. So he could reinforce your belief in exactly the type of person he was. “A what?”

Spencer pursed his lips and shook his head, refusing to say it no matter how much you challenged him. If he wasn’t going to have the balls to say it, you decided to take it upon yourself.

“Tell you what, you keep thinking about it and get back to me the next time you’re in a cunty mood.”

The word he was thinking of was probably not as bad, but you had a habit of escalating things. Even if you took this one too far, you didn’t care.

Before you tried to take off again, Spencer’s hand flew to your elbow. He tugged you back, forcing you to turn around and face him. He didn’t know his own strength; without any resistance, you came stumbling into his chest, at risk of falling over if it weren’t for his tight grip on your arm.

It took you a beat to push him away with both your hands on his chest, vocalizing your disgust for being so close to him.

“Can you stop trying to disagree with me for a second? I’m trying to tell you that you’re right, I was being a… well, you know…” He avoided the word. Apparently ‘cunt’ was where he drew the line. “I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve it.”

Your nostrils were still flared and blood hot as ever, but he made you pause. He looked sincere, if not a little tinged with guilt as well. You were suspicious of it.

“You saw me crying and felt bad, didn’t you?”

He laughed darkly. “Well, I saw you, yes. Did I feel bad? No.”

“Oh, my God,” you growled, berating yourself for getting close to believing he might be capable of decency.

“I’m joking! I’m joking.” He squeezed your elbow twice in earnest. “I did feel bad, but that’s not why I wanted to say it.”

“Okay.” You weren’t ready to give him a real smile, so you flattened your lips into a thin line and nodded once slowly, and left it at that.

You still weren’t a fan, but the apology did dampen some of the resentment. Maybe he wasn’t the worst person alive. You’d settle for saying top ten most annoying, instead.

Minutes later, you came to the startling realization that he was still on the path, just two paces behind you. You flinched when you saw him out of the corner of your eye, not expecting him to still be here.

“Uhm. Where are you… why are you still following me?”

“I’m not. My car’s that way,” he gestured to the parking lot at the end of the long walkway. “I forgot my loaf for the ducks.” He didn’t mean to offer that information up, it just slipped out. He could practically see your smug expression coming before it even got there.

“You’re not supposed to feed bread to the ducks. It’s bad for them.”

“I don’t.” He didn’t care to explain this to you, but he couldn’t have you thinking he was any less competent than he really was. “It’s a special bread made from water and seeds that were ground into flour. It’s duck-safe.”

“They make duck-safe bread?” Now that was something you’d never heard before.

“No… I make duck-safe bread,” he said softly under his breath.

You didn’t know how else you were supposed to react to that besides laughing wildly.

“You make it?” He nodded like you were the crazy one here. As if he wasn’t the one spending his spare time grinding up seeds and baking loaves of bread for ducks, donning a frilly pink apron and oven mitts as he did so. At least that’s how you imagined it. “Why not just feed them the seeds?”

“Because, loose seeds will sink in the water and can potentially clog waterbeds and cause foreign bacteria growth in the pond.”

“So you… hand-make the seeds into a little loaf of bread so it doesn't do that?”

He confirmed. You pondered silently for a moment, then absolutely had to ask, “You ever eaten the duck bread before?”

Spencer was caught off guard by that question. His cheeks deepened to a rosy color.

“Yeah, well, it was the house so…” he laughed nervously and stared at his sneakers. “It’s actually not too bad.”

You weren’t entirely surprised by that. You remembered what his grocery basket looked like, and given those same options, you probably would’ve tried the duck bread too. Still, you cracked the smallest of grins at knowing he makes bread for ducks. The one, sole redeeming fact you’ve learned about Spencer.

You reached your car first, and Spencer stopped in front of it with you.

“I’m actually sorry, you know,” he whispered once more, hand resting at the top of your car door as you opened it. He wasn’t talking about the incident at the bookstore.

“Yeah…” For a while you were so busy being angry at Spencer that you forgot about your own problems.

He noticed your nose was still red around the edges, eyes still a little bleary. “Are you okay, by the way?” His voice was too soft, too genuine.

You shook your head no.

“Is there anything I can do?” You shook your head again. And then you had an awful thought.

You knew he was just offering to help just to say it, because that’s how people react when you say you’re not okay even if they don’t care. But there actually was something he could do for you… Something that Penelope could do.

“Uh, no but…” you fixed your hair and tucked it behind your ear, seamlessly switching to a flirtier voice. “If you still feel bad about the other day, you’re welcome to make it up to me.”

Spencer cocked his head to the side, unsure of how he could do that.

“Hang out with me sometime.”

“H-hang out?” You could tell that it flustered him, even if he tried to play it off. He swallowed thickly, nose twitching and brows scrunched together.

“Relax, I really do just mean hang out.” You were lying through your teeth. He didn’t need to know that.

As if he didn’t want to think about it for a second longer and just get out of this conversation as quickly as possible, he agreed without thinking it through. He didn’t even ask why an almost complete stranger would want to hang out with him.

You stuck your hand out, expecting him to hand over his cell so you could put your contact into it. He rocked on the balls of his feet, watching as you input your contact and sent yourself a text on his phone.

“Hi, this is…” you read out your message as you typed, pausing at just the right place. “What’s your name by the way?”

“Oh-uh, I’m Spencer.”

A devilish grin took over your face, hidden from his view while you were looking down at the screen. He was going to be easy to fool.

agh! im still not in love with how this chapter is turning out, but it came to a point where i just had to stop fiddling with it and just post it. any feedback or comments about this story is very much appreciated 💕

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chocominnie · 3 years ago

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One Last Time — 05

⇢ pairing: Jimin X Reader

⇢ Genre: Idol!Jimin, Exbf!Jimin, model!reader, sad au, fluff, tons of smut, angst

⇢ Synopsis: Your idol ex boyfriend Jimin cheated on you. You two have been broken up for a while now and the media has been keeping track of you and him. You’re trying to get over him, but the things that happen inbetween makes you re-think the entire breakup, and so does Jimin…

⇢ Song : xxxxx

⇢ Previous : 00 01 02

⇢ Word Count : 3k

⇢ Warnings: dominant jimin, makeout sessions, this is honestly a sad angsty au, cheating, pregnancy, unprotected and protected sex, a bunch of sex, no really a LOT of sexual themes too, I know I’m forgetting some but sorry in advance!

⇢ Copyright: please do NOT repost, translate, or modify my works in any way, shape or form, on any platform. If found doing so , it is considered as plagiarism and appropriate LEGAL action will be taken

⇢ Authors note: This is my mini series for the summer! Get your tissues, things to take your anger out on, and sit back and watch the drama unfold. Shall we begin?

The scent of vanilla with a hint of cinnamon is what wakes you up from your sleep. Hair and body tangled in-between the blankets, which lets you know you you had tossed and turned once again. The frizzball on your head is definitely going to be a challenge to work with. Stretching your limbs, you let out a small yawn only for your hands to drop back down and feel nothing but cold emptiness.

Was it a dream? Dream? You didn’t even have one of your night terrors for the first time in a year. The dream to you seemed rather pleasent. Jimin tangled up in your arms as he holds you tight while you breathe into his bare chest. The warmness is something you had longed for once again and it all felt surreal.

‘‘ You awake yet?’‘

The voice startles you, making you drop your phone onto the comforter and turn your head towards the bedroom door where it came from. His blonde hair and small smile peep through the door, hoping to atleast get a better reaction out of you.

So it is real.

“ You’re really here? Did I bump my head too hard to where im imagining things?” You pull the covers close to you for security. Just as in your dream, there he is barechest and all.

He lets out a squeaky laugh followed by a smile as he comes towards your bed, tapping them to give you a signal to open. You raise an eyebrow but oblige, spreading them a bit only for him to sit inbetween them. It feels as if you’re heart might explode with the sudden flirtacious moves from him. Something you have been wanting but still aren’t used to.

‘‘ You slept so good that you don’t remember last night?”

You look at him eyes wide and then down to your body, “ Please tell me we didn’t-’’

‘‘ As much as I would of love to, No.’‘

A shot of relief flows through you but sadness soon comes over. He isn’t yours to be thinking these sorts of things. He isn’t yours in general. It wouldn’t be right for him to say things like that to you, while still entangled with another female.

‘‘ Why so sad?” His hands comes to your face to caress your cheeks. You shake your head softly then grab his hand to slowly lower it back down.

Jimin sighs, “ Baby just tell me whats wrong.’’

That word. That word you know always messes things up with your thoughts. Your emotions, hell everything in your body too.

You slowly make your way off of the bed, not interested in the conversation anymore. It’s not like you don’t want to continue, you do, but the guilt of everything that comes with it is enough to stir you away.

‘‘ Jimin don’t use that word. You technically still belong to Isabel.”

‘‘ Is she here at this very moment?” He cocks his head to the side with a smirk. You roll your eyes in response to his cockiness.

‘‘ No. That doesn’t change the fa-”

‘‘ Alright then. Now are you going to tell me what’s really on your mind or do I have to force it out?” He raises his hands and scrunches them with grabby motions. You don’t fall for it though.

You make your way to the doorway, “ That’s all Jimin. I promise. Just call me by my real name okay?’’

But that’s not what you want. What you want you know you can’t have. It’s not because you can’t have it because you want too. It’s just that it would make you feel like a terrible, horrible person. The look on his face when you say those words almost make you give in. Those puppy eyes caught yours and for a split second you almost consider it but don’t. It’s hard for you, it really is. Having something dangling in your face but you’re too concious to have it.

He’s still not yours.

With the morning being spent eating a good breakfast Jimin made your favorite pancakes. You watched him carefully, the way his hair bobbed up and down a bit while his right arm whisked the batter quickly. He seemed so natural and comfortable as if he was used to doing this for you. With your elbows on the island counter and head in your hands while you’re seated, you can’t help yourself to stare at the back of him and let the memories float in your mind.

Memories that never fade from you. It’s cute of him to steal glances of you here and there when pouring the batter into the pan. The small winks he gives you makes your heart flutter and the blood rush to your cheeks. It feels rather good to you to have his presence here. Despite the guilty feeling in the pit of your stomach.

The rest of the day you two decide to lounge around. Endless movies and tv shows throughout the day as you’re cuddled up next to him with a pink colored blanket for the two of you to share. Clara seems to enjoy her time with him too since she won’t let him put her down. She meows loudly with every movement of him. Such a drama queen.

‘‘ Jimin it’s getting late..” You pause, looking up at him. He gives you a small frown when he sits up in hopes you won’t finish your sentence. “ She might begin to worry you’re not home yet.”

Jimin ignores your comment only to latch onto your body a little more rougher, arms not wanting to let go. You giggle before running your fingers through his hair as his head lays softly onto your chest. You wan’t him to leave mentally, but your body wants to hold on to him for way much longer.

‘‘ Your heartbeat is soothing to me.”

It always has been. Anytime he just wanted to talk when you were in a relationship, he would lay you down and then lay himself on you with his ear pressed against your chest. Some days he would have been happy to talk, others, he just wanted to lay there to fall asleep.

‘‘ Seriously Jimin. You should leave.”

He shakes his head, ‘’ Shhh. Jungkook is coming soon and I would love to sit here and have you to myself.’’

You raise an eyebrow is confusion, “ Why is he coming here?’’

‘‘ I kind of sort of lost my keys to my home. Isabel came yesterday to give the copy’s she went and made when we were at Ryan’s office. I left the house key with Jungkook while going after you instead of putting it on my keychain right away.”

So that explains why she came. It also would of been better to have touch pad, or even facial recognition to enter the home. Anyone can just copy the key to your home. The fans are already crazy enough after that time you two saw one trying to follow you into your used-to-be shared apartment. It didn’t end so well either.

“ Why don’t you have touch-pad?” You say, sitting up with a disappointed look.

‘‘ Funny story. When the house was made I thought keys would be better than touch-pad on the outside because any paparazzi who manages to get through the front could snap pictures of the code. So why not use a key right?’‘

You just sigh and shake your head in disappointment, not even wanting to explain why that would still be a dumb idea. “ Whatever makes you happy.”

‘‘ But if you were there you would of stopped me.. right?”

Your eyes shoot down to him only to see him staring right back up into yours. The butterflies in your stomach begin to flutter once more. It’s been so long since you felt those.

‘‘ Yes. Yes I would have told you it was a dumb option because nobody can make it past security without calling you first.’‘ You whisper, both of your faces inches away from each other.

‘‘ I thought so. Can I make another dumb suggestion?’‘ His voice says, faint enough for you to hear making the hairs stick up on your neck.

You swallow slowly as chills run down your spine out of anxiety, ‘‘ What?’‘

‘‘ This.’‘

It all feels surreal to you. His lips against yours moving in sync together it’s all just surreal. Within seconds his tongue is swiping against your lips begging for entrance in which you comply. The way his hands rub up and down your thighs is sure to make you moan against the kiss, grabbing them to lead it to your core. He obliges and traces the outline of it outside of your clothing, laying you down gently on the couch in the process.

Until that painful doorbell rings loudly causing you both to groan. Jimin pulls away with a plop noise and give you a wink before lifting off of you to go see who is at the door. Your clothes are ruffled up a bit and that small wet spot between your legs seems to not too noticeable when you fix yourself up quickly.

Sex with Jimin. You almost had sex with Jimin. You feel wrong about it but at the same time you want nothing more to have him make you a screaming moaning mess. You miss him, the way his stroke game is, and everything about him dominating you in the bedroom.

He’s still not yours though.

‘‘ Who is it?’‘

You sit up and fix your hair to at-least look presentable. That kiss meant everything to you. Your feelings and body enjoyed it but your mind did not. It slipped your mind that you should of pulled away. Nothing can replace how it felt to have his lips on yours again.

The door opens revealing Jungkook who’s face is a little red and breathing hard. He runs inside and shoves Jimin out the way before slamming the door shut and locking it with his back against the wall. You furrow your eyebrows and get up from the spot you’re sitting in.

‘‘ Jungkook what’s happening? Why are you run-”

Bang! Bang! Bang!

‘‘ Open the door now! I know you guys are in there! Jimin get your ass out here now!’’

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Your eyes go wide. That voice. That oh so familiar voice is standing right outside your apartment door.

‘‘ I tried telling her you went to practice with Seokjin for some new choreography but she knew I lied. Im sorry I tried to run as fast as I could to my car to get away from her. She followed me here in her car and then I had to run some more up to your apartment.’‘ He breathes hard, handing the new set of keys to Jimin.

Shit! You have no words to say. This wouldn’t of all started if you wouldn’t have been so stubborn yesterday to just take a taxi. You wouldn’t of passed out, he wouldn’t have been here with you all day today.

That doesn’t excuse the fact that this girl is batshit crazy for following Jungkook and showing up at your actual fucking apartment. Jimin looks at you with sorriness in his eyes. You look at him with anger and cross your arms to prove your point as to why he should have left in the first place.

‘‘ Im going outside to talk to her. I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.”

Jimin’s hand pushes down the handle to the door and as soon as he cracks it open, the force of the door pushes open harshly hitting the wall next to it, making him stumble back a little.

‘‘ So you think it is okay to go to your exes apartment? I would never disrespect you like that Jimin, you know that!” Rage has taken upon her, face red and it doesn’t already help that her facial expression is beyond pissed.

Slap!

You watch in horror as her hand connects with his left cheek. Jungkook’s eyes go wide, but then frown into anger before walking over to her. Stomping with each step he takes.

“ Watch what your fucking doing okay? That’s my brother and I certainly do not hit girls but with one click of a button Ryan will be on her way to beat your ass got it?’’

‘‘ Jungkook stay out of this! This isn’t your battle. Now you, you have some nerve letting him inside here. Obviously you were not enough for him to go cheating on you.” Isabel says, stepping away from Jimin and leaving him there at the door.

That one hurt. She does have a point though, you should of made Jimin leave regardless of what he said to you. You got caught up in the moments that weren’t meant to be yours. Its true, she has every right to be mad.

‘‘ I don’t appreciate you being around Jimin..” She inches closer to you, hands on her hips. You begin to back up, eyes to the ground of guilt. If only things wouldn’t have unfolded like this.

‘‘ Your relationship to him is starting to be inapropriate.” Isabel’s eyes make contact with yours when you look up. She looks at you as if you’re disgusting, and you can’t blame her.

‘‘ Isabel..’‘ Jimin warns, coming behind her.

On the heel of her feet, she turns around shaking her head. “You don’t deserve to talk. You care so much about her, but did you forget we are a couple? We may just be cooling things off between us, but you are still mine as I am to you.’‘

Jimin sighs, stopping just behind her, ‘‘ Isabel look..”

“ Jimin..” Jungkook starts, uneasy of what his brother is to say next. You know what’s coming and you know that tone of Jimin’s voice all too well.

The same one he used when breaking up with you. You see the tears well in her eyes. Some part of you feels bad for her because you know those words well. You know that feeling all too good.

‘‘ Are you really breaking up with me because of her? We were doing just fine until she showed back up in the picture. Are you seriously doing this?” Her voice cracks on the last words. That made your heart sting a bit. This isn’t right.

Jimin sighs looking at the two of you back and forth. You are the one for him, it’s no doubt. It was a stupid choice for him to cheat on you. It was a stupid choice for him to leave you in the dust like that. You gave him everything. A loving relationship, a home, happiness, you are the highlight of his days. He misses you just as much as you miss him.

“ Isabel we are through. I’m sorry I couldn’t be the man to your expectations. It’s my fault. All my fault and I shouldn’t have let you belie-”

“ Fuck you. Fuck you Park Jimin.” Her words slice through the air, piercing Jimin right in his heart. It hurt for him to hear that, but he deserves it.

Jungkook doesn’t look so shocked, but he does wish Jimin would have did this else-where other than your apartment. Isabel looks at you with envy, reaching into her small chanel bag for something. Jungkook gives her a warning look to just leave before grabbing your arm to make you stand behind him.

“ Isabel I’ll walk you down. It’s best to just leave it be. Please.” Jimin begs from behind her. You watch the tears roll down her eyes and you still can’t help but to feel guilty.

You are the cause of their breakup. Maybe you really should have minded your business about Jimin. Maybe you shouldn’t have entertained his charming ways at all. Looking back down at her hands, you see a small pocket knife she grips tightly. You tap Jungkook and point which makes him push you behind him even more.

“ It’s a bad idea. You can hurt me but you wont hurt my brother or her.” He says, daring her to make any type of movement towards you.

Jimin comes behind her and attempts to grab the knife in which she slashes his palm on accident trying to push him away. In that quick second, Jimin hisses in pain while pulling away giving Isabel all the time she has to get to you while Jungkook is already across the room for his brother, forgetting you hiding behind him.

‘‘ Shit! Jimin are you okay?” He asks, but then quickly turns to you, “ Quick! Go hide! Hurry! “ Jungkook screams.

‘‘ Isabel this isn’t what he wants. He wants you to be happy and getting back at me will only upset him more!” As if your words would even convince the crazy girl in the slightest.

She just laughs as your words, fastly walking to you who’s, running towards the living area thinking it would cut time shorter if you cut through there to your bathroom.

You aren’t fast enough. She tackles you to the ground where you two rumble around trying to get away from her until she putting all her weight on you as she sits directly on your chest making it hard for you to breathe.

“ Maybe a little mark on your face will tell you to stop home-wrecking people’s relationship.” She raises the knife up high and you watch in horror before she raises it back to in attempt to make a slash on your forehead.

You block each attempt at her trying to slash anything on your face. Your dad always told you to protect your face in self defense and fighting and thats what you do. Only until with one last thrush, the knife connects with your forearm, making a nice sized gash on it.

‘‘ Fuck!”

The voices in your area fade in and out. You look to your left to see Isabel being dragged out by a pair of cops. But the puddle of blood forming around you rapidly sends you into panic. Only you cant panic. You cant speak. Your vision is slowly loosing faith in you.

Open.

Close.

Open.

Close.

Open.

Cl-

273 notes · View notes

nagdabbit · 3 years ago

Text

MY GIRLFRIEND'S COMMENTARY WHILE WATCHING HER FIRST AEW PPV

"my entire fitness goal is hook's shoulder-waist ratio, but with taz's extremely dense neck."

"the funniest thing about wrestling is that this fucking company is trying to make something called a stadium stampede sound both cool, AND serious."

gf: "if you cry listening to a crowd sing judas again, im divorcing you." me: "so that means youre gonna marry me." gf: "i've been bamboozled."

about brian cage: "this man is a huge dork. like, literally, i could fit me in him."

"i dunno what it is, but i would die to protect mr. hangman. he hunk, but he also baby."

thoughtfully, "i bet i could just catch you out of the air like that. i mean, i can squat you, i could probably even curl you like that, too."

because she is deeply in wrestling twitter now: "HOOK! babe, look, its hook! hook hive, rise up!"

"what i love about this feud is that all these men are fuckin' idiots. no brain cells, just shoes and fwiendship."

"what do you mean their tag team isn't just the wild boys, wtf? missed opportunity."

"those kicks are ugly, but i would steal them, too, honestly." *thirty seconds of silence layer* "for you, babe. i'd steal them for you, i mean."

"jon, no, the germs, jon, jesus christ, please dont drink that jon you dumbass."

"i love eddie, but i'm pretty sure we should never hang out. too much extremely new york energy, we would get arrested in like ten minutes. possibly less."

"diorsday device is the funniest shit ive ever fucking heard, how goddamn sad is that."

"max caster is gonna get murdered, but i love him."

"i wish bowens and his extremely attractive boyfriend the best in life."

"colt cabana and tay conti are tied for best smile in wrestling, but tay wins because i dont want colt to kick me in the face."

"penta is the only joker i formally recognize."

"today i found out that some people don't like stu and uno, and to them i say get entirely fucked."

after rush came out and i lost my entire shit: "i don't fully understand yet, but i support you." *one minute later* "oooooooooooohh. okay, yeah."

gf: "i enjoy that cody is pushing ogogo by being a dumb bitch with this america schtick." me: "you gonna say that when cody wins?" gf: "...fuck."

"ogogo got that guy ritchie movie ass music you love to see it."

"you were right about cody and i fuckin' hate it."

"aw yeah, its big boi season."

about miro: "i'm very gay, but the thing is, men with extremely jacked traps just do something to me."

"lance changed changed the color of his extensions and i appreciate that." *thirty seconds later* "are those... three crosses? tattooed on his back? jesus doesnt like murder, i don't think he likes murderhawks, either."

"britt baker is the only dentist i want in my mouth. no, wait, don't type that one!"

"oh, fuck, shidas getting teary i'm gonna fuckin cry, oh fuck, i get it now, i'm so sorry i made fun of you, i love her."

"oh fuck, shida knee me directly in the face."

"britt scares me. like the blood drip details on her gear are really cool, but i would legit believe its real blood from her."

"are you really crying about britt and the nice announcer man hugging?"

"hey, quick question, just real quick while ive got you here... why is the emo twink... like this?"

"darby's dad looks like my dad, and i'll never be okay with that."

"i like that darby just yeets himself around like that. he came in like a wrecking ball. a tiny, tiny wrecking ball."

"sting just tossing his son around the ring like that is very good, but, sir, that's bad parenting."

"the thing about sky and page is that these are the suburb guys i beat up at the beach on summer vacation. they have big "i robbed these guys at the pier" energy."

"damn, darby just feels his emotion with his entire face, doesnt he."

"okay explain the gambling thing and WHY it's a thing."

"orange rolling into the ring is so fucking good, that man is national treasure."

after me showing her the video of younger orange cassidy shitfaced and holding a fish for no reason: "i am shocked and appalled that you're only showing me this now."

after explaining the history of the jansport: "the range of this dumbass."

"i get that kenny is good and all, but his hair really fucks me up. it's upsettingly bad and i hope he knows that."

"pac is just. so much muscle. flippy beef man. a meateor." she did specify how to spell it for the joke because it was important.

"that man is a weeb, isnt he."

"something about a man breaking a hold by putting his hands in his pockets really gets me hype."

"fuck just murder omega and be done i hate this, put it on the beef man or the juicey boy already."

"babe, ill be right back i gotta murder this callis bitch."

screaming, "THAT'S MY FAVORITE REF, YOU UGLY FUCK!"

after kenny won: "i fucking hate wrestling, this is bullshit."

"holy fuck, babe, i forgot mark henry was a wrestle boy! i know him from the olympics!"

"hey, is mark henry bigger than large paul?"

"mjf is a dumb bitch and i love him."

"hey, quick question, who thought repelling down the stadium would look cool, they're so far away."

"there's wardlow, my sweet boy. this is cool now."

she laughed for a solid two minutes at tony schiavone saying, "here comes the little guy."

"i fuckin hate hager. kill him wardlow, kill that crispy maga ass bitch."

"okay what's with the chairs." *after a brief explanation of the chairshot heard round the world* "and, like, he can't just pick a new gimmick? it's been two years, bro. move on, shes not coming back."

"okay, i admit that this is great and i love it, kill that old man on the dancefloor."

upon learning this is technically the main event: "you mean it's over after this? theyre ending the show on THIS? not the triple threat match, this?"

"i just noticed mjf's bedazzled jeans, i'm not angry anymore, this is perfect."

"no, more wardlow. gimme the beef."

"christ, sammy guevara is kinda incredible and i'm fuckin angry about it. why cant inner circle be just sammy and santana and ortiz, fuck the other two."

"no, shut up! i refuse to sing along to this! whats wrong with you?! this is a bad song!"

146 notes · View notes

heyitsyn · 4 years ago

Text

Prince Iwa-Chan

Oikawa!Sister x Iwaizumi Hajime

a/n: it aggravates me that my mans bara-arms-iwa-chan is so UNDERRATED!!!!

requests open!!

like look mom, im in love

ofc youre an oikawa

tbh, i dont think iwa wouldve been comfortable w you when yall first met

lets say youre a year younger than tooru

its a well-known fact that theyve been friends since they were really young so you, being oiks’ baby sister, was also part of your little trio

like lets say they met when they were 6

that would make you about 5

since yall have an older sister, you were exposed to the girly girl stuff like dolls and princesses

ngl, tooru was too thats why hes so flamboyant

but seems his fashion style refutes that

ya didnt hear that from me

anyways

tooru had already developed a deep fascination w volleyball bc he saw it being played during the 2000 summer olympics

but you remained w your sister and continued letting her treat you like a princess

im not really sure how old his sister is but lets say she was about around middle school when you were 5-6

however, tooru still made you play w him even though you didnt know how but you didnt care bc you were close w your brother so you would play ball w him

then came along iwaizumi hajime that tooru met from school

he found out that this boy also liked volleyball and tooru yeeted them both home so they could go and play at the back yard

you peeked from your window and you just thought iwa was the most handsome boy youve ever met

ofc, you just bolted down the stairs to where your brother and his friend was

oiks saw you standing by the door w a red face and him, being still a child and not understanding crushes, thought you were sick

he went to you and beckoned hajime to follow him inside

tooru sat you down and asked if you were okay but you just kept staring at hajime

he figured that you were just confused as to who this person was

‘oh! iwa-chan! this is my little sister, y/n! y/n, this is my classmate, iwaizumi hajime!’

cue iwa hitting him at the head

‘i can introduce myself perfectly fine, bakakawa!’

iwaizumi hajime,,,

iwaizumi hajimeee,

iwaizumi y/n

that thought made you turn even redder and you squealed in embarrassment before running back to your room

lmao what

if your personality doesnt align w this, i deeply apologize

i just think if you were an oikawa, you would bound to immediately also be drawn to this handsome specimen named iwaizumi hajime

he be getting the oikawas though

iwa was actually concerned but oiks waved it off

‘don’t worry, iwa-chan. shes weird like that. lets go toss the ball!’

so that was kinda how he met you

now, since hajime basically lived in your house by how much him and your brother hung out, youve slowly mellowed out and gotten to be friends w him

despite your hatred w bugs, you still went w them to explore just bc you wanted to be around hajime

lmao tooru youre now irrelevant

hajime didnt mind and he always made sure you were okay with the adventures of the day

even though you were only like a year younger, he cant help but baby you bc of your much smaller height than him and overall cute baby face

one day, they both came home from school all sweaty bc they raced home

‘iwa-chan! you can settle in the living room while i go shower!’

‘don’t call me iwa-chan, bakakawa!’

‘then stop calling me that!’

he sat down on the couch and started doing his homework when he heard you come home from school

lmao how do little japanese kids go back and forth from school to home at the age of 6

idek how to cross the street

‘tadaima’

‘oh, okaeri, y/n’

you perked up at his voice and you ran to the living room, seeing him

‘iwa-chan!’

he grunted and you threw yourself to him in a hug

if your personality doesnt align w this, i deeply apologize

i just think if you were an oikawa, you would bound to immediately also be drawn to this handsome specimen named iwaizumi hajime

part 2

tbh it doesnt even faze him anymore since you do this to him every time

he continues doing homework and just wraps one arm around you and starts patting your head

‘tooru-nii?’

‘shower’

‘okay’

then silence

but its the good kind of silence

you and iwa just sit there with you snuggled up on him while he continues to add numbers

then it was ruined

by the pterodactyl oikawa tooru who comes flying down the stairs and glomps on to iwa’s other side

‘y/n-chan! stop hogging iwa-chan!’

‘he’s mine, tooru-nii!!’

you pout while iwa turns and gives him a glare

‘shut up, bakakawa! and stop calling me that!’

‘aahh!! you were mine first, iwa-chan!’

‘i was never yours! be quiet!’

‘itai, iwa-chan!’

‘he’s mine forever! we’re going to get married so butt out, nii-chan!’

‘HAH?!’

once everything calms down, yall actually start your homework and work

‘anything happen today, y/n-chan?’

oikawa always asked that question bc he believes its his duty as older brother to be caught up in your life

thats actually annoying bruv

‘hmm, me and the girls in my class were playing princess tea party today and a boy asked to be my prince.’

‘WHAT!’

oikawa is 7 now and he faintly has an idea about crushes and his father made him promise that he would protect you from nasty boys

‘calm down, bakakawa’

iwa mumbled, continuing his homework but also paying attention

‘WHAT!? NO! WHATD YOU SAY, Y/N-CHAN! YOUR BROTHER IS THE ONLY PRINCE YOU NEED!’

‘i told him i already have a prince’

oikawa was so smug and crossed his arms

‘hm, serves them right-’

‘prince iwa-chan and i are going to get married and live in a castle so there’s no room for anybody else’

iwa had to double check and turned red really fast

like who was this iwa-chan

wait, what his name?

his name has iwa in it

is he iwa-chan?

y/n’s prince iwa-chan?

was he really iwa-chan?

‘NO! YOUR NII-SAN IS YOUR PRINCE! IWA-CHAN CAN BE YOUR KNIGHT OR SOMETHING! BUT IM YOUR PRINCE!’

you glared at tooru and shook your head

‘no. iwa-chan is my prince’

you were so shamless about this fact

lmao i want your confidence

from then on, youve called iwa as your prince

like his name on your phone is literally prince iwa-chan

then when you were in middle school, you’ve started calling iwa as haji-senpai

there wasnt even a large event that spawned this

well,,, actually,,

youve noticed that iwa hated the nickname ‘iwa-chan’ a lot and he hit tooru many times bc of it so you stopped calling him that bc you didnt want him to be mad at you

so you started calling him senpai bc he was technically an upperclassman

when you first called him this, iwa was lowkey shook

‘haji,,,, senpai?’

you nodded from your spot on the couch, not looking up from your homework

‘see? i can only call iwa-chan, iwa-chan! OOF!’

that was iwa hitting tooru at the face with his pencil case

‘y/n, you dont have to call me that. we’ve known each other since we were little so you dont have to call me by an upperclassman term’

you shrugged

‘i know. but you dont like it when you’re called iwa-chan, do you?’

‘not if it’s by this trash’

he jutted a thumb to the fallen tooru

‘so,,,, iwa-chan is fine?’

your eyes sparkled at the permission of being able to freely call him that without worry

he gulps at your face and turns away to hide his red face before nodding

‘my prince iwa-chan!’

‘no! my iwa-chan!’

‘shut up shittykawa!’

‘itai, iwa-chan!’

keeping up with the oikawas

this nickname will forever be stuck

since you went to the same middle school, you were known to be around your brother and iwa and even staying behind for practice to walk home w them

it became a bit of a joke to the team of you picking up your prince

one day, a teammate called iwa, ‘prince iwa-chan’ and he almost busted a fuse

was ready to square up bc only his babie can call him that

but when you came through the door

‘prince iwa-chan! your princess is here!’

he turned all soft and squishy and pats your head so gently that they couldnt believe this is the same boy who is the ace

you were interested in volleyball so you were kinda friends w the team but you didnt really care for the sport, mainly focusing on your academics

thats how it really was for you three

they focused on sports while you studied

oh my here comes highschool

oikawa and iwa were already known throughout the FREAKING PREFECTURE bc of how TALENTED THEY ARE AT VOLLEYBALL

and you were already known by your pretty face and your cute personality

basically genderbent oikawa

and just wanted to stop you from reading by telling you that you are beautiful and you are a KWEEN and you are a GODDESS and confidence is the most beautiful thing to wear and best of all, it’s free!!

ofc, youd have to go to aoba johsai bc your brother was there

‘y/n-chan! you need to go where your brother is! you love him, don’t you?’

‘sure, tooru’

you actually went to seijoh bc you would see iwa

you didnt hear that from me

your first day, boys (and gals) were already flocking towards you when they saw you walking with iwa and tooru

still being the overprotective brother since day1, oikawa was just snarling at anyone getting close to his baby sister

lmao what baby

hes only like a year older

but iwa was being terrirorial protective bc he finds it as an obligation as tooru’s best friend and your childhood friend

when oiks wasn’t paying attention and being drowned by his fangirls, iwa was your bodyguard

there was this one boy who started walking towards you as yall were going to your class but hajime placed an arm around your waist and pulled you closer

‘oh? i’m only at the first floor, iwa-chan. don’t get all clingy now’

lmao, girl hes trying to show that boy that hes your unofficial mans and will cut off his family jewels if he tries to even BREATHE in your direction

umm,,, iwa’s not yandere in this one yall

iwa just rolls his eyes and makes you walk forward until yall are at your door

‘i’ll see you later, iwa-chan!’

‘yea yea. i’ll pick you up’

he starts to walk down the hallway but you poke your head back out and shout

‘i miss you already, prince iwa-chan!’

he turns red all over and freezes for a 0.0002 seconds before raising a hand without turning around

now ladies and genitals

this is when iwa-chan starts to catch feelings like he catches them spikes

your cute smling face and saying his dumb nickname that he actually loves was like a recipe for a stroke for him

it has come to the point at the mere thought of you would make him all flustered and red

it tripled over when this happened:

puberty was kinda late for you and you actually just woke up looking like a goddess one day and you were like, lmao what

your chest just ballooned up and your height just skyrocketed that your skirt was now very short

ew i dont know what i would do in this situation

you were self-conscious about this and was kinda scared

obvs, you would scream for your mother and she and your father and brother bolts up to your bedroom thinking there was a whole michael meyers in your room

but when you explained that your uniform doesnt fit anymore, she starts making appointments to get you fitted for another one

but you had to wait for a few days

so you went to school looking like a whole snacc

more of a snacc than you did before

when iwa saw you, he had a literal nosebleed in the middle of campus and runs to the bathroom to get all cleaned up

why in the name of asahi do you look like that?!

when you saw your prince look at you in horror and run away, you cried

you were already very self-conscious and him doing that just topped the cake

cake that tooru doesnt have

oop imsorry

tooru reassures you that he had a nosebleed and he was just sick and ran to not get any blood on his clothes

but you just walked away with your head down low

it didnt matter to you if this caught all the student body’s attention

that their precious oikawa y/n, little sister of the oikawa tooru, was a walking perfection goddess Venus

all that you cared about was iwa’s opinions bc he was your prince and your best friend

girl, accept that you actually like the mans

this was the worst day of your entire life and you went straight to your locker to get your gym clothes out and wear it for the day

it was tight but at least it covered skin

and it still attracted enough attention to be catcalled and whistled at

it felt violating

the entire morning, there was more attention and more people flocked over to you and guys were staring at you as if you were a piece of meat, not a girl

‘harry potter is a boy! not a piece of meat!’

sorry i cant help it

you were so uncomfortable that you called your brother during lunch time to come pick you up for lunch bc you were too scared to walk alone after being catcalled during your walk to your class

tooru sends out iwa to go help you as an apology from this morning and he just runs to your class bc you were in trouble and he was going to protect you!!

go iwa-chan!

he finds you sitting on your chair, looking down at your desk as there seemed to be boys piled up on top of each other, trying to get your attention

first world problems, amirite

‘OI!’

that angry grunt but at 2x bass boosted

hearing his voice, you were still embarrassed from earlier but you were so relieved

‘iwa-chan!’

iwa pushes people away and he grabs your hand to pull you up before wrapping an arm around your waist, protectively

‘if i see you idiots making her uncomfortable or even trying to touch her, i will destroy you’

protection and the feeling of safety is my fave

he leads you out of there to the stairway where him and his teammates were eating

he held your hand tightly and you squeezed it, trying to show that you were grateful

even if they were still male, your brother was there and if something happened, they were both strong enough to take them on

besides, its just mattsun and maki anyways

tooru saw you and he hugged you before leading you to the 2 others

‘guys, this is y/n, my sister. that’s mattsun and that’s makki.’

you slightly smiled and raised a hand in greeting

‘yo’

‘hello’

to be safe, iwa made you sit a step down from him so that if something happens, he could protect you

idk how but you do you boo

‘i can protect her too, iwa-chan!’

‘shut up, shittykawa. youre literally sticks and bones’

‘so mean! iwa-chan, you’re so mean!’

you giggled, head leaning down to rest on iwa’s right thigh since you were full and tired and he runs his hand through your hair

mattsun and makki shared a look before asking

‘are you dating our ace, y/n-chan?’

at the mention of dating, you both turned red and you sat up

‘OF COURSE NOT, MATTSUN, MAKKI!’

iwa shouts but his red face and ears betrayed him

‘iwa-chan grew up with us so he’s naturally like that. we’ve adopted him into our family!’

oikawa explained but you looked at him and he gave you a knowing look

oh he noticed everything

the lingering looks during practice

the bashful smiles during hang outs at home

unnecessary touches during the walk to school

oikawa may be annoying but he’s observant and he is smart

after that fiasco, the two boys were a little wary of letting you walk home alone so iwa offered to take you since he was already making more progress and didnt need extra practice while tooru wanted to practice more

‘iwa-chan, can we go to your house this time?’

he turned to look at you curiously since you never ask to go to his place

‘i miss your mom and ive been meaning to go visit her. so can we, iwa-chan?’

you squeezed his hand and showcased your pleading look making him agree

‘fine’

his house wasn’t a frequently hung out spot since your house was closer but you were still familiar with his home since his mother was fond of you

‘tadaima’

mama iwaizumi peaked from the kitchen and greeted him home before squealing at the sight of the youngest oikawa

‘oh my, y/n-chan! hello!’

‘hello, auntie!’

she gave you a big hug and you returned it with a laugh

iwa just standing there to the side with a smile bc his mom approves so all is good in life

‘you’ve grown so much, y/n-chan! so much prettier too!’ you turned bashful at her compliments.

then she leaned forward to whisper in your ear but made her voice loud

‘say, has my son finally ask you to be his girlfriend?’

omg mama iwaizumi really ships it

iwa turns red and complains to his mom about being in his business too much

‘don’t be so timid, hajime! y/n-chan could be taken from under your nose any minute now!’

‘dont you think i know that’ he mumbles but very lowly so that no one hears him

but you decide to tease him more

‘no. but i’m waiting for it. i’ll tell you once he does, auntie!’

fed up with the teasing, he grabs you and drags you up to his room to change into comfortable clothing

you sit on his bed while he rummages through his closet for a sweatshirt and sweatpants

‘here! change into these!’ he shouts, still flustered and refusing to look at your eyes

youre an oikawa and you lived to tease so you stood up, tossing the clothes to the side and wrapping your arms around his neck

ooo gurl you want iwa to die today, don’t you?

he gets even redder and scowls

‘oi, y/n, what are you doing’

you shook your head

‘nothing. i just miss my prince iwa-chan. you were so brave for saving me today, prince iwa-chan’

the nickname used to not affect him that much but now, he watches the it fall from your cherry lips

‘say my name’

you furrowed your eyebrows

‘iwa-chan?’

he gently shakes his head no

‘my real name’

‘iwaizumi hajime’

you say, distracted at the way his mouth moves

‘and what’s yours?’

‘iwaizumi y/n’

you breathed out

he growls softly before taking your sinful lips

wowza jesus took the wheel bc he stepped on that pedal

we going straight 100 mph up in this bih

iwa really said, ‘skip the confession. imma go straight for my babie girl’s lips. also, proposal who? let’s go get married in vegas!’

it wasnt even been literally 15 minutes until you came bounding the stairs wearing hajime’s signature grey hoodie with his seijoh sweatpants and calling for your auntie to announce you were now dating are going to get married

‘WHAT!?’

she screams and comes running from the kitchen, holding a ladle

you flashed a grin while iwa shows a small smile with red cheeks from behind you before telling you that you were both too young to get married

‘i told ya you would be the first to know’

after dinner, you call your brother and hes like, ‘okay, since you’re not at home i’m assuming youre at iwa’s’

‘omgomgomg, nii-chan! i just had dinner with my boyfriend’s family! they accepted me!’

‘BOYFRIEND?! DOES IWA-CHAN KNOW!? HOW COULD YOU BREAK HIS HEART?!’

oikawa just has that special type of voice that even without being on speaker phone, it sounds like he is

iwa laughs at his friend’s worried questions

‘better hand over your princess to the prince, grand king’

oikawa screamed

i hope i did my mans justice

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thequibblah · 3 years ago

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hi so i'm looking for some new music to listen to and i thought you could help because you have great taste!

if this helps, i'll tell you what i normally listen to, which is very basic & basically the same few artists over and over lol

- mostly just taylor swift, she makes up 70+% of my listening probably haha and if i had to pick a favorite genre of hers it would be the folkmore style

- some other pop, like olivia rodrigo and conan gray and lorde & some doja cat but i'm not a huge fan of doja's lyrics

- lyrics are really big for me, so is having a pretty voice and nice melodies

- i love your playlists but the old songs are usually not my style (there's been some though that i really like, ty for that !! <3)

- ceremonials is my favorite florence album

- liability is my favorite lorde song

no problem if u don't want to!

OH i basically recommend things for a living so why not music, eh?

so. what i'm getting from this is that you have three big listening buckets: soft acoustic and indie pop and just plain old pop. so i will divide my recs by those broad genres! i too prefer singable music so i will try to lay off on especially dissonant artists, or mark them as such so you can be prepared (LOL)

acoustic/folksy (i'll admit i am a big indie pop girl so this stuff will be a bit sparser)

phoebe bridgers — admittedly she is more alt-rocky, but see garden song, savior complex, moon song, graceland too, prayer in open D

waxahatchee — can't do much (GOD THIS SONG), lilacs, st. cloud

lucy dacus — also more alt-rocky, but here r some softer jams: hot & heavy, christine, green eyes, red face (a jily song)

anything by first aid kit! start with stay gold and the lion's roar

hozier — i feel like most people on the internet have listened to SOME hozier but check out wasteland, baby! (i tried to pick individual songs and ended up listing most of the album LOL)

kacey musgraves — another artist you've probably listened to already, but try golden hour

brittany howard — stay high must be the sweetest song in existence, and basically all of her album jaime

arlo parks — the whole album but especially caroline, hurt, and black dog

lake street dive — i can change, good kisser (a mary song if i've ever heard one), and i adore their hall & oates cover!

anya marina — this whole album has had me by the throat since like 2013

lucius — just the whole album wildewoman, h/t @figg-anon for putting me onto this!

idk what tf genre fiona apple is but try her out as well!

artists i listen to less of but are in this vein: the lumineers, bon iver, vance joy

u know i had to rec some old people shit (LOLLLL), so in this vein, joni mitchell, heart, judee sills, emmylou harris, joan baez, vashti bunyan

one-off songs you might like: hold you now by vampire weekend, big wheel by samia, i eat boys by chloe moriondo, strawberry blond by mitski (i worship at the altar of mitski but she might not be your speed haha), like i used to (acoustic) by sharon van etten & angel olsen, body by julia jacklin, jackie onassis by sammy rae and the friends, cowgirl bebop by HANA

indie pop BELOVED

maggie rogers — ok i cannot recommend this higher like if u like lorde and conan gray drop everything now and mainline maggie's brilliant debut album

HAIM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! — they've got poppier songs like want you back and more mellow songs like summer girl, but honestly i would just recommend a deep dive because they have a pretty surprising breadth within their own alt-rock/pop niche

caroline polachek — can sometimes get way out n weird in the pop sense but so hot you're hurting my feelings is a very listenable pop standard (also it's so funny she's such a clever lyricist also this is irrelevant here but she sounds amazing live), also love look at me now and her cover of breathless

charli xcx is more experimental pop but would rec trying out warm (FT HAIM!!!), blame it on your love (FT LIZZO!!), and official

rina sawayama — technically her album is all sorts of genres but especially XS, comme des garcons, paradisin', bad friend, and tokyo love hotel

orla gartland is a lil softer and i love more like you, oh GOD, and did it to myself

king princess — especially cheap queen, 1950, holy, but basically all of cheap queen

more one-offs: kansas by ashe, comeback by CRJ (full paean in her honour to come in the pop section), i am a big fan of other people covering the bleachers (LOL) especially rollercoaster by charli xcx and i wanna get better by tinashe (full tinashe praise to come too), saturdays by twin shadow (FT HAIM!!!), the kiss of venus and 3 nights by dominic fike (also his interlude on halsey's album), aute cuture and milionària by rosalía, young lover by st. vincent (i love her but again might not be for u haha), good days by sza, backyard boy by claire rosinkranz, slow dancing by aly & aj, hot sugar by glass animals

if ur down to try out something weird witchy and cool, kate bush is like the originator of 9 billion pop and rock genres and hounds of love is a masterpiece

pure pop (we can split hairs on what makes pure pop LOL but basically everything here is based on ur enjoyment of doja)

carly rae jepsen — ok if u haven't listened to her non-radio-hits u may be like "what?? call me maybe lady???" to which i say YES, especially window, stay away, no drug like me, and too much

victoria monet — this may or may not be a selling point to you, but victoria is a frequent ariana grande collaborator and you can absolutely hear it in her music (see also: the mattress spring background noises in dive JUST like they are in positions...), and i love experience, go there with you, and we might even be falling in love, and why not throw in her ariana grande collab monopoly

magdalena bay — how to get physical which i am destined, nay, contractually bound, to put in a jily modern AU someday, killshot, stop & go

tinashe — basically ALL of her new album!!! SO good. i also love rascal (superstar), esther, and old jams like company (and i JUST found out she has a chaka khan cover!)

chloe x halle have the most angelic vocals in the world

this might sound actually demented because WHO hasn't heard love on the brain but rly... go give ANTI a re-listen...

tove lo — especially are u gonna tell her, mateo, and jacques

WAIT I FORGOT TO SAY ROBYN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! EVERY ROBYN SONG!!!!!!!

for that throwback poppy sound u may as well go real throwback KJAHKJA and check out donna summer!

one-offs: right to it by louis the child n ashe, serial lover by kehlani (also more by her but im getting lazy now kdjfhgk), missed calls by max n hayley kiyoko, peppers and onions by tierra whack, idk who hasnt heard this song but circles by meg, todo de ti by rauw alejandro (the way i wanted this to be song of the summer so bad ;___;)

hope you enjoy and pls come back and tell me if you really liked any of these!!!! xoxo

#genuinely i have revealed so much about myself w this i feel like you could pick me out of a spotify lineup HAHHAAH #ask me #anon #music disk horse

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deripmaver · 3 years ago

Note

4 5 6 for ALL OF THE CaPri FANFICS

LKSJMDHGVLKSJ ALL OF THEM???

4: What’s your favorite line of dialogue? 5: What part was hardest to write? 6: What makes this fic special or different from all your other fics?

Ink On Paper (tongue fic) 4. lmfaoooooooo there isn't a whole lot of dialogue in this one oop-

Laurent nodded. The wax softened as he pressed his hand into it, erasing his previous message. Soft, warm, melting under his touch. He wrote again, I need someone who is not afraid to read out the insults I make towards the idiots at court. You have been fired, Damianos.

i guess it technically counts lmfao. i just wanted to show laurent post-trauma still able to make jokes and snipe at his husband so it wasnt all doom and gloom 5. i'm not sure exactly what "hardest to write" here means because like... a lot of these fic have serious gore or otherwise upsetting content, but both emotionally and actually writing wise i find that kind of thing actually pretty easy to write hahahaha. i think i got stuck with the chronology and the decision to make it non-linear made it flow a lot better. for the record writing laurent getting raped and then having his tongue cut out was actually very easy to write, i think i got it out in basically one go. #cancelme the more fucked up and intense the easier i find to nyoom through it 6. my first ever fic in the capri fandom!!!! hehehehhehehe <333333 Level Of Concern (plan B fic) 4.

Before Nicaise could say anything, Laurent spat, “Does he know you had your first heat?”

SURPRISE nic was the one who was pregnant the whole time!!!!!!! 5. this one i banged out REALLY quickly so i cant think of anything here 6. capri omegaverse!!!!!!! i wish there was more of this 🥺🥺🥺 Like Me (what if Auguste was also abused fic) 4. ******CW INCEST MENTION CW ABUSE MENTION******

“Your brother’s stuck his dick in every single member of your family,” Auguste spat out, laughing, crying, and so miserable he thought his heart would stop. His voice rose again, and he felt something burst from him as he screamed for the whole world to hear, “Did you know that? Did you, huh papa? Did he fuck you too?”

dude this line is so fucked up lmfao but i enjoyed writing it so much. actually this entire scene where auguste is having his breakdown was really intense to write and im really pleased with how it came out OR

Auguste grabbed him suddenly, looking up into his grief-stricken face desperately. “Please, Laurent,” he pleaded, voice breaking. “Please. Don’t let him end up like me.”

i felt entirely too clever with this line lmfao. i was like ~ooooohhhhh title drop~ im so dumb 5. i just remember this one like. dragged on for some time. i couldnt figure out what to do with it, how to get everything to coalesce around the final reveal about auguste 6. plot twist!!!!!!! plus auguste angst. i really enjoyed this one, i wrote it after watching the movie Spotlight which is one of my all time faves Softly, Gently 4.

“My King has been overexerting himself again, I presume?” Paschal sighed, shaking his head with a fond smile. “When have I ever done that?” Laurent cocked his head to the side, a wry smile on his face.

hehehehe sassy laurent my beloved <33333 5. honestly im just going to skip this one from now on lskjghmvlksjhglkvsjhdl i just get "stuck" sometimes without rhyme or reason and its usually on boring stuff, but then i cant remember later. the hardest part for me is when my dumb fucking adhd brain wont let me focus on writing but once i overcome that its usually pretty smooth sailing 6. horny omegaverse.................... my beloved............... giving men vaginas for horny reasons my beloved......................... Water of Life (birth fic)

“Do you want to hold him?” Erasmus breathed, eyes glassy. The baby cried, Erasmus bouncing him tenderly in those sunkissed arms. He looked apologetic. “Only for a moment, it’s not quite over yet.” A playful smile danced on Erasmus’ lips, and he brushed away a slick, damp curl from the wailing baby’s head. “A head this big, he certainly takes after Exalted.”

a cute, fun lil line in the sea of horrible angst lmfao ORRRRRR

Erasmus knelt before Damen, before Laurent. He said, “Exalted… Can you command his Highness to push?” Damen froze. “Do you mean…?” Erasmus nodded. “Alpha command.” Damen’s expression crumpled. He said, in a voice that shattered Erasmus’ heart, “I can’t. I can’t do that to him.” Erasmus licked his lips. “Exalted, in this state, he can’t push. His contractions are weaker. He’ll-” “I can’t,” Damen cried, clinging to Laurent’s limp body like a lifeline. “He’d… He’d never forgive me.”

damen is so sweet........ he loves laurent so much...... ORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR

He stopped at the doorframe, turning to face Laurent with tears in his eyes, and whispered, “How long does it take, your Highness?” Laurent, shocked enough to respond, hissed, “What?” “I still wake up in the middle of the night thinking of it,” Erasmus said, voice thick in his throat, tears burning at his eyes. “How long until it’s over?”

real sad hours if u up click like. i love erasmus and laurent bonding over their shared trauma <33333333333333333333 laurent and erasmus friendship propaganda 24-fucking-7 bay bee!!!!! 6. unironically this is one of my fav fic ive ever written skdljmfhgvlksjdhflmgkvjshldkjfghvmls call the midwife is one of my favorite shows and writing this made me look at birth as something visceral and possibly horrible and traumatic. i wanna write more fucked up birth scenes, SO MANY MORE. ridley scott knew what he was doing Sandalwood (erasmus/kallias my sweet boys i love u so much) 4.

“I do,” Erasmus breathes, ducking his head, flushed as though embarrassed. “In the gardens, the perfume from the orange trees all around us on those summer nights.” Kallias smiles behind him – Erasmus knows his body so intimately he can feel it in how Kallias’ posture changes, though he can’t see the soft turn of his lips. “The scent was so cloying I thought it would drive me mad. It made me want to kiss you senseless.” Erasmus laughs, breathlessly, imagining the warm heat of Kallias’ mouth against his. “Don’t blame that on the orange trees, dear one.”

beloved..................... im weeping.......... 6. these two make me fuckign CRY ON THE REG I LOVE THEM SO MUCH MY SWEET BOYS YOU DESERVE THE WORLD- Wisps of Smoke******************* (lauguste fic) 4. ***CW EXPLICIT INCEST*** (i mean....... obviously lmfao)

“Call me what I like,” Auguste growled against his ear. “You know what I like.” He did. Laurent did. He knew everything Auguste liked – the slow flick of Laurent’s tongue on the underside of his cock, that tender spot behind his earlobe, the way Laurent’s thighs looked straddled atop him like his horse – and this. “Brother,” Laurent gasped, desperate, “Brother, please, harder. Harder.”

i wanted the incest to be explicitly part of the kink here lmfaoooooo 6. hehehehehehehhehehehhehe lauguste................... i need to write more of u But I Love It (laurent is allergic to latex fic) 4.

“Laurent,” Auguste said, voice high in warning. Laurent braced himself, stiffening visibly. With what seemed to be monumental effort, Auguste continued, “You know, Laurent. I’m proud of you.”

IM A SOFT BITCH OK???????????????? auguste is PROUD of his baby bro for overcoming his sexual trauma and getting that fat dick 6. SLJHVDLMKJDHGVLK PEOPLE FUCKING LOVED THIS FIC i tried to be funny and i think it worked. plus some softe bits thrown in. i also kind of see lots of humor fic where its a no abuse au, but i wanted to write something comedic where the regent still. existed u kno????? anyways hahahahha i dont think i can write anything like this again but im glad y'all liked it Is It Cold In The Water (slice of life fic) 4.

Laurent opens his mouth to say something cheeky, but instead, what comes out is: “Do you think Aimeric had the right idea?” Damen is quiet for so long, gaze serious and framed with his long, dark lashes, that Laurent wonders if he’d spoken aloud at all – and when he’s sure he had, he realizes Damen had remembered Aimeric after all. When he speaks again, the sleep is gone from his voice. “Laurent,” Damen says carefully, as though approaching a spooked horse, “Is something wrong?”

🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 soft,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, 6. ruby likes this fic lskjdvhmflgksfjdhmvglkjsdhflkvgmjhlekjfhdvlgskjfhv im a SIMP- The Devil's Got Nothing On Me (AIMERIC FIC LEGGOOOO) 4. there are lots of lil nuggets in here!!!!

Aimeric blinks, and all he can think is, you knew? He says, "I – I just." "I am a patient man," Guion breathes, "I support everyone in my household. Everyone. But Aimeric, you are truly testing my patience. Your mother came to me in tears, begging me to find you. Look at what you did to her! There was nothing I could say until we found you!" "I'm sorry," Aimeric whispers, looking at Loyse, "I'm-" "Look at me," Guion roars.

this conversation was inspired by a very miserable encounter with my boss lmfao. fuck that guy and fuck guion

The regent, blue eyes sparkling - and Aimeric has never thought eyes could look just like a summer sky until now - says to Guion but really to Aimeric, "I was thinking I could take little Aimeric riding tomorrow. Just the two of us." Loyse says, before Guion can speak, voice trembling with relief, "I think that's a wonderful idea, your Highness."

~dramatic irony~ lmfaoooooooooo. WE know of course that this is a bad thing, but it's always fun to have characters make bad choices that they have no idea are bad. i also did this briefly in "Like Me" with auguste's ex wife taking nicaise to church because she was so overwhelmed at home and he offered to help. of course, the regent is always happy to help out. evil evil evil

"-was worried it might be difficult for him." A soft, lilting laugh. The guards had said the regent was in the library, and then there is Guion, right there with him. Aimeric is suddenly angry, not sure why his father is with the regent, who is his and no one else's. The regent responds, "I daresay it's been perfectly easy. It seems you've done most of the work already."

i wanted to highlight the fact that it was aimeric's neglect that lead him to the regent in the first place. hence "youve done most of the work already" - guion by ignoring and neglecting aimeric created the perfect environment for the regent to sweep in and take advantage. like leaving food out btwn 40-140 F is a perfect breeding ground for bacteria LOL. the books touch on that but i wanted to make it explicit

He is so, so ashamed. It's unbearable, the thought of her kind eyes, the way she cried for him, the way he pushed her away. Before he'd left to join the prince's guard, she had taken his hand, kissed it, and said in a voice fragile as glass, "It's been such a long time since I've seen you smile like that," but in that moment he could think only of the regent's letter warm in his pocket.

6. honestly i know ive sounded super conceited this whole time but i kind of tear up whenever i read through the end of the fic lmfao. aimeric is just so fucking depressing as a character and i love that i really got to explore that in this fic. he really didnt have anyone, did he????? he's like a tragic greek character where you just watch him stumbling towards his inevitable end and it hurts the whole time. its even worse on the reread ANYWAYYYYYYY thats it. thanks so much for the ask anon!!!!!!! feel free to send me more!!!

#captive prince fanfic #captive prince #captive prince fanfiction #ask meme #capri fanfic

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 5 years ago

Text

But You Can Never Leave [Chapter 3: Signed In Blood]

Series summary: You are an overwhelmed and disenchanted nurse in Boston, Massachusetts. Queen is an eccentric British rock band you’ve never heard of. But once your fates intertwine in the summer of 1974, none of your lives will ever be the same...

This series is a work of fiction, and is (very) loosely inspired by real people and events. Absolutely no offense is meant to actual Queen or their families.

Song inspiration: Hotel California by The Eagles.

Chapter warnings: Language, physical frailty, sneaky foreshadowing.

Chapter list (and all my writing) available HERE

Taglist: @queen-turtle-boiii @loveandbeloved29 @killer-queen-xo @maggieroseevans @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark @im-an-adult-ish @queenlover05 @someforeigntragedy @imtheinvisiblequeen @joemazzmatazz @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye @namelesslosers @inthegardensofourminds @deacyblues @youngpastafanmug @sleepretreat

Please yell at me if I forget to tag you! :)

The cashier blinks at you as he scans the items in your basket: two Cokes, an orange juice, a Mountain Dew, a grape Fanta, a box of Ritz crackers, a KitKat, three packs of cherry Pop Rocks, and assorted bags of Lay’s chips. “You must have, like, a lot of kids.”

“Something like that.”

Terminal E of Logan International Airport is bustling with swiftly-moving businessmen dragging rolling suitcases, tidy-looking flight attendants, careening toddlers and frazzled mothers. The band is waiting at the gate; their plane to Heathrow is scheduled to board in thirty minutes. Our plane, you correct yourself. I’m going too.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, I ran out of paper bags but I can check in the back if you want—”

“Oh no,” you protest, slapping a ten-dollar bill onto the counter and gathering up the snacks. You’ve cultivated a stubborn solidarity with your fellow service industry employees. “That’s cool, I’ve got it. Thanks. Have a great day!”

“You too! Good luck with your kids!”

You laugh as you trot away. Yes, my very large, extremely anarchic British children. You could have sent Freddie and Rog for the snacks, but you don’t trust them not to try to steal something and end up getting strip-searched by TSA; Brian is still too weak to go anywhere alone; and John...well, John dissolves into blood-red cheeks and averted eyes if you ask him anything. You weave through the crowded terminal, shifting your arms to keep the snacks centered.

“Wow, you have your hands full there!”

You peer around the heap to see a businessman in a powder blue suit, neatly combed black hair, mid-thirties, benign smile. Your arms are beginning to ache. “Ha, yeah. I guess I do.”

“Need some help?” he asks, still smiling.

“Oh, thank you so much, but I’ve got it—”

“Nonsense.” He cheerfully plucks the chips and Pop Rocks out of your grasp. “Where are we going?”

Oh no. You know this type of man. He’s the guy who flirts with the nurses while his wife is recovering from a gallbladder removal, who tries to impress you with his mid-level accounting job and Marshall Field's neckties, who obliviously—or worse, forcefully—offers assistance when it’s least desired. He’s the type to play superhero so he can get a taste of what it feels like to be someone who matters. He’s not usually dangerous, but he is viperous if his fantasy gets interrupted, bitter and desperate and striking out like a wounded animal. Jesus christ, I do not have time for this bullshit today. The muscles in your forearms are screaming now. “Seriously, I can handle it. Thank you. Can I get my snacks back? My friends are waiting.”

His smile falters; suddenly, Mr. Aspiring Superman doesn’t seem so benign at all. And you can’t help but notice that his grip around your criminally overpriced airport snacks doesn’t loosen. Oh fucking hell. “What the hell’s wrong with you? Are you stupid or something? Don’t you get it, I’m trying to help—”

“Hey, baby!” chimes a voice from nowhere. An arm appears around your shoulders, pulling you in; John lands a series of kisses across your neck and jawline as the businessman gawks, speechless and horrified. “Did you finish shopping? Oh, you remembered my Coke! Thanks, baby. You’re the best. Come on, they’re gonna start boarding soon...” He stops, stares at the businessman, points with narrowed steely grey eyes: “Are those my Pop Rocks?”

“Uh, uh, yeah, uh...” The man hastily shoves the snacks into John’s hands and flees. John immediately backs away from you, clears his throat, casts his eyes down the opposite end of the airport terminal.

“Oh my god,” you say, stunned. “I’ve never heard you talk that much at once. Ever.”

He flushes and combs his agile fingers through his hair. “Yeah, I’m so sorry, I just thought...I saw that he was...I figured that would get him to piss off without causing a scene...I’m sorry, I don’t know why I did that, I—”

“No, John, seriously, that was brilliant. Thank you.”

“Yeah?” And you think you can detect something in his voice like hope: cautious, fragile hope. More than that, you can still feel his lips against your skin, hot and sure and assertive, almost dominating.

You grin over at him as you walk together towards the gate. “I bet everyone thinks you’re real innocent because you’re the shy, quiet, mysterious one or whatever. But you have some serious game under all of that, don’t you?”

John chuckles out of pure shock, still not looking at you. “I doubt it.”

“I’m onto you, bassist. Those groupies aren’t going to know what hit them.”

Wait, he has a girlfriend, isn’t that what Freddie said? But if he does, John doesn’t correct you.

“Do I see my beloved Pop Rocks?!” Roger squeals when he spies you both. John tosses all three packets to him. Roger rips one open, pours the entirety of the contents into his mouth, then motions for you to pass him the can of grape Fanta. He gulps the Fanta and drums his palms against his thighs as his mouth erupts into sugary explosions.

“Majestic,” you comment.

“Wha...?! I will not be outdone!” Freddie seizes all the remaining Pop Rocks—both packs—and empties them into his mouth, then douses them with Coke. Dark fizzing soda and ruby crystals spew out of his nose. Roger throws back his head and cackles like a hyena as John launches balled-up napkins at Freddie. You ignore them and check on Brian, who is lounged sideways across five seats.

“How you doing, Bri?”

He groans in reply. You give him the orange juice and Ritz crackers.

“Eat, please, Bri.”

“I can’t. I’m dying.”

“You aren’t bloody dying!” Freddie sighs, exasperated, still mopping Coke off his face.

You lay the back of your hand against Brian’s forehead and frown. “You’re burning up, Mr. May.”

“I’ve got aspirin somewhere...” Roger says as he rummages through his luggage.

“He can’t have it. His liver’s still recovering, no over-the-counter meds.” You take two still-cold cans—your Mountain Dew and Bri’s orange juice—and press them to Brian’s cheeks. John, without speaking, lays his Coke against the back of Brian’s neck. “Think you can make it through a six-hour flight?”

Brian’s glassy eyes roam to you. “No offense, but I would literally rather be disemboweled by rabid opossums than spend another night in Boston.”

“Opossums very rarely contract rabies. But your point is noted. We’ll get you home.”

“Thank you,” Brian breathes, drained. “And thank you, John.”

“Not a problem.”

Freddie squats in front of Bri in skin-tight jeans littered with patches, brushes the mess of curls off Brian’s forehead, and pushes a Ritz cracker into his mouth. Brian grimaces but chews it reluctantly. Freddie grins. “You must be truly desperate to trust your wellbeing to Deaky.”

“He’s unexpectedly ferocious,” you warn Brian. “He ran off some creep at the snack stand. Kid could definitely murder you if he tried.”

“Yeah? Well done, Deaks!” Roger gives John a high-five, then aggressively ruffles his hair and growls. “Who’s my favorite little killer bassist?! Grrr. Grrrrrrrrr. Come on. Show me them pearly whites, Mack the Knife.”

John chomps at Roger’s hands in his very best impression of a shark. Roger laughs and yanks teasingly at John’s hair, his face lit up like the Boston Harbor on the Fourth of July.

The next time you look for Freddie, he’s disappeared. You finally spot him several seats away, bent over a notebook and scribbling furiously, snapping his fingers over and over again and murmuring to himself: “Killer bassist...killer woman...killer bitch...killer queen.”

~~~~~~~~~~

When boarding begins, Freddie and Roger practically carry Brian onto the plane. They drop him into a window seat and Brian promptly drapes a sweater over his head and falls asleep. You sit beside him and flip through a fashion magazine you found in the pocket on the back of the chair in front of you, but Roger keeps interrupting by ranking the pictured outfits on a scale of one to eleven.

“Why eleven?”

“Because I gave that neon yellow coat three pages ago a ten, but now I like these rainbow pants even more. So they have to be an eleven.”

“Okay Roger.”

Freddie and John sit in the row in front of you and alternate between scrawling in their notebooks—song lyrics for Freddie, sketches of some kind of amplifier for John—and tossing peanuts into each other’s mouths. John doesn’t speak to you, but he keeps glimpsing back between the seats like he’s considering it. When Roger gets up two hours in to take a smoke break and chase down extra peanut packets for Freddie, John finally turns around and peeks over his seat.

“Why don’t opossums get rabies?” he asks.

“That’s what’s on your mind?” you tease, sipping Mountain Dew.

“Maybe.”

“Okay. Buckle up. It’s technically possible for opossums to get rabies. But they have naturally super low body temperatures, like 94 or 95 degrees Fahrenheit. So the virus usually can’t survive in their system. Thus, squeaky clean opossums.”

“Well. Minus the ticks and fleas and dirt and rubbish and all that.”

“Most of the cute things in life are at least slightly grubby.”

“Like Roger Taylor.”

You laugh. “That man has definitely been submerged in garbage at some point.”

“You have no idea. But you have to learn to be a Londoner now. We wouldn’t say grubby, we’d say dodgy.”

“Dodgy. Got it.”

“Show me. Use it in a sentence.”

“Roger is super dodgy, while Brian is much less so. Jury’s still out on John.”

“Well done.” He applauds.

Now you reach out to touch his hair, like Roger did earlier; it’s impossibly soft and downy, comforting, almost homey. John smiles patiently. “You have fantastic bone structure, you know,” you tell him. “You should cut this off one day so people can see it.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely. But in the meantime...” You gently thread your fingertips through his locks, twirl a strand, observe that those blue-grey eyes that seemed steely back at the airport are now as soft and innocuous as morning fog. Roger reappears with his loot of peanut packets and gasps, pretending to be scandalized.

“What’s going on here?! Jesus, Deaks, I leave you alone for three minutes and you’ve got her all enamored with your soft cuddly exterior and latent homicidal tendencies.”

“It’s a winning combination.” John catches the peanuts that Roger hurls his way and turns to split them with Freddie.

You gaze up at Roger and beam. “Hey, dodgy Rogey.”

“Oh, you think that’s charming?” He slinks into his seat and drapes an arm across your shoulders. “You realize you’re one of us now, right? That makes you dodgy too.”

“As long as I don’t have to participate in any scandalous naked photoshoots.”

“Oh my god, that was one time! Freddie, Fred, hey, Freddie, why would you show her those...?!”

Hours later, when the plane hits the runway at Heathrow, Brian jolts awake and clutches for you like a staircase railing. He’s cooler to the touch now, appears less feverish, insists he feels better; nevertheless, Freddie and Roger escort him all through the airport like intense and sunglasses-armored Secret Service agents flanking Nixon, steadying him on escalators and dragging his luggage. As the five of you descend into the arrivals area, Freddie points to a group of young women and shrieks in delight, waves, blows flirtatious kisses all the way down the steps.

“Freddie!” the blonde one calls, leaping in her heels and grinning enormously. She’s holding a large, glittery sign that reads: Welcome home, Queen! Freddie races to meet her, sweeps her off her feet, dips her halfway to the floor and kisses her deeply, theatrically. The blonde woman in his arms giggles and buries her fingers in his mane of shining black hair.

“Darling?” Freddie says, spinning to find you, flourishing his artful hands. “This is Mary Austin, the love of my life. Mary, this is our new best friend, Florence Nightingale.”

“Well,” you confess. “That’s not my actual name, obviously. It’s—”

“I quite like Florence Nightingale,” John says. “I’ve always fancied the name Florence. That’s where Dante was from. He was exiled during some political conflict and ended up bouncing around all over Italy. He eventually landed in Ravenna and finished The Divine Comedy there. By the time he died, he hadn’t seen Florence in twenty years. But Florence was always home.” He smiles at you in an off-kilter, crafty sort of way that tells you you’ve at last been admitted into the diminutive, highly selective circle of people that John calls friends; and you feel like you’ve won the lottery for the second time in forty-eight hours.

“Hmm,” Freddie replies, puzzled. Mary nods uncertainly. Then John turns to greet a petite auburn-haired girl in a simple turquoise sundress and with long, bone-white legs.

Brian pulls you away to introduce you to his girlfriend, the one he was always trying to call on the hospital phone. He rests his hands on your shoulders as he presents you. “Chrissie, I love this woman.”

Chrissie glowers and crosses her arms. “Oh.”

“Wait, no, sorry, I mean she saved my life. She was my nightshift nurse in Boston. I was completely lost before she found me, tremendously depressed. You know how I get. She’s come to London to look after me. Then we’re going to convince the record company to hire her as our travel nurse.”

“Oh!” Now Chrissie softens. She has wavy brunette hair, plump cheeks, marvelous wide-set blue eyes, a completely uncomplicated presence. She embraces you kindly, gratefully. “Thank you so much, love.”

“No, please, it was my pleasure! Bri is a perfect gentleman. And a genius. But you already know that.”

“Chris, I was hoping she could borrow our couch for a few days until she finds her own place...”

“Of course!” Chrissie replies, fussing with your hair, studying you, her mind roiling. “What’s ours is yours. But it’s not much, I’ll warn you.”

“I’ll pay rent. And cook and clean. I’ll be a certified house wench.”

Chrissie laughs, then screams as Brian staggers and collapses to the floor. “Bri—?!”

“He’s alright,” you announce calmly as everyone crowds around. You claw through your luggage, pull out an instant cold pack, crack it and press it to Brian’s forehead. He stirs and mumbles something about New Orleans. “Rog, can you flag down a taxi? We gotta get him home.”

“Sure, you got it.” Roger darts off. And as Chrissie, Freddie, Mary, John, and John’s girlfriend—whom you gather from their conversation is named Veronica—scuttle to reassure Brian and fetch him water, you lock stares with Josephine. Roger’s girlfriend—super casual, not exclusive, that’s what he told me—is beautiful and slim and tan and dark-eyed and, worse than all of that, palpably clever. She considers you silently, and what crosses through her pristine, heart-shaped face is not mere suspicion but knowing; and perhaps there is acceptance there as well.

No, not acceptance, you realize. Resignation. Disappointment. Powerlessness.

You tear your eyes away from Josephine and turn back to Brian: tilting a bottle of water against his lips, pulling him to his feet, fanning him with airplane tickets, leading him to a bench to wait for the taxi. The others help, oblivious to the shadow that has marauded through the room like an eclipse.

I won’t end up like her, you think to yourself with savage determination. I won’t let myself love him.

~~~~~~~~~~

Brian sinks into a plush orange lounge chair as you and Chrissie cart the luggage inside. You get a tour of their tiny apartment, shove your few remaining belongings beneath the couch where you now live, and drop into the plaid cushions, covering your face with your hands.

“Oh my god. I can’t believe I did this. I quit my job. I left Boston. I’m living on some random couple’s couch in London. Oh my god.”

“Hey,” Chrissie says warmly, lifting your chin. “We aren’t so random. We’re your friends. Maybe we’re even your destiny.”

“Jesus, you’re something out of a fairytale.”

“You’re the one who’s going to be cleaning my house, Cinderella.” Chrissie tosses a bag over her shoulder and heads for the door. “I have to swing by work and see if my students killed the substitute teacher today, will you two be alright here?”

“Of course,” you say. Brian gives her a groggy thumbs-up.

“Okay. Bye for now. Love you lots, Bri.”

“Love you,” Brian replies weakly. Chrissie departs into a bright London summer. Brian looks over at you sorrowfully, guiltily. “I miss New Orleans.”

“What do you miss about New Orleans, Bri?” You know Queen stopped there before they came to Boston, before they came into your life.

“Can I confess something to you?”

“Sure.”

He stares at the wall, vacant, acutely distressed. “I think I’m in love with a stripper called Peaches.”

“Oooookay.” You snatch up your purse and dash for the apartment door.

“Wait, no, really, I—”

“Don’t tell me about it. Call Roger or someone. Or, better yet, write a song about it and make some money so we can all have mansions with swimming pools one day. Do you need anything from that grocery store on the corner?”

Brian sighs mournfully. “I suppose not.”

“Alright. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes. Then you’re getting homemade chicken noodle soup. Everything will be better now, Brian. I promise. Everything will go back to the way it should be. Now that you’re home. Now that you’re here.”

Brian echoes quietly to himself as you open the door and sunlight floods in: “Now I’m here.”

#queen fanfic #queen #queen fic #roger taylor #roger taylor fic #john deacon fic #john deacon #borhap #but you can never leave #but you can never leave series #but you can never leave fic

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crystalninjaphoenix · 4 years ago

Text

Flashbacks & Forewarnings

A JSE Fanfic

There are a lot of different scenes in this one, but don’t worry, it’s not too long. About medium length for my fics, I’d say. First of all, we get a peek into one of JJ’s memories. Then we check in on Dr. Laurens and Schneep, see how they’re doing since it’s been a while. And there’s some minor other stuff as well. I know it seems like it’s a day late, but that’s because I’m moving my fic-posting day to Monday. Hope you guys like this one!

You can find the other stories under the pw timeline tag!

Midafternoon sunlight was streaming through the window. Jameson leaned over to look out the window, glancing downward at the street a few stories below. Then he took his watch out of his pocket and checked the time. Almost four o’clock already? It was almost time to leave. JJ began tidying up, starting the process of going home and getting things ready for the next person to man the desk.

“Hmm? Oh, are you leaving, Mr. Jackson?” Claire, the intern, noticed his cleaning up.

JJ nodded. He paused for a moment, grabbing his notebook and pen from the surface of the desk nearby. Do you know who’s on the next shift?

Claire paused for a moment to read the question; though she was trying to learn BSL, she wasn’t able to hold a conversation yet. “Uhh...I think it’s Mr. Haddock,” she said.

That was what he suspected. Do you think you can handle things until he arrives? JJ asked. He didn’t want to put too much pressure on Claire—she was only sixteen, after all.

“Yeah, no problem,” she said. “Uhh...I just have to monitor the phone, right?”

JJ nodded again. Accepting phone calls was the highest priority part of the job, and also the only thing he couldn’t do. Sending emails, making sure things were filed correctly, getting things from the supply room, all that was alright. But not the phone, for obvious reasons. Luckily, answering phone calls usually fell to the interns. Don’t be afraid to ask Mr. Patterson for help. It should only be ten minutes or so until Timothy arrives, but just to be sure.

“Thanks, Mr. Jackson. Oh! Uh, wait.” Claire made a simple gesture. Thank you.

JJ smiled encouragingly. You’re picking that up quick!

“Really?” Claire brightened up. “Thanks!” She repeated the sign.

JJ stood up, gathering his stuff. I’ll see you tomorrow, he signed, edging around the desk and heading towards the elevator.

“See you.”

Now heading on his way down, Jameson checked his bag, pulling out his phone. Huh...it seemed he had quite a few texts from Chase. He scrolled through the notifications, ending up at the first one, which read: Hey J, remember that thing the detectives called me about ths morning? About Jackie? The second one read: Did you get my last text? The third one read: JJ i really have to talk to you about this. Should i call Marv first? And so on with increasing urgency.

Reading through the messages, Jameson could feel his pulse rising, tense. He’d almost forgotten about the events of that morning. A long day at work was bound to do that. The question had always sort of been lingering in his mind, though. They’d found some sort of break in Jackie’s case. That had to be a good thing, right? A pessimistic part of him pointed out that a “break in the case” didn’t always mean they’d found the missing person. Sometimes it meant they’d found the missing person’s body—

Jameson stepped out of the elevator, forcibly leaving that thought behind. It wasn’t the case this time. It couldn’t be. Even though he hadn’t known Jackie as long as Chase or Marvin had, he still knew him. And he knew he wasn’t the type to go down easily. Quickly, he opened up his texts and started replying to Chase. Sorry I didn’t see any of this, I was at work :( Just got off the lift now. What happened?

Chase didn’t respond for a minute or so, long enough for JJ to walk out of the building and into the crisp October air. But his reply came soon. Oh I forgot about that! Im so sorry.

No no, it’s not your fault. But do tell what happened. What did the detectives say?

The little typing bubble stayed up for a long time. JJ had arrived at the close-by bus stop by the time Chase finally said what he was planning. Uh...actually, can i call you about this? I know you cant answer, and you can say no, i just think itll be easier to say instead of type.

That...wasn’t a good sign. Sure? Jameson typed slowly. I can whistle or something if you need a response.

Immediately, his phone started ringing. JJ almost instinctively declined the call, but caught himself just in time and picked it up. Chase’s voice came through easily from the other side. “JJ? You there, bro?” JJ whistled a yes. “Okay good. Okay. Uhh...this is weird, not being able to see you. But anyway. The thing this morning. The good news is that Schneep’s first doctor showed up! So now he’s gonna have one that doesn’t hate him.” Chase laughed, a bit nervously. “But, uh, I dunno if she’ll go back right away. Because, uh...that’s the bad news. She disappeared because she got kidnapped. By the same person who kidnapped Jackie. And kidnapped Schneep before that. And...” Chase sighed. “You were right. The person who did that is this Anti.” He paused. “Are...are you still there?”

Jameson took a moment to react. And when he did, he hung up. So...it was him.

God, what were the odds? What were the goddamn odds that the two of them would end up in the same place once again?! True, this city wasn’t too far away from the town they lived in before. But he’d always thought Aneirin was the type to stay in a town like that.

Well, at least he didn’t know Jameson was here...

——————

Jameson set down his book, checking the clock. It was a little past eight at night. Naturally, his eyes drifted over to the calendar afterwards. It was a month behind, still reading June 2007.

The front door slammed open downstairs. JJ jumped, then slid a bookmark into the pages of his novel and stood up, heading out the door and down the stairs.

“Hey, Jamie.” Aneirin smiled at him as he came downstairs. “Picked up dinner real quick. Sorry for being late.” He set a bag of McDonald’s down on the nearby coffee table and sighed, reaching upward to make sure his eye-patch was in place.

It’s fine, JJ signed. You’ve been busy lately.

“Yeah, uh...speaking of which.” Aneirin cleared his throat. “I have to go out again later tonight.”

JJ slumped a bit. You sure?

“Yeah...work shit, you know how it is.” Aneirin shook his head. “But hey, I mean, without my work, we wouldn’t have a house, so I’ll take it.”

That was true. Though...Jameson still wasn’t sure what exactly Aneirin did for work. It had odd hours, and Aneirin was hesitant to talk about it, in a way that JJ had initially shrugged off, but was now starting to seem a bit odd. He’d been living with him for a year now, wasn’t it weird that he didn’t know what his brother did? Alright, JJ signed hesitantly. But you owe me.

Aneirin smiled. “I’ll buy you another book.”

I have a lot of books, Aneirin. I haven’t even read them all.

“Something else, then. Whatever you want. Within reason, of course.” Chuckling, Aneirin headed through the doorway into the kitchen. Inside, JJ heard the sound of the coffeemaker—a new addition—starting up.

Frowning, Jameson poked his head into the kitchen doorway. He knocked on the wood, but Aneirin didsn’t turn around, focused on the coffeemaker. “Aan...?” JJ called.

“Hmm?” Aneirin looked over at him.

You aren’t supposed to be holding hot things.

“Jesus christ, I’m not a baby, Jamie.”

Just...remember what happened last time? Jameson pointed out at him. You burned yourself. I’m just worried.

“Yes, but now I know what not to do.” Aneirin shrugged, and turned around. “Besides, the mug will stay on the counter most of the time. So no need to overreact.”

JJ frowned, but left anyway, heading back upstairs to grab his book. He’d move downstairs to finish it, just in case Aneirin ended up needing help.

A couple hours passed. If the past was any indicator, Aneirin would be leaving around this time. JJ made a big show of yawning, and glancing over to the couch where Aneirin was sitting, eyes fixed to the TV but not really paying any attention to the show that was on. Standing up and grabbing his book, JJ signed, I think I’ll go to bed now.

Aneirin responded, “Alright.” without looking away from the screen. Go to bed was one of the sign phrases he could understand even out of the corner of his eyes.

JJ headed up the stairs, slowing down once he reached the second story. He walked over to his room, opening the door and closing it without going inside, instead just waiting in the hall. Immediately, he heard the television downstairs turn off. Footsteps crossed the living room and headed outside. The front door opened and shut. Jameson put his book on the floor next to his room and carefully crept down the stairs, sticking near the walls to avoid the creaks. He made a slight detour to grab his cell phone from the kitchen drawer where it was kept. Then once back in the living room, he crouched close to the ground and crawled over to the front window, peeking outside.

In the driveway, Aneirin was checking something in the trunk of his car. Well, technically, Aneirin always called it “our car,” but he was the only one who drove it. JJ didn’t know how to drive yet. And even if he did, he didn’t have a job and it was the middle of summer vacation, so where would he even need to go? Or at least, those were some of the reasons Aneirin listed when explaining why he wouldn’t teach Jameson how to drive. JJ watched as Aneirin closed the car trunk, and started walking down the block, as he always did when he went out working late at night.

After making sure Aneirin was far enough away, JJ rushed out the front door and over to the car. He opened the door to the back seat and climbed inside, squeezing into the space between the seats where you would normally put your feet. They kept a spare blanket in the car, and Jameson reached over and tried to cover himself, attempting to make it look like the blanket was naturally falling off the seat. Then he waited.

Just a few minutes later, the driver’s side door opened, and he heard Aneirin get inside. The car soon started, and headed out, with Aneirin having no idea Jameson was in the back seat.

He was tired of not knowing anything about where Aneirin went. And if he wouldn’t tell him, JJ would find out by himself.

They drove for a surprisingly long time, long enough for Jameson to start aching from being in this uncomfortable twisted position. He couldn’t exactly tell where they were going from his hiding spot, but he didn’t hear anything unusual, apart from the occasional strange commercial on the radio channel Aneirin was listening to. But of course, the car eventually stopped, and Aneirin climbed out. The locks thunked shut after he left.

Jameson waited a few minutes before sitting up and pushing the blanket aside. Looking out the car windows, he blinked in surprise. This...wasn’t what he was expecting. Instead of being parked outside some building on the outskirts of town, the car was pulled into a small gap in between two large, looming buildings. There was no light coming from them, and only the faint, watery street lamp beams to illuminate anything. Why would Aneirin have driven here...?

After a moment’s hesitation, Jameson unlocked the car door and stepped out. He walked out onto the street, finding it lined with similar tall, wide buildings. Where was this place? Some sort of storage? Why wasn’t anything lit up? JJ shivered, reaching into his pocket to double-check that his cell phone was there. He should find Aneirin, make sure that he was okay.

He looked left down the street, saw nothing, and looked right. There was a group of three people standing beneath one of the weak street lights. With them being the only people in sight, JJ headed in their direction. Eventually, he started picking up voices.

“—kid’s been a runner for three years, cut him some slack.” An unfamiliar female voice.

“No one gets slack at all.” An unfamiliar male voice. “Not even us, Kelly.”

“Still, he does his job.”

“Yeah, that’s right.” And that...that was Aneirin’s voice. Though strangely, his accent, a bit Irish from the years he’d spent being a foster kid in that country, had thickened. “Just give me the green.”

Jameson ducked around a corner of a building, peering out at the group of three. A man, a woman, and Aneirin. He watched as Aneirin handed over a backpack, and the man handed him a case. What was this? It seemed...shady. Aneirin couldn’t really be involved in something like this, right?

The woman leaned closer to Aneirin, lowering her voice so it couldn’t be heard from where Jameson was watching. But judging from the way Aneirin tensed, whatever she was saying wasn’t good news. Aneirin responded in an equally low tone, and the man suddenly laughed. “You?! Tiny thing like you? Obvious blind spot and likely to collapse at any time? Nah, lad, we’ll go with the professionals.”

That was exactly the wrong thing to say. Aneirin bristled, and even from here Jameson could see the anger in his expression. “Easy there,” the woman said, her tone patronizing. “You wouldn’t want to fall down, would you?”

Aneirin lunged at her, and a scream rang out through the empty street. The woman stumbled back, turning enough so that Jameson could see the way her front was stained red. “You little—!” The man grabbed Aneirin by his jacket, and JJ couldn’t help but cry out.

He didn’t think it would be audible to the group, but both the man and Aneirin looked over toward him. JJ’s eyes widened, and he ducked behind the building. “Oh, you brought a friend, didn’t you, you little bastard?!” The man yelled. “Looks like you, too! Family field trip, is it?”

“Hey! Back off!” Aneirin snarled. It would’ve been intimidating, if not for the nervous crack in the middle.

“Oh no, I don’t think so!”

Jameson heard footsteps running towards him, and instantly took off, running down the gap between the buildings. But the man was much faster, and the footsteps grew louder. Jameson glanced over his shoulder, and the man was just a few feet away. He gasped, and pushed himself farther, turning onto another street, then running into another gap in an attempt to shake the man off.

“Don’t you run, you—AAARGK!”

The strange noise wasn’t enough to stop JJ from running. He continued to weave around the gaps in the buildings, until he arrived back at the one the car was parked in. He tore open the backseat door and practically threw himself inside, locking it behind him. He fell onto the floor of the car and stayed there, sitting, knees pulled to his chest and his heart pounding in his throat. His eyes were fixed on staring through the dirty glass of the car window.

A figure appeared there. Jameson made a strangled sort of sound, backing up. The figure knocked on the glass, then a flashlight turned on, shining into the car. Jameson blinked in the light, then squinted through it, recognizing Aneirin as the one holding the flashlight.

Aneirin pointed towards the driver’s side door, and disappeared, rounding around the car. The locks thunked, and Aneirin opened the door and climbed inside. “Jamie?” he called.

Jameson didn’t relax, but leaned forward, into the spot between the driver’s seat and the passenger seat.

“Oh my god!” Aneirin grabbed JJ’s head, one hand on either side, and pulled him even closer. “What were you thinking?! What are you even doing here?! Did you follow me? Why the fuck would you do that?! There’s a reason I don’t tell you what I do!”

Jameson was stunned into silence for a moment. He let Aneirin continue on in a similar vein for a while, then slowly signed, I was just curious.

“Curious?! I—” Aneirin leaned back, burying his face in his hands and taking a few deep breaths. “You can’t...do stuff like that, Jamie,” he said.

...I’m sorry, JJ signed hesitantly.

“It’s...fine, Jamie, just...just don’t do that again.” Aneirin sighed, looking out the windshield. “Who knows what could’ve happened to you?”

Jameson fell silent for a moment, then awkwardly climbed into the passenger seat, settling into it. What happened to the man? And the woman?

“They’re...dead,” Aneirin said slowly.

Did you kill them? Jameson asked, eyes wide and disbelieving.

“...yes,” Aneirin’s voice was barely audible.

Why?!

Aneirin opened the car door and leaned over outside, picking up something on the ground. He pulled the case from earlier into the car and threw it into the backseat. “Because we need money to live and shit, Jamie, that’s why. Someone offers you a lot, and all you need to do is...go back on your word, then you take it.”

JJ shook his head silently, shocked. Aneirin...have you done this before?

Aneirin shifted in his seat. “What, go to a regular drop-off then walk away with two people dead? No.”

Silence fell. Jameson dug into his pocket and pulled out his phone.

“What’re you doing?” Aneirin said, sitting up straight.

Calling 999, Jameson answered.

“Wh—no! You can’t do that!” Aneirin grabbed Jameson’s wrist, pulling it, and the phone he was holding, away. “Look, I know it looks bad, but there’s absolutely nothing to connect us to this. See? I’m wearing gloves, no fingerprints.”

Jameson stared at him, absolutely stunned. We can’t just let— he started to sign one-handedly.

“No, we have to. Jameson, if the police hear about this, they’re going to judge my place an unfit home, and me an unfit guardian, and they’re going to put you back in the system.” Aneirin tightened his grip on Jameson’s wrist. “I-I can’t let that happen! I can’t let you go back there! Who knows what’ll happen?!”

Jameson managed to pull his wrist away from Aneirin’s grip. They’re not going to put a seventeen-year-old into the foster system. I’m practically an adult.

“As someone who was recently seventeen, that’s debatable. And legally, you’re still a child. It doesn’t matter how close to eighteen you are, until your actual birthday, they’re not gonna let you go.” There was a strong bitter note in Aneirin’s voice. “I can’t...I’ve only had you back for a year, Jamie. After ten fucking years of wondering what happened to you. Please don’t...don’t leave.”

Jameson hesitated. Aneirin’s eyes were shining with a desperate light that could be seen even in the shadows the car was hiding in. And he had to admit, he didn’t want to leave his brother, either. He sighed gently, and put his cell phone down on the dashboard of the car. Alright, fine.

Aneirin practically wilted with relief. “Thank you so much, Jamie.” He twisted in his seat, starting the car. “I promise you won’t regret it.”

The car headed out, with Jameson and Aneirin sitting in silence. Jameson stared out the window, watching as they gradually traveled to a more well-lit part of the town. He expected them to head home. But instead, Aneirin headed to the town center, and parked outside a lit-up building. “Look,” he said, glancing in JJ’s direction. “I’m sorry about...the yelling, earlier. I was just stressed and worried. I’m sorry if I made you feel like I was angry with you.”

Jameson exhaled slowly. It’s okay, Aneirin.

“I’ll make it up to you,” Aneirin promised. “Look.” He nodded at the building they were parked outside.

Wait...JJ’s eyes widened. We’re going to Tompson’s?

“Yep.” Aneirin smiled. “Ice cream sounds good after tonight. Luckily they’re open late. You can get whatever you want, whatever size.”

Really? Anything? JJ asked doubtfully. Tompson’s was known for being relatively expensive, but also delicious. They usually saved it for special occasions.

“Of course. It’s on me.”

JJ looked back out the window. He started nodding, slowly at first, then faster. Well, alright then. Can’t do that in the car.

Aneirin laughed. “Course not. Hey, not even gonna say thank you?”

Jameson exhaled softly, and rolled his eyes. Aneirin was always like this. “Thhnk yu-yuh. Annn.” He could’ve signed it, but if Aneirin wanted that, he would’ve said ‘sign.’

“You’re welcome,” Aneirin smiled. “Now let’s go.”

The rest of the night was rather nice. Jameson almost forgot what had happened earlier. Almost. It turns out, these events would not be forgotten easily.

——————

...Jameson was startled out of his thoughts by the sound of his text alert going off. Jameson?? Are you oaky?? Whyd you hang up? Chase asked. It was quickly followed by a *okay

I’m fine, Chase, JJ replied. I just had to think for a moment.

Are you actually fine or just saying that?

Jameson thought hard about this question. I won’t lie. I’m a little...He paused, wanting to type out ‘scared,’ but that might be a bit too far. That was probably something he should talk over with his therapist on Monday; now was not the time to unload everything. ...shaken, hearing about this. But I’ll be okay, I promise.

Alright, if your sure, Chase said. But if you ever need anyone, Im right here.

Thank you, Chase.

The city bus finally pulled up to the station, and JJ hopped aboard, pressing his bus pass to the card reader before taking a seat. He stared out the window as the bus started rolling again. He couldn’t help but glance behind him, even knowing that nobody would be there.

——————

A few days passed, and Monday morning dawned cold and rainy. Dr. Laurens opened her umbrella as soon as she got off the bus, holding it with her unbroken arm. She sighed quietly. Well, looked like she had to walk to work today. And for a while, actually, until her arm was healed enough for her to drive again. She’d better get used to it.

A few drizzly moments later, Laurens stepped inside the main doors of Silver Hills. Awkwardly closing her umbrella, she walked up to the front desk. “Hi, I need to see Dr. Newson, is she in?”

The orderly at the desk looked up, and her eyes widened. “Oh my god, Rya?!”

“Hey, Theresa,” Laurens said, smiling tiredly. “Is Newson in?”

“Yes, I-I can page her—mother of god, what happened to you?” Theresa asked as she started messing with her pager. “You disappeared! Are you alright?”

‘Alright’? Well, that was debatable. The broken arm was not ‘alright,’ and Laurens was pretty sure there was a lot else that would not fit into ‘alright.’ But she’d waited this long. She’d spent time in the hospital, then practically begged to go home so she could get used to being on her own, without having to worry about threats to her life. But still, she couldn’t stop thinking about getting back to work. She knew Newson had taken over Schneep’s case, and she knew Newson hated him. How could she just stand by and leave this situation alone? So, if by ‘alright’ you meant ‘functional and willing to help others,’ then yes, she was alright. “I’m fine, thanks,” Laurens said. “Should I just wait for Newson here?”

“Uh...yeah, that would be great.”

Laurens took a seat in the reception area, looking around. It seemed a bit surreal to be back here after...everything with Anti and Jackie. Like she was last here years ago, instead of just a few months.

About five minutes later, footsteps came down the hall, and Laurens stood up as Newson appeared. Newson’s eyes immediately locked onto her, and she froze. “Wh—Rya?”

“Yes, it’s me,” Laurens stated.

Newson gaped at her, then rushed over to stand in front of her. “You’re okay! Oh my god, I—we were so worried!”

“Really?” Laurens asked, not bothering to hide the surprise in her voice. “I mean...from what I remembered, you were probably going to fire me—”

“No! I mean—I—” Newson stammered. “I didn’t want you to—look, I may have made a bit of a rushed judgement that day, and I...would hate for that to be the last thing I ever said to you. You truly are great at your job, a-and a great person as well. And I’m not going to fire you.”

“Great,” Laurens nodded. “In that case, can I take my patient back please?”

“Wh—” Newson seemed taken aback by the question stated so clearly. “I...mean...”

“Because I don’t believe that your methods work well with him,” Laurens said, voice and expression deadpan. “Unless something has changed in the two months I’ve been gone.”

“I...” Newson cleared her throat, collecting herself. “Of course you can take the case again. Do understand that I—hello, can I help you?”

Laurens turned around. A tall woman in a black raincoat had just entered the reception area, carrying a briefcase. “Actually, yes,” the woman said. “I’m looking for Dr. Jennifer Newson.”

“That would be me,” Newson said, patting down her coat and smiling cordially. “Do you need something?”

“Ah. My name is Aja Bakshi, I am from Henson & Singh At Law.” Bakshi set her briefcase on the reception desk, opening it up and slapping a piece of paper covered in type down on the surface. “My client wishes to sue you for malpractice, negligence, and abuse of power with your position. This is the notice, details are included on it, as well as my phone number.”

Newson was left speechless. She just stared at Bakshi, absolutely shocked, her wide-eyed gaping expression somewhat reminiscent of a fish. Laurens had to bite back a smile as the thought occurred to her. “Uh...” Newson finally said. “Who...who’s suing me?”

“Details are on the notice, Dr. Newson,” Bakshi said calmly. “We have scheduled a court hearing for the 23rd. We expect to see you there.” And with that, Bakshi snapped the briefcase closed, and turned on her heel and left, door swinging closed behind her.

“Uh...Dr. Newson, are you alright?” Theresa asked.

Newson didn’t answer, instead picking up the paper and scanning it over. “Maher...?” she muttered. “I know that name...”

“Well, I’ll leave you to that,” Dr. Laurens said. “For now, I’d like to see my patient. But I seem to have lost my keycard.”

Newson looked up sharply. “Uh...right. I’ll call Oliver Hopkins, he can take you to the room. Can you get a coat on with your arm like that? Dress code, and all. We have some in—”

“In the back room, I know,” Laurens said. “I’ll meet Oliver there, then.”

About ten minutes later, Laurens had made her way to the back room and pulled on a white coat over her cast before replacing her arm in her sling.

“...Doc?”

Laurens glanced over, watching as Oliver rounded the corner. She smiled. “Hello, Oliver. Your phone is poking out of your pocket, by the way. Be careful.”

Oliver laughed, and wiped his eyes. “Holy shit, you’re okay. I mean, your arm, but. You know.”

“I do know, thank you,” Laurens chuckled. She then sighed. “Anyway, I wanted to check on Schneep. I don’t think I’ll be able to start a session until tomorrow, after I get all the stuff sorted out for coming back, but I...just want to see if he’s alright.”

Oliver winced. “That’s a...that’s a good idea.”

Listening to his tone, Laurens was suddenly shot through with worry. Part of her had wondered if her concern was a bit strange, especially for a therapist-patient relationship, but that one sentence was proof she was justified. “Alright...let’s go down to his room, then.” Laurens turned and started down the hall.

“Uh, Doc?” Oliver called. “He’s not in his room. He’s in the quiet room.”

Laurens stopped, turning around to look at him. “...well,” she said. “Let’s get him out of there, then.”

“Yeah, uh. Good idea,” Oliver muttered. “I should probably tell you that he’s been in there a couple times, and he...doesn’t react well to it.”

“Of course he doesn’t,” Laurens muttered, already heading down the hall in the other direction. Honestly, they should just call the room what it actually was: solitary. She supposed it wasn’t a bad idea in principle; sometimes the more hostile patients needed a place to cool down where they couldn’t hurt anyone or themselves. But in situations like this, locking someone in a room alone did more harm than good. Especially now that she knew what had actually happened to Schneep in the nine months he disappeared.

The door to the quiet room looked identical to all the other rooms in the older wing of the hospital, with the only exception being that it didn’t have a room number. But once Oliver opened the door, it became clear what made this room so different. It was the only place in the entire building that had its walls padded, and there was no furniture inside except for a bedframe with a mattress but nothing else. Laurens stepped into the room, looking around. She quickly spotted the figure curled up on the floor in the corner. “Schneep?” She called softly.

Schneep had his arms wrapped around his head, but upon hearing his name, he flinched and moved them enough to see out at her.

“Hey, it’s me,” Laurens said, keeping her voice friendly. “Remember me?”

“Hm.” The small sound wasn’t a confirmation or a denial. Schneep’s eyes darted towards the doorway, with Oliver standing in it.

Laurens looked back towards the doorway as well. Get out of sight, she mouthed. Oliver looked hesitant, but stepped to the side, out of view. Laurens looked back towards Schneep, taking a few steps forward. “Schneep, I need you to answer me. Do you remember me?”

“...Jackie?” Schneep said, his voice hoarse.

“No, I’m not Jackie,” Laurens said. She took a few more steps forward, then got down to kneel on the floor. “You’re not with Jackie right now. You’re in the hospital, remember?”

This seemed to confused Schneep for a bit, but he loosened up, uncovering his head as he realized Laurens wasn’t a threat. “Hospital...” he muttered. “Which one?”

“Silver Hills,” Laurens said.

A short pause. “You are...not lying?” Immediately after asking the question, Schneep laughed. “You would say you are not, either way.”

“I wouldn’t lie about where you are, Schneep,” Laurens said quietly. “I wouldn’t trick you like that.” She paused for a moment, gauging Schneep’s reaction. “Do you need anything?”

“Do I...?” The question threw him off for a bit. “I...I do not want to be here. No, no. Not here.”

“Alright, then let’s go.” Laurens held out her hand, palm-up. Schneep flinched away for a moment, but then reached out and grabbed it. “We’re going to stand up now, okay?”

Schneep nodded, and Laurens unfolded herself from her kneeling position, awkwardly doing her best to stand up without using her arms. After a few moments of trying, she succeeded, and helped pull Schneep to his feet. He immediately stumbled, leaning against her. Laurens gasped slightly, noting the cloudy look in Schneep’s eyes and the way he was shaking a bit. There was no reason for him to be this heavily sedated. “How’re you feeling?” Laurens asked.

“Hmm...cotton,” Schneep said.

“I see. Can you walk?”

“I...I think so, yes.” Despite this assertion, when Laurens started to walk, Schneep only stumbled and almost fell.

“Whoa, take it easy,” Laurens said. “I’m going to call someone who can help, alright?”

“Al...yes.”

Laurens looked toward the doorway. Oliver had poked his head into view, making eye contact with her. She nodded, and he came into the room, silently lifting Schneep into a carrying position. Schneep didn’t protest. “We’re going back to your room, Schneep,” Laurens said. “Okay?”

Schneep paused. Then: “You are the doctor.”

“Yes, I am a doctor. So are you.”

“I know. I mean, you are...you stopped coming,” Schneep mumbled.

Laurens nodded. “Yes, but I didn’t want to. I would’ve kept coming if I could. But now I’m back.”

“Very good. Good that you are alright.” Schneep sighed. “Can we please leave here?”

“Yes, we’re leaving right now,” Laurens said. She started heading to the door, glancing back to make sure Oliver and Schneep were following her. They were.

She sighed gently. This was Newson’s fault, she knew it. But now, hopefully, they wouldn’t have to struggle with that for much longer.

——————

“Siri, what does GCS stand for?”

Jackie suddenly snapped to attention, almost hitting his head on the corner of the table. God, he hadn’t even heard Anti come into the room; he must’ve been buried deep in a daydream. Though, honestly, he couldn’t blame himself for that. It was much preferable to be in a daydream world than reality right now. In a daydream, he was able to forget about the cotton taste of the gag in his mouth, and the awkward angle his arms were handcuffed behind his back and around a table leg.

“Okay, I found this on the web,” said the robotic voice of Siri.

Anti was lounging on one of the apartment’s armchairs, dressed in an outfit that...wasn’t exactly his usual style. Jackie was oddly reminded of the way Chase dressed. Anti’s green glass eye had been replaced with a blue one, but he still had the old watch around his neck. “Three to five is good, then,” he muttered to himself. Anti glanced up, noticing Jackie staring at him. “Expecting something, hoodie man?”

Jackie flinched, and looked away, fixing his eyes on a water stain on the wall. He heard the sound of Anti shifting position, but didn’t look back.

Thwack!

A silver blade embedded itself in the wall inches from Jackie’s nose. Jackie cried out, flinging himself backwards and hitting his head against the table leg. Anti laughed. “God, you look like you just had a heart attack!” He paused. “Actually...Hey Siri, what do I do if someone has a heart attack?”

“Okay, I found this on the web.”

Jackie squeezed his eyes shut, trying to take deep, calm breaths. It was difficult, to say the least. Part of him wanted to shout at Anti, ask him what he wanted with him. The rest of him knew that would be a terrible idea, even if he could speak.

This wouldn’t last forever, would it? Something had to change. Or at least, that’s what he told himself.

#jacksepticeye #jacksepticeye fanfiction #jacksepticegos #septic egos #septic egos au #jameson jackson #antisepticeye #dr schneeplestein #jackieboy man #brigid writes fanfiction #pwtimeline

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wiener-soldiers · 5 years ago

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tipsy (i) - peter parker

summary: you lost five years of your life to the blip. five years without your family, your friends, and without really being alive. your dad’s solution? send you and your friends on a fully-paid vacation to spain. no superheroes stuff, no villains; just pure, teenage fun. how eventful could one week be?

words: 1.1k

pairing: peter parker x stark! reader

warnings: drinking (not really underage if they’re legal in that country), typical teenage stuff, young love and pining

parts: part one, part two, part three

a/n: ooey gooey teenage fluff

Basic-(Y/N) did not come out often.

She was often reserved for the two months of the year where you aren’t worried about grades and school and being stuck in an Infinity stone or whatever happened; summer.

And when summer rolled around, the VSCO-loving, Instagram-whore, Basic-(Y/N) made herself known.

You weren’t really one to try to keep up with ever-changing Instagram trends (not that you are a “not-like-the-other-girls’ trope, you just had more important things to worry about), but during the summer, everyone, most especially your dad and your best friend, encouraged you to let loose a little bit more.

So, you stood in front of your bathroom mirror, fiddling with the friendship bracelet that Morgan, your stepsister, had made for you a few days prior, and readjusting your incognito airport outfit.

“You’re overthinking this,” your Dad says as he leans on the door frame to your bathroom, sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose as he watches you decide whether or not you will be joining your friends on a trip to Barcelona, Spain.

You sigh and run a hand through your hair, “Yeah well, I don’t know why you’re letting me go to Spain with my friends. You’re planning something, aren’t you.”

“I am not!” he defends himself.

“Dad, you wouldn’t be paying for this trip unless you had some kind of motive,” you scoff, “Flying a bunch of teenagers to a country where we are legal? You are definitely up to something.”

Your Dad sighs before pushing himself off the threshold and walking towards you, arms open in an embrace. You quickly step into chest and breath the scent of whatever new cologne he’s wearing as he straps his arms tightly around you. You both stay in that position for a while before your Dad pulls away, ducking his head to look at your face. You stare back up at him.

“Look, kid,” he starts, “I know the Blip was hard for this family. You disappeared and came back with a new baby sister and a family who still mourned but tried to still carry on.”

Your eyes water at the thought of Morgan, the sister you cared about so deeply despite not being there for a lot of her ‘firsts.’

Your Dad smiles softly at you as you bury your head into the t-shirt he wore underneath his blazer. He rubs your back and continues, “But sweetheart, you gotta be a kid again. That grape took so much of your teenage years away and as a Father, isn’t it my job to bring it back?”

“But the drinking—”

“All of you would technically be legal if you hadn’t Blipped, except for that Brad kid. Wasn’t he like, two feet tall before?”

You laugh at him and shake your head, “I don’t know, he was really nice to me after I came back. Super understanding—I guess the trip felt like it’d be more fun with him?”

Your Dad gives his signature Tony Stark eye-roll, “Whatever, better be a good kid if I’m paying for him to go to Europe.”

The two Starks laugh in the bathroom in each other’s embrace when a buzz from your back pocket prompts you to pull away.

“Lemme guess, it’s Parker?”

You roll your eyes at the mention of your best-friend, “It is not—”

You cut yourself off at the sight of the text:

pete :) may says u should be at the airport like 4 hrs before the flight? u still coming to pick me up or what?

“It was him wasn’t it?”

You collect your stuff and playful shove past your Dad, “He was just complaining that you take too long.”

Peter Parker had a long couple of months.

In an attempt to regain some of his teenage years back, he had agreed to go to Europe with his class to try to live a normal life—or some semblance of normality.

Instead, he spent his time fighting Mysterio and whatever Inception-shit that guy pulled off.

You had not been on the Europe trip as you and the rest of the Starks spent several months off-the-grid in their Upstate cabin, learning to be a family again. Peter understood the situation just fine: you had been Blipped and came back with a kid-sister. He was glad that you go to spend time with your family and adjusting to life again.

He still missed you though.

However mere weeks after the original Europe trip, Peter couldn’t say that he was expecting the text message from a group chat that he got.

(y/n) im not in hiding any more yall. lets go on a trip

ned the last time i was on a trip i literally almost died

betty a trip? to where? we could come visit you upstate!!

(y/n) don’t bother im moving back to the city with the fam. and i was thinking something…farther?

ned florida?

mj who in their right mind you want to go to florida?

flash me

mj my point still stands

brad canada?

(y/n) beautiful country but i can only take trees for so long. dad’s thinking spain? barcelona has sick beaches

ned not all of us can afford spain…

betty and ned’s original point? last time we were in europe we almost died

(y/n) first off! a few things are gonna be different! one, ill be there. two, the avengers have resettled, my dad’s moving back into the city so threats can be handled by them. and three, dad’s paying for the whole thing. says we need a PROPER vacation. not like your europe trip that sounded like hell

peter cmon guys i think it’ll be a good idea. we could all use a hard reset before school starts up again.

That’s where Peter found himself; sitting on the couch playing iMessage games with you as an episode of Law and Order played aimlessly in the background. His suitcase lied on his lap to make sure that May couldn’t sneak the suit in there when he wasn’t looking. Everyone needed a real vacation; he was just happy Mr. Stark felt the same way.

“No suit this time?” May asks from in front of him. He looks up and finds her holding the suit with eyebrows raised.

He shakes his head, “Mr. Stark said he’s got all threats under control and that we should just be kids and enjoy our trip.”

She nods understandingly and presses a kiss to Peter’s head, “That I can agree with. But if anything goes wrong, you call Happy okay? He’ll come get you.”

Peter shudders, “I can’t believe you’re dating him.”

“I wouldn’t call it dating per se…”

“May!”

A loud honk from the open window separates the two of them. Peter winces slightly before looking at his phone, only to see a text from you from a couple of minutes ago.

(y/n) <3 expect a honk! warned you lol

“That’s my ride,” Peter says before embracing May.

“Be good,” she says affectionately.

Peter nods against her, “Aren’t I always?”

taglist: @sebastianstanfoundmymixtape @httpmcrvel @lionheo04

#peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #spiderman #spiderman imagine #spiderman x reader #tony stark #tony stark imagine #avengers #avengers imagine #marvel #marvel imagine #weiner soliders #weiner soldiers imagine #eliza speaks

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currentfandomkick · 5 years ago

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Bio! Dad Strange Part 9

Jason returns, may be a 2 parter to cover tim getting kidnapped and the aftermath. Will let you know at the end. We are getting to Marinette dealing with Ladybugging soon.

Marinette wasnt sure what to think this year. She met The Barry Allen last year. She also figured out 2 heroes pre-flash revelation and two more after—in her defense Hero Stalker’s old theory on The first Robin did Batman in. it is not her fault 5 founding members have the multiple-persona game of a booger.

She was also Tetch (Mad Hatter. Doesnt deserve the name) and Mr. J’s, Jerimah’s, last victim before they died. Then some idiots revived Jerimah. She hates his cult a lot, okay.

Everyone was on high alert and trying to keep her inside. The thing is, she hates being inside. She’s inside for designing, sure. Research? She’ll live.

But 24/7 inside time?

Never a good combo with her.

Rose’s plants may be snitches, but they seemed to agree on the over coddling. She’s ten, can break phones by tapping them, and is defiantely more off her stickers than on at the moment.

The one on her was uring her into some alleyway. If she was reading the movement pattern right, a gang fight.

Lovely, she usually did these with some sort of supervision but they were all being rude and she needed time outside.

She checked her belt, a few pairs of ball weights tied together with one chain each to make bolas clipped to back. She has a taser in hand, and a few rubber bullet loaded gun on one hip and a stun gun her size in the other. She had a packet of zipties and rope up each sleeve. Easy to giftwrap and humiliate bad people, like Batman does.

She blinked once when she saw—new player? In a bright red full face helmet that looks horrible. And he’s holding that gun make all wrong to max out usage. Ugh, amatuers.

Some part of her groaned about a potential run-in with Batman and his new Robin—she was pissed about Tim not telling her still—and decided this was as good an anger management as any. New vigilante, maybe the sirens would help him find a team.

She snuck up behind a few members, quick to grab the guns and move them out of reach. No need to give anyone playing possum an easy out, right—she saw a mix of her people in with the gang. She needed to teip this guy up before he hurt the RKC street kids and honoraries tangled up in this.

“Hey helmet, if you’re gonna shoot them you’re holding the gun wrong.”

Helmet turned to see her. She didnt grab her usual harley-knock off outfit for helping today. She wanted to be Pixie Pop for a bit. And if the Rogues forgot that she’s Pixie well, better for her, right? Pixie just wore her hair like Tinkerbell and wore a bit of green.

The guy he was aiming at made to run.

Marinette grabbed a makeshift bolas and threw it at his knees. She recognized him from one of the RKC hit lists—human trafficker. He fell with them wrapped around tight and defiantely injured bith his knees with how the weights hit him.

“I, Pixie Pop?” Weird, no one had seen her as Pixie in two years. How’d he know it was her?

“Yeah. Havent been around much lately.” She threw another bola at another guy. “You new?”

“Talk after i kill these guys.”

Marinette rolled her eyes, because really?

She threw a knife to screw his aim into non-lethal on one guy. “Kick their ass first, some RKC are in here.”

Helmet oddly did as she said, switching from guns to—is that. A. Sword?

She twisted to punch the guy sneaking up on her. Helmet threw a sword and landed it in his shoulder.

“Thanks!”

“Holy shot you’re really here this time.”

“Did you get hit with feargas as a baby or something?” Her partner being prone to dellusions and good with weapons was a bad thing.

“Just came back from the dead is all.”

marinette hit the guy going for helmet with her stun gun.

“That’ll do it!”

Helmet turned to one of the guys, gun at the ready. She had a feeling Helmet needed a lot of help, or else one of Rose’s agents would be down.

“If you know about pixies, you should know she got an upgrade to having some trust dust.”

Marinette walked over to the guy, letting her tracker plant take a look. The flower bloomed and he got a face full of ‘filter-less pollen’ that’s as close to a truth serum as Rose could make. After all, people can turn sides.

“Truth pollen?” Helmet was staring at her closely.

“Yep.” Marinette turned to her victim. “Are you helping the traffickers?”

“Does infiltration and killing them count as helping?”

Helmet stared at them then.

“Which team?”

“HKT ma’am. How did you get rose to give you one of those?”

“Think for a minute who she gives these to.”

“Comanding officers of the the RKC reconn and interigation but there’s only 15 and i met them all when i joined in the fall.”

“Im the summer help when theyre not puppy gaurding. Now, i have to do zipties on the traffickers, think you can help?”

“I lost coordination from the pollen.”

“Of course you did.”

Marinette turned to see Helmet staring at her. Like she should be dead, not the new revival guy.

“Good enough.”

“I thought only Poison Ivy could do things like that.”

“I have a badass team, well, when they aren’t going overboard. One week kidnapped and suddenly im made of glass.”

“Pixie you are what, ten?”

“So? Two of my best friends went missing becuase no one stepped up, one of them resurfaced as an idiot a year later but still.”

Helmet stopped then. “Two?”

“Hero stalker went after our big brother vanished.. he came back as an idiot.”

Helmet paused. “Hey, you check the others and i’ll help you drop off the good ones at a doctor or something.”

“Zipties are at the ready. Mind doing your share?”

Helmet did as she asked, working with her until all was squared away.

“Okay, my tracker gave off a signal to the RKC to gather our guys here, and—why are bleeding?”

Helmet looked up at her then. “I am?”

“... you’re coming with me since i dont know if you need a transfusion, but i know a guy who can help.”

“I’m driving.”

“On what?”

“Motorcycle.”

Marinette let him walk her to it, and she got on first. He ‘drove’ them while the plant told her when to turn. They ended up at her dad’s clinic as ‘Mr. Smith’. He was so grounding her.

“Smith, i need help,” she tried.

Her dad came out and paled when he saw her carrying Helmet. Before he passed out he let her take it off. “Red hoodie... oh god he said he was revived.”

Her father worked out the blood bags while she checked the wound, bullet still in there. She got it out with tweezers. No major damage to the muscles and shit. How many scars did he have? Pre or post revival?

When he came to she turned to her father and said one thing.

“So this is my new brother. Dont try to get out of it, he kept me alive when i was comstantly pixie, and you said if he was in a bad place then you’d take him in, no questions asked.”

Strange sighed, nodded, and went back to fixing Helmet up.

The next day he was forced moved into an extra room by hers. Somehow there was already clothes his size and style in it.

“Pixie...”

“Im determined and my honorary aunt is a cat burglar.”

Helmet hugged her.

“So for the documents, what do you want to go by?”

Helmet said he didnt want it to be obvious, given who he was before.

“Its not like you were robin.”

“I was.”

“.... i know two robins now, pre-robining. What is my life?”

“ you are ten, calm down. And you knew dick?”

“Met him as Nightwing, not very friendly. But uh, remember hero stalker?”

“The idiot who followed me and B?”

“Yeah, so funny thing, it was a thing that he wanted to be Robin when you went off from Gotham, and then he somehow managed to convince bats to take him on.”

“That Child is Robin.”

“Will be another hero soon if he knows what’s good for him—he’s too easy to make.”

“Wait, you know who he is-is or—”

“I know 5 secret identities and want to lodge a formal complaint about heroes having no secret identity game.”

“Youre ten. I refuse to let you deal with legal things.”

“But illegal is still on the table?”

“I am a vigilante, of course it is.”

“Good, so can we tlak about how dumb Supes secret id is? I photoshoped glasses on as a joke and looked at my file and knew.”

“Wait have they found you yet?”

“No? I dont think so. Not the mom and step dad or father one yet.”

“But its.”

“I know, but i can keep multiple secret identities. They cant handle one. What is this bull they drop in my lap? No masks for two of them, and the three with cant even manage a basic gait switch?”

“I am so glad you noticed too.”

“Also we need to intervene with Hero Stalker.”

“Does your father know-know or...”

“Knows i know, but knows im not telling even in death.”

“Fair. So, heads up i am going to yell at the JL after killing B for impact.”

“How about beating him up instead and kidnapping Hero Stalker? Bats is fine just needs an adult working with him.”

“Maybe. If my mind wasnt so fucked i’d send the Dick a text or something about this, but i think he hates me so that probably wouldnt work.”

“We have planning time, that’s what my house arrest is good for. Now name.”

“... i want to go by Jay.”

“James work?”

“Sure.”

“James “Jay” Smith then. And we are fixing your vilagante outfit.”

“What’s wrong with it.”

“Your helmet has a nose. And the who this is shit for discreet armour. I’ll get a rant in fifteen on armor history from a fashion obsessed friend and make something for you using that, ok?”

“Do i have a choice?”

“I am your little sister offically. resistance is futile.”

—

So the long awaited return of Red Hoodie/Red Hood/Jason Todd.

For refrence (as age is weird here) Jason looks 14/15 here, but due to dead years is technically 18

Tim is 12

Marinette is 10

Dick is 20something.

Bruce is 30something

Heads up, this will be a two parter for this summer. As i love the next part but need sleep.

@ilovefluffbutsmutisalsogreat @emeraldpuffguide @dast218 @weird-pale-blonde-person @mystery-5-5

#maribat #maribat au #ml au #my au #my idea #marinette strange dupain cheng #marinette strange dupain cheng part 9 #bio! dad au #bio!dad strange #bio!dad au #this was so long guys #jason is back though #next one is chaos and tag-teaming and so much #its a ride and then we get ladybugging after

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are-you-jungood · 5 years ago

Text

Hoodie Chapter 3

Shownu X Reader

Author’s Note:

Special thanks to @xoktie on picsart for making this amazing edit for me!! Go check her stuff out if you have the chance, she never disappoints!!

Also ya’ll can re-blog, just please don’t re-post somewhere else! If you do, at least credit me (please and thank you)! Also, I’m so sorry about this bar scene. I’m 18 so I’ve never been in one, so the description of the server/customer dynamics and norms may be a little off lmao. Other than that, enjoy!!

Brief Recap:

You were dead tired from throwing yourself into your work by the time Minhyuk started packing up to leave.

“Are you coming out drinking with us tonight?”

You were half tempted to decline because of how exhausted you were, but you figured one beer wouldn’t hurt too much.

“Sure! Who else is going?”

“Hoseok, Kihyun Yoo and Hyungwon Chae from marketing, Jooheon Lee and Changkyun Im from the Analytics department. A bunch of girls from accounting are tagging along as well.”

... You had a feeling tonight was going to be interesting, but nothing could’ve prepared you for what was going to happen next.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You pulled into the parking lot of the bar. It was 8:00 pm on a Thursday, but the place was already packed. You spotted Minhyuk waving at you from the back and made your way over, skirting around the crowded dance floor in the process.

“Look who finally made it!”

Minhyuk came over and put an arm around your shoulder sloppily, clearly already a few drinks in, and walked you to an empty seat at the table where the rest of the group was seated. As you sat down, you noticed that the pitcher on the table that was once full of beer was now being emptied into Jooheon’s glass. You laughed and said in fake annoyance, “What, you didn’t save any of that for me?” Jooheon looked at you seriously for a second and then busted out in his best aegyo. You couldn’t help but laugh at his adorable pout. Huffing a sigh of defeat, you said, “Fine, I guess I’ll go order another pitcher for the table.” Everyone cheered at that and you left your friends, feeling like some sort of hero.

As you waited for the nice bartender to fill up your pitcher, you couldn’t help but overhear the loud conversation of the two girls sitting next to you.

“He’s so hot, right? Like, super manly hot!”

The girl next to her leaned over and fake whispered, “Yes! He could scramble my eggs any day.”

Out of pure curiosity as to what this person would look like, you turned your head to find the poor soul that they were gawking at was actually Hyunwoo. He had just come through the door and was making his way toward your table of friends.

“Oh, God. Why is this happening? I’m not drunk enough to handle this.”

You turned back around and accepted the full pitcher of beer from the bartender. Tentatively, you made your way back to your friends and sat the pitcher on the table. Surprisingly, only Hoseok and Jooheon noticed your arrival. The rest of the group was busy peppering Hyunwoo with questions (including three girls from the accounting department who were practically throwing themselves at him).

One of the girls started giggling at something Hyunwoo said as another put a hand on his arm. Another one tossed her hair to the side and looked at him flirtatiously as she said, “So, I heard you went to X University. That’s a notorious party school, right? Were you a frat boy?”

You restrained yourself from letting out a groan at this superficial, and frankly vomit inducing, flirting.

Hyunwoo however, being a simple man, did not pick up on any of these flirtatious actions.

“Well, we were known for our partying, but it’s actually a really good school. I rushed a fraternity the summer of my sophomore year, but I found out I cared about our school’s dance club a lot more.”

The girl who asked gave a bit of a disappointed look at hearing this and seemed to lose interest. After a stretch of silence, she got up and left with the lame excuse of needing to powder her nose. It was this point in the conversation, however, that you suddenly gained a lot more interest.

-------------------------------5 years earlier-----------------------------------

You had met Hyunwoo freshman year in your UNI100 class. You both happened to be the really quiet people sitting at the back of the class, hoping not to get called on. You never even looked twice at him until the day of your first dance club meeting. He was all shy smiles and sun kissed skin before the music started playing. He commanded the attention of the entire room the second he started moving. Each turn, glide, and hip thrust left the entire room hungry for more. When his powerful performance finally drew to a close, every single head was turned in his direction. His breathing was heavy and he was completely soaked with sweat as he made his way over to the side to sit and watch the others perform.

You had joined the club begrudgingly at the persistent pestering of your best friends who were in it. You weren’t a good dancer like they were, so you opted for the more technical side of things and took on the job of setting up the sound system and coordinating everyone's songs as well as being everyone’s emotional support and cheerleader at competitions. When you saw Hyunwoo dance that day, it stirred something in you that you had never experienced before. He moved with such heartrendingly beautiful grace despite the amount of power and force put in his movements that you couldn’t help but be a little bit curious as to who this Hyunwoo was.

You didn’t have the guts to talk to him after that practice, but one day in your UNI100 class he happened to forget his pencil and you were more than happy to oblige him. This got you both talking about the club, your majors, life in general, and the rest is history.

-----------------------Present--------------------------------------

Hoseok snapped in front of your face, drawing you out of your thoughts.

“Earth to (y/n)! What’s up with you, today? You’ve been spacey since lunch.”

He scooted closer to you, feeling your forehead with the back of his hand saying, “You’re not catching a cold, are you? You know you don’t have to work so hard all of the time. It’s okay to take a break every once in a while.”

You huffed in slight annoyance at his fussing (even though you enjoyed it just a little) at swatted his hand away.

“I’m fine. It’s just been a long day of revisiting things from my past that I thought I had let go of.”

Subconsciously your eyes wandered over to Hyunwoo who was sat between Minhyuk and Kihyun acting as a sort of referee for the drinking game the two were playing. Hosek, being the astute observer he was, followed where you were looking and let out a slight gasp at the connection he made.

“That’s not-”

“Yup.”

You took a sip of your beer and stared up at the ceiling, trying to hold back the tears that started to sting your eyes. You didn’t realize how much you had been holding in until now. Hoseok, picking up on your sudden mood change, suggested the two of you go on the dance floor and let go for a bit. You agreed with the condition you could take your beer with you, seeing as you didn’t have a better idea. You weren’t going to let old history ruin your night, especially when you have a caring friend like Hoseok. You danced your heart out, forgetting about all of your problems for a while and threw yourself into the pulsing beat of the here and now. The night continued on, one beer turned to five, and you were stumbling over yourself and slurring your words when Hoseok and Minhyuk finally cut you off.

“Are you good to drive Minhyuk? I’ve got room in my car if you need a ride.”

“That’s okay, I got an uber. They should be pulling up soon. See you at the office.”

Hoseok waved goodbye to him and turned to you.

“You are definitely in no shape to drive. I’m taking you home and I’ll come by tomorrow morning to pick you up for work so you’re not stranded.”

All you could get out was a strangled grunt in assent as he half-dragged/half-carried you toward the door.

You had just made it to the front of the building before a familiar voice called out to the two of you. You turned around quickly and sloppily which didn’t help everything stop spinning. You clutched at Hoseok’s arm to keep from falling over and squinted to see Hyunwoo carrying a semi-passed out Kihyun on his back.

“Do either of you know where Kihyun and Jooheon live? They’re both passed out and won’t tell me their address, so I can’t take them home. Changkyun was supposed to be their DD but he bailed to hookup with some chick.”

Hoseok sighed a little and said, “I know where those two idiots live. I would give them a ride, but that’s in the complete opposite direction from (y/n)’s apartment and she’s in no shape to drive herself, let alone be left on her own here.”

“ I can drive her. I don’t have enough room in my car to fit those two in it anyway.”

They both looked at you, assessing your condition, when finally Hoseok said, “I don’t really know if I’m comfortable with that, we just met and all and you don’t know where she lives so-”

“It’s the same apartment on Dodd street, right? Number 7?”

Hoseok blinked, trying to come up with a better reason to refuse him when you spoke up and slurred out, “Just let him take me, ‘seokie [hiccup]. How much worse can it get? I just want to go to bed~”

Hoseok stood there for a few more seconds before he sighed and said, “Alright, fine. But only because this situation couldn’t be helped because I can’t remember both of their literal addresses. (y/n), call me when you get in so I know you’re okay.”

You nodded your head, despite it feeling like lead, and walked out with the boys to the parking lot. Hyunwoo put Kihyun down in the passenger seat and buckled him in as Hoseok did the same to Jooheon in the backseat. They were both sleeping like babies, much like you wished you were.

Hyunwoo turned and looked directly at you (the first time all night, to your recollection) and asked, “Are you ready to go? I parked over there. Do you think you’ve got it, or do you need help.”

You moved to protest, but your legs were a lot heavier and unsteadier than you remembered, so you stumbled into him instead. He caught and steadied you before he picked you up bridal style and carried you off to his car, saying something to Hoseok about leaving. As soon as your head hit the headrest, sleep consumed you.

You didn’t wake up when he pulled up to your building, or when he somehow managed to carry you to the door of your apartment. You did, however, wake up long enough to dig your keys out of your purse to give to Hyunwoo, but slipped immediately back into that sweet blackness shortly thereafter.

You woke the next morning to the painfully loud ringing of your alarm clock. You slammed the off button and rolled over, sighing in annoyance and pain. Getting, up you shuffled quickly to the bathroom, a wave of nausea hitting you at the smell of breakfast being cooked in the kitchen. When you finished in the bathroom, you made your way to the kitchen, shielding your eyes from the painfully bright light that seemed to be everywhere. You were just about to chastise your roomate for cooking such smelly food when you have a major hangover when you realized it wasn’t Emma but Hyunwoo who was manning the stove.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist

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hopewritcs · 5 years ago

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dancing in the kitchen. finale.

pairing: romantic steve x reader, familial dustin x reader

word count: 1.5

summary: without giving too much away: the reader is Hope Henderson, Dustin’s older cousin who’s staying in town, due to some family issues. takes place soon after s2.

note: from the bottom of my heart, thank you to all of you who have read this. those of you who have been there from the beginning and those of you who only just recently found the story. it’s been a great journey and i’m lucky to have had your support.

other chapters: masterlist

ditc tag list: @stevieboyharrington, ,@thekidsofneibolt, @labgeek, @tyedyedstars,@samisimportant, @madhatterweasley, @pity-mee, @l4life, @restlessmelodrama@darkuserboxes,@princessnancy,@hipsmcgee, @wtf-richarddd @honey-your-bee-puns-sting@whataloadofmalarkey @queenlalybug @im-a-stranger-thing@bilesxbilinskixlahey @ravenclawnerdfromnarnia @trashyemonerd , @theslayingavenger, @addictwithaheavydirtycheetah, @patat-boi (if you wanna be added to the tag list, let me know!!)

SIX MONTHS LATER ( LATE JUNE )

School was over for the summer. Everyone was doing their own thing, the mall having opened up not too long before the school days finished. Steve had gotten a job at the ice cream parlor Scoops Ahoy! and Y/N had gotten a job at the movies. Dustin was particularly excited about that, claiming that Y/N could get him in to see any of the new films playing over the summer for free. She’d rolled her eyes at the suggestion, but didn’t actually say no. She did get a discount on tickets, and he was her favorite ( only ) cousin.

It was one of Y/N’s days off when she was sitting watching a video she’d rented on the couch, Tews perched in her lap purring contently as Y/N pet the cat. She had no plans until later in the day when Steve was going to take her to dinner. So she was surprised when the phone rang, but got up to answer it.

“Henderson residence! This is Y/N speaking.”

“Y/N, darling! It’s your mother.”

As if Y/N couldn’t recognize the voice to begin with. It had been months since she’d gotten to Hawkins and her parents had jetted off to Europe on yet another save their marriage escapade. The only communication she’d gotten was two or three postcards from different Italian cities. She didn’t mind, though. She preferred to be staying with Claudia and Dustin. Her parents did believe all those awful rumors about her anyway, whereas ever since she got to Hawkins neither Claudia nor Dustin pushed to know her reason for coming to Indiana. Though, Y/N was sure that Claudia had gotten the skewed story from her mother.

“Darling, are you there? The telephone connection is rather poor at the airport, I’m afraid. Y/N?”

Y/N shook her head, clearing her thoughts. “Sorry, mom. I was just thinking. Are you back in New York?”

“We just landed not too long ago, but your father’s having trouble getting us a car.” Her mother’s voice was filled with disdain. Which is always the tone either of her parents took when speaking about the other, at least in private. “How’s small town life?”

“It’s pretty good, actually. I’ve been doing a lot, I even got a job for the summer until school starts back up.”

“Are you staying? Sweetheart, did we discuss our daughter staying with Claudia for another year?” She could tell her mother attempted to pull the phone away from her ear so Y/N couldn’t hear it anymore.

“Another year? I think my sister would be alright with that if we asked. I mean, we’ll send money and the rest of Y/N’s things.”

“But she can be so troublesome! I’m sure something’s happened since we’ve been away.”

“Dear, you’re overthinking this. Let me speak to Y/N.” There’s a scoff from her mother, and she could picture the roll of her eyes but the sounds of shuffling objects must mean that her father got the phone. “Pumpkin, are you still there?”

“Yup. How was Italy?”

“Excellent. We’ll get the film developed and send you some pictures, I got you some souvenirs I’m sure you’ll love too.”

“Could you stay on topic for once!” She heard her mother hiss in the background, more than likely hovering behind her father’s shoulder as he spoke into the phone.

“Yes, apologies.” He paused, probably holding back a sigh, before speaking again. “Pumpkin, are you certain you’d like to stay in Hawkins? I’ll have to speak to Claud about it either way.”

“I do. It feels like home, daddy.” Y/N explained. She’d never felt more at home, more welcomed, more herself than when she spent time in Hawkins. And now that she’d been there for months and was making progress with her own friends and had Steve too, she didn’t want to leave.

“Alright. Leave a note for your aunt to call me back and I’ll discuss it with her. I just want you to be happy, Y/N.”

“I’m writing the note now. Thanks. This really means everything to me.” Y/N scribbled down a note on the pad by the phone before tearing it off and moving to put it with one of the magnets onto the fridge door.

“Be sure to keep in touch, okay? I want to hear all about this summer job next time we call.”

“Of course, dad. I love you.”

“Love you too, pumpkin.”

A few days later, Y/N was getting things set up at home for Dustin’s return from his camp. Claudia had offered for her to go along to pick him up from the camp, but Y/N declined, opting to get things set up at home. Dustin’s friends had all called her on the walkie talkie in Dustin’s room the night before to ask if they could come over to surprise him. And, of course, she said yes.

She was getting a couple of snacks ready to put on the living room table as she overheard the kids conversation. El would use Dustin’s robotic toys to draw his attention to bring him out into the living room for the surprise. They talked about it freely because Y/N knew about her powers now.

It had come two months earlier back in April on one particularly rainy day. Steve was dropping Y/N back at home and he refused to come in when asked, “They’re going to want me to stay the night too.” He had groaned, to which Y/N laughed and kissed her boyfriend goodnight before coming back in the house. Though she hadn’t been able to find the kids at first, she heard their voices coming from upstairs in Dustin’s room. The moment that she saw them sitting there on the floor surrounded with a couple of objects floating in the air, she was cut off with his door slamming in her face before she could say anything.

They had to tell her after that, Y/N was too confused and had definitely seen what she knew she saw. But she was sworn to secrecy. All they told her was that El ( Eleven, or Jane now, according to the birth certificate that Hopper had gotten for her ) had been an experiment as a baby and came out with telekinetic powers. Of course, Y/N thought it was crazy. And then El had demonstrated the power for her specifically to understand.

Since then, the kids almost felt like Y/N was more included. The way she’d reacted to Eleven’s powers wasn’t what they had expected. They may have expected a bit more of a reaction, but all Y/N had needed was a simple explanation of the powers, a quick show of what they had meant, and then she was quick to believe what it was.

Not that they thought anything was going to happen again, the gate was closed, but if something did happen, they would figure that Y/N could help them too.

Then, a couple of days later, Y/N was at the mall having finished her own work for the day at Scoops Ahoy! sitting in the break room with Steve, chatting about nothing in particular, when Dustin had shown up, Y/N had was glad that she’d timed her lunch break accordingly and watched as Steve jumped up from his seat in the back to go and greet her cousin. She followed behind, opening the window and leaning out to watch the exchange with a smile on her face. She even giggled as she watched Robin roll her eyes and look at Steve.

“How many children are you friends with?” she asked, before turning back to look at Y/N. “How many kids does this guy know?”

“Technically, this ones my cousin. Hey Dusty!” she called with a slight wave from where she stood in the break room and Dustin turned to her shining his bright smile in her direction.

“Don’t these children have parents of their own or is it you two?” Robin asked quietly as she leaned back to look at her.

Y/N stood over with Robin who was cleaning as Steve prepped Dustin his own ice cream boat. He’d offered to have Y/N sit with them, but she’d kissed his cheek and told him to catch up with her cousin. They’d had a similar conversation the night before, her and Dustin. She wondered how Steve would feel about the whole Suzie situation. Y/N was positive Dustin was telling the truth, simply because she knew her cousin and wanted to believe the best thing for him. She’d been having a side conversation with Robin, whom she’d grown to consider a friend after spending a lot of her free time ( and lunch breaks ) down at Scoops with Steve.

When the line at Scoops got busy again, Y/N escaped into the back room. She wasn’t technically supposed to walk back their freely, or even at all, but no one had stopped her.

Somehow, she wasn’t exactly surprised when Steve and Dustin came bursting through the door, Dustin sitting down at the table and pulling out a recording and a book. She grabbed the book quickly and looked between the two of them, “Russian to English translations? What are you two idiots doing now?”

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #stranger things reader insert #stranger things x reader #dustin henderson x reader #ditc #dont @ me i used the word finale because epilogue moved onto a second line in the post lol

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