#beta kids laundry trip

[nonbinarybladee]

im back with homestuck ...happy late halloween !

[monsterfuker3000]

He’s on Fire (Option D)

Eddie Munson x Reader

Warnings: heavy, heavy smut. Implied abuse. Reader is cheating on abusive husband. Reader has female genitalia. Unprotected sex (do as I say not as I do, kids.) No use of Y/N. No beta read we die like men.

Word count: 8049

Enjoy :>

You’re married. Jesus, you're married, for God’s sake. This is not something Eddie should have to remind himself of, but here was, intently watching you, his pretty neighbor (two doors down and around the corner, mind you,) hang your laundry on the little clothesline outside your trailer. Yours, and your husband’s. You know, the one you’re very much married to.

Denny. The absolute bane of Eddie’s existence. At least twenty years your senior, by his estimate, and about two hundred pounds heavier. He wonders what in the world you could possibly see in a guy like Denny. Not only was he wildly disgusting, but Eddie could tell he wasn’t treating you well. At least, not as well as Eddie would treat you.

He knew Denny left you alone far too often. Nearly every night, since he worked the night shift doing “waste management” (what sort of waste anyone would be managing in the middle of the night, Eddie could not fathom. However, he was far too disinterested to ask,) and literally every weekend he left for a “fishing trip” with his buddies, rain or shine. Though, judging by the crumpled receipts and parking stubs that Eddie often found discarded carelessly in your driveway, he deduced that Denny was very probably not on fishing trips over the weekends, since there isn't much fishing to be done at casinos and short stays in pay-by-the-hour motels.

Eddie kept these receipts in a shoebox in his room labeled ‘Asshole Evidence,’ torn between showing you this box and keeping it hidden forever. It was a horrible secret to keep, and the knowledge of even having this box in his room made him feel sick, but he knew he couldn’t just throw it away. He knew he would show it to you someday. Probably. Possibly. Maybe.

Eddie was hesitant to reveal your husband’s weekend expenditures because he knew it would probably go one of two very different ways. Option A, the good option in Eddie’s mind, you would pack your shit and leave Denny immediately. Divorce him, take him for all he had, absolutely ruin him. The possibility of Option B, however, hung over Eddie like a dark cloud. He’d pictured it many times while waffling over his little moral dilemma.You’d scream. You’d cry. You might even break a few things, but you would pull yourself back together, the picture of a perfect little wife. You’d clean up the aftermath of your meltdown and cook dinner for Denny like nothing had happened. You’d stay with him forever, the knowledge of his lies and infidelities hanging over your head all the while. As long as you both shall live, as the vows usually go.

Thinking of the terrible Option B made Eddie sick as well. A lot of things involving Denny made Eddie sick, to be honest. However, his most immediate concern was the fact that you were alone so often. A very pretty girl, constantly alone in a trailer with a very, very shitty lock. Therefore, Eddie began his nightly vigils.

He told himself he was only watching your trailer like a hawk because he was worried about you, and definitely not because you had a habit of walking around in very little clothing when you thought no one could see you, (not that this detail didn’t help.) Watching you from afar, however, only satisfied Eddie for so long, and he had decided he had gone long enough without telling you about Denny that if he waited much longer it would look bad for him, which is why one Saturday afternoon, when he could be sure Denny wouldn’t interrupt, he finally worked up the guts to head over and formally introduce himself to his neighbor.

Eddie knocked on your door with a tray of cookies in hand that he had very clearly not baked himself, but it’s the thought that counts, right? He figured repackaging a few store bought cookies would be more appreciated than him trying to fire up the oven for the first time in God knows how long, and if he was going to break upsetting news to you, you might want some sweets. A few particularly incriminating receipts he’d picked up from your driveway over the past few months practically burned a hole in the pocket of his acid-wash jeans.

He heard you practically bound across your small living room in an effort to get to the door in a timely manner, and when you opened the door with what Eddie thought to be far too much enthusiasm, he realized he’d never actually gotten around to coming up with something to say to you. Unfortunately the best thing he could come up with in the moment was to stare dumbly at you and use every ounce of his willpower to keep his eyes on yours, and not the low-cut tank top you had answered the door in.

When several very awkward moments passed with no introduction from Eddie, you decided to speak first.

“Oh, hello! What can I do for you, uh…”

“Um, Eddie!” he finally managed. A momentous feat indeed.

You laughed, thank God. “Well in that case, what can I do for you, Um-Eddie?”

He chuckled at the joke. Low hanging fruit. He wished he could say he didn’t know your name, and hadn’t asked around the neighborhood like some kind of stalker, but that’s precisely what he did. He decided that this was a detail you didn’t necessarily need to know.

“‘Eddie’ by itself is fine. And what might your name be, m’lady?” He followed this question with a bow and a grand flourish of his arm. You laughed once again at his theatrics, and he very suddenly concluded that it was a sound he absolutely needed to hear more of. When you introduced yourself, he came to the conclusion that the way your name sounded on your own lips was one of the most beautiful things he’d ever heard.

“Well,” Eddie continued, “I just came by to drop off these cookies for ya, neighbor! (‘Good lord,’ he thought to himself.) I noticed you just moved in about, well, six months ago, I suppose…” he trailed off, scratching his head almost cartoonishly. Not to be deterred by his own poor planning, he continued. “I guess I’m a little late for the housewarming party, but would you care for some expertly baked desserts?” He nodded his head toward the plate in his hand and noted that the grocery store bakery had really started skimping on chocolate chips.

You smiled warmly at him, and Eddie’s heart soared. “Absolutely! There’s no way I’m eating all of those by myself, though. Would you like to come in for a cup of coffee?”

Eddie, surprised at the sudden and easily acquired invitation, accepted. You held the door open for him, and he stepped inside.

He noticed immediately that your trailer was actually rather homey. Lived-in, but not in a messy way. There were plants and knick-knacks on nearly every available horizontal surface, and the couch and recliner in the living room were not lacking in the throw pillow and blanket department. The kitchen was small, as all trailer kitchens are, but very neat. You pulled a filter and a small can of coffee out of one of the cupboards, and started on the coffee maker.

As you busied yourself with the coffee, Eddie realized that you had literally just let him, a practical stranger, into your home. The home you’re alone in every night. He wondered where in the world you had left your sense of self-preservation, if you ever had one in the first place.

“You know,” he mused. “I could totally be an ax-murderer, and you just let me into your house without a single question”

You glanced skeptically at him over your shoulder. “ You’re wearing jeans and a t-shirt, Eddie, I figure if you’ve managed to hide an ax somewhere on your person, you deserve a chance at murdering me. That would be an impressive feat.”

Eddie stared blankly at you and sat at your kitchen table, setting the plate of cookies down, waiting for his coffee, and pondering how you could possibly have gone this long without a home invasion. You brought over two cups of coffee, a little carton of half-and-half, and a container of sugar, and sat at the table across from him.

“So,” he began, scooping a slightly concerning amount of sugar into his coffee, “I’m going to be honest with you. I didn’t think you were going to invite me in. I have no idea what to talk about. I was prepared for a drive-by cookie drop off, not conversation.”

You laughed. Again. It was a beautiful sound.

“I’ll admit I wasn’t really prepared for company either. The only person I really talk to anymore is my husband.”

“Oh, your husband? What’s his name?” he asked, sipping his coffee that was much too hot to be drunk yet in an effort to hide his frown. He knew the bastard’s name plenty well.

“Denny,” you replied, dropping your smile. Not the response one would expect from someone who particularly liked their spouse. You changed the subject abruptly. “So, what do you do for work?”

Eddie cringed, knowing that being a super-super senior wasn’t necessarily a good look. “I’m actually not working right now, I’m on my third go of senior year.” He avoided your eyes, not wanting to see the usual judgment and surprise he got from most people at this revelation. “I’m pretty confident I’ve got it this year, though!” he added. “I’ve been spending more time studying and less time doing, um, extracurriculars.”

You leaned forward, picking up on his discomfort when it came to this subject. “Hey, don’t feel too bad. You’re looking at a college dropout turned waitress. Not everyone is cut out for academia. Doesn’t mean we’re stupid or anything”

This was incredibly refreshing to Eddie, who was used to pitying looks or laughter when this subject of conversation came about.

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right. Someone has to make the moderately disappointing kids look better in the eyes of their parents, too.” You laughed at this, and Eddie was thankful he’d put a smile back on your face.

“So, Eddie,” you began with a sly smile. “What are these ‘extracurriculars’ you mentioned earlier?” Eddie froze for a second, pondering just how many laws he felt like admitting to breaking tonight.

An hour and two cups of coffee later, Eddie knew he had to suck it up and tell you what he really came for. The two of you had gotten comfortable with each other lightning quick, and were talking as if you’d known each other forever, but he knew it was time, as much as he hated to have to ruin your mood. He knew this was going to be difficult for both of you, he already couldn't stand to see you upset, but it felt like he was lying to you. So, he coughed lightly and began to dig around in his pocket for the receipts.

“I have a confession. I didn’t come here just to bring you cookies. There’s something I think you should know.” You tilted your head, looking puzzled, and Eddie thought you looked just like a confused puppy. It definitely wasn’t helping, but he forced himself to continue. “I, well, I’ve found a few things in your driveway over the past few months, things I don’t think Denny wanted you to see, but I feel awful knowing this and not telling you.”

He pulled the receipts out of his pocket and laid them in front of you. He made sure to include the first and latest receipts to show you that his weekend activities had been going on for a while and had very much not stopped.

You frowned, looking at the evidence laid out on your kitchen table. “Oh. So the whole neighborhood knows my husband is a slut, too. Great. He forgets to take his receipts out of his pocket almost every Sunday and I end up having to take them out before I do laundry,” you hummed. “I’d hoped he’d at least been containing his little paper trail to the house.”

Eddie’s jaw dropped. You knew? You, beautiful and gentle and kind, knew your husband was out fucking prostitutes and you were just fine with it?

He was speechless. You shrugged and picked up the last cookie. You took a bite and only then remembered your manners.

“Oh, shit, did you want this?” you asked, mouth full of half-chewed chocolate chip cookie.

“What the fuck?” he asked.

“Woah, dude, I’m sorry. I’ll make you more if it’s that big of a deal.”

“Jesus, I’m not talking about the cookie. I’m talking about the fact that your husband that’s twice your age is whoring around every weekend and you seem to be totally cool with it.” He still hadn’t quite managed to fully pick his jaw up off the floor.

You shrugged. Again. You seemed to do that a lot when talking about things people wouldn’t normally shrug off.

“I mean, it’s not my favorite aspect of him, but there really isn’t much I can do about it. Why would I spend time worrying about something I’d never be able to talk him out of? And for the record” you continued, crossing your arms, “he’s not twice my age. He’s forty, I’m twenty-two.”

Eddie was still practically speechless, possibly for the very first time in his life, both because you were seemingly fine with this and also because he was taken aback that the thing you seemed most upset about was that he had guessed your age difference incorrectly by two years. This was not going the way he had expected, and this horrifying Option C you’d gone with rattled him. He had no idea what to say to you next, and decided he needed to leave and regroup before his brain melted out of his ears.

“Oh. Well. That-that’s fine. Oh, wow! Look at the time, it’s getting late, I think I’ll head home now, good night!” He said all of this while rather ungracefully tripping his way to the front door, and you had a front row seat the whole time from your spot at the kitchen table. You laughed a bit at the cliché ‘look at the time’ line, and got up to lock the door behind him. You watched out your window as Eddie confusedly made his way back to his own trailer, and when you were sure he wasn’t able to see you, you finally let yourself fall to the floor and sob.

It had been three days since Eddie’s botched intervention, and he still hadn’t seen you leave your trailer. He knew he had to check on you, just to see if you were alright, of course, not because he missed seeing you even from afar. Definitely not because of that. So in an attempt at offering an olive branch he wasn’t even sure was necessary, he made his way back over to your trailer after Denny left for work, plate of brownies in hand this time.

He knocked on your door, rather tentatively this time, and once again, you answered almost immediately. You smiled at him this time too, but it was much more strained than the last time. Eddie looked down at you from your doorway, holding his offering.

“Brought brownies this time.”

You smiled a bit wider, which eased Eddie’s nerves. He made it his mission to get you to laugh, really, truly laugh, before he left.

“Come on in, Eddie. I’ll put on some more coffee.”

“Stability? That’s it?” Eddie questioned incredulously. “You never loved him at any point?”

“I figured I’d learn to love him, I suppose,” you answered. “Besides, a roof over my head was a bit higher than love on my list of priorities at the time.”

You had spent the last hour and a half regaling Eddie with the story of how you came to be married to Denny. How your parents had kicked you out the moment you turned eighteen, how you’d lived out of your car for a year before meeting Denny at your waitressing job, how you’d married him for the promise of a home and someone to take care of you. You never asked for nor even expected faithfulness from Denny, and you knew he really only kept you around for the social status that having a pretty, young wife gave him, and it wasn’t like he hit you. Often. You didn’t share this last detail with Eddie, and he was still floored that you expected so little.

“So you just, do everything for him? Jesus, he treats you more like a live-in maid than a wife. Come on, you know you could do so much better than that. Don’t you have any friends you could move in with, at least temporarily? Until you can divorce his sorry ass, I mean.”

You scoffed, unsurprised that Eddie thought it would be so simple.

“Denny doesn’t really let me have friends, and I don’t really have time to go out and make them.”

This upset Eddie. For Denny to expect to have any right to tell you what you could and couldn't do with your life? He was surprised you never poisoned his lunch.

“Well,” he said, “I’m your friend now, and you didn’t even have to go out and find me. Pretty convenient, huh?” he said with a smile.

“My friend, hm?” you mused, finger on your chin while you pretended to think. “I suppose that’s acceptable.”

Eddie was ecstatic, but he would never tell you that, nor anyone else for that matter.

“Well, as your friend, I think it’s my duty to come over after your pig husband leaves to help you with housework and keep you company.”

You furrowed your brows, concerned that spending time with you would keep him from other things he’d rather be doing.

“Oh, Eddie, you don’t have to do that.”

“Of course not, but I want to,” he replied with a goofy grin. You couldn’t help but laugh at his expression, and he soon joined you, finding you laughter contagious.

Thus began Eddie’s nighttime rendezvous to his neighbor’s house.

Eddie was totally screwed. Completely screwed. He could even pinpoint the exact moment he became so, so horrifically screwed.

Eddie’s visits to your house in the absence of Denny had started as a once-every- two-or-three-days thing, but soon turned into nightly occurrences and what started as simply helping you with housework soon turned to dinners and movie nights, telling jokes, swapping life stories, and even a few sleepovers. Eddie spent these particular nights on the couch with his hands to himself, of course. The two of you had very quickly become best friends.

Unfortunately for poor Eddie, one Friday evening, tired from a busy workweek, you fell asleep in the middle of some third-rate horror movie he’d rented earlier that day. This wouldn’t normally be a problem, and had in fact happened several times before, but this time you sealed Eddie’s fate with one simple accident. You fell asleep on his shoulder. Cheesy, right?

Eddie had felt your head hit his shoulder, but was too engrossed in the movie to truly notice. About ten minutes later, however, when you nuzzled into his chest like a cat, it was like he was struck by lightning.

Jesus Christ, he was in love with you. He’d been attracted to you from the very beginning, sure, but he wasn’t in love. Was he? Surely his only motivation for counting down the minutes until your husband left was because he enjoyed your company as a friend, of course. He definitely didn’t spend nearly every unoccupied moment looking forward to seeing you at night because he was in love with you, absolutely not.

God, he was so screwed.

He carried you to bed that night and left immediately. He felt like he was suffocating, sitting in your house that you owned with the man you married, surrounded by reminders of the fact that you did not live there alone. He was glad that it was a Friday, because he didn’t sleep at all that night.

He had to tell you. He felt tortured after just one night of reaalization, and he was afraid he might actually explode if he spent more time with you. He had to tell you and get out of there, even if he really was your only friend. Even if you leaned on him. Even if he loved you.

He knocked on your door in broad daylight for once, knowing Denny was gone for the weekend. You answered the door, surprised to see an incredibly tense looking Eddie on your doorstep.

“We need to talk.”

“Alright, come in. What's the matter?”

He pushed past you into your house like he was in a rush to get somewhere. This concerned you, as it was very out of character. Especially the wild pacing he took up across your kitchen floor.

“Jesus, Eddie, sit down. You’re going to trip over something.”

Eddie sat in a dining room chair with so much force that you half expected it to break under him.

“I can’t do this anymore. I can’t do this with you.”

This was not something you had expected.

“What?” you asked. “What are you talking about?” Your voice raised in pitch just slightly, this was scaring you.

“I can’t keep coming to your house while your husband is away. It’s not appropriate. You’re married.”

“This isn’t the 1800s, Eddie, you can come to my house whenever. What made you start caring about this after six months?” You were starting to tear up at this point, there was no trace of the fun, easygoing boy you had gotten to know in the stoic man that now sat before you.

Eddie stood and walked towards your door.

“I guess I just had some kind of an epiphany. I’m going to leave now, I’m sorry.”

“Not without explaining yourself. Why have you just now decided to give a shit that I’m married to Denny?” You were crying at this point, tears rolling down your face as you tried to regulate your breathing. The only friend you’ve had in years was trying to walk out of your life, permanently. You weren’t letting him go without a fight

“I’ve already explained myself. I won’t be coming over anymore. I’m sorry.” His voice became more and more strained as he said this, and tears began pooling in his eyes as well. He wiped them away before they fell.

“Jesus, It’s like you're possessed! You never talk like this, what’s really going on? You have to tell me, you owe me that much.” You were distraught at this point, using every ounce of your willpower to keep yourself from just screaming. You grabbed him by the arms and he froze.

“I love you,” he whispered, so quietly you thought you might have imagined it.

“What did you just say?”

“I love you. I love you. I love you, God I love you!” By the end of his declaration he was practically yelling. “I love you and you’re married! You have no intention of leaving him, and that’s your choice, but watching you stay with him, watching you destroy yourself, it’s destroying me.” He had wiggled gently out of your grasp and had pressed his back against your front door, left hand resting on the doorknob. “I can’t keep coming to the house you share with him, sitting at the table you share with him watching you get into the bed you share with him, it makes me fucking sick, and it’s because I love you.”

“God, Eds, you are so fucking stupid.”

“What?” Now it was Eddie’s turn to be confused. He didn’t have much time to consider what you had just said, however, because you grabbed him by the front of his faded t-shirt and kissed him.

You pulled back after a moment, and wondered how his eyes could possibly be open that wide and still be contained in his eye sockets.

“I said you’re fucking stupid. I love you too, have for a couple of months. I think it happened the night we watched that stupid movie musical I picked. You never complained once, and I know you lied about liking it, but I knew I loved you then, and I know I love you now. I don’t want to be with Denny, I just didn’t know where I could possibly go if I left him. I want to be with you, Eds.” You looked up at him as he stared blankly ahead and could practically see the gears turning in his head as he tried to process this information. Then, the lightbulb went on, and he met your eyes again.

“I’ve got to say, you’re kind of stupid yourself, then.” He grabbed both sides of your face and pulled you in for another kiss, practically smashing your lips together. One hand moved from your face down to your back, and he pressed you fully against his body, making you moan. He used this fantastic opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth, deepening the kiss.

You regained your senses yet again, and reached up to thread your fingers through his long curly hair and pulled gently. He bit down lightly on your lower lip and moaned, and you pulled again, hard. He threw his head back slightly and practically keened.

Eddie went back in for another kiss, and you walked backward back into the kitchen, pulling him with you, until your legs hit the table. As if he could read your mind, he slid both hands down to the backs of your thighs, pulling you up and placing you on the very edge of the table. You spread your legs and he stepped closer to grind against you slightly, and you felt his cock pressing against your thigh, already straining against the dark ripped jeans he had picked up off his bedroom floor this morning in an effort to get to your house as soon as possible.

You wrapped your legs around him and rocked against him harder, and he hissed through his teeth. He finally pulled away from your lips, only to continue the kisses down your neck, playing with the hem of your shirt all the while. You got the hint, and lifted your arms up so he could pull your shirt off. He lifted it gently over your head and threw it to the kitchen floor. He returned his gaze to you and could have sworn the view took away a couple of years of his lifetime.

The bra you were wearing was pretty, black with just a little lace along the tops of the cups, but he wanted it off. He reached around and fumbled with the clasps in the back until you laughed and reached back to help him. You finally unclipped the bra and let the straps fall down your shoulders, and he groaned as you threw the bra in the general direction your shirt had been tossed.

“Jesus, your tits are perfect,” he muttered, and you couldn’t help but laugh softly at the absolute reverence in his eyes. He pulled his eyes up towards yours and slid his hands up your waist toward your tits, stopping just under them and lightly stroking the undersides with his thumbs.

“Can I …?”

“God, please.”

That was good enough for Eddie. He slid his hands upward to cup your breasts, and squeezed. He dipped his head to suck your right nipple while he pinched and rolled at the left, before alternating to the other side. One particularly hard pinch made your hands fly up into his hair and your hips buck. He laughed, and it was muffled, because he absolutely refused to pull away from your nipple.

He moved his lips slightly to the left of your nipple and bit and sucked at the soft skin there before soothing it with his tongue. He pulled away with a wet popping sound when he was satisfied and ran his thumb over the dark hickey he had left on your breast, admiring it.

“Hmm, pretty,” he hummed.

“Eddie?”

He looked up.

“Yeah, pretty girl?”

“I want you to fuck me.”

“Okay,” he breathed, still not quite believing this was actually happening to him. “I can do that.” When he didn’t move, you laughed softly and poked him lightly in the chest. “Oh. Yeah. Um, Where…?”

“Bedroom?” you asked.

“Yeah, bedroom. Good idea,” he answered, still slightly dazed but more confident. “Come here, pretty.” He hooked one hand under each knee again and gave you a chance to wrap your arms around his neck before lifting you off the table. As he carried you down the hallway, you set to work on leaving your own hickey on his neck, only pulling away to mumble ‘end of the hall’ when Eddie paused, forgetting which doors led where. He pushed the door open with his foot and laid you down gently on the bed before stepping away to get a good look at you.

You sat up, suddenly aware of the unfairness of your respective states of dress; you were down a shirt and a bra, and he was still fully clothed. You decided to even the scales.

“Come here, baby,” you said, reaching for him. He stepped closer, within your reach. “Can I take this off for you?” you asked, beginning to pull up the bottom of his shirt. You glimpsed a bit of hair right above his belt and prayed that you’d be able to get more clothes off of him soon.

He stepped back a bit to slowly pull his shirt off himself, letting you stay seated on the bed. He came closer when you reached out for him again to run your fingers across a few of his tattoos, admiring him.

“I want to do something for you,” he said, breaking the silence.

“Whatever you want, sweet boy. What do you want me to do?”

“Just sit tight, pretty girl, I’ll do all the work,” he said with a grin. He glanced around the room, spotting a hair tie on your nightstand and grabbing it to pull his hair back into a ponytail. He returned to the end of the bed where he had set you down and pulled you closer to the edge. He reached for the button of your jeans and ghosted his fingers over it before looking back up at you.

“I’m gonna take these off, is that alright?” You nodded, and he popped the button, pulled the zipper down, and worked the pants down your legs. He decided to throw yet another item of your clothing onto the floor. “Just lay down and get comfortable, you can lay your head on a pillow if you want. Whatever feels good for you.”

You pulled a pillow down from the head of the bed and pulled it under your head, waiting for whatever was next. Eddie knelt on the ground and gently pulled your legs up over his shoulders. He reached for your pussy and ran a single finger over the crotch of your panties, pressing a little harder over your clit. You gasped.

“Mmm, all wet. This for me, pretty?” he asked, very obviously pleased with himself.

“Yes, God, all for you, Eddie. Please touch me.”

Eddie decided he wasn’t in the mood for teasing. He stood again and hooked his fingers under the waistband of your panties and looked up, silently asking for permission yet again.

“Please, whatever you want to do,” you begged.

He relented and pulled your panties down your legs so, so slowly. It was agonizing waiting for them to come off, but he finally got them down to your ankles and completely off. It was not lost on you that your panties made their way into his jeans pocket instead of joining your pants on the floor.

“Fucking perv,” you laughed.

“Yeah, and you love it,” he replied, smiling down at you. He kneeled back on the ground and hooked your legs over his shoulders yet again, pulling you all the way to the end of the bed.

He changed his mind. Just a little teasing wouldn't hurt. He used two fingers to spread your pussy, looking so intently it reminded you of a scientist studying some kind of rare creature, and brought the index finger of his other hand up to drag along one side and down the other, pressing your clit again.

“Such a pretty fucking pussy, all for me, huh?” All at once, he removed both hands and rested them on the outside of either thigh.

“What are you- oh my fucking God,” you gasped.

You had begun to question what he was doing as he buried his face between your thighs, but when he licked a long stripe up your pussy from bottom to top with the flat of his tongue and followed this by wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking, you decided you weren’t in the mood for asking questions anymore. You were so surprised by the sensation that you tried to close your legs around his head, but he wrapped both arms around your thighs and pulled them back apart.

As Eddie swirled his tongue around your clit, he had two thoughts. The first was that he had realized that you were actually confused, like you had no idea what he was going to do. He felt bad for not explaining his intentions, but another thought plowed through his mind like a freight train.

Jesus, the old bastard had never eaten you out. You poor, poor thing. He knew just how to take care of you.

Eddie was going to rock your fucking world.

He decided that pinning down only one leg was just fine, because he absolutely needed one of his hands. While alternating between circling and flicking at your clit with his tongue, he let go of your left leg, which you immediately hooked around him to pull him in closer. Perfect. He used the middle finger of his now free hand to slide into your pussy, damn near all the way to the third knuckle, and he curled it to press into your g-spot.

You almost doubled over.

The sound that left your lips was heavenly and jarringly loud, but Eddie had to pull away for just a moment, both to check that you were still breathing and to mutter ‘Shit, so fucking wet, went in so easy,’ under his breath before reattaching his lips to your clit. You were white-knuckling the duvet he’d laid you on and he’d barely touched you, and he felt awful for you. He concluded it was his personal responsibility to take care of you the way you deserved.

He added his ring finger and began to slide the two fingers in and out of your pussy at a mercifully slow pace. He pulled his mouth away from you once again, and laid his head against the leg he was holding down. He’d decided you could stand just a little more teasing.

“Oh, pretty girl, has nobody been taking care of you?” he asked, with a hint of playful condescension. You choked out a ‘no.’ Hmm. Still able to form words. Not good enough. He took the hand that was holding down your leg and reached all the way around your thigh to lick his thumb. He pressed it against your clit and made gentle, tight circles, while simultaneously speeding up the fingers of the other hand and curling them once again. You nearly sprang off the bed, and he continued.

“Nobody’s been playing with this pretty little pussy? So soft and wet and warm. Baby, if you were mine, I wouldn't be able to stay out of it, I’d do anything to be inside you.”

This time, all you could manage was emphatic nodding and moans so raw they seemed to be coming from your soul. Perfect. Eddie decided you’d had enough.

“You wanna cum, pretty? You can cum, it’s alright.” He removed his thumb and placed his mouth over your clit once again. You let go of the duvet and grabbed his hair again, pulling it slightly out of the ponytail, and began grinding against his mouth, your legs practically vibrating. He hummed appreciatively, both at the hair pulling and the knowledge that you were very, very close to climaxing.

This vibration was all you needed to tip you over the edge you’d been teetering on, and you came, hard. Eddie worked you through your orgasm, slowing his fingers and his tongue but only stopping when you pulled him away by the hair. He pulled back and stood to help you move up further on the bed and sit up, his lips and chin shiny.

“Too much?” he cringed, worried he might have pushed you too far. He took the time to fix his loosened ponytail.

“Just a little,” you huffed, trying to catch your breath. “I’m alright now.”

“You sure? You don’t have to say that if you aren’t.”

“Absolutely.”

Eddie desperately wanted to kiss you. You looked so beautiful sitting there, sweaty and out of breath and looking totally fucked-out, so he leaned down and pressed his lips against yours. You could taste yourself on him, slightly tangy, and you tasted good. You pressed your legs together for a bit of friction. You wanted more. You wanted his cock.

Still unable to string together a sentence of any considerable length, you decided actions would have to be enough. You reached for Eddie’s belt buckle, confused when he stepped away and shook his head.

“I don’t expect anything in return. We don’t have to go any further than this if you don’t want to,” Eddie said. The strain he was putting on the front of his jeans, however, told you that it was taking a lot out of him to offer to walk away. You laughed, and once again, Eddie loved it.

“Eds, I already told you I want you to fuck me. The offer still stands, if you’d like to take it.”

God in Heaven, would he like to take it.

Unfortunately for him, due to most of his blood residing in the head below his belt instead of the one on his shoulders, he seemed lost as to how to continue. Luckily for him, you’d gained some brain function back. You took the opportunity to take a good look at the man in front of you for the first time since he’d taken off his shirt. He was muscular, not in the way someone would be if they worked out at the gym, but he was nicely built from occasional physical labor. His chest was hairless, but a happy trail started just above his navel, light near the top and growing darker and thicker as it traveled down. He had two mirrored bat tattoos, one on each side of his hip. This surprised you; you knew about his other tattoos, but not this more intimate one. You wondered if you’d see others.

Snapping out of your trance, you reached out for him, and he stepped closer, taking your hand.

“You’re sure about this?” he questioned. “I know we’re both kind of riding a high here, and I don’t want to take advantage, and I don’t want you to regret it later, and I-“

You cut him off. “No more ‘ands,’ Eds. Put your hands on me. Please.”

This seemed to snap him out of whatever was clouding his head, and he took a deep breath.

“Alright,” he breathed. “Before we start, I want to ask. Do you want to use a condom?”

“That’s completely up to you, Eds. I trust your judgment. I’m on the pill, and I get tested regularly. Denny hasn’t touched me since I got my last negative result.” Eddie nearly softened at the mention of your husband’s name, but shook it off the best he could.

“I’m clean as well. Should we go without?”

You smiled. “Please, God,” you replied breathlessly. Eddie’s cock jumped as he heard you practically beg him to fuck you raw. You couldn’t wait anymore, you were starting to drip on the duvet and your pussy practically ached. You needed to get the ball rolling again.

You leaned back once again, bringing your knees up and spreading your legs. You let your hand travel down to your core, middle and ring fingers dipping into your pussy to collect the wetness and bringing them back up to circle your clit. Eddie’s face turned an even deeper shade of red.

“Come on, Eds. Aren’t you going to touch me? I bet you know how to take real good care of a girl.” God, did he. He palmed himself, almost punishingly, through his jeans as he watched your display. He groaned as you brought your fingers up to your mouth to taste your own slick.

“Jesus Christ, baby. I’m gonna give it to you so good,” he moaned, fighting to undo his belt. You hooked your fingers in his belt loops and yanked him closer to undo his pants for him. He tried to kick them off, and then cursed as he realized he still had to fight with the laces of his boots. Finally, clad only in a pair of black boxer briefs, he kissed you.

His lips still on yours, you reached into his boxers and took hold of his length. Good God. You had to pull away from the kiss for a moment to yank his boxers down to visually confirm what you felt. Yep, there it was.

It was average in length, about six and a half inches. But God, it was almost as big around as your wrist, and it was beautiful. He was cut, and the head was a deep, blush pink, fading lighter near the base. A droplet of pre gathered at the tip, and you bent to lick it up. He hissed.

“Careful, pretty girl. I’ll fuck your mouth all you want later, but I want something else right now.” Your cheeks heated at his words. You moved further up the bed, and he followed, resting with his forearms on either side of your head, his cock slipping slowly in and out of the folds of your pussy, the ridge between head and shaft catching deliciously on your clit. He spoke up again.

“I want you to tell me for sure if you want this or not, sweetheart.”

You nodded vehemently.

“Ah-ah, that’s not enough. I want to hear you say it. Tell me you want me to fuck you right now.” But how could you form so many words, that beautiful cock between your legs and your brain melting out of your ears? You suddenly found the strength to be very talkative.

“God, please, Eddie, I want you to fuck me. Put your cock in me, I want to feel it, I want to-“ he laughed and silenced you with a kiss.

“Oh, Princess. Such good manners, asking so nicely,” he replied teasingly. “If you ask like that, I’ll give you whatever you want.

He lined the head of his cock up with your entrance, and you sighed. Finally.

“Ah, one more thing.” He reached behind him for your left hand, which you had practically buried in the flesh of his back, and brought it in front of him to slide off your wedding ring, throwing it to the floor. You’d have to find that later.

Then finally, finally, after months of the two of you pining after each other, each one too afraid to tell the other, he slid into you.

God, Eddie felt like he was on fire.

He’d never done it raw before, never trusted anyone he was with to really be clean, but he trusted you, and he was glad of it.

Your eyes rolled back in your head as you gasped, back arching off the bed. Eddie wasn’t any more put together than you were.

“Fuck, so fucking warm, so fucking wet, all for me,” he moaned trying to catch his breath and giving you a moment to adjust to his size. He smiled, and brushed a stray lock of hair from your face. “How are you doing, sweetheart?”

You were breathless, trying to relax enough to comfortably take him. “Could you move just a little?”

Eddie nodded, he was only about three quarters of the way in. He pulled out half an inch, and thrusted back into you, setting a slow and shallow pace while you adjusted. You slowly felt yourself relax, and then wrapped your legs around him to pull him in fully.

“Alright,” you said. “You can move.”

Eddie was seated balls deep inside the girl he was in love with. He was going to make damn sure he gave it to you the way you needed.

He started slowly, pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in, setting a gentle pace, but he couldn’t keep this up much longer. It was taking everything in him to not plow you into the mattress until you screamed his name.

“Harder Eddie, please,” you called out, and it was like a dam broke right in front of you.

He sat up, grabbing your hips and lifting them slightly to meet him, your upper half still on the mattress. He was fucking you hard, and you loved it. In this position he brushed against your g-spot with every thrust, and you used two fingers to circle your clit.

You came almost immediately, still sensitive from the oral you’d received a few minutes prior. As you clenched around him, Eddie came to the realization that he wasn’t going to last much longer.

He dropped back down, your hips back on the mattress with him nearly laying on top of you, still drilling into you like his life depended on it.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he paused his speech to kiss you. “It’s been a while, I’m not going to last much longer.”

You smiled. “That’s alright, Eds. I want you to cum.” His hips stuttered.

“In-inside? Or on-on your stomach, or…” he was fighting to keep up the pace, his thrusts getting sloppier.

“Inside, please Eddie, I want you to fill me up with your cum.”

He’s fairly certain you broke him.

Your permission was all he needed. “Fuck, baby, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum, I’m cumming,” he cried out. His admission pushed you over the edge, and you came once again, Eddie taking you both through your joint orgasms.

His hips finally stilled, and he smiled down at you before practically collapsing on top of you, making you laugh.

“I love you,” he mumbled, muffled because he said it with his face pressed into the pillow beneath your head. You pulled the hair tie from his hair and ran your fingers through it.

“I love you too, Eddie,” you replied, tears pricking at your eyes. He rolled off of you and propped himself up on an elbow to look at you.

“Sweetheart, what do you want to do now? Do you want to stay with him?” he questioned, hoping to God your answer was no.

“No Eddie, I don’t. I just don’t know where else to go.”

“I could take care of you. I’ll take you into town tomorrow, we’ll talk to a lawyer. You can move your stuff while he’s away for the weekend and you’ll never have to deal with him again. I’ll protect you,” he said, searching your eyes for an answer.

You turn to face him fully, tears flowing freely now. “Really? You’d help me with all of that?”

“God, of course, sweetheart. I’ll help you with all of that and more because I love you.” He leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, far more chaste than any he’s given you up until now.

“I love you too, Eddie. More than anything,” you reply.

Things are looking up for you, and you can’t wait to see where this is going to go.

Eddie is thrilled you chose Option D.

[hollyhomburg]

Before I Leave You (Pt.19)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: discussions about your past cause some troubling conversations, but amidst the sadness- there is also love.

Tags: grooming, age gaps, discussion of unhealthy and abusive relationships, first kisses, implied d/s relationships, Dom! Seokjin, Sub! Jungkook, discussion of dominant tendencies, implied voyeurism, Omegaspace, fluff, kisses, implied sexual content, Posessive behavior,

W/c: 12.0k

A/n: This chapter is full of things that i wasn’t originally planning on putting in until later, however, i think it’s important for the plot that i adress some of these themes now. i’ll be in la for the next few days so if im slow to respond im sorry!!!

Previous part ~ Masterlist

After Taehyung's rut is over, you melt back into the passive rhythms that you've become accustomed to. They leave, you wake up, then they come home. your lives togeather is nothing but a flurry of not quite there love, hidden looks, and secrets that linger behind barely-there touches. 

Like Namjoon reaching to press back your messy bangs during one of your early morning bird watching sessions before he thinks better of it. Or A fond smile from Hobi that hadn't been there before; like the warm glow of the sunrise, colors that change so slowly that you hardly notice they’re fading from yellow to pink until you look away and then look back. 

Like the uncharacteristic shyness from Jimin, a certain heat between you and Tae that the others ask after with pointed looks and jabs masqueraded as teasing. A hovering gaze from Jungkook, unable to look away from you and yoongi like a little kid watching sweets he wasn't yet allowed to have.

The youngest pup, in particular, has been trailing after you and Yoongi alot recently.

Jin came home on Friday and found you three cuddling close on the couch. Jungkook's legs over Yoongi's and yours over his. Trading your phones back and forth sharing funny videos. Each of you pressed into Yoongi’s side though the beta hadn’t seemed bothered, dozing. Occasionally opening his eyes to scowl with fake displeasure when you’d showed him a video of a tiny black kitten and said, “look it’s you!”

He even found a sweatshirt of yours in their nest that Jin definitely hadn’t incorporated himself. Jungkook is usually the one who does the laundry for the pack- it would be easy for him to sneak something of yours upstairs and into the nest if the urge struck him. It was a little hidden under one of the blankets, shyly- like Jungkook was almost embarrassed about it.

And More than once over the last few weeks, Seokjin has woken to find Tae missing from the nest. Thought a short trip to the kitchen is enough most of the time to dissolve Jin's worries. The light lit behind the door to Tae's library and your voice echoing from within makes Jin sigh in relief. 

He often stands for a moment to listen; A giggle here or there, your voices just quiet enough that Jin can't hear just exactly what you two are talking about.

But he knows better than to interrupt, the closed-door sends a very clear message, and Jin respects it even if he wishes he knew what you were doing. How and if exactly, you two are falling in love. Jin sees everything, even Tae’s eyes hovering for a second more than they should when Jin kisses you. 

Though tae isn’t the only one whose been staring. It's a rarity if Jin doesn't see someone staring hungrily at the two of you when he presses small kisses to your mouth- still chaste and innocent- though he has a feeling that soon- they won't be. There is a certain fervor to their scents, echoing sweeter and sweeter the more that they linger over those looks and kisses. 

Their wants aren't the only thing building, Jin feels like he's been hungry for your presence and company at all hours of the day. His work hours are tangled with thoughts of you. He checks his phone for texts that aren't there (you don't text often, though Jin's not sure if that's because you think they don't want to talk to you, or if it's because you genuinely don't want to). He holds you closer on the few nights that he gets to nest with you. Nuzzling into your shoulder and biting his tongue to stop himself from licking at your scent gland. 

Maybe he should savor this innocence and simplicity for as long as he can. Soon- it could be over. 

Something is going to give with one sweet touch, one new kiss, or a small act of love that kindles these ashes into flame. There have been no new kisses, much to Jin’s disgruntlement and continued angst, he’s not sure why it has him feeling so antsy. Maybe the truth is he’s just not used to being in love with someone who hasn’t been directly and explicitly been incorporated into the pack.

But they wouldn’t have just let you stick around during Tae’s rut- and Tae wouldn’t have asked for you if his inner instincts hadn’t already agreed to it. Even Hobi hadn’t said anything at all negative about you in weeks. Greeting Namjoon and Jin’s careful prodding with nothing more than a shrug and a quiet “we’re friends now, I swear if this wasn’t okay I’d say something,” he’s said so countless times, but it never hurts to check and make sure. 

Regardless of Jin’s impatience to just get all this tiptoeing around each other over with, he’s been forcing himself to be patient but the tension just might kill him.  

But he’s in luck because there's going to be a new first kiss today; four down, three left to go.

“Is it because of Tae’s rut? Did it scare her? Is it because we’re giving her too much space? Does she think we don't-” he murmurs. Looking down at the meal he’s currently making. It’s a Monday, and a federal holiday so he had today off unlike everyone else (besides you and Yoongi of course). So he's got time to cook a time-intensive and decadent meal for the pack, usually, this is considered a peak relaxing activity.

But not today, not with the itch under Jin’s skin. 

The last time he checked, you were still curled safely within the bounds of your nest, sleeping off your morning drowsiness. Jin had fluffed the perimeter to make sure you were extra cozy and pressed an extra kiss to the crown of your head just because. Even if you can't feel his love in your sleep he hopes it makes a difference, makes you feel a tiny bit safer.

Things at the bureau have been dull as of usual although things always drag on at the end of summer, not much to do and not much murder when things get so hot. People always seem to scheme more when the winter months hit- something about the cold that has them all feeling like starving wolves.

Jin had every intention of using today as a relaxation period, though that had mostly gone to shit when he’d woken up hours after everyone had already departed for work. Feeling listless and half-awake even though he’d gotten hours more sleep than usual. Now he just feels too idle, too prone to musing on his oversaturated thoughts.  

“Why haven’t things just happened yet? What’s keeping them from it?” he trails off, looking down at his vegetables. The carrots and sweet potatoes keep their secrets, The leek is an easy target.

For a moment Jin feels less like the capable pack omega who regularly nurtures and cares for his 7 pack-mates and more like a little kid standing over a pot of rainwater, grass, and plucked flowers making pretend soup.

He attacks the carrots with gusto, the resounding pop pops of his knife sliding through them filling the kitchen with the sounds of his frustration.

Yoongi chooses that moment to slink downstairs. His hands have that freshly washed look that they often have, he's been meticulous about hiding everything about his plans and progress for the upstairs.

He’s missed a fleck of paint on his elbow, the black sweatshirt ruined for good. Is he priming? Or maybe just painting? Is the room upstairs going to end up that color of not quite their eggshell blue? Maybe it’s just the light that makes it look that way, maybe it's grout or calking or something else (It wouldn't be the first time a white non-descript substance had stained Yoongi's clothing).

If Yoongi was painting, maybe that means he's nearly finished, but Yoongi says nothing. “What did those carrots ever do to you?” the beta slides up to the counter and pops one round into his mouth. For a self-proclaimed cat turned human he does have a few bunny-ish gestures to him, learned from Jungkook probably.

“Nothing.” Yoongi hums relatively unconvinced, leaning over to peck along Jin’s cheek. Jin tries to hide his smile but can’t. Yoongi looks satisfied, his spent fluffing out gentle chocolate in reply. But even that is an edge more intoxicating than it usually is, settles under Jin's nose like a collar.

Jin can barely try to contain his eagerness, “Is your other half up there painting with you?”

Yoongi stiffens at the very mention of the upstairs, "yah- you know I'm not gonna tell you." Just like with the kisses, Jin is growing impatient.

Usually, he’d pick up a knife and start helping Jin cook, but not today. Maybe the project he has brewing upstairs is too time-sensitive. Jin's brain will ferret out the answers on his own if he has to (short of picking the lock at the top of the stairs).

“If she’s not hanging around you, she’s probably still napping.” The fondness seeps into Yoongi’s words. Jin would have half a mind to join you if he wasn’t feeling so restless. “But I think she and kookie are gonna try and bake when he gets home or something, I heard them talking about sugar substitutes this morning.”

That has Jin’s curiosity peaked, the idea that someone might accompany him in his kitchen soon is soothing- if nothing else, maybe that will finally quiet the itch under his skin.

“What are you making?”

“Soup,” Yoongi smiles, and Jin waits about another ten seconds before the curiosity gets the best of him.

"Oh spit it out would you-" but he stops once he sees- once he looks at the man he's called his for the better part of a decade.

Yoongi's eyes are warm in the light, half deep brown and the other rich sienna when they flicker from the vegetables up to Jin's face. It has Jin wishing he'd thought to change into something more respectable other than the matching light purple lounge set with the gochujang stains on the sleeves. Something that would make Yoongi look at him that way a little longer and let Jin be the object of that love for a few seconds more.

He steps close to Jin, hand on his waist leaning up to whisper in the omegas ear like it's a secret, even though it's just the two of them there.

There is an edge of mirth to his lips, twisting into a small smirk and a knowing edge to his words. Yoongi’s voice is husky and rough in the way that makes jin want to tilt his neck, display his scent gland for marking. “You’ve been making soup a lot Jin, and I know you- you only make soup when you’re feeling particularly in love,”

As if you’ve been summoned by the two of them talking about you, You appear at the door. Your fluff of hair piled all sleep messed and sticking up. Your usual outfit of an extra-large shirt is no less endearing with your non-polished Appearance and maybe Jin has something to learn from you as far as that's concerned. He wipes his hands of carrot juice and rushes to you, "Oh my sleepy puppy."

You've always been small enough that any of them could pick you up without effort, and you're lucky that he settled for cupping your cheeks. otherwise, Jin would have heaved you up and restored you to somewhere cozy and contained- safe within the confines of Jin's domain. Maybe he would have deposited you into bed or maybe upon the couch to watch you- or better yet his nest.

That might have startled you, but Jin's dominant urges aside- you only grumble and lean into his hands, his thumbs feel fantastic rubbing the space just under your ears, you were nearly awake before but with the attention, it lulls you back. 

(The dominant urges also say to baby you the way that jin babies the rest of the pack; to dictate what pajamas you choose, what you eat, your everything- just like with the others. To have your care carefully measured like that of a recipe to make you healthy under Jin's hands. How much would you give to Jin? Probably much more than you'd be comfortable with- given your history. The itch under jin’s skin today is the itch to dominante, to control everything and make it perfect for his loves.)

Affection, care, and control. All ingredients need the proper balance to make love taste right.

Your nose presses along the line of Jin's wrist to search for his scent gland. He smells so good. When you'd woken feeling fluffy and cottony around the edges his scent had pulled you from your nest. This headspace is not unlike omega space but not quite as deep.

Yoongi laughs behind him, and you whine at your mate as threatening a gesture as you are capable of making. "Nope, she's still asleep- told you."

You whine in his direction again, finally opening your eyes to look up at Jin- who looks stricken with something that looks an awful lot like love. A look like that says he would give you anything and everything that your little heart might want. You lean into him more and hope the message is clear without you having to say it, he keeps rubbing. sorting through the purr in your throat to find your words. 

“Is Koo home yet? Supposed to make honey cupcakes.”

“You’re a cupcake- a pup-cake,” Yoongi says, deadpan before Jin can respond, you whine again and burrow into Jin’s chest. Hiding your face from the midday sun and your mates teasing, Jin can feel his heartbeat in his fingertips.

Jungkook is usually the first to get home from work, the first domino to fall in the tornado of packmates soon to come. A look at the clock says he should be walking through the doorway any second. “Not yet sunshine.”

Jungkook’s hair is wet when he comes home, though it's only the tips like he showered in a hurry at the gym and forgot to dry it properly. If it was winter Namjoon and Jin would draw him over their laps for such a blatant show of disregard for his own immune system.

But it’s summer and Jungkook’s body is warm when he quite literally hops into your omega cuddle pile with a chirpy. “Hi hyung!” and a kiss to Jin’s scent gland that sends a zing down his spine, barely even bothering to shut the door properly behind him. The cool air empties out and some of the summer humidity invades. Yoongi sighs fondly and shuts it for him as to not waste the Ac.  

“How was work bunny?” Jin heaves in a deep breath, his spine relaxing from its coiled-up nature.

Jungkook’s nosing through your hair, one of your hands isn’t on Jin anymore, and it tangles in the front pocket of his sweatshirt tugging him closer softly. “It was okay, the boxing class was kind of uncoordinated again, but other than that- good” Jin presses another kiss to his forehead in reply

You switch your nuzzling from Jin’s chest to Jk’s. The three of you are a puddle of honey cakes with milk, a sweet omega pile. The kind of scent that would make the alphas go possessive from just a wif. 

Yoongi certainly does, nostrils flaring when he darts by to press a hello kiss to Jungkook’s shoulder before he disappears back upstairs. “Glad to hear you had a good day bunny!” 

Jungkook makes a noise in response, much more confused with what you’re doing, your chin resting on the thick collar of his sweatshirt, your breath tickling his neck and your hands playing in his pocket still. You lean back, seemingly realizing how close you are to him.

The blush topping his cheeks cute, Jin barely holds himself back from feeling like a little kid going 'now kiss' with his stuffed animals. A bunny and a small kitten, or maybe a puppy. If you could combine a cat and a dog- that would be your spirit animal. A puppy-cat.

You seem to wake up a little, smiling up at Jk with a hint of mischievousness, both of your hands shoved in the front pocket of his sweatshirt. “Hey, Jk you’ve got something in your pocket.”

“What?”

“Me.”

Their laughter rebounds, Jin’s chest shakes against your shoulder, and Jungkook’s nose crinkles. His arms squeeze around your middle hard enough that you can feel it in your back, pulling you against him hard enough that your feet leave the ground for half a second.

Jungkook is so warm- his body so firm but soft in the right places like all omegas are. He’s squishy- almost nest shaped (if a person could even be nest shaped) it makes you feel all hazy and happy. 

Both of you could fall into omega space right now if Jin pushed hard enough. Maybe he will just for fun- who knows what you two might do and what it might spur on. “You are pocket-sized! We could make it work” Jungkook giggles, looking at you from behind the fringe of his hair shyly.

Jin is the one who gets to see you two like this, your little puppy pile. He actually does start purring, a faint rumbling underfoot. Jungkook looks up at him, that same tilt to his eyes that he always gets when he’s feeling particularly submissive. He has had a day full of making decisions by himself. He deserves a little break.

On any other day, Jin might draw him into his lap and tease Jungkook to a pink-cheeked fervor, bring him to the edge and then just barely stop. He wouldn't even have to take off Jungkook's sweats to get him begging. He'd leave him hot and needy and eager to please for the rest of the day. A pretty present for the alphas; a good pup ready to present and beg for relife. They used to do that often when they lived alone- hell- clothes were straight up negotiable at their last apartment.  

But with you here, they can’t be nearly so bold. And though their dynamics in the bedroom still remain the same they can't as free with that part of their relationship outside now. 

No more preparing Jungkook collared, prepped, and nude by the door for the alphas or letting the omega cock warm them during dinner. No more quickies on the couches (besides a few times when you were already asleep and hobi had really begged for the ecstasy of a knot).

They’ve gotten by without that kind of play for now. But Jungkook looks a little jumpy today, nearly leaping into the air when Jin swats his behind playfully behind your back, a knowing look exchanged and a sharp intake of breath.

The message is clear; behave pup, but Jungkook is a good boy when he wants to be, when he isn’t in a bratty mood.

There isn’t anything better than having all the omegas in one place, Jin nearly wants to preen, guiding you and Jungkook from one spot to another as you start to cook. Pups- Jin’s pups giggling and leaning over your little cookbook trying to sort through Jungkook’s seizure-friendly baking supplies (that might have been replenished by Jin weeks ago, who had foreseen that maybe you’d try to bake something for Jungkook).

It’s been so long since you’ve made a recipe from your cookbook and not your computer that Jin had nearly forgotten about the little half-binder half diary that usually lives shoved behind the KitchenAid. The tangle of loosely scrawled recipes bound with a rubber band or taped between in between the fraying cover. Pages filled with doodles and scrawled messages, half a diary and half a cookbook.

It's open to the recipe for honey cakes. Jungkook’s computer sits on the counter too- open to a page on keto substitutions.

In the end, you settle on a mix of coconut flour and chia seed powders for the flour. alcohol sugar, and a mix of agave and honey for sweetness instead of just pure honey which is a big no in terms of Jungkook’s diet. Even the little bit you’ll drizzle on the top of them at the end for a little push of flavor will set him to the threshold of what he can handle. Too much sugar and it could send his brain out of wack- not immediately, but within the next 48 hours or so.

You're learning a lot, like how he can go over the threshold a little if he makes sure to reign it in the next day and give his brain some time to metabolize the sugar before ingesting any more.

You make a little section for him on a fresh page in your diary, ‘things Jungkook can and cannot eat’ sometimes when you turn away to put different bags of flours back into the pantry you find little doodles on the corners, a carrot, a pair of bunny ears sticking up from the bottom corner. Jin hides a smile but watches you out of the corner of his eyes. He hopes it's okay- he's seen Yoongi's handwriting near the top of more than a few pages.

It’s a good thing that butter is a part of Jungkook's approved foods- otherwise, it might not taste much like your honey cakes at all. You sort through the rest of Jungkook’s baking supplies adding them to the list and he tells you the various merits of each while you wait for the butter to soften fully.

Jimin is the next packmate to get home, maybe that’s because he left early this morning before the sun even rose. His tie is already undone and a little wrinkled, like he was twisting it over his hands all day. Jin can tell just by looking at him that he got shoved by more than a few crazy fans today. He doesn’t like the idea of that- his alpha being touched by hands that aren’t his pack.

He starts to say something, setting his bag down, before he stills, taking off his jacket and hanging it up. “Smells good” you poke your head up from the counter. Elbow deep in softened butter. "Are you sure you should be using your hands for that?"

"it's like pie dough, you kinda have to touch it to make the consistency right." jungkook parrots your earlier words back, looking proud that he remembered. 

“how does it smell good if we haven’t even started baking yet!” Jimin bites at his plush lower lip.

jin leans over to press a peck to your mouth, just for being so cute and a little oblivious. “I don't think our alpha was talking about the cooking Pup-cake.”

“Pupcake? That’s new,” Jimin comments, setting his stuff down and settling in, the bend of his spine betraying his tiredness more than the tilt of his eyes- the usual giveaway that the alpha is dead tired.

“It was- Yoongi- or Jinnie- I can’t remember.”

“Yoongi” Jin clarifies.

“It’s cute- I like it.” You shyly look down, trying to conceal your blush. If Jimin were close enough he’d be able to hear your small whine. Jin finishes his chopping and regrettably has to separate from you and Jungkook. Turning around to set the largest soup pot on the burner. 

You shouldn’t really be so shy around Minnie but maybe that’s just how you are. Because Jungkook is so close he can get a good read on your scent and it’s not changing from that softly sweet cakey smell, so Jimin's good- your shyness isn't the unsure or unhappy kind.

Huh,

Jungkook's never really felt the need to check in on another packmate before and it makes him pause, one half cup of your flour mixture in one hand. He's been territorial about the others sure- but never protective.

At the dead bottom of the pack hierarchy, Jungkook has never felt the need to act that way much less had someone who needed his protection. that thought was something he'd expect to come from jin's mouth and not his own. You look up at Jungkook, waiting for him to tap the last bit of flour slowly over the butter.

“Sorry” he apologizes, but he’s not quite sure what for.  

You'd never notice it, but you have the whole pack's attention right now.

The way Jimin moves can only be described as ‘stalking’, an alpha herding the three of you. It makes Jin smirk a little because Jimin is second to Namjoon only by name. Everyone knows he’s actually third in the pack hierarchy- could be pushed around by Jin if he dared to push back. But as it is- Jin thinks it's incredibly cute, the little show the alpha puts on for you.

Jimin sets his eyes on you and pushes his hair back in a way that he does when he’s trying to be attractive, but then he trips on the edge of the carpet, and the illusion of sensuality is ruined.

It’s funny to see Jimin flirt (or try to) as he’s a little out of practice. Such an over wrung version of his sensual and cool persona and barely a hint of natural Minnie even there. It makes Jin and Jungkook stifle giggles. Jimin's crooked teeth bite into his lower lip, your eyes flicker up and then back down at the bowl of barely formed dough in front of you.

Jimin shifts on his feet and /oh/ here is their Minnie, that cockiness with a hint of shyness as he leans over the island. “So, I was thinking-“ he rummages in his pocket, pulling out a folded piece of paper. He sets it where you can see it, rather than touch it given the state of your hands.

You're just about to try cracking the one egg into the metal bowl, but after it almost slips out of your buttery hands Jungkook takes it, “let me do that.” He takes over mixing after that, using a whisk instead of your hands- but the flour was almost fully incorporated so it’s okay.

The piece of paper is more of a flier, Advertising a once-monthly event 'brews and bards'

Jimin talks quick like he's trying to rip off a band-aid, “They’re going to have this poetry night- at this bar/coffee shop that Tae and I used to go to a lot before Yoongi-“ Jimin cuts himself off, stuttering a little, “I thought we could go with Tae cuz like- you know he likes poetry and the three of us- You haven’t really been out and seen the city and I thought maybe we could- make a date out of it or something right?”

The pamphlet has a grungy old-timey edge stain to it, something that maybe you’d expect to see for a Shakespeare performance reminiscent of more primitive times; when alphas used to court omegas with fresh kills and pelts. 

The offering is a paltry comparison to what Jimin and Tae actually offer beyond a single night of entertainment.

Seokjin’s smiling just thinking about it, did they talk about this? Is Tae aware of what Jimin asks? moreover, does he know what you and Tae get up to at night? It seems unlikely that the designated soulmates of the group haven’t confided fully in each other. But maybe it’s the secrecy that makes it fun for you and Tae.

Jin is always curious, how could he not be? You’re all his pups of course he’d be curious enough to want to watch you all fall in love. Even now Jin can’t look away. Jungkook ducks in low, hiding his smile behind his hair again. 

He'll need a haircut soon- Tae too; his hair is so long that the alpha has taken to tucking it behind his ears, the grown-out perm showing too with the ends fluffy and the top straight. Jin runs his fingers through Jungkook’s and resolves to book both of them in the next few weeks.

Minnie is so rarely flustered but right he can barely look at you as he stutters through his words. So rarely inarticulate that it’s charming to see him so unnerved, he says them quickly like he’s worried about how they’ll be received.

You blink still like you’re holding your breath, Jimin takes your silence for something else. “We don’t have to stay for long, and I figured it wouldn’t be loud like a normal club-like loud and stuff- so you wouldn’t get overwhelmed and-“ you’re still staring at the piece of paper like it’s a sleeping viper, Jimin sags against the kitchen island.

“You don’t want to go, do you?”

You eye it, like the flour it sits in turns the shine of the paperless glossy.  Your hands are flour-coated too, a little bit of flour even sticks along the bottom of your jaw. Jin and Jungkook are quiet and watchful; waiting to see who needs comfort, (You at being overwhelmed by the first explicit act of courting from the alphas, or Jimin for being rejected)

But a rejection wouldn't really hurt him, at least not too bad. A new angle might be necessary. What should Jimin and the other alphas do for courting you? Give you flowers and sweets? Well scented nesting materials are a given- anything to show that they can provide and protect. Jin's kind of excited just considering it.

You blink, feeling dizzy or sticky, like the kitchen is far away and you're sinking. It’s just a bar, it shouldn’t be making you feel like this. Like you’re watching the ocean rise and drowning below. Why does it always feel like your hold on these conversations slips away so easily? You don't know what to say. Has Jimin talked to Tae about this? 

Was this Tae's idea?

Going to this bar means going outside, means being around people, means putting on pretty clothes that might be seen. It’s different to be pretty with Tae, to do it more for her than for yourself. But you feel like you’re suffocating under the weight of possible eyes. Not the careful seven that you've chosen and you don't know what to expect. You don't know what bars like this are like because-

“It's not that I don't want to, I've just never been to a bar before.” Your voice is so quiet they have to strain their ears to hear. The quiet squeezed off the way your voice sounds before you go non-verbal. Jin has to stop himself from pulling you into his arms at the very sound of it. Instincts rise before the meaning behind the words really hits him.

It’s the opposite of what Jin’s been expecting. “You didn’t go while you were in college?” you blink up at him equally as perplexed by his words.

“I didn’t go to college Jin.”

Jungkook jumps in, having at least a sense of the meltdown that threatens. “That’s okay! Neither did Minnie or Yoongi or Hobi, And I only went for 2 years, which isn't even a real degree.” Jin and Jimin are quick to assure him that no it is- it's an old argument however, and not even the most important one at that.  

Jin pops the vegetables into a waiting pan filled with oil, Turning away for a second to school his face into a look of passivity. “I'm sorry, I didn’t know.” He says softly, and that- that line alone sends Jin hurtling down a train of thought.

What else doesn’t he know? What else have you kept from him? Maybe kept is too harsh a word, what else just didn’t come up? You’ve been living together for nearly two months at this point, a little longer even. How could it be that there is something so central to you that Jin doesn’t know about you?

Jin looks down at the pot of chopped vegetables and the box of un cooked pasta and realizes that fuck- he doesn’t even know what your last name was before you got the last name Min.

“It’s fine, I thought about it for a little while when I was in high school. But I didn’t do well enough for scholarships and I wouldn’t have been able to afford it otherwise.”  

You swallow back the little bit of disappointment and shame that still lingers. It’s been years but it’s hard to get out of the mindset that you are somehow less worthwhile because you didn't get an education. You still don’t consider college as something within your reach even though you no longer have the same financial barriers that you grew up with.

Stupid fucking blood money. 

“At least back then,” you amend.

“What did you do? Before you met your ex?” Jungkook asks, this isn’t something that anyone had anticipated talking about, and certainly not today with how soft and lighthearted everything had been just a short few minutes ago. Jin's hands tighten on the edge of the deep soup pot, and he reminds himself to listen before he barrages you with questions.

It’s not a difficult question but you shift from foot to foot. You kind of wish Yoongi was still here. Yoongi- who already knows everything- who learned every one of these secrets over coffee and pastries months ago when things were infinitely worse. when you hadn’t even wanted to keep these secrets- you’d been so desperate for connection then- so desperate just for someone to talk to that the words had flowed freely. 

You remember the day you told him, the day that he asked about your past just like Jungkook. Yoongi had put down his teacup so hard he almost broke the expensive gold-edged china after he'd realized just how young you were when Geumjae had pursued you. 

You hadn't known he was a monster back then, to you a child- monsters were just a thing of childhood, the last vestiges of it that you'd been so eager to cast off.  it hadn't taken you long to learn that monsters were real, that they weren't just old wives tales told to keep children in line.

You cast a glance back at the miss-matched bundle of coffee cups. You'd trade a million gold china cups just to have one of your own in their set. You feel safer here than you ever have in any home you’d ever lived in, even your childhood apartment.

(Oh, here is home isn’t it? this is what it feels like right? You’re not sure if you ever have before. maybe home isn’t just where you’re safest- but where you’re loved too).

“I was in high school.”

“You were-“ Jimin’s expression darkens as the reality washed over him, Jin's too. Jungkook's the only one who's still disbelieving. 

“But I thought he was like- a lot older than Yoongi or something? Like mid 30’s old?” He casts a look at Jin, “no offense Hyung” Jin feels like he’s holding his breath because it’s not adding up. Your ages-

“Hang on- How old are you?” You grimace like you know what’s coming. 

“Twenty-two, so I’m like, legally allowed to drink or whatever.” You turn to Jimin like that’s where you’d thought his worry came from- some paltry fear of underaged drinking.

“Oh, you baby” Jungkook is always one for theatrics, cupping your cheeks and moving your head from side to side squeezing your cheeks. 

Your words are muffled but Jin would be able to tell you're pouting even without the squeezing. “I’m only like what? Two years younger than you?” there is a bratty edge to your voice that would have Jin nipping at your scent gland under other circumstances.  

But Jin’s gone white as a sheet, blood draining from his face and head spinning. Dizzy- Jin is going dizzy because- “oh my god I’m a cradle robber- there is no way we have almost a ten year age difference- holy fuck-”

Jungkook looks playfully down at you, grinning, but then not, the smile and the happiness at teasing Jin sliding off his face as quickly as it had come. “Wait- if you’re that old now- how old were you when Yoongi’s brother first- when he-”

“Pursued me? I was like 17? Maybe a little younger?” Their stomachs drop through their feet and feeling nauseous takes on a whole new meaning.

Revulsion swoops low in his stomach, “holy shit-“ Jungkook says the same moment Jimin curses and says, “that’s fucked up “

You try to backtrack. And maybe you haven’t healed much at all. Because your first instinct is to defend it. The same way you’d defended the age gap to your friends and parents back then. Before Geumjae had taken care of that distraction and moved the two of you to the other side of the city, an easy and efficient way of cutting off your support system and making you more vulnerable.

But as much as you hate to admit it, it hadn’t felt so terrible back then.

Back then you’d just been glad to be taken care of for the first time, to have someone's focus solely on you and an older, well-off alpha at that. You cringe when you think of how you'd bragged about it to some of your high school friends. How happy you'd been that you didn’t have to think about money as much and that you had someone to buy you pretty things.

But you're old enough now to consider that maybe it had been a little fucked up, how he’d used your age against you- told you that the others just didn't understand, that you just didn’t understand.

Age isn't just a number when you're only 17.

“You’re so mature for your age” but not mature enough to stop him from using you. You feel guilty and gross when you think about how easy it had been to charm you. Pretty things and expensive objects that you’d signed over your soul for and become a possession of his.

A pretty young girlfriend who had turned into a pretty young fiancé and then a pain-in-the-ass wife who was barely more than a child. No wonder why he always tried to dress you up to make you seem older. But nothing ages you quite as abuse does.

“I mean- I encouraged it- and he at least had the decency not to propose until my 18th birthday. So I guess I didn’t think it was weird because I’d known him for a while.”

But Jungkook is foaming at the mouth almost, Jin too. Though they both understand it- how after presentation everything feels so new and hard and needy. Jungkook himself garnered a reputation as quite the heartbreaker with how he bounced from alpha to alpha back then. 

Relationships fresh after presentation aren’t often ones formed out of mutual attraction rather an instinctual need. It’s not strange that your instincts picked the alpha with the greatest ability to provide for you- even if he did end up doing the opposite.

Jin tries to start the conversation about grooming. Not the fun kind either but the kind that very obviously led to your situation. “That wasn’t right you know- he shouldn’t have been looking at you that way when you were so young.”

“It wasn’t- it wasn’t creepy or anything, I swear it was more normal than I'm making it seem. He was just really immature and you know what they say- girls mature faster than boys and-”

Jin puts down his knife. Staring at you- wanting to get closer and offer comfort but unable to offer it without feeling like it’s not he'd be doing it more for himself than for you. 

He can be firm with you just this once. “No, y/n you need to know that what happened was wrong. He shouldn’t have done that- he should have gone after someone his own age no matter your maturity level.”

“But-“ he cups your cheeks, sighing and searching for the words, but Jimin jumps in, his hands have been fisted on the edge of the table this whole time, and when he looks up Jin sees what all those fans must when they try to take a step too close to his bosses.  

“I’m less than his age and I’m telling you I would never even think of looking at a 17-year-old like that. I don’t even know what I'd have in common with a 17-year-old”

Jungkook puts his foot in his mouth as only the youngest can. Teasing the elders for their age even though time is coming for all of them. “But apparently not at 22-year-olds”

Jimin flicks some flour at him and it hits Jungkook in the center of his black sweatshirt. “You’re only what- three years older than her? namjoon hyung and Jin hyung have the same age gap! you and Jin have a larger age difference than we do!”

At your prodding, jin writes down all their ages and their birthdays in your little book, and then at his prodding, you add your birthday which starts a rambling conversation about zodiac signs that jimin and jungkook are incredibly invested in. Jungkook’s going to turn 25 in a few short weeks, Namjoon too- will turn 28. You add it to a page in your book.

Jin keeps looking down at the little cookbook diary. He knows the little doodles and lines that are written in the margins of the honey cake recipe. Ones he's thought about many times before.

“These make Yoongi happy because he thinks of his omega, asked him today after tea, maybe he’ll come over again next week.” and then the note at the bottom of the next page. “Whipped cream topping works well too, but better with buttercream like his other love. I wonder if they smell as good as he does.” do they smell as good as you'd hoped, is this everything you'd hoped for?

What other secrets are hidden in this book?

Suddenly; more than ever, Seokjin wants to read it. To look for the bits of you hidden in these recipes like pieces of your soul. But maybe it would be better than asking you, less traumatic than making you unpack all of that unpleasantness. 

You still seem a little shakey, a faraway look in your eyes as you press the dough together one last time, forming a wet ball. Jin wonders if he pushed too far.  

Jimin gets out of his seat to get a glass of water, but you keep sending glances at the pamphlet. “After I got married, Geumjae, he-" you have to take a second to swallow, to keep your words going. You haven't gone purely non-verbal in a few weeks but maybe for your health, you should.  "he kept me on a tight leash. So, no. I’ve never been to a bar to drink really, maybe for like 10 minutes to pick him up, but that’s it. I want to go but I still don’t know- I don’t know if I can-“

you're trying to be honest about your limitations, to not just act and expect them to accommodate you. Jimin catches your arm, hand lingering on your wrist, you drop the flyer back onto the counter in favor of grabbing him back.

Jimin is a fan of prolonged eye contact, though nothing about his eyes is sensual or threatening. “There is another one, at the end of the month. Would that be easier? A little more time for you to prepare?” You sag instantly into his arms. And though he might straighten in surprise for a second, he does hug you back when you twine your arms loosely and tentatively around his waist. He might not have been able to feel the way that your body relaxes it if you hadn’t been so close but the decision is easily finalized after that.

“yes- please- that’s so much better- thank you Minnie i-“ One month. You’ve got that long before your first date with Jimin and Tae, one month to work up to leaving the house. That’s perfect, and exactly what you need.

Jimin presses a kiss to the top of your head, vanilla fluffing out.“Never apologize for asking for what you need, okay?” he says quietly, you nod.

Everything settles after that, Jungkook butters the muffin tins because you’re going to make personalized honey cakes with his recipe (he says something about wanting to take them to work) you don't need muffin liners because the dough that comes out is a little too hard to pour and get those perfect ridges on the edge.

To be honest, your ears are still ringing a little, memories that dance along the confines of your mind, the others would never know but you're scrambling to hold onto anything.

Jungkook and Jin's scents are the easiest, Jungkook's eyes are wide and like beacons, beckoning you back from the edge of non-verbalness when he asks you what to do next. Grabbing your hand when you don't respond the first time, his touch is enough. If one thing can be said about omegas- it's that they know how to soothe.

Jimin sits at the counter, and Jin cooks, and the emotional temperature of the kitchen dims. Not you though; Inside your chest is still aching. Your brain turning over those facts.

But in the end, revelations about your age really won't change much. It doesn't change because you like Jin, maybe even love him a little bit.

He’s 30 and you’re 22 and despite that- you love this with them, the easy camaraderie of cooking with others, the willingness to nurture your souls together with love. Maybe you’ll never be able to properly appreciate how you never feel too judged or rejected by them, maybe you can only ever hope that you won’t take their love for granted- this security is something you’d never get tired of.

Maybe it's just what it feels like to be home- what it’s supposed to feel like. It hurts to think that maybe you'd never felt it before today, but less when you remember where you are, and that it’s only the beginning.

Maybe- maybe trauma ages you and joy keeps you young. Maybe that’s why you and Jin are so well-matched because where you are stoic he is bright, like the sunny side of a snowy mountain, Jungkook is the same.

Maybe it would be weird to other packs to have the oldest and youngest both be omegas. But Jin and Jungkook know how to have fun, flicking flour at each other after the mini-honey-cakes are put in the oven and there isn't any possibility of ruining the recipe.

The three of you; you'd honestly expect love to go the opposite way in most relationships. To fall for the alphas first- and then the omegas second. You don't have the same biological drives behind your relationships, but that doesn't make your touches any less lingering.

You and Jungkook move on to the next recipe- so that you'll have something sweet just in case the honey cakes turn out like bricks (flour substitutes can be a little hit or miss). The next recipe is a little more reliable and comes from the internet and a keto blog that Jungkook frequents for new meal ideas. You can't go wrong with peanut butter and chocolate- even if there is little else in the recipe besides that and a quarter cup of coconut flakes.

“Honey bunny, can you pass me the sugar?” you ask quietly, looking down at Jungkook's computer, trying to figure out just how much peanut butter is too much, questioning if only a few spoonfuls of chia seed flour is enough.  

Maybe it's just a mark of how spoiled you’ve gotten because when Jungkook doesn't instantly tend to your needs you look up, pout at him only to stop in your tracks.

Because Jungkook’s blinking down at you, a pile of coconut flakes on the counter like he'd missed the mixing bowl. A deep blush coating his cheeks, he blinks then blinks again like he’s still turning it over in his head, something- what could possibly have him looking so surprised?

“What did you just call me?” he asks, voice small. 

“Honey bunny?” Jungkook acts as you’ve just slapped him, hand over his heart and everything, he catches himself against the counter (they seem to be doing a lot of that really- you hope Yoongi secured it to the floor with some sort of brackets, though knowing him he thought of everything- including the pack's flair for dramatics.)

“That is- the cutest thing in the fucking world, holy fuck- holy fuck” Jungkook covers his mouth with his hand. If he actually had a bunny tail, it would be twitching. You can see it- bunny ears raised in your direction, hidden in his long black hair, maybe for halloween you’ll get him a pair. 

“But they others call you that all the time.”

“No- we call him bunny- not honey bunny” Jimin smiles, there isn’t anything else that pleases his alpha brain more than watching his three omegas falling in love and being so sweetly domestic. Like Jin can sense it, he threads his fingers in the back of Jimin’s neck, playing with the overgrown hair there.  “Is that okay?”

“Is it okay!?” Jungkook’s scent is spiraling sweet and sweeter, his hands so sudden on you that you can’t jump away before he’s picking you up. His show of strength the other day was only superficial compared to this, all you know is one moment your feet are on the ground, and the next his flour-covered hands are digging into the skin of your waist, one under your shirt and the other not. Spinning you around so fast that you go dizzy.

Nothing but honey, Jungkook’s happy honey scent is dizzying as you press your nose to his shoulder because there is nowhere else to go, nothing else to do but fall in love too apparently- if the traitorous jump of your heart is anything to go by.

All the love is too much for his little body- he needs to spin you. too much in his little heart to not burst open with it. Jungkook has always had a tininess to him, the same tininess that you have too. Jin’s pups, you’re Jin’s pups and that’s it. There is no better way to explain what it feels like.

Somewhere in the spinning, your lips meet his. As far as kisses go it's quick and painless. His lips are hot and of course, they taste a little bit like the honey you’ve so delicately placed into this recipe. Just enough sweetness to get by and not enough to hurt. You don’t know why it took you so long to make something that Jungkook could eat, but you’re glad you thought of it if it’s given you this.

You haven’t kissed many omegas before, just jin and a few others immediately after presentation years ago. Kissing Jungkook is not like kissing Jin. Jin's kisses are constructive, his lips a steady presence but jungkook is wild and jumpy.

 His hair tickles the tops of your cheeks when you tilt your face up but The kiss is so quick that you barely register everything before he’s flinching back, so shocked by his own actions that his eyes go wide. He lets you go, but you're still moving from his spin.  You stumble a bit- hip knocking into the table. When you look up, Jimin’s hands are outstretched to catch you.

“Sorry! Sorry! I just- Oh my god- that was- I’m so sorry- just after we talked about you being fucking groomed- and I'm older- oh my fuck I'm an idiot” 

true to his bunny nature he spins off a mile a minute backing up into Jin who makes a small noise, catching the other omega around the waist. Moving Jungkook a careful distance away from the stove.

Jungkook looks absolutely sick with concern, eyes wide and teeth digging harshly into his lower lip. But you are still standing, unsteady from being spun and not breathing for that moment he kissed you. Jungkook is cotton candy and merry go rounds, Jungkook is fun and innocent (and paying for it anyway).

You stumble forward. Hands fisting in the sleeves of his sweatshirt, the two of you sway until Jin catches you and you stop moving. Too many burners on in the kitchen, too many hot surfaces for Jin’s pups to play around like that safely.

“Jungkook- kookie- it’s okay.” His chest heaves and tears dance at his waterline. Jungkook doesn't fear anything more than making people uncomfortable or misstepping boundaries. He practically holds his hands to his chest- worried that even leaning into your touch will be taken the wrong way.

Jin is a steadying presence, equally as surprised but also grinning from ear to ear- fucking finally.

He holds both of you, “look at me.” He commands. Both you and Jungkook are saplings to bend to his will. Jin’s eyes are dark- yet warm, swimming with joy. Both of you are a little too similar, you both thrive on direct communication; no room for your little pup brains to extrapolate and make monsters from mountains.

“Did you like being kissed by Jungkook?”

Your scent answers for him, spiking up sweet and cakey. It’s kind of dizzying how quick your bodies respond to each other, one moment you’re smelling sweet- and the next Jungkook loses the rotten-flower edge to his.

Maybe you should get used to it- being this close that your scents compound on each other- it’s not like the way your scent can trigger the alphas; A call and response as old as time. Your scent is like air to Jungkook’s bubble, carrying him higher and higher. You don't even have to respond with words, Jin knows. You whine loudly.

Footsteps on the staircase alert you all to Yoongi's presence. "Is everything alright? Did something happen!?" Was he able to feel you kiss Jungkook down your bond? Was there a jump in his pulse maybe? Or something warm and echoing golden? To fill the upstairs with stars instead of just dust and rafters?

"Nothing, just Jungkook kissing the pup! Are you cool with that?"

Yoongi answers quicker than a heartbeat, dispelling any of Jungkook's lingering worries. "Yeah fucking dope, why wouldn't I be?" Yoongi sounds offended at the very insinuation that he wouldn't. Jimin laughs, a little giddy himself though its maybe a tad bit awkward. Jungkook tucks his chin into his chest, he just needed to hear it, just needed a little reassurance.

You send a look at Jin, misinterpreting Jungkook's reaction as embarrassment. “He doesn't have to do it again if he doesn't want to. If It was just a heat of a moment thing- it’s okay kookie.”

Jungkook and Jin just about get whiplash from how quick they look back down at you. “What? Why wouldn’t I want to?”

You shrug like it’s the most natural thing in the world, it is a little weird that you have to explain it. “Cuz I'm me and you’re-“ you gesture absent-mindedly to Jin and Jimin. “You look like you guys do, you know?” you say like it’s a matter of fact- and maybe it is- that the pack is just extraordinarily attractive.

It’s funny remembering back to when you'd just met Yoongi. You’d been sure it was just a Yoongi thing- to be so pretty. But apparently pretty people attract people.

You're the anomaly here, not Jungkook who is blinking down at you, eyebrows furrowed, “what do you mean?”

“like with Jimin – if it was just a one-time thing, that’s fine. if you're not attracted to me it’s- Whatever you want is fine by me.” Something drops hallow into their stomachs. The way you treat it- like you’re not stating anything that could be shocking- that you're trying to reassure them that it’s fine if they don’t want to kiss you- if they don't find you pretty enough to kiss.

Jimin nearly chokes on his water, “I haven’t kissed you since before Tae’s rut because you have the personality of an easily startled alley kitten- not because I don’t want to or because we don't find you attractive.”

You blink, jungkook blinks, and so does Jin. “Oh,” you say, just oh. 

Your brain is a mess of misfiring nerves. To have what you’d assumed contradicted. Jin watches you turn over it, and then your eyes light up with a realization, “oh! so before when you said- like a date- you meant a date date-”

“What else would I have meant?” Jimin’s actually laughing a little at the ridiculousness of this. Because- fuck, even if this is uncharted territory, you’re still barely hiding a smile.

“I don’t know- dates can be platonic right?”

Jungkook tucks his face into Jin’s neck and whines, Jin's own milk scent is mellow yet rich, like the cream you’d pour over your coffee. “okay okay, we can talk about the dates later, kookie.”

Jungkook doesn't raise his face from Jin’s shoulder at the older omegas order, just whining more. “I'm sorry Koo,” you say, snapping out of it.

“Don’t apologize” he says, though it’s muffled by Jin’s pullover. Jin extricates the pup from burrowing his worries away by lacing his fingers in his hair and pulling him away. it might be the wrong move because it makes Jungkook go sweeter, pupiles blown, omega space threatening. 

“Did you mean to kiss her kookie?” his eyes flicker down to your lips, then back up to your eyes. “Yes.” Jin’s hand is a steadying presence on both of your backs, you can feel him when you breathe in a deep breath, and you bet Jungkook can too.

Suddenly you’re aware that you’re not actually that far from him, still touching his arms, Jungkook is warm- warm honey that shifts so easily into a heady rush. You watch him lick his lips. “Can I do it again Hyung?”

Jin grins, fingers sliding up your shirt to the back of your neck, and his fingers settling there is enough to make the edge of your vision hazy. You saw enough of Tae during her rut that you know that jin often takes a dominant role with just about all of them, and the slight gesture has your head realing. You bet Jin doesn't even realize he's doing it.

"Don't ask me pup."

~-~

The first thing your pack alpha is aware of when he comes home is the smell. delicious and cacophonous honey cake, topped with rich whipped cream. Like the cookies he used to eat during breaks at grade school but it’s not quite like anything he’s smelled before. Nothing else is quite as beckoning to a pack alpha than the smell of their happy omegas.

Which is probably why he can smell it from even outside the house.

Namjoon opens the door to his car and the next thing he knows, his head is spinning with it. He even forgets to turn his car off, getting out in such a hurry that he's left it running, his bag in the front seat too.

he blinks down at it, whispers a quiet, "fuck" before he gets back in and turns it off. Keys jingling and sitting for a second, Holding his head in his hands. “Get it together Joon.”

Hobi is coming up the sidewalk at the same time Namjoon gets home, yanking his headphones out of his ears when he gets close enough. Rap music blares from the headphones, loud enough that Namjoon can hear it when he leans in to peck Hobi on the cheek. 

"Smelled it from the end of the block- what the fuck?" he growls. but his question doesn't warrant answering as namjoon pulls him in for a brief scent mark. The smell of the other alpha is a little steadying but not quite enough. fuck- Namjoon needs Yoongi- needs the betas scent if he's going to be level-headed about this at all. He's almost afraid to go inside.  

Hobi stares up at Namjoon with that kind of happy lopsided grace that only sunflowers have (really it’s things made from the sun- which Hobi and flowers both are- so really it’s an apt comparison.)

He prattles on about his day, the roses and a forgotten shipment of peonies because he knows that Namjoon is guaranteed to need a second to destress and detach from his day and the pain he’s seen and caused (And hope that somehow it balances out the pain he's stopped from coming).

There is nothing in Hobi's demeanor that says he's even half as affected as Namjoon is. But then they open the door, and that smell spills out making both of them stop dead in their tracks. Hoseok actually trips over Jimin's shoes in the doorway. 

Honey cakes, but also real honey cakes too, a touch too thick, Namjoon is 90% positive that he starts to droll without realizing it. His eyes locked on you and Jungkook.

To be fair- you and jungkook are every inch of a wet dream brought to life, his arms holding you loosely around your waist while you press up and he leans down to kiss you. Lips moving, no tongue but oh fuck the fact that there could be tongue, that your mouthes are needy and open and acheing for it- makes Namjoon instantly chub up in his slacks.

Hobi is not quite brought to the same level but having Jin and Jungkook smell like that is enough to have him smiling on a good day- and today is a good day.

At the smell of the alphas, Jungkook’s head jerks away from your lips with a pop, Both of your lips are pink and chapped from kissing for so long. You bury your face in his shoulder, You’re standing on his toes to reach him, just a few  inches too short to be at the proper angle (Yoongi had teased you earlier and threatened to bring out the step stool).

Namjoon recognizes the fervor of Jungkook's scent- it's omega space, sweet and lovely- both of you from the smell of it. Had you gotten so lost in each other that it spiked? Or was it Jin's doing, looking over his shoulder and grinning at Namjoon with a special secret look, a little taunting.

Namjoon growls, actually growls at the two of you.

Hobi laughs, "Joonie calm down." but he's capable of doing no such thing at the moment. Both of you stand up straight your attention turned towards namjoon at the noise. Like it should be, some possessive part of him nearly wants to scoop you up. Get you smelling like that and maybe even better with the right touches. Get you both in his lap so that he has a front-row seat to your kissing.

It’s clear this is accepted by all, even Hobi who sidles up behind Jimin, holding him around the shoulder isn’t looking unhappy, just a little amused. He raises an eyebrow in your direction, though it's a little bit like a grimace.

Jungkook urges you back to his lips, turning your face to his and you keep going. They can’t really see your face and it's more plausible that the pack is enjoying seeing Jungkook happy than they are seeing the two of you right? they’re not looking at you? right?.

“When did that happen?” Hobi asks since Namjoon seems to be incapable of speech at the moment blinking slowly and staring at jungkook’s hands on your waist, an inch lower than they should be. 

“20 minutes ago,” Jin informs him, sounding like he’s bragging a little bit. he strokes down your shoulders as he walks by. 

Jungkook presses you closer, gripping your hips harder, you can feel him shaking underneath your hands on his shoulders, thumb against his pulse. You’re not sure if he realizes, but he’s kind of pressing his hips into yours. any hardness there disguised on account of Jungkook being an omega (and therefore smaller than his alpha counterparts) and the layers of clothes.

You have to breathe in through your nose and all you get is honey honey honey. He whines into your mouth, tongue licking out to taste you properly, teasing along the edge of your lip.

The noise you make has every alpha in the house sitting up straight.

Jungkook is so good at kissing, so so good. The kind of kiss that plants something to grow in your heart. It’s not like kissing alphas or kissing Yoongi. Kissing with omegas- it tastes like nest making and feels Like settling down for a nap. Comfortable and easy. Stress relief incarnate. It's exactly what you need after the conversation earlier.

Namjoon starts to get out of his seat and Yoongi yanks him back down by his belt. “Alright- you’re going to send them both into a rut if you’re not careful bunnies” Your and Jungkook’s lips separate with a wet pop. But now that you’ve started you don’t want to stop. Jin eyes your mouth invitingly but before anything more can happen there is a hand on your back.

You would know Yoongi’s touch anywhere- the shiver of your body like you’d been waiting for that to happen. He draws you away from them- and no one objects, especially when Namjoon growls again and Jungkook turns to the pack alpha. “Come on- sit with me, sweetheart.”

And that’s how you settle in, sitting on Yoongi’s lap while Jungkook bounces from Jimin’s lap to Hobi’s and then Namjoon's, kissing anyone and everyone. Hobi is the first, giggling when the youngest plops himself in his lap. You see the moment that he must register your taste on Jungkook’s tongue, a shiver and a slight glance in your direction. But the moment passes before anything else can happen and Jungkook’s already hopping to Jimin’s lap.

Jungkook gets- kissy and affectionate in omega space, it’s not quite as laconic and small like you get, but it’s sweet and needy and a little energetic- if you didn't know any better you'd say that jungkook has the zoomies. Although the pack alpha eventually calms the omega with a nip to his scent gland.

Your mate is warm and steady behind your back, More than a few times you catch his nose dancing along the side of your neck, his hands laced with yours and his arms enveloping you. It settles you- your heartbeat slows, and your eyelids grow heavy with Yoongi warm around you.  

Tae looks tired and a little ruffled when she finally walks in after work, pausing in the door. “Woh- it smells-“ words fail her, and without pause, she’s dragged into the fray.

The honey cakes come out, and you and Jungkook are reluctantly given from your packmates laps, you carefully drizzle your mixture of a half-agave substitute and honey over the tops for flavor.

Everyone has a honey cake too damning you to dessert before dinner. and though they’re not quite right, a tad bit grainy and a tad bit under-sweetened. They do the trick, and Jungkook gives you a sweet tacky kiss in thank you. You suspect there will be more kisses with him. More kisses with the others too.

For the first time the idea of that doesn't make you afraid.

~-~

(4 years prior, you)

The stone path that leads to the little yellow cottage in the middle of the city is freshly plowed, the flowers in the surrounding beds put to sleep for the winter and covered with a thick layer of snow to further cozy them down. You don’t know why you feel like you can tell the care that went into the gardens, every curve is just as soft as it should be, guiding you along to the front of the house.

You don’t know why you’re so afraid, why you’re so shaky (it’s cold enough that it could be dismissed as shivering). Maybe it's just the events of late or because you’ve never had to do something like this. The engagement ring on your finger taunts you but you know that the bruises on your face aren’t twice as noticeable as the near 10 carat monster on your finger.

You wish you didn’t have to be here- but you don’t have anyone else to turn to. You haven’t talked to your family in nearly a year and you don’t have a single person to confide in, to ask for advice.

And last you heard, everyone in the mafia can ask the beta for advice. So why not you? You'll be a full member in a few short weeks, you shiver when you think of your wedding. A day that you’d thought you’d look forward to but not now, not under the current circumstances.

Guemjae had told you most of the rules when you’d first been introduced to the idea that your then-boyfriend was a part of a notorious and old crime family.

"Do you ever have to kill people?" you'd asked, toying with his fingers in the booth of some restaurant that he owned. There had always been something mischievous and dark about the man and you'd been more in love with the idea of it than you cared to admit. It seemed all very movie-like to be honest, now you wish you'd had the sense to separate movies from reality. "No, we have people for that."

But you can't help but feel like there are so many missteps to make here, enough that your life might be threatened easily. What rule might you break? He'd made you take notes when he'd first explained how it all worked and it had felt a little bit like you were still in high school and studying for another exam.

You wish there had been some sort of class like; mafia 101- how to survive a life of crime- but unfortunately, your education hadn't been nearly that complete or intensive. Maybe this could be a textbook, a show of everything that you shouldn’t do to survive. You certainly feel like you're doing a poor job of that.

But everyone can ask the beta for advice and it’s not late yet- barely 7 pm though the lights of the convenience store are already shining neon. Catching every fleck of snow and turning it red before it hits the ground.

You pause at the door to the yellow cottage for half a breath, then you raise your hand and knock.

If the beta is surprised to see you, she doesn't show it. You bow deeply as has been trained into you by your fiance. The warm air buffers your hair and your coat, maybe a little thinner than you should have worn.

“Come in child- come in,” the Don is home, sitting in front of the tv in a deep leather chair, but he turns down the wrestling program when he sees you in the door. His alpha scent is muted on account of his age. You’re sure there must be some medical reason for it- why people's scents start to fade as they get older.

“You look frozen down to the bone! Can I get you a cup of tea?” the beta is a strange woman, kind but not exactly nice. Something about her actions and her words says that she wants to remove you from her presence as quickly as you've come. Maybe she has another caller, or maybe she just doesn't like you, It’s hard to tell.

Her silver hair that falls in a straight curtain to her waist and her rough-hewed face betrays her age but her scent hasn't faded even a little bit. She smells metallic, not like gunpowder or like blood. But like silver, a tang on the air that must be hers. Her eyes are sharp even if her hands are gnarled, barely succeeding in holding the pot underneath the stream of water.

"I’m sorry to bother you so late.” You say because you don't know how else to start. The house looks so homey- so warm- so different from your own house across the city, your townhouse with Geumjae inside, the broken plates and bowl that had hit you in the face just hours ago. No warmth or love left within its walls.  

And you aren’t even married yet. Fear lurches in your stomach. Only when the tea is hot and steeped does the beta sit before you. Setting her keen eyes on you.

“Now, what can I do for you little dove.”

“They say you’re good to talk to, for advice.”

The beta smiles, though it’s an edge past too wide, showing too many teeth. They might be pleasant people, but they’ve also been breaking the law and getting away with it for the better part of a decade. As feral as wolves and twice as dangerous.

“That is true.”

She waits, and you struggle to regain your words. The Don casts a glance in your direction after a few seconds. His look is as cold as the betas gaze is tired. He must be nearly in his 80’s but he’s not any less intimidating for it. If he wanted you dead he need only lift a finger. You’re well aware of the fact that you’re a nobody to him and the rest of your fiancés family. Maybe you'd even be a bug under their shoe if you made a nuisance of yourself.

there is safety in being a non-player to this game, in being as likable and as bland as possible. this very act is unbecoming of someone in your position. You tilt your face, letting the bruises catch the light. 

The beta catches your chin, giving a disapproving look at them and then at you. “My grandnephew?” she asks, eyebrow raised. You nod.

And just like that the words are spilling out, “he didn’t- I didn’t mean to make him angry but he’s been like this for the last few weeks- Do you think,” the beta doesn't say anything, just sits and listens. “Do you think that Geumjae is a good man? That I'm right to marry him?”

The don and his beta cast each other a glance, their heavy and worn faces betraying the fact that if you aren’t to marry him at this point, then your life would be forfeit regardless. The very fact that you know where this house is might be enough to erase you from existence on a good day, you know too much already to be separated from this life.

The beta measures her words carefully before she speaks. All perfect lies have to be measured carefully just like recipes. A lie, but an eventual truth too. The beta can’t know what's going to happen or what it's going to cause when she speaks.

“I think everything will be fine, little dove.”

~-~

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[wordsnwhiskey]

Meddling with Mistletoe | Chapter 2: Under the Mistletoe

Summary: You and Jack arrive at your parents’ house and holiday festivities and shenanigans ensue.

Rating: T

WC: 7.2k

Warnings: Fluff, a kiss, dash of angst

A/N: This is so late but life has been crazy and I don’t care, I’m posting it anyways. Hope y’all like it! I want to thank mi esposa @danniburgh for being there with me through all of this and for being an amazing beta reader.

Next part coming soon!

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Your mom and abuela stayed a week; long enough for you to miss your space but also to feel their absence in your heart, even if you were going to see them in just a few short weeks. Of course, you had squandered that precious time in between and hadn’t spent an ounce of it taking care of your laundry or doing your packing. Which, led to you, stressed and tearing through your closet the night before your flight. At least, you didn't have to worry about the actual flight. Jack had insisted you get your ticket refunded since it was cheaper for him to fly. You figured being the CEO of Statesman, he had access to one of those travel agencies that could get discounted tickets for their clients; and despite your protests, you were glad to have that hefty bit of money returned to your wallet.

With a sigh, you went back to packing, making sure to include plenty of warm weather clothes. The last time you had checked the weather, another infamous cold snap was on its way, but with it came the likelihood of a white Christmas and the thought of that brought a smile to your face.

The next morning found you up early, excited for the trip. As part of your pre-vacation anxiety, you had baked a small batch of ginger cookies as a snack for the flight. You were just putting them in a ziploc bag when there was a knock at your door. There was Jack on the other side, juggling two cups of coffee from the cafe down the street.

“Mornin’ darlin’!” Jack flashed you a bright smile and handed you one of the cups as he stepped inside. “I got you your usual,” he wiped his feet on the mat, sniffing the air like a bloodhound. “I reckoned you’d want a pick me up– did you make cookies?”

You took a grateful sip from the coffee, then laughed. “I sure did, but you need to save some for the flight!” Jack already had his hand in the ziploc bag when you chided him.

He made a small noise in exclamation as the still warm, spiced cookie practically melted in his mouth. You shook your head and playfully snatched the bag of cookies from him, handing him one more before sealing the bag and packing it away. He gave you a cheeky smile, like a kid who had won a battle of wills.

"You all set, darlin'?" Jack asked, eyeing where you packed the cookies.

"Yep, just wanted to get these goodies packed away." You smiled, the coffee hitting your veins and lifting your mood as your anxiousness gave way to giddiness.

Before you could get to your suitcases, Jack swooped in, and carted them off and out to his car. You sighed, giving your home a once-over, then grabbed your backpack, your coffee, and Jack's, then locked the door and headed out to join him.

The drive was pleasant and Jack had thankfully opted for his day car instead of his open top Bronco. It wasn’t until you were on the George Washington Bridge that you were absolutely certain you weren’t headed towards LaGuardia airport.

“Jack?” You asked, frowning slightly and turning back in the direction the two of you should have gone. He hummed in acknowledgement and you carried on. “LaGuardia is the other way.”

“You’re right, but we’re headed to Teteboro, darlin’.” He grinned at you, winking, then turned back to the road. “It’s a lot quieter of an airport this time of year.”

You just nodded in response. There was an excitement that radiated off of him, more so than you would have expected, and you couldn’t put your finger on why.

Ten minutes later, Jack turned into a large fenced complex and his excitement seemed to grow by second. You were so caught up in Jack’s exuberance that you almost missed the fact that you were driving up to a hangar.

Jack hopped out of the car and jogged around the side to open your door as you were still processing what was going on. You took his hand and got out of the car where you were finally able to take in the beautiful small plane before you.

“This here is my pride an’ joy.” He smiled at you then turned to face the small jet, his chest puffing out as he preened. “I don’t get to fly her as much as I’d like, so when y’all invited me along…” Jack practically glowed with excitement, but forced himself to slow down as he took in your slack-jawed awe. “Well, I wanted you to see her an’ figured our trip would be the perfect time to take you up in her.”

“I–you–but–I thought?” The words rushed from your mouth faster than your brain could parse together sentences, and you put a hand on Jack’s bicep to steady yourself. “You can fly?!” You finally blurted out.

“Well, I’m no Peter Pan, darlin’.” Jack chuckled, leaning into your hand and nudging you with his elbow. “But I did fly jets with the Airforce for a few years.”

It all made sense now; when Jack told you it’d be cheaper for him to fly, you had no idea he meant that he’d actually be piloting and flying you in his own private jet.

“She’s incredible, Jack.” You murmured, barely audibly as you took in how the sloping nose and sharp angles caught the lights hung high up in the hangar.

Yeah, she is. He thought to himself, his gaze no longer on the small jet, but on you.

Jack cleared his throat, he left you for a moment to grab the luggage from the trunk. You were still standing there when he strode past you, opened the door, then lowered the small step ladder.

“C’mon, darlin’.” He set his duffles into the alcove across from the entrance, then stepped back, held his hand out for you, and waited for you to join him. “This plane ain’t gonna leave without you, but we do have a flight plan to keep to.”

You shook yourself back to the present, then took his hand to balance yourself as you stepped into the small jet.

It was cozy inside, four leather seats faced each other to your right, and then the cockpit to your left. You took a step, trying to move out of the way, and ended up backing right into Jack’s chest. He let out a small grunt of surprise, his breath brushing your ear as his arm reflexively pinned you to him to keep you from stumbling.

“Whoa, careful, darlin’.” The muscles in his forearm flexed against your waist and he cleared his throat as he tried to beat down the tightness in his chest from holding you so close.

“Are you alright?” His voice was gruffer as he untangled himself from you, hoping you hadn’t been able to feel the pounding of his heart against your back.

“Y–yeah, I’m ok.” You felt heat rising in your cheeks and you hoped your heart hadn’t been as loud as it had been in your ears when you felt him flex against you.

“Sorry, Jack.” You smoothed your clothes, unnecessarily, and bit your lip. “Seems like you’re always catching me these days.” You laughed in a half-hearted attempt to move away from your reaction.

It did the trick, and earned you a small snort from Jack as he slid past you. “Would you do this old man the honor of bein’ my co-pilot, darlin’?” He asked, his eyes averted, almost shy, the timbre of his voice rising anxiously. “Of course you don’t–I mean, you’re more than welcome to sit back here…” His fingers nervously smoothed out his mustache. “I would jus’ like it–well I think you’d like it better if you sat up front an’ could see everythin’ from up there.”

“I’d love to.” You smiled brightly, your excitement distracting you from Jack’s stuttering.

Jack slid into the pilot’s chair then patted the seat next to him, gesturing for you to join him. You carefully sat in the co-pilot’s chair and felt the sudden creeping of your nerves up your spine.

There were so many switches and buttons, and three large screens you were absolutely certain weren’t for entertainment. It was a little overwhelming.

“Are you sure I’m not going to break anything, Jack?” You were doing your best to stay still, and you were sure you looked as uncomfortable as you felt.

“Don’t worry, darlin’.” Jack flashed you a smile, putting you at ease; he was fully in his element as he pulled a clipboard from the side of his seat and ran through his pre-flight check.

“Just keep your hands off the yoke there an’ you’ll be fine.” He gestured to the steering wheel in front of you, then went back to his list.

“If you say so, Jack.” You chuckled, still a little nervous.

“This jet is designed to’ be flown by jus’ one pilot so the only thing I need you to do is to sit back an’ relax.” Jack rubbed your shoulder reassuringly, and went back to tending to the flight instruments. “We’ll be landin’ in just a bit under two hours.”

You let out a breath, the tail end of it catching in your throat as you watched Jack’s fingers move with practiced ease over the knobs and switches. There was something about the confidence he had in handling the jet as he taxied to the runway, and then took off, that sparked something new and odd inside your chest.

Jack had been right, when you finally tore your eyes off of him, the view of the fluffy wisps of cloud against the crisp blue sky was absolutely breathtaking.

Once he reached altitude, he looked over at you about to say something–he couldn’t remember what.

The words had died on his lips at the way the golden sunlight glided over your features, you were more beautiful than any sunrise or sunset he’d had the pleasure of witnessing in the air.

Even after Jack said the trip would take less than two hours, and had made a point of excitedly pointing out you were cruising at 480mph, you could hardly believe Jack was already radioing the tower for clearance to land in what felt like the blink of an eye.

That was an experience in and of itself, watching Jack adjust course and bring the jet from cruising to land more gracefully than any flight you’d taken before.

You let out a shaky breath, which you hoped he would take for nerves, once he landed and taxied to the private hangar.

Nope, it certainly had nothing to do with what had quickly become an increasingly familiar warmth in your belly from watching Jack pilot.

There was a car waiting for the two of you, which Jack quickly loaded with your luggage, scoffing at your protests to help. Once you were both on the road, you called your mom to let her know the two of you had landed.

“Mija! Where are you?” You could tell from the slight echo and clamoring in the background that she had you on speakerphone. “You never sent us your flight info!”

“I know ma,” you glanced at Jack and already started to brace yourself for her reaction. “We uh– Jack flew us in. So there was no… um there wasn’t any flight info to give you.”

You were expecting a screech of some sort, but you were met with a silence that was almost more alarming.

“Mijita, did you say Jack flew you?” Even over the phone you could almost see her raising her eyebrow at you and hear the bubbling excitement in her voice.

“Yeah,” you chuckled, knowing you wouldn’t have believed it if someone had told you a few hours ago that you’d be flying in a private jet. “Jack has a plane and flew us out here. We just got into the car a little bit ago and are on our way.”

“You need to tell us everything when you get here, mija!” The sudden lack of background noise told you that your family members were more than likely sharing very pointed looks with each other.

“Ok, ma. I’ll see you soon!” You ended the call then laughed a little to yourself.

“Everything good, darlin?” Jack asked, one hand resting comfortably on the steering wheel.

“Yeah,” you smirked, equally apologetic and sheepish. “Just be ready to be bombarded by my family about your jet.”

“I think I can handle that, darlin’.” He chuckled, smoothing his mustache, eyes gleaming with mirth. His shoulder shrugged as he cocked his head, knowing he had brought that on himself.

The drive went quick, but you appreciated Jack making small talk, and asking questions about the places you passed to help ground you. You were fidgety, your fingers tapped alongside the glass of the car window, and you were sure Jack noticed. Before you knew it, the GPS was directing Jack to make the final turn and you were pulling up into the driveway of your mom’s house.

Jack collected both of your bags, which you were thankful for when the front door flew open and your mom dove into your arms as if she hadn’t seen you just two weeks prior.

“Mija!” She barely gave you any time to brace yourself before she was kissing your cheeks and passing you along behind her to the next family member.

You glanced behind you and saw Jack was also getting whisked into the tornado of welcomes you had come to expect from your family. An overwhelming amount of overlapping voices were aimed at you and Jack, asking about the flight, the plane, how the two of you met, all clamoring for answers.

“Mijita! Mijo! You made it!” Your abuela’s voice cut through the noise of everyone else and the crowd of people parted to make way for her. “Everyone!” Anyone not already paying attention, turned their focus to your abuela, you, and Jack. “This is her friend, Jack. He’s going to be staying with us, but leave them be and let them get settled. You can bother them all you want while we make tamales!”

There was some scattered whispering as your family dispersed and went back socializing amongst themselves, you looked back at Jack to make sure he was doing ok after the sudden onslaught of attention.

“I’m so glad you made it!” Your abuela leaned in to give you a hug and kiss, then turned to Jack. “So good to see you again, mijo.” She gave him a hug, then held him at arm’s length to appraise him. “I hope you’re not tired from flying, we’re going to put you to work in the kitchen with us.”

“No ma’am,” Jack chuckled, hugging her back, then winked. “Never too tired to’ help out, especially ‘round the kitchen.”

“Good!” Your abuela patted him on his arm, then pinched your cheek, making you cringe slightly. “Andale mijita, we set up the den for Jack, and you’re in your old room.”

“Gracias, abuelita.” You murmured.

She left the two of you and, before Jack could stop you, you grabbed your luggage, sticking your tongue out at him playfully, then led him up the stairs.

“Have you ever made tamales before?” You huffed out as you made it to the top of the stairs, slightly out of breath from hauling your suitcases, but you were far too stubborn to admit you needed help.

“Can’t say that I have, darlin’,” Jack shook his head at your stubbornness. “But y’all just tell me what to do an’ I’ll figure it out.”

“Just stick next to me, cowboy, and you’ll be alright.” You winked at him, then dropped your luggage off in front of your old room and led Jack to the den, right next door.

He walked past you and into the room, warm gratitude tugged his lips into a smile as he looked around at the room your family had prepared for him in the midst of the holidays.

Gingerly, he set his bags down, being especially mindful of the bag he had packed your present in. He shrugged off his jacket then hung it up along with his Stetson before following after you.

Jack poked his head inside your room and smiled as he looked around. Your mom and abuela had clearly left the room mostly untouched, and it was full of the soft warm tones he'd come to associate with you.

"Y'know," he drawled out teasingly and leaned against your door frame. "They weren't nearly as bad as you made 'em out to be, darlin'."

The amused smile that curved your lips twinkled in your eyes, and it just about took his breath away.

“Just you wait until we get down there to make tamales, cowboy.” You laughed and shook your head. “Never underestimate my family’s love of chisme.”

He knew you were mostly teasing, but he was excited to be surrounded by the vibrancy of your family after missing his own family for the holidays.

“I know each family is different,” Jack carded his fingers through his hair, trying tame it after wearing his Stetson all morning. “So how do y’all normally celebrate the holidays?”

“Well, we celebrate Christmas tonight, on Christmas Eve.” You set the rest of your things down on the dresser then sat down on your bed, facing Jack. “We make tamales during the day and then stay up past midnight for presents.”

Jack shifted his weight against the door frame, his eyes alight with excitement at the thought of eating tamales as he nodded along.

“Christmas Day is very low key for us. Not much is expected except helping with eating leftovers. Think you can handle all that, Jack?” You winked at him, then stood up and smoothed out the comforter, trying to distract yourself from the sight of Jack nonchalantly leaning against your door frame.

“I think I’ll manage, darlin’.” He laughed one of his deep belly laughs that you always seemed to bring out in him when very few others could.

“Good, are you ready to go make tamales?” You asked as you squeezed past him, knowing despite being introduced as your friend, that your family would start to wonder about the two of you if you were upstairs much longer.

“Yes ma’am.” He chuckled, mock saluting, then quickly caught up to you and followed you down the stairs to the bubbling noise, and warmth of your family catching up and telling stories while they worked.

“Finally! You’re back, some of your tías thought maybe you got lost!” Your abuela threw her hands up, her exaggerated exasperation playing off of her wide smile as she took ahold of both of you by the arm and practically dragged you to empty seats at the table. “We have a lot of tamales to make and not a lot of time.”

The two of you plopped down into your seats and were immediately greeted by your surrounding family. You introduced Jack to everyone then grabbed two corn husks, handing one to Jack along with a spoon.

“Ok, cowboy, I’m going to show you how it’s done.” It was impossible not to smile at the adorable way Jack sat there, focusing intently, holding the spoon in one hand and the corn husk in the other.

You showed him how to spread the masa over the corn husk, careful not to use too much or too little.

“How does…” Jack trailed off for a moment as he worked to smooth out the masa. “How does that look, darlin’?”

“Hmmm…not quite.” You nudged him with your elbow gently and smiled as you showed him how to fix it. It was far from even but you knew that getting tamales down was something that came with repetition.

His first one was a mess, earning him some snickers and teasing from the rest of your family, but he improved quickly as time went on. It had surprised you at how easy it had been– how well Jack fit in with your family and how quickly they had accepted him.

You adored your family, but you would also be the first to admit they could be a bit much at times; and yet he took their teasing in stride, and bantered back effortlessly.

“So…mija.” One of your aunts leaned over the table, face full of mischief, and you were suddenly aware of the fact that you were alone at the table with just your aunts. “Tell us everything. How did you meet your friend?”

“Jack’s my next door neighbor.” You sighed, frankly impressed that your aunts had managed to make it this long without trying to press for information. The last you had seen Jack, he was making good on his promise to share a bottle of Statesman Reserve with your father, so at least he was out of earshot. “I met him when I moved in, and we kept each other sane through lockdown.”

Your aunts shared salacious glances and you felt the heat rise in your cheeks, a look of pure mortification plastered on your face.

"No!" You yelped, then swallowed, trying to regain your composure. "It's not like that, he's my best friend, but we're just friends."

There was just the slightest bit of something in your voice– you didn't want to name it, but it fell somewhere between an ache in your chest and a sigh of resignation.

“Sweetie,” your aunt raised her eyebrow at you. “The man actually flew you here in his private jet.”

"We're not saying you can't just be friends." One of your other aunts cut in, and the others around the table nodded almost sagely.

"We're saying that friends don't look at each other the way you two do." She finished it off with a poke to your side, knowing you were ticklish. You jolted in your seat, then rolled your eyes and let out a groan.

Before you could further deny or retort, the sound of squealing laughter filled the house and you turned to see some of the younger kids giggling and hanging from Jack's arms. Your father had one of your cousins on his knee, whispering mischief into the boy's ear before the kid took off running at Jack yelling, "get him!" Clearly, at some point, the kids had commandeered your father's and Jack's attention and decided Jack was their new jungle gym.

Jack's unrestrained booming laughter overlapped with the kids’ giggles and screeches when he roared and grumbled like a monster. The sight made your heart swell, and you knew you were well and truly fucked.

Jack caught your gaze for a moment and did his best to wave, then let the kids win and pull him to the floor. You smiled and shook your head, his back was going to make him pay for all the roughhousing later.

One of your aunts cleared her throat and you whipped around to face her.

"Don't." You said, trying to be firm, but the smile hadn't faded from your lips, and it came out half-hearted at best.

Your aunts shook their heads, sighing under their breaths, and you were pretty sure you heard one of them mutter “terca” [stubborn].

The night went on and while Jack continued to mingle with your family, he periodically made his way back to you as if he was tethered– orbiting you, checking in and asking if you needed anything, even though he was the guest. He was always looking out for you even while giving you space. It was sweet, and he always seemed to come back to you just when you needed a breather.

Some of the kids were struggling to stay awake, but it was just about midnight and some of the parents were shuttling them to another room to wait for Santa to come. You were seated on the couch, having just finished helping set some of the presents under the tree, when Jack sauntered over to you with two glasses of whiskey in hand.

“Here you go, darlin’.” He sat down next to you, then clinked his glass with your own. “Are you ready for presents?”

“Wait, did you get me a present, Jack?” You twisted in your spot on the couch so fast you nearly bumped him and spilled his whiskey.

“Hey! Careful now, this is Statesman Reserve, an’ I know you know to treat whiskey better than that.” His lips twitched, fighting the smile that was breaking through his faux outrage. “But to answer your question,” he smoothed his mustache in feigned contemplation. “There just’ might be somethin’ under the tree for you, darlin’.”

“You didn’t have to do that, Jack.” You scanned his face, while you wracked your brain, trying to discern some kind of clue as to what it could be.

“I know.” Jack shrugged, smiling into his glass as he took another sip.

Once midnight arrived, the kids were released from their sequester, and it was chaos– a choir of squeals and screams mixed with the sound of wrapping paper being shredded and tissue paper being crumpled.

Once the children were occupied, the adults began passing out their own gifts. Jack left your side for a moment and returned with a small, well wrapped box in hand.

“Here you go, darlin’.” He handed you the box with a glimmer of hope in his eyes and a lopsided grin, the gift toed the line of what would be acceptable to give you but once he saw it finished, he was sure you would love it. The look you gave him was equal parts curiosity and excitement, and you could hear the pounding of your heart in your ears as you gently tore the wrapping paper away. In the seconds before you completely unveiled the present, there was the tiniest shimmer of doubt in his mind– was it too much? Should he have picked something different?

Those thoughts vanished the moment the realization struck you, your small gasp sent his heart aflutter and drew several pairs of eyes. He chuckled to himself, from some of the things he had overheard and some of the questions he’d been asked by your family, he was certain that they were peering to see if he had given you a ring. No matter how much he wanted to be that person for you, he knew he had a worse chance than a snowball in hell of that happening.

“Jack!” You had finally found your voice as you admired the beautiful shine of several personalized charm clasped around a delicate rope of silver and gold that sat pillowed on gauzy felt in the small box. There was a charm for your love of baking, for your favorite Star Wars show you had convinced him to watch with you, your move to New York, one for your home state and even one for your favorite flower that you couldn’t believe Jack had remembered.

“Oh my gosh, this is gorgeous Jack!” In your excitement, you pulled Jack in tight for a hug. “Thank you so much!”

“Of course, darlin’. Merry Christmas!” He hugged you back tightly, then let go and gingerly took the bracelet from the box. “Here, let me help you put it on.”

You nodded quickly, your breath catching as his fingers brushed over your skin as he clasped the cool metal around your wrist in a move that felt deeply intimate.

“There, looks even better now that it’s on you, darlin’.” Jack smiled, releasing your hand from his, then hid a shaky exhale by taking a sip of his drink.

He hadn’t anticipated how much it would affect him to see it on you. Christ he wanted you.

There was something primal and tender that prickled under his skin. He wanted to cherish and worship you, kiss each of the charms that dangled from your wrist and make you his.

It was crazy, though, that’s not what the two of you were. That privilege wasn’t his.

“Thank you, Jack” You breathed out; you were positively giddy, over the moon at your gift and you were more than happy to show it off to your mom when she came up to see what Jack had gotten you.

“Are you trying to bribe my daughter for more cookies with pretty jewelry?” Your mom questioned Jack teasingly as her hand fell to her hip.

“Guilty as charged, ma’am.” He chuckled, holding his hands up in mock surrender.

The three of you laughed until your abuela called for you and Jack to come help her in the kitchen. A couple of scattered stares followed the two of you but you didn’t pay them any mind.

“What can we help with, abuelita?” You looked around, not seeing anything out of the ordinary except for two plates of cookies on the counter, hardly anything that required both you and Jack.

“I lied, mijita.” She smiled, then pulled out two small index cards that were filled front and back with your abuela’s cursive. “I wanted you two to have these.”

Jack took the small card in his hand, reading it over, his eyes widened as he realized it was the family tamale recipe, and he was already starting to shake his head when your abuela interrupted.

“Ma’am I-I can’t–”

“Mijo, you need to have one too so you can surprise her some time.” She pushed the card in his hand to his chest, and nodded, encouraging him in no uncertain terms to keep it.

“T-Thank you, ma’am. I’ll make good on that. She sure won’t be the only one makin’ these.” Jack smiled, gratitude bubbling in his voice–overwhelming him, and tightening his throat for a moment.

“Thank you, abuelita, thank you so much!” You ran to her and hugged her tight. This was a rite of passage of sorts, of course there weren’t quantities for some of the ingredients because as she had told you time and time before, “it was more fun that way”.

“Of course, mijita. Now, here,” she handed one plate of cookies to you, and the other to Jack. “Take these out there for everyone.”

You tucked the index card away, then led the way out of the kitchen with Jack close behind you. All conversation stopped the moment you stepped into the living room. Silence didn’t suit your family, especially not during the holidays, and you frowned slightly at the change. You stopped suddenly, the sturdy warmth of Jack nearly crashed into you–colliding along with dawning realization as you pieced together the stares from your family members, and you looked up.

An elegant bouquet of green, bound by a red ribbon hung from above.

Mistletoe.

Jack was a split second behind your realization as you turned to him; shock, then concern, flitted across his face until he too looked up, and those lips –lips that despite your best efforts, you had thought about kissing so many times before– formed a small “o” in surprise. You met his gaze, your eyes darting over every feature in a panic. Of course you had wanted to kiss him, but not like this.

Someone in the background called out “kiss!” Before you could argue your way out of it, Jack smiled down at you, the normal confidence that he exuded clung to just the edges of him, but the softness–the reassurance he radiated calmed your heart the tiniest bit.

“It’s alright, if you want, darlin’.” He murmured as he scanned your face, more concerned with easing the panic etched into your features than he was with the prospect of kissing you in front of your family. “It’s just mistletoe.”

He could do this, he reasoned with himself. He could do this and go back to the way things had been…right?

He stood still, waiting for you to make your decision; wanting to be sure whatever you decided was what you wanted. You surprised him by leaning up on your tiptoes, gripping his bicep for balance, and kissing him chastely on the corner of his mouth.

It was over in an instant, your gaze fell and your tongue peeked out over your lips, as you stepped back from him.

“Aw c’mon! A real kiss!” Another shout came from your family and more followed.

This time you felt Jack’s finger under your chin, gently tilting it up towards him as he leaned in, then paused.

Is this alright? He asked without asking. You swore you heard his husky, deep voice but his lips didn't move, his question came out of his eyes.

An errant lock of his hair tickled your face as he waited for your answer.

You melted into him, and it felt like the only thing holding you up was his knuckle under your chin.

Your reply was equally silent– a slight nod of your head, a shared breath between the two of you, and then he closed the distance and kissed you.

It wasn’t the chaste peck you had given him, it was an actual kiss, and it was everything yet nothing like anything you had ever dreamed.

His lips were plush against yours, and his fingers drifted from under your chin to cup the side of your neck while his thumb caressed the edge of your jaw, keeping you tethered to the same plane as him. It was impossible to think no one else around you existed, but in that moment, it was as if he was the center of your universe and you were his.

A single thought solidified, thrumming in your mind in rhythm with his thumb stroking your jaw: you loved him.

His tongue darted out, grazing your lips, tasting just the barest hint of sweet from dessert, smoke from the whiskey, and something uniquely you, before he kept himself from deepening the kiss, and kissed your lips again.

He had been so wrong.

Everything came together all at once, a spark tingled down his spine, igniting something in him, and he knew–he knew there was no more lying to himself, denying that he had feelings for you–that he loved you.

Oh, he was so fucked.

You were in a daze as he placed another smaller kiss on your lips, then stepped back, his cheeks tinged red. The two of you needed to talk about what had just happened.

What did it mean? Did it even mean anything? You could have sworn that there was something there in that kiss between you two but what if it was just for the mistletoe?

There was hooting and hollering from your family even as you and Jack broke apart somewhat awkwardly. The cookies you were both holding were placed in the middle of the table without much thought and then the crowd of boisterous family members absorbed you both back into the festivities, keeping you from pulling Jack aside to talk.

Your mom and abuela sat at a table with some of your aunts, smiling to themselves. They had all seen the look you two had shared, the kiss that was more than just show.

At the very least, they were certain you and Jack were no longer blind to each other and considered their mistletoe intervention a success.

The night dwindled further into morning and you tried to catch Jack as people began to leave but at every possible chance, it seemed that he had roped himself into helping clean up or do one thing or another. Eventually, you couldn’t stick around without looking awkward so you said goodnight to everyone, including Jack, and headed to your room.

Minutes, or an hour passed while you laid down on your bed, staring at the ceiling, as you had done countless times before, trying to process your own feelings. Your heart sank when you heard the door of Jack’s room close. You had been hoping he would come see you to talk before he went to bed. Maybe the kiss hadn’t meant anything after all.

Up until the moment his lips met yours in that second kiss, you had never given yourself a moment of hope that he might have feelings for you too, but now, that glimmer of hope burned brighter than anything had before and you knew you needed to talk to him about it–to tell him how you felt. Still, you couldn’t shake the nagging fear that you were seeing things where they were not, that you would somehow ruin the friendship you cherished most.

Jack laid down on the pullout bed and stared at the ceiling, guilt nestling and burrowing in his stomach. He had both intentionally and unintentionally avoided you for the rest of the night. At first he needed the space to think, to sort out his thoughts, and figure what to say to you, because he had to say something. Then he kept getting pulled away and he had seen the worry– the uncertainty written all over your face, and it pulled at his heart. He worried that he’d overplayed his hand, even with you agreeing to the kiss. What if it was just to get your family off of your back? What if he had crossed the line and ruined his friendship with you? He couldn’t forgive himself if he had.

Jack was up early, unable to get much sleep with everything on his mind. He found himself the only one awake as he sat on the couch in your parents’ sunroom, coffee in hand, watching snowflakes as big as his thumb dance down to the Earth. He took another sip, his lower lip pouting slightly as his thoughts returned to you, and what he should say.

The quiet peace that surrounded him gave way to the sound of quiet footsteps padding towards him. He looked over his shoulder and saw you with your own cup in hand, timidly making your way towards him.

“Mornin’, sweetheart.” Jack murmured, patting the spot next to him on the couch. He hated the nervousness he had put in your step, his own blossoming in his chest.

You let out a small sigh of relief as you sat down and resisted the urge to curl up under his arm. He was still calling you sweetheart, at least that was a good sign.

“Morning, Jack.” You smiled softly at him then turned to watch the snow.

The two of you sat there, staring out over your parents’ backyard, the tension between you increasing with each flake that fell.

“Jack, I–”

“Sweetheart–”

You both chuckled and you stared down at your coffee for a moment before starting again.

“Jack, about last night…” The tightness in your throat closed around your words and you trailed off. “I know it was maybe just for the mistletoe but,” you drew in a shaky breath, a mantra of you can do this running on repeat in your mind. “I-I can’t stop thinking about it, and-and I know you don’t see me that way, but I-fuck I can’t believe I’m saying this-” you pinched the bridge of your nose between your fingers and you shook your head before looking him in the eye again. “I think I love you, Jack.”

“Sweetheart, I love y–now hold on just a minute,” Jack’s face went from soft understanding to confusion. “What do you mean ‘you know’ I don’t see you that way?”

“I just didn’t think you ever did?” You shrugged and worried your bottom lip between your teeth.

“An’ here I thought you didn’t see me that way.” Jack massaged his forehead with his free hand, then smoothed out his mustache and shook his head. “I was so scared of losin’ what we have, of losin’ you, sweetheart.” His voice wavered and it hit you that Jack had been just as scared to ruin everything as you had been.

“I just never really thought you actually meant any of your flirting like that. You seemed happy just being friends, Jack.” You set your coffee down on the floor next to you then let him pull you into him. “I mean I’m just me, Jack.”

“Just you?” Jack looked at you, offended on your behalf. He set his coffee down, then turned to you, taking your hand in his and kissed your knuckles, eyes boring into yours. “Sugar, you’re the most amazin’ person I have ever met.”

“Stop, Jack.” You scoffed, smiling shyly and shaking your head, then bit your lip. You had never been good at taking a compliment, let alone from someone liked, like Jack.

“To be honest,” Jack cocked his head, a small smile quirking his lips. “I’ve been head over heels for you since the day you knocked on my door with those cookies, honey.”

“Since the day we met?” You chuckled, thinking back on that morning. “You mean when I got you out of bed way too early on a weekend?”

“Well I can say without a doubt, you were more than worth it, sweetheart.” He wagged a finger at you then grinned that signature grin you had fallen so hard for. “You, an’ those cookies.”

The two of you laughed, an easy silence filling the space between you as your laughter faded.

“You know,” Jack murmured, leaning in closer, his forehead resting against yours. “I’d really like to kiss you again, sweetheart.”

“I’d like that, Jack.” You smiled against his lips and then felt the rough pad of his thumb glide over your cheek; his touch possessive yet gentle, just as it had been the night before.

He pressed his lips to yours, not caring to hold back in deepening the kiss, taking his time in tasting you and you let yourself go to the headiness of him, his scent, his adoration of you.

A whimper fell from your lips, his grip on your neck and jaw tightened reflexively, sending a rushing heat down your spine, and you couldn’t fight the the moan that escaped from your throat or the way you fisted his shirt as you tried to pull yourself as close to him as possible.

You could imagine his hand around your throat, holding you in place, as he loomed over you and pressed into you in other ways, caring for you as he used you.

His grip tightened again, as if he knew what you were thinking, and you opened your eyes to find his gorgeous brown ones near black. You tried to pull yourself to him, to straddle his lap when the sound of a door opening and closing upstairs broke the spell you were both under and you halted. The pressure on your jaw and neck disappeared and the two of you broke from your kiss, panting and laughing at yourselves for acting like hormonal teenagers.

“Merry Christmas, Jack.” You planted one last, chaste kiss on his cheek.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

Thank you for reading! Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!

[sabxism]

Can My Girlfriend Come?

Pairing: Rey Skywalker x Reader

Word Count: 816

Summary: A certain flyboy decides to flirt with you. You find his advances hilarious for a number of reasons.

a/n: I was way too lazy to beta read this so uh sorry for any typos

You hop out of your x-wing, a loud thud reverberating across the bustling tarmac as your boots make contact with the ground. You lift off your helmet, a sigh of relief falling from your lips as waves of cool air roll over your flushed face.

You shrug off the top half of your flight suit as you walk across the hangar to grab a tool kit, tying the orange sleeves around your waist. The black tank top you have on under it clings to you like a second skin, drenched with sweat. You pick at it, sighing. The people down in laundry must hate pilots, and you can’t really blame them.

You make your way back over to your ship, halting a few yards away when you notice a guy standing in front of it.

Hesitantly, you approach him, casually clearing your throat to alert him of your presence. His head snaps around at the noise, and a pink tone creeps into his cheeks.

“Uh, hi,” you say awkwardly, lifting a hand in greeting.

“Hi, sorry,” he says quickly. Gosh, she’s cute. He absentmindedly cards a hand through his hair. “I’m Poe, Poe Dameron.” He extends a hand, and you take it, smiling.

“Y/N L/N. Nice to meet you.”

“I just really like the paint job on your ship. Who’d you get it done by?”

Smiling, you prop the toolbox on your hip. “I did it with a couple of friends, actually.” It was one of your proudest accomplishments - if you forget the huge mess that was made on the tarmac after Ellie accidentally tripped over one of the paint containers.

“Wow,” Poe breathes, nodding appreciatively. Cute and capable.

“Yeah,” you laugh, walking past him and hopping up onto the wing you need to work on. “It took us a couple of days, but it was definitely worth it. So much better than that shitty yellow it used to be.” You pull out a wrench, going to work on the nearest bolt. Your arms strain as you push against the stubborn piece of metal, but it eventually gives way, and you sigh with relief, pushing a few fallen strands of hair back from your face. You look up, and, to your surprise, Poe is still standing there, watching you. “Yes?” you say sarcastically, snorting in amusement as he startles.

“Sorry,” he laughs, shaking his head. “Uh, I have a...proposal.” You tilt your head to the side, hopping down from your ship. You land next to him and cross your arms in front of you.

“Is that so?” you say, and he nods, grinning.

Rey watches from across the hangar as you work on your ship. She smiles. You’d been away for so long, it felt like an eternity. She knows it’s only been a few weeks, and that helping planets get back on their feet after the First Order left was important, but still. It had been so long. So. Damn. Long.

“Hey, can you hold this for a second?” she asks a nearby runway tech, nodding at the DataPad in her hands. They nod, and she beams gratefully, before heading over in your direction. Her steps falter as you hop down from your ship and approach Poe, who’s standing nearby, seemingly speaking with you. Your words slowly become more audible as she approaches.

“Is that so?” you ask him, crossing your arms. She smiles.

“How about you and me get a drink sometime? I hear that pub on Ajara makes a mean Arboite Twister.” Her stomach drops. He’s got to be kidding.

“Of course!” you say, smiling. You know what he’s trying to do, and find it somewhat entertaining. You glance over his shoulder momentarily at a quiet rustling noise and see Rey standing nearby. You smile at him, holding up a finger. “I have one request.” He quirks a brow.

“What’s that?” You quickly sprint over to Rey, grab her hand, and pull her over.

“Can my girlfriend come?” You ask, grinning. His face falls, cheeks turning bright red.

“You’re Y/N? Like, the Y/N?” he exclaims, eyes widening. Rey nods, and you laugh, nodding. “I’m so sorry, seriously,” he says, words tripping over each other.

“It’s fine,” you and Rey say at the same time, laughing.

“Drinks do sound nice, though,” you say, and your girlfriend elbows you in the side, laughing. You pinch her leg. She hisses, swatting your hand away. Poe laughs.

“I have to agree, though,” she says contemplatively. “It’s been forever since we’ve been out. How about we go to that bar tonight? I’ll ask Finn, I’m sure he and Rose would love to come along,” Rey offers, and Poe nods. “And,” she adds, grinning. “You can get to know my wonderful girlfriend.” You blush as she swings an arm around your waist, pulling you close.

“Sounds like a plan,” Poe responds. “I can’t wait.”

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permanent: @staarshines

[cafedanslanuit]

chapter guide | prev. chapter | next chapter | extra content

✖   —   chapter summary: after receiving a text from zeke, you go out to meet him, leaving porco behind. your head is full of questions and you're not quite sure how you're going to confront him about last night's events.

✖   —   pairing: porco/reader & zeke/reader

✖   —   chapter tags/warnings: college au, protected sex, zeke calls you a good girl, mentions and/or descriptions of parental emotional abuse/traumatic childhood, hurt/comfort, fluff, referenced cheating. 

✖   —   a/n: beta read by my friend @ofoceansandtombstones​ <3 the title of the chapter is a reference to “oh daddy” by fleetwood mac.

chapter two: oh daddy

The only sounds you could hear when you got to the tennis court Zeke asked you to meet at was the ball being hit with the rackets and grunts from the two blond men you were expecting to see. Even if Reiner was a part of the swimming team along with Zeke, he always indulged his friend into playing with him, especially in the early mornings.

Neither Zeke nor Reiner realized you were there, too focused on the game, so you walked to the bleachers and sat down, forearms resting on your knees and hunched back as you watched the game.

Reiner was one of your only friends that liked being around Zeke, which really baffled your mind as the only one who knew about your dirty laundry was Porco. Yet, even after two years of being together, Annie wouldn’t even try to start a conversation with Zeke the multiple times he was over at your place. Armin, being the sweetheart he was, tagged along with her, only saying hello or goodbye while making a beeline towards Annie’s room. Pieck, Marcel and Bertholdt also made sure to avoid interacting with him, each of them in their own ways.

You sighed, pressing the bridge of your nose. You didn’t have the time to worry about it that morning.

A hard hit from Reiner made Zeke miss the ball and turn around to retrieve it. This gave Reiner the chance to look around, waving at you when he noticed your presence. You gave him a small smile and waved back.

“Your girlfriend is here.”

Zeke turned around quickly, his grey-blue eyes finding yours. You hated how a smile crept up your lips even after the disastrous night you had spent. His boyish grin and friendly wave would always bring warmth to your chest, and that spoke about how much your heart still belonged to him.

Your eyes were so fixated on each other you didn’t notice Reiner chuckling softly at the way you were looking at each other. Walking around the court, he called up Zeke, startling him and shook his hand. You didn’t listen to what he was saying but after a short conversation, Reiner turned around, waving at you again and started walking out the court. Zeke gestured to join him and you nodded, getting up and walking to the court with your hands in your pockets.

The moment you stepped a foot inside the court, Zeke started walking to you and met you halfway. He grabbed your face and placed a kiss on your lips, humming happily to himself. You kissed him back half-heartedly, your hands still secure inside your pockets without an ounce of need to put them around his neck like usual.

“You look so beautiful,” he said once he pulled away, holding your face tenderly.

You gave him a strained smile.

“Why did you call me so early?” you sighed.

Zeke’s grin didn’t waver, instead pressing a kiss on your forehead.

“Give me a second,” he said excitedly, before turning around and walking to the backpack that was against the wall. He left his tennis racket next to it and, after rummaging for a short while, he came back holding a baseball and a glove in his hand.

With a hand on the small of your back, he guided you until you were on the edge of the court. He carefully put the glove on your hand and ran back to the other edge of the court, both of you staying just on one side of the tennis court.

There was a part of you that wanted nothing more than to throw the glove away, stomp on it and demand answers from him but Zeke’s eager smile was nothing like you had seen before. He was really excited about this and even if you weren’t sure as to why , you felt compelled to follow along.

Zeke threw the ball at you and you took a couple of steps back to catch it with your glove. You winced in pain, your muscles still mad at you for drinking so much last night. You threw the ball as hard as you could but it didn’t reach your boyfriend, instead falling to the ground. Without saying a word, he shortened the distance between the two of you and threw the ball again.

A silent game of catch started between the two of you under the morning rays of sun. Seeing how happy Zeke was made you remember why you had fallen in love with him in the first place. He only smiled like that when he was around you, a huge grin on his face and a small couple of wrinkles on each side of his eyes. It was completely different from the way he smiled in social events and you couldn’t help but feel your heart flutter knowing it was only you that could see him like this.

It had been almost two years since a junior that sat a few seats away from you at your History of Philosophy class had asked to take a look at your notes at the end of your second class. He confessed it was his third time taking the course as he has failed it twice already. It was his last chance to pass the course and he had seen you taking a lot of notes and answering questions right, hence he was asking for your help. You couldn’t help but giggle at the image of this tall junior asking for the help of a freshman but you agreed and even offered to help him prepare for the exam if he really needed it.

That was the first time he truly smiled at you. And since then you had been hooked.

From a hidden makeout session at the back of the library to him introducing you to his half-brother, you had suddenly become the ‘it couple’ on campus. Zeke always took you out to social gatherings along with his classmates, presenting you as his girlfriend and keeping an arm around your shoulders at all times, letting everyone know who you were with.

Time went by and he even took you to his grandparents’ house, a lovely old couple that lived on the edge of town. You had dinner with them and smiled as they went on and on about how much they loved and were proud of their grandson. As they told you endearing but slightly embarrassing stories about Zeke when he was a little kid, you couldn’t help but notice they didn’t mention his parents in any of the stories. When you went to the kitchen to help his grandmother bring the dessert you tried looking for a picture of his parents and didn’t find it either. But you knew better than to ask.

The conversation ran long and when you two noticed, it was already too late to drive back, so you both decided to stay at their house for the night. After his grandparents had gone to sleep, you sat in front of the chimney, sitting next to each other, your head on his shoulder and enjoying the soft music coming from his phone. Fleetwood Mac’s ‘Rumours’ album was one of Zeke’s favourite albums and it was slowly starting to become yours as well.

A sniffle distracted your thoughts.

You pulled away immediately, kneeling and holding his face tenderly. It seemed Zeke had been crying for quite some time now and your eyes filled with worry.

“Baby, are you okay? What’s wrong?” you whispered, your thumbs wiping the tears running down his cheeks to his beard.

“I miss him,” he mumbled.

“Your dad?” you asked softly.

Zeke shook his head and averted his gaze from you. You turned his head back to you again and pressed a kiss on his forehead.

“You can talk to me, Zeke. Stronger together, right?” you said with a soft smile. He reciprocated it with a small nod.

Words fell from Zeke’s mouth like a broken dam, tears falling from his eyes quicker than you were able to kiss them away. You listened to him in silence, your fingers running across his dark blond locks, trying your best to soothe him as he tripped over his own words, painting a picture of his childhood.

He told you about their parents and their strong alliance with a political party when he was a kid. How they would talk to him about the party’s history and why he should be on their side, often getting irritated at him for not remembering all the details. He blamed himself for being too young to understand, for not paying enough attention when they talked to him about it. When a chance arrived for him to apply to a scholarship for middle school in a very prestigious private school, both his parents registered him, saying he should study hard to get that scholarship so he could start talking about the political party to the sons and daughters of the high class, so more people could support them.

But Zeke had never been good at school. He reminded you the reason you had met was that he had already failed a course twice, only salvaging it because you tutored him. So when he was ordered to get that scholarship, he studied day and night, sometimes not even going to bed because he wanted to make his parents happy and going to school without having slept even for a minute. But his scores were still low, igniting long and loud fights between his mom and dad, making him silently weep inside his bedroom as he listened to how much of a disappointment he was.

“You’re not a disappointment,” you interrupted him. His eyes that had been set on the chimney turned to you and he lifted the corners of his mouth.

You knew he didn’t believe you.

“They were taken by the police a few days before my scholarship exam. Turns out the political party they were into was… a bit radical.” He didn’t comment further and you thought it was best not to ask for details. “So I came to live with my grandparents. I was enrolled in public middle school and got a sports scholarship to get into university, hence why I’m a part of the swimming team.”

“Are they still…” your question died in your lips.

“In prison? No,” Zeke sighed, taking his glasses off and passing a hand across his face. “They got out after a couple of years. My mom died in a car accident shortly after and my dad remarried Eren’s mom. He lives with her now. Honestly, she’s a very sweet woman, she has always been kind to me. I don’t know how she stands him,” he said with a small chuckle.

“Even so, it’s okay to miss him, you know? Families are… complicated. So it wouldn’t be wrong for you to miss him from time to time.”

“I meant I miss Ksaver,” Zeke said, a sad smile on his lips. He took your hand in his, playing with it absentmindedly. “He was my science teacher at elementary school. He noticed how much I was struggling and how little sleep I was getting. He offered to tutor me some afternoons and we always ended up playing catch for a while before I had to go home. I think I was only able to go by because I could always look for spending my afternoons with him. We kept in touch when I went to middle school and he was always willing to help me out whenever I needed help with my classes or with the girls,” he said, a chuckle escaping his lips. “He lent me his jacket for my first date and he was the one I told about my first kiss with a girl in high school.”

You smiled sweetly, squeezing his hand softly.

“I wish I could have introduced you to him. But he… died, a couple of weeks after I started uni. Cancer. I never knew,” he said bitterly, biting the inside of his cheek. “So being here, listening to my grandparents tell you stories about when I was a kid… just made me remember him, you know? And shit— I really miss him.”

That night when you went to bed, you made sure to hold him a little tighter as he laid his body on top of yours. The feeling of his beard scratching your skin as he kissed your neck made you claw your nails on his muscular back. The room was filled with the sweetest breathy moans as you tried your best to be silent so you didn’t wake his grandparents up.

He pressed a long kiss on your lips before getting off of you, rummaging through his pants and trying to find a spare condom in his pockets. You waited as he put it on, fingertips gently tracing his forearms as a subtle reminder you were still there. Zeke hovered over you with a loving smile, his grey-blue eyes locked in yours making you feel as if you were the only woman he had ever even glanced at.

He slid into you, your lips parting as your body adjusted to his length. He started at a calm pace, his pelvis rubbing just right against your clit, making you see stars every time he moved. You held tightly on his muscular arms, moving your hips as you desperately craved for more.

It wasn’t long until he was pulling out of you, turning you on your stomach and thrusting inside of you again. It didn’t surprise you, he had always shown a preference for fucking you from behind.

Zeke’s hands were holding your waist tightly while he kept bucking his hips against you, his hot breath tickling your ear. The low grunts coming out of his mouth as he buried himself in you were all you could think about as you muffled your moans on the pillow. His fingers were digging on your skin, for sure leaving marks for you to find the next day, a hobby you had grown fond of ever since you started sleeping with Zeke. He was relentless, hips rutting against you without mercy, each thrust getting deeper and deeper inside of you.

“Shit, you give it so good to me, baby,” he grunted, bitting down on your shoulder. You whimpered, closing your fists on the sheets as you tried to arch your back even more to him. “Yeah, just like that— such a good girl to me.”

The way he increased his rhythm for a few seconds and then stilled behind you let you know he has reached his high. You felt as he rolled away from your body, lying on your side with a content smile, lips parted as he tried to regain his breath. You smiled softly at him and caressed his cheek with your knuckles.

Maybe it was a stretch, but you wished to have the power to stop him from ever getting hurt again. You wanted to protect that smile at all costs, not even letting the cold air touch him or anything that could ever threaten his well-being again. It was at that moment that you decided you would make sure he was the happiest man he could be as long as you were there.

As you saw Zeke smile as he threw the baseball, you remembered your vow. He was really the prettiest when he smiled. After your last throw, he caught it and gestured to you to come closer. He kissed you once again and this time you melted in his touch, the familiar taste of his lips taking you back to that night in front of the fire. He put the glove and baseball into his backpack and took your hand, placing a small kiss on the back of it.

“C’mon. Let's get breakfast.”

Finding an isolated spot on campus was easy, both of you sitting down under a tree. On your way there, Zeke had bought a couple of juice boxes from a vending machine and once you had gotten comfortable on the ground you realized he had packed a couple of sandwiches for both of you. You took one and smiled at him as a thank you.

“Have you thought about trying out for the baseball team? Bet you would do great there,” you commented, taking your first bite.

“I… I honestly haven’t played in forever,” Zeke said, shaking his head. “Hell, I hadn’t played like this since Ksaver died.”

“What changed?” you asked softly.

“Found this baseball while looking through my tennis stuff this morning as I was leaving to play with Reiner. So I brought them with me because…” he made a pause, looking down at his sandwich. “I wanted to play with you. I wanted to— to share this with you. You know how much it means to me and I couldn’t think of anyone else I wanted to do this with after all these years.”

You smiled at his words and right when you were leaning to kiss him, the memory of Yelena leaving his house hit you. Right. You had seen them, how had you forgotten about this?

Zeke noticed the way your smile dropped and furrowed his eyebrows in concern.

“I saw her kissing you,” you said, in a makeshift stern voice. Zeke’s frown deepened.

“What?”

“Yelena. I saw you kissing Yelena last night when she left your house,” you said, the pressure on your chest making it hard to talk. You took a deep breath, trying to alleviate it.

“Wait, wait, last night? Where were you?” he asked, confused.

“I— a few houses away. I wanted to say hi but I saw her and— I saw you two kissing, Zeke, aren't you going to say anything?” you demanded, your voice breaking at the end.

“Baby, I was confused as to why you were saying this because we didn’t kiss. I have never kissed Yelena in my life.”

“Zeke, I saw you,” you said in a pained voice. “I fucking saw you and—”

“Wait, was that why you called?” he interrupted you. “I’m sorry, baby, I really am. I’m just having trouble understanding because we never kissed. The closest thing to that happening was Yelena kissing my cheek goodnight and that’s it.”

“But I—”

“You just said you were a couple of houses away. Don’t you think you could have confused a friendly kiss on the cheek with her kissing my lips? As if I would ever let her,” Zeke said, taking a sip of his juice. “She knows how much I’m in love with you. Hell, I’ve even told her how I plan to marry you once you graduate.”

You felt your cheeks heating at his words and then immediately shook your head, trying to focus.

“Porco saw you too.”

At this, Zeke’s calm expression turned into a disgusted one.

“Baby, please,” he sighed, rolling his eyes. “Porco will say anything to get you away from me. You know he’s in love with you, right?” he asked. You averted his gaze, looking down at your sandwich. “He’s so obvious about it. He’ll say anything to make you doubt your relationship with me enough for him to get a chance. Bet he kept insisting on you leaving me after you mistakenly believed Yelena kissed me last night.”

Memories of Porco’s arms around your body and his hazel eyes looking at you as he kissed your palm crept inside your head, guilt leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. Zeke was right. You were a few houses apart and all you had seen was her kissing the corner of his mouth, never a full kiss on the lips. And on top of that, you had been drinking a lot. There was a big chance you had perceived the moment differently and… Porco had definitely egged you on your distrust.

“You did nothing wrong,” Zeke assured you, taking one of your hands in his. “You trust people too much, you’re too good. But please don’t believe Porco’s intentions are innocent in any way.”

You nodded, keeping your head down. At this, Zeke scooted over to your side, grabbing your face gently and kissing your forehead. You smiled at his action and lifted your face until your lips met. A chaste kiss was exchanged, making the both of you smile.

“I’m sorry for… insisting on this but can I ask you something else about last night?” you asked in a small voice.

Zeke nodded. “Sure, anything that will make you feel better.”

“Why was Yelena with you last night? Why did she leave so late?”

“Yelena was going through a rough time, stuff with her family and the fact she likes girls,” Zeke explained, biting down on his sandwich. “Her family is very religious so it’s… a touchy subject. She needed to talk and we did just that— talk until she was feeling better.”

You nodded, still with a small frown on your face.

“But I asked you, I— I called you and I asked if the movies were fun by yourself.”

“And I told you I always preferred watching movies alone,” Zeke reminded you. “I didn’t lie, I really do. I’ve told you this before. Besides, I didn’t just want to air out her business. It was private for a reason.”

“But her Instagram—”

“Darling, don’t mind her. Please, as far as I know, she could have made that post in case her family saw it. She’s not even out on campus, so… I don’t know,” he shrugged. “But don’t think about it too hard. She’s my friend but trust me when I say she’s not worth your time.”

You felt stupid. So damn stupid for ever believing Zeke was cheating on you. All of Yelena’s Instagram photos made so much sense now that you knew she was trying to present herself as straight. Surely you would have preferred her to use any other guy than your boyfriend but… it just made sense. Since Zeke was the only one that knew about her sexuality, she made sure not to foolishly lead him on since he knew it was all a charade.

And the fact Zeke wasn’t asking about Porco— God, you didn’t deserve him. You had just admitted to being outside with Porco at three in the morning and he hadn’t batted an eye. He didn’t need proof or to interrogate you to trust you would never cheat on him.

“Stop worrying your pretty head around it. We’re good, okay?” he assured you, nudging your shoulder playfully. “Let's just forget about this whole thing, okay?”

“Okay,” you smiled.

Zeke took one last bite of his sandwich, shaking his hands to get rid of the crumbs. He scooted until his back was against the tree and pulled you by your wrist, content in how you were giggling as he set you between his legs, with your back on his chest.

“Thank you for meeting me this early without notice. When I found Ksaver’s baseball I just knew I wanted to share that moment with you,” he said, resting his chin on your shoulder and putting his arms around your waist. “I’m so weak when it comes to… remembering things from my past. But I know I can always count on you. You’re so much stronger than I am. Always have been.”

Your mind went back to Porco pushing you away after you tried to kiss him just a few hours ago.

“I don’t know about that,” you whispered.

“But you are. And that’s one of the reasons I’m so in love with you,” he smiled, pressing a kiss on your shoulder. “One of the reasons I plan to ask you to marry me as soon as you graduate. We’re stronger together, remember?”

Your heart fluttered at his words.

“Yes,” you nodded with a soft smile .”We are.”

[mylittlerambledmusings]

Day 1 - Baking || Vanilla, sprinkles, and chocolate flavored kisses.

|| Masterlist || 

Rating: T+

Pairing: Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales x Reader

Words: 1317

Warnings: Mainly fluff, but brief mentions of previous animal abuse and animal death- nothing in depth just giving a backstory to the why and how you’re getting new faces to meet. (Pictures of the new boys will be at the end)

Notes: So, apparently all it took was a writing challenge to get me back into the swing of things. I’d missed these two (now four) a lot so it feels good to be back! I can’t promise I’ll do every prompt and some might even have more than one prompt mashed together, but each one I’ll let you know. Also, these will probably be bouncing between pre-road-trip and after. This one is set after the last bonus chapter by almost two years or so.

Any mistakes are all my own as this is not beta read and I know absolutely no Spanish. And as always, thank you for taking the time to read this, it means the world to me to be able to share this with all of you! Happy Holidays, everyone! ❤

Additional Word Prompt:  “Oh, shit! The cookies!”

~*~

You weren’t sure what exactly you were expecting when you walked through the door after the last shift before your Christmas vacation started… but it surely wasn’t a flour covered toddler waiting patiently just inside -and by patiently you meant he was wiggling just as much as the dog beside him. 

“Mama!” Nicky exclaimed, beaming up at you, arms raised in the air for you to pick him up. 

“Hey, baby,” you said, scooping him up with one arm while your other hand patted Vinny on the head. You just knew you’d be dealing with an interesting load of laundry later if the state of Nicky’s clothes were any sort of indication how their afternoon had gone. “Where’s your daddy?” 

Nicky pointed in the direction of the kitchen as you brushed some flour out of his hair. Just as you were about to round the corner to see just what Frankie and your kids had done to your poor kitchen, the man in question came into view smiling at you like he too wasn’t covered in flour, Ozzy following obediently behind him. 

“You’re home early, hermosa,” he said in greeting. When Nicky reached for him he scooped him out of your arms and hung him over his shoulder causing the toddler to burst into a fit of giggles. Which of course melted whatever frustration might have been building in the sight of the mess you knew was just around the corner. It had been a truly shitty day and the last thing you had wanted to do was to have to come home to clean.

“You good, mi sol?” he asked, pulling you into his flour covered embrace for a kiss that surprisingly tasted like chocolate. When he pulled back you started brushing what he had on his face, nodding. “I am now,” you whispered against his lips before asking, “do I even want to know?” and gave him a pointed look, because while the man looked like a hot mess he tasted amazing. 

“Probably not,” he responded easily, shrugging, “but there is a surprise waiting for you in the kitchen.” He pulled you close again, pressing his lips to your forehead, like he knew you needed it. Needed him. And in that moment, you did. 

You pulled away just enough to narrow your eyes at him, but he only tipped his head toward the kitchen.

As you rounded the corner, you couldn’t help but smile. Not only was there absolutely no mess on anything except the two people standing in front of you, but one of those people was Santiago Garcia. 

“Mom!” Ava said, looking quite proud of herself as she bounded over to you for a quick hug. 

“Hi, my love,” you said, squeezing her back before Santiago swooped in for his own hug. 

“Hermosa,” he said in greeting, hugging you to him so he could whisper in your ear. You hugged him back tightly and smiled as he told you again you were still too beautiful for Frankie. 

It had been a few months since he’d stayed with you all because he’d ended up having to have a few surgeries on his knees. You and Frankie had insisted he stayed with you all while he recovered. He’d put up a hell of a fight, but in the end he caved when Ava begged him to stay. To your surprise, he had been a horrible patient. Grouchy, uncooperative, you name it. But you could tell he was thankful he didn’t have to be alone, even if it was hard for him to express with words. 

You leaned back wiping at his face with a smile as Frankie huffed playfully behind you. “You really need to stop trying to steal my woman, Garcia.”

Pope gave you a wink that Frankie couldn’t see and said, “I think if she hasn’t left you by now, you’re golden, Morales.” 

You shook your head at the two of them and turned out of Pope’s arms to give a proper greeting to the new additions to your family. Ozzy, Styx, and Vinny were the three new dogs in the house. 

It had been about a year ago when you’d lost Flex and then Marvin a few months after that. It had been hard on all of you, especially the kids, and while you didn’t want to jump right into having another pet, let alone three, it just kind of happened. 

Ozzy was the first dog you’d met and he had been the most skittish, having been found living on the streets for who knows how long. But he and Styx, the dog they’d brought out with Ozzy, had had a bond from the time he’d gotten there. After seeing them play together, you knew you couldn’t take one and leave the other, it would have just been cruel. Styx hadn’t had much of an easy life either, though, having to have one of his front legs amputated after having been shot. And then there was Vinny, who had also been found as a stray. He had reminded you so much of Flex it had been hard to walk away from him. And then he’d gently grabbed your pants leg and gave you those eyes like he was begging you not to leave him, you just couldn’t say no. 

You were told later the grabbing had been an anxiety response but he’d been so gentle about it you really didn’t think you’d have to worry about him being with the kids and you ended up being right. Hell, that dog was better at keeping Nicky out of trouble more than anyone.

It hadn’t been easy, especially with three of them, but after taking them all to a dog trainer for a few months, things were finally settling down and were getting into a routine. It helped that Frankie had taken a job where he was home more often and that the dogs all got along. You’d found the three of them snuggling up with each other more than once, and had more than a dozen pictures on your phone to prove it. 

While you were getting in your rubs, kisses, and love from your boys you looked around the kitchen. “Anyone want to explain to me why you’re all covered in flour?”

“Uncle Pope did it,” Ava said, smirking over at him as he mumbled “traitor” under his breath. “When he turned the mixer on it was on high and stuff just started flying everywhere. And when daddy heard the shouting he’d come in running with Nicky and well…” she trailed off looking at the two and shrugged. “But he couldn’t figure out how to turn it off and stuff was still flying and…” “It took Ava unplugging it to get it to stop,” Frankie said, cutting her off when she started to ramble while trying not to giggle.

You had to press your lips together to keep yourself from laughing out loud because you could only imagine the absolute chaos that had been going on at that moment. But that only worked for so long and then all five of you were laughing at the ridiculousness of it all. 

“Well, did you guys actually get anything made?” You asked after everyone had settled, causing Ava to brighten and run over to the fridge. 

She pulled out a chocolate cupcake with vanilla icing that was covered in sprinkles and held it out to you. Which explained why Frankie had tasted like chocolate. They looked good. Like, really good.  And to your surprise they tasted even better. 

“These are really good, you guys,” you said after a bite, causing smiles to break out over all their faces. Before you could take your second bite you smelled something a bit off. “Is something burning?”

“Oh, shit! The cookies!” Frankie exclaimed, passing Nicky off to you as he rushed to the stove. 

“Thit!” 

“Dammit, Frankie!”

~*~

Taglist: @cxnnxrmar​

Meet the newest additions:

[moonbeambucky]

Turn Back Time

Pairing: Lance Tucker x Reader Word Count: 2617 Warnings: fluff, embarrassing moments

Summary: Theo's embarrassing mistake makes his parents wish they could turn back time.

A/N: We're skipping ahead to the future! This takes place in October 2039 and yes this is another Theo-centric drabble but it's fine because we love him. There are more mentions of The Price of Astrophile universe collab with Allie so don't forget to read Astrophile if you haven't already. Thank you to my love @all1e23​ for beta reading 🍕❤️

It’s quiet in the house, silent mostly apart from the gentle hum of the washing machine that fills the background as your eyes gaze over the pages of the sturdy book that rests in your lap. Your focus is interrupted every now and then when Cashew lets out a deep snore you’re surprised hasn’t woken him.

He’s curled up beside you on the couch with his head resting against your thigh. The book can wait so you’ve set it off to the side, rubbing your palm in long, gentle strokes along his body. It’s hard not to notice how he doesn’t climb up as easily as he used to. You vividly recall the day you adopted him and it’s hard to believe that was thirteen years ago but just like Cashew isn’t a puppy anymore, your kids aren’t children. 

Ariel is living in New York and though you knew this was coming for a long time you still miss her every day. It made sense for her to be there with more opportunities in dance. She was loving every moment training at the American Ballet Theatre.

New York had offered more than just dance, Ariel’s heart had been there ever since she met Ollie. You understood the difficulties of a long distance relationship, having done so with Lance for a while. It still amazed you though how dedicated they were to each other despite their age. Their friends enjoyed the convenience of being face to face while Ariel and Ollie spent more time having “dates” over FaceTime until they were able to see each other in person again.

Now you’re the one that has to FaceTime her, thankful that no matter how exhausted she was after a long day of dancing she always has time to speak to her parents. Lance knew the rigorous training she was going through, reminiscent of his own Olympic training. “You don’t have to call us every night,” he would tell her and while Ariel knew she didn’t have to, she could see passed the smile on his face knowing how much her Dad misses his Starfish. If a few minutes a day made her parents happy she would give that and more without question.

Seeing her over the phone was good but in person was even better and last weekend you were able to do that. It was her twentieth birthday and you and Lance flew up to celebrate. It didn’t matter that you last saw her two months ago, both of you hugged her like it’s been forever.

She was more than settled in at the Barnes’ house and you couldn’t thank them enough as they offered to have Ariel stay with them. You were certain Cassie had a lot of influence on their decision, emphatically telling them all the reasons why Ariel should live there.

Truthfully she didn’t have a lot of convincing to do. You and Lance were as close to the Barnes’ as Ariel and Cassie. You had a long discussion with them and they kindly offered Orion’s old bedroom. She had been living in the apartment above their bookstore for the last few years so they did have the space. Plus they considered Ariel family and they wanted to make sure she was safe as she navigated life in a new city. 

It was sad that Theo couldn’t make it and no one was more disappointed than him. He would use any opportunity to see his friends in New York and it killed him to have to miss this trip. Theo was training to become a lifeguard and his classes were every Saturday; missing even one would disqualify him from the program. 

He was able to FaceTime as everyone sang “Happy Birthday” to Ariel, watching her blow out the candles on the cake Cassie made for her. The phone was passed around so Theo could say goodbye to everyone, heat forming on his cheeks when Ori told him how much he was missed. His smile curbed just a bit when Leo grabbed the phone and teased that he wasn’t missed that much.

Theo was only alone for a few days and while some seventeen year olds with a house to themself might throw a party Theo was focused on practicing. He stayed long after class was over to continue swimming laps in the Olympic size pool. With his test coming up he needed to practice as much as he could.

The sound of the door shutting puts a smile on your face. Before he even announces himself you know it’s Theo, you can tell by the way he shuffles inside, dropping off his bag near the front closet like he always does.

Cashew slowly lifts his head up as Theo plops down on the couch. “Hey mom,” he said quickly, smiling at Cashew who slowly got up to turn and face Theo.

“You’re home early. I thought you’d be practicing some more.” 

He looked up from Cashew to answer you, still giving the good old dog scratches behind his ears. “They had some private lessons so I couldn’t stay. Did you have lunch yet? I’m gonna make something before I get into our pool, unless you needed it?”

You couldn’t help the smile on your face knowing Theo had grown into a kind and considerate young man; not that you expected anything else. You and Lance worked hard raising him and Ariel with manners and to treat everyone with respect

“I ate already, thank you Pumpkin.” Theo dropped his head to Cashew as fond embarrassment came over him at the sound of his nickname. “And the pool is all yours though I do wish you would take it easy. You’re sure you haven’t been pushing your knee too much?”

His shorts are bunched just above the scar from the ACL surgery he had earlier this year and the injury, although common, was devastating to Theo. He loved being active so bringing all of his activities to an immediate halt hurt more than the pop felt in his knee. He was eager to get back into everything which made you worry. Then again, as his mother you would always worry about him.

“I feel good, trust me Mom.” Theo reassured you with a smile. He got up from the couch and stopped to plant a kiss on your cheek before heading to the kitchen. You helped Cashew down, his nails tapping slowly against the floors as he followed Theo, hopeful and waiting for some food to drop.

As you were folding laundry you didn’t expect Theo to be there, startling you enough that a pair of folded socks went flying out of your hands. He laughed as he went to pick it up, snickering still as he asked, “Do you know where the Bluetooth speaker is? Mine broke.”

Pursed lips held feigned anger for Theo laughing at you but you couldn’t keep it up. “It might still be in the garage from the last time Ariel was home.” 

“Thanks,” he said, tossing the rolled up socks your way. He turned on his heels before backtracking, flashing a smile as bright and white as the freshly folded towel he took from the pile, throwing it over his bare shoulder.

Theo was ready to swim again, and not long after you heard music blasting from the backyard. Your pool wasn’t large enough to accurately practice the timed laps he needed to complete for certification but he was able to work on other things, like perfect all of his strokes and practice retrieving a diving brick from the bottom of the pool. It was a little awkward and Theo supposes that grabbing a person will feel just as foreign. Then again he’s kind of done it before.

Last year when his friends from New York came to visit everyone was helping Ariel pack up things for her move. Ollie even brought an extra suitcase so he could bring back some things in advance to ease the trip she would have to make the following month. As her best friend Cassie was at her side, holding the list Ariel made and rightfully ignoring it as she pointed at random things in the room to see if it was something Ariel wanted to take. (And no Cassie, there was no need for Ariel to take the pink bowling pin from her seventh birthday party with her to New York.)

Leo was doing his best to help, at Cassie’s insistence. He would much rather be hanging out with Theo who is much luckier than him for not having to help pack up. His eyes shifted to the open door, hoping the sound of the person coming up the stairs was Theo, or Ori even. It was a good thing Ariel’s room didn’t face the backyard because Leo would have been running outside if he got a look at what was going on.

Theo can’t escape the memory of the day he taught Ori how to swim. Somehow he was lucky enough to be alone with her, without Leo’s disapproving stare weighing him down. His own nerves were doing that for him but he pushed them aside as much as he could.

Ori was embarrassed, thinking she was too old to be learning how to swim at twenty-three. Her makeshift doggy paddle was enough to fool others into thinking she simply preferred the shallow end to stay near her younger siblings when they were little. 

The truth was the deep end was unpredictable. There were too many what-ifs and if Ori could not solidly control a situation then she simply wouldn’t go for it. But things didn’t seem as scary with Theo there. Maybe it was the look in his eyes, honesty swirling in the reflection of the water below them; or his smile, with kindness pouring out from the soft pull of his lips. There was no need to feel shame and with Theo she never had a reason to. 

It was one of the best days of his life, not only because of the time he was able to spend with her but because Ori trusted him. He kept her safe and taught her as much as he could before the sky decided to open up on them. 

Every time he gets in his pool those memories wash over him. Theo can’t help the heat that creeps on his cheeks, a minor distraction he tries to shake off so he could continue practicing. But when he remembers her scent, fresh lavender that’s soft and pretty just like Ori, it has him swimming through the clouds. 

It was hard not to think about Ori, she’s been on his mind ever since they met. He was a child then with a big crush on that pretty girl with the big smile and gorgeous eyes; but with every passing year his feelings have grown and Theo knows deep down in his heart there's a reason why he can't shake this crush. His mind drifts with hope for the future. 

Eventually he was able to focus, staying out there until long after Lance got home. Dinner was quick and you and Lance could see how much Theo had pushed himself all day. He was exhausted, unable to control his yawning in between chewing his food. The sun had barely begun to set when he said goodnight to you both.

The rest of the night was spent in bed, cuddling up with Lance as you watched a movie hearing the gentle patter of rain against the windows. Cashew was resting at the end of the bed, surprising you when he lifted his head up at the sound of the toilet flushing down the hall. 

“Good boy Cashew,” you cooed, leaning forward to pat his head, “You heard Theo, good boy!” It was nice, for a moment, to believe Cashew wasn't as old as he really was.

You settled back against Lance, feeling him press a kiss to the top of your head. His hand rubbed up and down your arm gently, reaching down to squeeze a handful of your bottom.

As you lifted your head up towards him, Lance’s growing smirk told you that Cashew might have to temporarily move to his bed on the floor. He leaned in to capture your lips, your need for him growing deeper until everything came to a record scratching halt. 

“Mmmm just like that baby.” 

You pulled away, puzzled by the foreign sound of a woman whose pornographic moans grew louder and louder.

“What the fuck? Where is that coming from?”

Both of your phones were on the nightstand untouched and the movie was still playing so it was unlikely that the remote had been accidentally touched. Lance chuckled as he sat back against the headboard, wishing you would get back in bed so he could pull those same sounds from you.

You scanned your bedroom following the lewd sounds until you stopped dead in your tracks. On the bathroom counter your eyes widened in horror, staring at the sleek Bluetooth speaker, the same device Theo was using earlier. Lance must have taken it back inside before the storm.

Your feet carried you in a hurry, jumping back in bed in a frenzy, disturbing poor Cashew as you buried your face in the pillow.

“What?” Lance asked, first with a laugh which faded into concern as you shook your head, muttering a slew of “no’s” into the fabric. “Y/N what’s wrong?”

Your head turned to the side, peeking one eye open at Lance who couldn’t stand the anticipation any longer.

“It’s… Theo.” Your face cringed as you said his name. “He must have been too tired before to disconnect his phone from the speaker…” 

Lance’s lips pressed into a thin line realizing he would have to handle this embarrassing situation since there was no way you could. 

It wasn’t that Theo wasn’t open with you. He never shied away from bringing Amber over the house, asking for your advice on sweet things he could do for her especially when they got back together but there were some things he definitely felt more comfortable talking about with his Dad. 

Lance let out a heavy breath, closing the door behind him so you didn’t have to hear that awkward conversation.

“Cashew help me!” you pleaded, patting the spot on the mattress next to you for him to cuddle.

He plopped down beside you, licking your face as you gently pet him. The moans abruptly stopped and you felt some relief though a bit of sadness lingered. Although Theo would always be your pumpkin he was no longer a little boy. 

“Theo’s all grown up now huh Cashew?” His head tilted slowly, a reminder that he too was all grown. As the door creaked open you lifted your head to Lance, hesitantly asking, “Everything good?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a small laugh, “Yeah... he’ll be fine.” 

Getting back into bed, Lance adjusted his position since Cashew had taken up a good portion of the middle. With Ariel in New York and Theo graduating next year it made you both realize just how much time had passed and because of that Lance didn’t take it personal when you snuggled with Cashew instead of him. He threw his arm over both of you, flashing that same smile that spoke the words he didn’t need to say. 

You were both feeling the same thing, the yearning of wanting to turn back time and not let your babies (and puppy) grow up as fast as they did. Or at the very least, remind Theo to disconnect his phone from the speaker!

[everlarkbirthdaygifts]

Happy Birthday, popsicle181!

Apologies once again for the delay on your birthday gift, @popsicle181​! We hope you had a wonderful birthday back on the 5th, and that you got all you wished for! To bring your party back around, the lovely @mega-aulover​ has written a story just for you!

For: popsicle181

Prompt: I would love anything with a college theme (maybe a first meeting) if possible.

Authors Note: I would like to apologize for the late submission of your birthday drabble. But I wanted to make sure that you received the best story possible and I hope you don’t mind the little journey we’re taking.  There are many bonds, the bonds of friendship, the bond of family, and the bond of love. Some bonds can never be broken. Special thanks to Norbertsmom for her encouragement and beta skills

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Kindergarten: 

Katniss held her father’s hand tightly.  “Papa, do I have to go?”

“Yes half-pint, you have to go.”

Tears filled her eyes. “But I don’t want to leave you and mama.”

Her father kneeled down in front of her. “Tell you what. It’s not going to be easy for your maw and me to let you go to school for so long, but I can’t be selfish. I can’t keep you home and not let you learn anything. Especially since you want to be a big sister. And one day when you do become a big sister you’re going to want to read to them, and help them with their homework.”

Katniss looked down. She did want to be a big sister.  Livi Bard had a baby brother she got to help take care of. Katniss wanted someone to sing to, to play with, and wanted to teach all the things her mama and papa taught her. “I do want to read the baby stories.”

“Plus, if you learn how to write, we can write a song together.”

Her little head popped up, “Really!”

“Yeah.” 

Katniss looked at the massive building. “Okay papa, I’ll go to school. I need to learn to write a song.”

With that resolved Katniss marched purposefully into the building and went about her day. She learned how to hold a pencil and was tracing her name when she heard a soft cry in the room. Turning her head she saw a small boy hiding amongst a fortification of blocks. A group of boys were snickering at him. They ran away after the teacher appeared. 

Katniss stood up in her chair to peer at him. His round little face was angelic and his blond curls were a riot. His eyes were wide and filled with tears.  His pale cheeks were splotchy and he bit his lips to keep from crying in earnest. Katniss felt a deep stirring in her heart for the little boy. Getting down, she walked over to him and sat down. She didn’t like hearing other kids cry.  She began to build up the fort around both of them all the while humming. She noted the sweet smell of cinnamon. He reminded her of the snickerdoodle cookies her mama liked to bake.

“Twinkle, twinkle…” Katniss sang, “little star-”.  Her father sang to her whenever she was having a bad day. She hoped it would help the little boy. Katniss leaned over him and took a brick as she sang softly.  He stopped making noises as she finished her song. 

“You have a pretty voice,” the shy boy said. His tear filled eyes glanced at her with awe.

“No I don’t,” Katniss wrinkled her nose, “My papa has a better voice. Why were you crying?”

“The other kids were making fun of me, because of my name,” he whispered.

“What’s your name?”

“Promise not to laugh?”

Katniss nodded. 

“My name is Peeta.”

"I like your name."

 His blue eyes widened, awe in his voice, "You do?"

Katniss smiled.

"What's your name?"

Katniss shrugged. “My name is Katniss. It’s a plant that grows in the mud. Do you want to be my friend?”

“Sure.”

From that moment on Katniss was attached to Peeta. They were best friends all throughout Kindergarten. They were a team, coloring, defending the smaller kids in class from the bullies. 

Peeta learned Katniss became cranky when hungry, he always brought an extra cheese bun to share for snack. Katniss learned Peeta's favorite color was orange. She gave him all of the shades of orange from her crayon box. 

They shared their lunches together, and when Katniss got sick in class Peeta sat with her inside of the nurses office. He held her hand until her father came, and one day in class when Peeta tripped Katniss caught him before he fell into a chair.

“Peeta and Katniss sitting under a tree K - I - S - S- I - N - G…” one of the kids snickered one day. 

Katniss narrowed her eyes, becoming mad by the taunting.

 “Maybe one day we will be in love and get married and have the baby in the baby carriage. We’ll always be together,” Peeta replied.

Katniss snapped out of her anger. She turned to him and the thought of having Peeta, just like her mama had her papa made her happy.  “Always?”  

His gaze was unflinching, yet filled with tenderness. "Always."                                                 

The words formed a bond deep within her little heart. They were a team before but after this, they became inseparable. Nonetheless as all stories have a beginning, they also have an ending. Theirs had to come to a stop as Kindergarten came to an end. 

During play time on the last day of Kindergarten, they sat with their little arms wrapped around each other, as if trying to absorb as much as they could of the other.  When dismissal time came, they were not excitedly speaking about summer plans. Katniss sadly sat with Peeta in the class holding his hand.

“Peeta,” the Kindergarten teacher called. “Your father is here to pick you up.” 

Katniss squeezed his hand tighter.

“I’m sorry Mr. Mellark, Peeta’s normally picked up by his brothers.  Your son and Katniss have quite the bond. They are a pair of star crossed lovers,” the teacher explained. “They are so sweet.”

Peeta and Katniss stood, tears gathered in her eyes. 

“Promise you’ll remember me.” Peeta hugged her.

Katniss who at first didn’t want to go to school had discovered a reason to go to class everyday. 

“Always.”

“Here.” Peeta gave her a heart with a picture of them together,  he’d spent hours in class drawing. 

Katniss gave him an orange ribbon he liked.

They tearfully separated on the last day. Each one staring at the other over the shoulder of their respective fathers.

Sixth Grade:

“Dear Katniss,

I couldn’t believe it when I read you are in Mr. Raj’s class.  I am also going to be in Mr. Raj’s class. It’s going to be so much fun this year we are going to be in the same school and I heard Mr. Raj is a great math teacher.”

Katniss couldn’t believe her eyes.  She put down the letter. After they separated in Kindergarten, Peeta found out her address and he sent her a picture. It was a surprise to see the carefully drawn picture from her friend. It lifted Katniss' sadness. Her father encouraged her to draw him a picture in return. In six years the bond that began in Kindergarten grew. She learned Peeta lived in a very affluent part of town. Her home was humble in comparison, a two bedroom home that her father was restoring.  She and her baby sister Prim shared a bedroom. 

She was sitting at the study desk in the living room reading her letter.  Prim was already asleep in their room upstairs. Her mother walked by humming as she carried a laundry basket upstairs.  Katniss was trying to figure out what to write to Peeta. 

“So what did young Master Peeta write?” Her father joked sitting next to Katniss.

“Daddy.”  Katniss could feel the sting of the blush hitting her cheeks.  Her father learning her pen pal was well off he joked that Peeta was richer than Mayor Undersee. Katniss didn’t like it but her mother often told her that her father was only having fun. 

“We’re going to the same school in the fall and we’ll have the same math class.”

Her father whistled. “That’s pretty important stuff.”

“Yeah,” Katniss breathed. 

“What are you going to tell him?”

“I was going to say how happy I am and about how this summer you taught me to use the bow and arrow.”

“Well don’t stay up too late.”  Her father stood, and ruffled her hair. “I’ve got to change that cable, it’s frayed,” he said pointing to the floor lamp by the garbage bin.  

Katniss nodded.  She began to write, but what she wrote didn’t sound good. She tore the paper from her note book and threw it in the trash. Time began to  tick away, as the trash bin filled up. Katniss sleepily glanced at her letter, she yawned and she placed her head on the table. 

Coughing, she woke up to see her room was filled with smoke. Getting up she saw the trash bin was on fire. The curtain caught fire and Katniss screamed. Moments later her father ran down the stairs. Katniss ran from the desk into his arms. 

Her father tore open the front door,  and put her on the sidewalk, “Go to the neighbors house and call the fire department.”

Katniss nodded, and took off as her father ran back into the house.

“Mr. Wyler, Mr. Wyler,” Katniss pounded on the door.  Tears streamed down her face. 

“Katniss.” Mr. Wyler opened the door.

“My house is on fire please call the fire department!” 

“Alex what is it?” Mr. Wyler’s wife asked.

“Call 911,” Mr. Wyler said, stepping outside to look at her home.

Katniss ran back home. but her house was burning. Her father ran outside with Primrose. “Stay with your sister, I’m going to get mommy, okay.”

“Daddy,” Katniss yelled. Mr. Wyler pulled her back. Katniss turned to her sister and put her arms around her. That was the last time she’d seen her father alive. The fire was started by the floor lamp. The frayed wires lit the papers from the waste bin on fire. It was her fault for not being able to write, to communicate well. She blamed herself for her parents deaths and she closed herself off. 

Katniss vowed she would never allow others into her heart, for fear of losing them. Katniss and Primrose moved to another town with their uncle Haymitch Abernathy. She pushed the memory of Peeta away. She eventually met another boy named Gale, but she never let him get close and pushed him away at every opportunity.   

 College:

Katniss hated college. She wanted nothing more than to quit and go home. But to be honest she didn’t really have a home anymore. After her parents died and Katniss and her baby sister moved in with Haymitch nothing was the same. Haymitch wasn’t really her uncle, but he was the person her parents entrusted the care of their girls to in their will.  Haymitch and his wife were not a typical married couple, they always bickered. Aunt Effie detested uncle Haymitch's geese. UncIe Haymitch reminded Effie on a daily basis that they lived on a farm.

Kathiss was going to stay on at the farm helping Haymitch run the place, but Haymitch changed all of those ideas when he showed her her parents’ last will.  Going to college was the one thing her parents wanted for Katniss and Prim. Unbeknownst to Katniss, their parents had a college fund for each of the girls. 

The fund and her scholarship she won for archery had secured her place in Panem University. Katniss was a shy person by nature and the bustling nature of the university overwhelmed her. While other freshmen met and became friends with the kids around campus, Katniss avoided people, people like her roommate. 

 The first few days, her roommate Clove was your average girl next door. Then precisely at midnight on the Saturday of that first weekend she shaved her head. The next day Clove painted her half of the room black, and she bought a set of paring knives that she used for target practice.  Katniss was eternally grateful when on the following Monday Clove found a guy and moved in with him. Clove took all of her clothes and most importantly, her knives. 

For the past 2 weeks the room was quiet and peaceful. Katniss didn’t have to put up with Clove’s screeching music. And although she enjoyed  having a room to herself, Katniss admitted to herself she was lonely. She missed her sister.  She missed the familiar sounds of Haymitch's geese. The click- clack noise of Effies heels,  as she walked on the hardwood floors. She even missed Haymitch and his cantankerous ways.

Katniss' internal strife must have shown on her face because her sister was trying to make her feel better. 

“Cheer up Katniss,” her baby sister said through the computer screen.

Katniss grimaced. Only a handful of people could tell what she was really thinking. She effectively hid her real feelings often. Life had taught her that putting her real self out there only caused hurt and pain. Her sister, her uncle Haymitch, and Peeta knew the real Katniss. Thinking about the boy with the warm blue eyes always caused flutters in her stomach. 

Katniss shrugged.

“Look, I know you didn’t want to go to college, but trust me. Little things always lead to something bigger.”

Her sister was always spouting encouraging statements, like the one found on those posters.  Katniss rolled her eyes. 

“You are in a real mood tonight.” Prim grimaced, then said, “I hate to do this to you but do you remember when I did you that favor…”

Katniss at first frowned. “What in the world are you talking about?”

“You know when you and Gale wanted to go hunting for deer in the middle of the night? Remember I told you you’d owed me.”

Katniss blinked, she remembered that night. She stupidly wanted to go, thinking it was purely to hunt. It turned out all Gale wanted was to drink beer and try to make out with her. She’d given Gale a shiner when he tried to make a move on her. Gale was embarrassed to admit she’d given him a black eye; he said he ran into a branch. That was the beginning of the end of her so-called friendship with Gale Hawthorne.  Prim had covered for her that night.

“What do you want you little shyster?”

Prim gave Katniss that grin that caused the hair on the back of her neck to stand up. Her sister was typically the nicest person unless she was on one of her missions then Primrose was ruthless. 

“You must promise me the next time you go out you will speak to the first person you see.”

Katniss opened her mouth to protest.

“Katniss!”

Prim’s stern voice caused Katniss to shut her mouth. She mumbled, “Fine.”

“Good.” Her sister looked so proud of herself. 

“Prim!” Katniss could hear their aunt call, “Time for dinner!”

Prim rolled her eyes. “I’ve got to go.” 

The screen went dark and Katniss flopped herself on the bed. Her eyes narrowed. There was no way she was going to complete the task Prim set up for her. Katniss became grinchlike in her thoughts. There were ways of avoiding people. She’d done it in high school. Gale was an anomaly. He wouldn’t leave her alone after he found out how good she was at hunting. He was annoying as the gum that got stuck to your sneakers. 

Sitting up, Katniss grabbed her pen and paper and jotted down a few notes:

eat breakfast at five in the morning 

get to class just as it began 

sit in the back of the class

buy lunch & dinner when the crowds are gone 

Study in the library at odd hours 

Wear a hoodie so that no one can talk to you. 

Wear your headphones so it looks like you’re listening to music 

With her plan set, she began to systematically avoid people. Katniss even purchased things like crackers, jelly, and peanut butter, chips and salsa to munch on so that she didn't have to leave her dorm room. During the week, she used shadows and stillness to get across campus to avoid the  crowds. Everything was going to plan, except for the week of Thanksgiving break. Katniss didn’t have enough money to go home, plus there was a massive snow storm forecasted. Katniss decided to stockpile some snacks from the student commissary that Wednesday evening. 

The campus was empty as nearly everyone left by the morning as to not get caught up in the blizzard. Katniss had one last class that ended at four-forty-five. Professor Coin didn’t let anyone out until the end of the class; the woman was merciless. 

Going to the commissary was a risk. However Katniss was low on supplies, and she needed something to drink and eat. If the snow storm was as bad as predicted, the school cafeteria would not be opening. She also hated the cold and she wasn’t going to leave her dorm room until Monday morning.

Katniss hoped there wouldn't be a lot of people cramming the small building. Those left on campus were probably like her, doing last minute shopping.  Katniss rushed out of class. The snow fell quickly and was accumulating. 

She got to the commissary and thankfully it was still opened. She rushed in and rebounded back against a solid form. 

“Woah,” a deep voice said. 

Katniss blinked as the world swayed as she fell backwards. Suddenly she came to a violent stop, and her vision came into focus;  she noted blond curls, warm blue eyes, and a gentle smile. She picked up on the strong scent of cookies. She looked at him then saw they were near a display of cookies and baked goods. A wave of nostalgia wafted over her as cookies and baked goods always reminded Katniss of her childhood friend Peeta. 

“I got you.” 

Katniss didn’t like to be touched. She’d clocked Gale for stepping into her personal space when they went on that phony hunting trip. However, being held right now caused her entire body to tingle. She felt the way her cheeks burned. Katniss was sure they glowed redder than an apple. 

“Are you okay?”

She wasn’t much of a talker and all she could manage was a little nod. 

A wave of familiarity hit Katniss. She shook her head, trying to understand what odd dimension she’d stepped into.  Much the way certain scents brought forth certain memories, there was something about the guy holding her that didn’t cause her to feel that instant rejection.  She didn’t mind his touch. 

Unlike Gale who had a current of negativity about him, this boy had a current of good. Katniss thought maybe she’d fallen and hit her head. She must have been in a dream like state, as everything around her blurred and the music that was always blaring in the student run commissary was silenced. Only they existed in this small bubble. He was handsome and debonair. And Katniss couldn’t help but give a  virtual stranger a slightly goofy smile. 

“Here, let me help you.” 

Katniss questioned why his voice caused her heart to palpitate like the beating drums from Jumanji. “Ahhh…’ the guttural sound that came out of her was sure to make an impression on the guy holding her. The more she stared at him the more attractive he seemed. 

“It’s okay,” he said holding her shoulders, as she slipped on the wet floor. 

He helped  her become upright and Katniss noticed how broad his shoulders were, how masculine his hands were. She also noticed his eyes were that elusive blue that changed color with his mood. Right now his eyes were a cheerful robin's egg blue, as he grinned at her. 

“Sorry.” Katniss blurted out embarrassed by her lack of coordination. 

"It's okay the floor is wet from the snow." 

"My friends call me Peet, not, P- E- T- E but P- E- E- T."

The spelling was unusual but at least his nickname wasn't painful. Gale called her catnip out of spite, because she decked him. "Katniss."

Peet's blue eyes widened at her name.

"I know it's not a usual name, it's a plant."

"It's a tuber that grows in the marshes with a creamy colored flower." He blushed and he rubbed the back of his neck as if embarrassed by what he was going to say next. "I know alot about flowers. I decorate cakes for a living."

"I hunt with bow and arrow," Katniss blurted. She opened her mouth and closed it, she felt giddy suddenly like when she was a child and the world included her parents.

"I sound like a geek." His cheeks became ruddy. Peet looked over her shoulder, “Man it’s coming down out there.”

Katniss blinked and forced herself from awkwardly gawking at Peet to the door she just came through. “Crap,” Katniss bemoaned. A few inches had fallen. 

“We should hurry up.  I’m in Crumpet Hall just across the way. Where do you live?”

“Greenly,” Katniss muttered. 

Peet gave her a low whistle. “That’s way across campus. If you don’t hurry you won’t get to your dorm room on time.” 

Peet was right, if she didn’t leave soon she wouldn’t make it to her building across campus. Her mind turned to the shelves, she needed to do a power shop, and get out. Thankfully there weren't a lot of people in the commissary.  “Thank you,” Katniss said. 

She hurried down the aisles quickly picking up what she needed. When she got to the cash register Peet was paying for his food.  She kept on staring outside at the snow. The visibility was getting worse.  Once done, Katniss bundled up to go outside. 

“Will you be okay walking all the way to Greenley?”

Katniss turned to him. “I hope so.”

Both set out in the snow. The path that led from the commissary to the dorms was blanketed with half-a-foot of snow. The cold wind bit at her cheeks and it was getting harder to see. 

"KATNISS!" Peet yelled out to her when they got to the fork in the path.

Kathiss stopped walking, he was only an arms length away. He got closer to her, as the snowfall dampened the sound of his voice.

"You should come with me,” Peet shouted. “I have a suite, my roommates are gone for the break. I promise I’ll be a gentleman.”

She trusted Gale because he was her hunting partner, but didn’t trust him outside of the woods. Her instincts about Gale were spot on. After they fell out he started going out with Madge, the mayor's daughter. Then he began the name calling.  Looking into Peet’s eyes she wasn’t sure she should trust him.  Just then she heard thunder and she jumped out of fright. 

“It’s getting worse out here, we need to get to safety,” Peet said. “I lost my brother in a snowstorm!” He held out his hand to her.

Katniss heard the desperation  in his voice. Learning he’d lost someone caused her to acquiesce.  She took his hand. 

Together they walked toward his dorm room. A walk that normally took five minutes took nearly fifteen. Peet waved his ID card in front of the scanner to get into the building. Once inside, the warmth stung their cheeks, but it felt good. 

“Come on, my room this way. I can throw your coat and stuff in the dryers downstairs.

Katniss followed him through the winding corridors to his room. Using his ID card he opened the door to his suite. There were two doors and off to the side a small living area and a kitchen with another door. 

As he walked toward the kitchen Katniss saw Peet had a limp. 

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” He put the bags down. He sat down. “I have a fake leg,” He knocked on his leg.

Katniss would have never guessed that he had a prosthetic. The more she got to know about him, the more intrigued she became. “I’m so sorry.”   

“It was a long time ago.” Peet shrugged. 

The walls in the kitchen were painted a soft orange. The color struck something within her and once more she was hit with a sense of familiarity. She continued looking around at the kitchen. He had things that no average college guy would have. 

There was a set of professional knives inside of a case.  Stainless steel pots and a cast-iron pan hung neatly from a wall. There was a marble block and a wooden rolling pin neatly tucked away in a corner. And his spices were lined up on the counter.  Saffron, thyme, Rosemary, allspice, clove, ginger, caraway, cardamom, nutmeg, dill, cinnamon we're just a few names she read. As a hunter knowing your prey’s environment helped you figure them out. Seeing Peet's environment led her to believe that what he said about being a baker was true. He was honest.

"I'm going to go get some towels and if you give me your coat, like I said, I can toss it in the dryer."

He walked out of the room as she removed her coat.

 She was only removing  her jacket, but for some reason it felt so intimate, as if she was peeling back a layer, exposing her soul. 

She should have been terrified; she was in the dorm room of a stranger. Yet there was something compelling about Peet, an underlying sweetness and goodness that she found in only one other person, her sister. Like an old pair of shoes, comfortable and familiar. 

“Here,” Peet said, handing her a fluffy robe. “It’s a bit chilly in here, my roommate always complains that if I could I’d have the thermostat set to zero.”

Katniss wasn’t expecting  robe, but she took it, handing him her coat.  When he walked out she sniffed his robe, it smelled of cinnamon and it made her smile. Her father always smelled of fresh pine. Katniss slipped on the robe and instantly felt a warmth that spread from her inside out. The door opened and Peet walked back in, he smiled at her, and his eyes turned a dark blue. 

“Good, are you hungry, I’m going to make us some bread, maybe some cupcakes.”

“You don’t have to,” Katniss protested.

“It’s nothing. I made dough earlier. I've been letting it rest. I just have to sprinkle some herbs on top.”

It sounded wonderful, but Katniss didn’t want to give him any more trouble. “It sounds like a lot-” Katniss was going to say more but her stomach growled.

“Yup that settles it, grilled cheese sandwiches, tomato soup, and cupcakes.”

Katniss nodded. 

“Have a seat, the remote is somewhere by the T.V.,” Peet said, washing his hands. 

Taking her book bag, Katniss sat down in the living room. There was nothing on the television; all of the local channels were covering the snow storm.  Her phone pinged with a message.  

It was a message from Prim asking her if she was fine. 

Katniss looked up at Peet. She asked herself if she was fine, and for the first time since coming to college Katniss could honestly say she was fine. She replied to her sister.  With a soft smile on her face, she began watching him cook. 

Peet’s movements in the kitchen were efficient, like the chefs she’d seen on TV.  He took out several cookie sheets and put them down on the counters.  From the fridge he took out  tomatoes, peppers, and a bowl covered with a dishcloth. He set the oven to preheat.  

Katniss moved from her position to the kitchen table so she could watch him. His hands were steady and quick as he put tomatoes and peppers on a cookie sheet. He sprinkled the tomatoes and peppers with olive oil, seasonings, salt and pepper, before putting them in the oven.  He next set to work on the bread.

Fascinated, Katniss watched on as Peet took off his sweater and the white t-shirt he was wearing showed off just how fit he was. His back muscles moved under the t-shirt as he worked on the cupcakes. Peet was making them from scratch and not from a box.  Her mouth watered. If it wasn’t for the pinging sound of her phone, Katniss would have continued to gawk at Peet. 

It was Haymitch telling her to be safe. Katniss and her uncle had a strange relationship. They understood each other, but they never talked. Haymitch instincts were as good as her own. He never liked Gale.  She sent back a thumbs up emoji. Glancing up, she knew instantly Haymitch would like Peet. He had that inherent goodness Prim had, and Haymitch had taken to her baby sister immediately. 

“You don’t remember, do you?” He asked as he put water in the  kettle to boil. 

 Katniss found this question odd. “Remember you? We’ve just met.”

“Actually, I’m pretty sure we met before.” 

He chuckled, then turned to face her. “You gave me this,” Peet took out something from his pocket and looked at it fondly. “You disappeared on me.  I could have used a friend.” 

He put the scrap of faded ribbon on the table and Katniss' eyes widened. “Peeta.”

“When I saw your eyes I thought it was you, but then you said your name and I just knew. There aren’t many Katniss’ in the world.”

Katniss eyes filled with tears. The boy she’d been writing a letter to, that caused the fire was standing before her. Though he wasn’t unscathed, he lost a brother and leg. “My parents died. We had to move.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” 

“You wouldn’t have known; you were a kid. We were both children.” Katniss couldn’t move, however the ribbon mocked her. He carried it all of his life. The drawing he gave her had burned in the house. She didn’t know how to feel. 

“That winter break I lost my leg and my brother.” He looked down, his eyes turning dark, a midnight color as he recalled the painful memory. “We snuck out of the house to play in the snow in the middle of the night thinking the storm was over. The snow was so heavy we got lost getting back to our house. My brother covered me with his body, it’s why I lived, but I lost my leg.”

Katniss looked at his legs before her eyes moved up to his face. He looked just like she felt, in need of a new beginning.

The whistle of the kettle forced him to turn around. 

“Why are you stuck here for the weekend?” Peeta turned to hand her a cup of tea. 

Katniss took the cup, and debated telling him the truth. He’d been honest with her. There was no reason to lie, besides she wasn’t a great liar. “I didn’t have enough money to go home,” Katniss automatically followed her answer with a question. “ What about you, why are you stuck here?”

“Nobody wants me home,” Peeta said. 

Katniss frowned. It wasn’t the statement itself, but the way he said it, as if he was unloved. “Why?”

He turned around and shrugged, “I’m not needed.” 

The smell of the apartment filled with the lovely scent of oregano and broiling tomatoes.  Peeta shaped up the bread in his hands as if he had been doing it all of his life.  “Anyone who can cook like you is worth their weight in gold. Right now my aunt is preheating the oven to cook the frozen dinners she purchased.” Katniss looked down at her idle hands. “I haven’t had a cooked meal in years.”

“My mom, she blames me for the death of my brother. She was relieved when I decided to come to Panem. She wasn’t at the train station when I left.”

Hearing how cold his mother was caused Katniss to pursed her lips. She stood and on impulse she hugged him from behind. All of those childhood sentiments filled up in her heart and all that he’d told her made her understand something. Prim was right, she needed someone in her life. And the universe had brought her friend back to her, despite all of her careful planning. 

Peeta turned around and hugged her back. She stood on tiptoe and sniffed the collar of his shirt and the familiar scent of cinnamon and vanilla caused her to feel at home. She closed her eyes. 

“I’ve missed you,” Peeta murmured into the crook of her neck. His hot breath fanning the sensitive skin, making her feel alive. 

“I’ve missed you, too,” Katniss replied.

“I’ve never forgotten you, Katniss.” 

Katniss could feel the rush of heat to her cheeks as she blushed and butterflies filled her stomach. 

Peeta pulled away and then he grinned. “I better get you fed. If I recall you got really testy when hungry.”

Katniss laughed, then sat down. She picked up the ribbon. Primrose was right; from something small something great had happened. One day, she decided, she would tell their children of how a little ribbon led to a love of a lifetime.

FIN 

[whumphoarder]

Death by Waffles

Summary: When Tony decides to adopt a cat for Morgan, Peter is almost more excited about it than the six-year-old. He just failed to mention one minor issue before coming to visit at the lake house for the weekend.

Or, in which Peter is horrifically allergic to cats but JUST LOVES THEM SO MUCH.

Word count: 1,638

Genre: Fluff, slight whump, humor

A/N: Thanks to @xxx-cat-xxx & @sallyidss for beta reading and giving me ideas! 

Link to read on Ao3

“I still think we should have called him Winston Furrchill,” Tony says with a shrug, watching Peter, who’s sitting cross legged on the living room floor, grinning ear-to-ear, stroking the long-haired cat’s fur.

“That’s so boorrring, Daddy,” Morgan complains. She grabs the little feather teaser and dangles it in front of the cat’s face. He lifts a paw lazily to bat at it. “All your ideas were so boring.”

“What are you talking about?” Tony balks at her, eliciting giggles from Peter and a dramatic groan from the six-year-old. “My ideas were gold. Mr. Meowgi. Bill Clawsby. Genghis Khat.”

Peter snaps once and shoots a finger gun Tony’s direction. “Luke Skywhisker!” he throws in, causing Morgan to groan. “Ooh! Call him Nick Furr-y!”

“No! His name is Waffles!” Morgan exclaims, throwing up her hands in exasperation and causing the kitty in question to dart across the room and dive into his favorite hiding place—the cardboard box that his brand new, untouched, three-hundred-dollar cat tree came in. Tony just rolls his eyes; it’s behavior like this that makes him almost regret spending the last four days in the workshop designing that damn feline an elaborate catwalk and perch system spanning every room of the lake house.

(Almost.)

Morgan sticks her lip out in a pout.

“Aw, Mo, we were just teasing,” Peter says, patting her arm with a kind smile. “Waffles is a great name—I love it.”

That seems to console her. She grins back at him. “It’s ‘cus when we brought him home, he was really scared the first day and he just wanted to hide under my bed. So Daddy said I could eat breakfast in my room with him so he’d feel safer, but then I had to go to the bathroom and when I was gone he stole my waffle,” she rambles.

Peter quirks an eyebrow. “Your cat ate a waffle?”

Morgan nods. “Uh-huh, and then he puked it up again on the carpet!” she explains cheerfully.

“Ah yes, fond memories…” Tony mutters.

“So I named him Waffles,” Morgan concludes. “But I almost called him Syrup, ‘cus he got that on his paws when he walked on the plate, and then he ran around everywhere and it was all sticky. Mommy says that’s why we got ants after.”

While Peter snorts out a laugh, Tony just runs a hand over his face and sighs. “It’s been a long week.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet,” Peter laughs, rubbing a hand at his eyes. He uncrosses his legs and gets to his feet to walk over to the box where Morgan is trying to lure Waffles out again. “I always wanted a cat, but May never let me get one—said they were too much hassle.”

“They are,” Tony says emphatically.

“Are not,” Morgan disagrees. As Peter sits down by the box, she picks up the bag of kitty treats and starts shaking it, causing Waffles to poke his head out. She pours out three little treats onto her open palm. He sniffs them suspiciously, then turns his nose up and buries himself back in the box.

Morgan turns to Tony and shrugs. “I don’t think he likes chicken flavor anymore. You gotta get him the salmon ones, Daddy.”

“But you told me this morning that he doesn’t like salmon,” Tony argues. “He only eats the premium chicken with gravy.”

Morgan shakes her head. “No, no that’s his wet food. He only eats dry salmon, and wet chicken. And sometimes tuna, but only that one in the blue bag.”

“And waffles,” Peter throws in with a wry smile, sitting down to start stroking the cat inside the box. “Don’t forget the waffles, Mr. Stark.”

“At this rate, I’m thinking it’d be better to just install a cat flap and let him find his own mice for dinner,” Tony grumbles.

As if on cue, Waffles meows irritably and leaps out of the cardboard box, straight onto Peter’s lap. However in doing so, the cat’s fluffy tail tickles the kid’s nose. Peter sneezes twice—rather violently—startling the cat to the point that it shoots across the room and climbs halfway up the drapes.

“Waffles!” Morgan cries and races after him.

Sniffling a bit, Peter gives a sheepish smile. “Whoops.”

Tony rolls his eyes and extends a hand to help lever the kid up again. Peter rubs at his eyes again—which Tony notices are redder than usual. He raises an eyebrow suspiciously. “Are you sure ‘too much hassle’ was the only reason May was against you having cats?”

Something flashes across Peter’s face, but it’s gone just as soon as it appears. “Yeah, yeah of course. Well, that and she’s more of a dog person, really, but they’re not allowed in the apartment.”

“Hm.” Tony glances at his watch. “Alright, well it’s almost His Royal Highness’ dinner time.” He gestures to the kitchen. “Let’s go see if we can get him to choke down some caviar and truffles or something…”

X

Three hours later, Tony can’t ignore the signs any longer. After witnessing Peter’s third sneezing fit since dinner, he privately pulls the kid out into the kitchen. “Pete, c’mon,” he sighs. “Just admit it already.”

Taking a tissue from the box Tony holds out to him, Peter shrugs innocently. “Alright, you got me. Guess I’m coming down with a cold.” He wipes his nose.

Tony raises an eyebrow. “A cold that began ten minutes after entering our home and has only gotten progressively worse since?”

Peter chuckles a bit. “Yeah, go figure, right? Perfect timing for my weekend off. What does Doctor Banner call that again?” He tilts his head to the side in thought. “Starts with an L…”

“Pete…”

“Leisure sickness!” he recalls, his face lighting up. “That’s the word. Think I’ve got that.”

Rolling his eyes, Tony starts ticking each symptom off on his fingers. “Your nose is running, your eyes are watery, you’re sneezing—”

“Which is all from the cold,” Peter cuts him off. He coughs twice into his elbow. “See? Sick.”

Tony scoffs. “In all the years I’ve known you, you’ve never once admitted to being sick unprompted.” He pauses a beat. “Including that time you were actively vomiting.”

Peter rubs a hand at the back of his neck and gives a sheepish grin. “So I'm really demonstrating growth, then, huh?”

Tony ignores him and soldiers on. “You’re itching,” he says, gesturing to the red welts emerging on Peter’s forearms and neck. “You’re getting a rash—”

Peter tugs his hoodie sleeves down to cover them. “I think that’s the new laundry soap I’ve been using...”

Tony blinks at him. “Your eyes are bright red, kid.”

Peter opens his mouth to retort something, but then closes it again. He drops his gaze to the floor and lets out a hard sigh. “Okay… okay you’re right,” he admits. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t wanna say it around Morgan.” He looks up and, with a totally straight expression, whispers, “I’ve been smoking weed, Mr. Stark. I’m actually tripping balls right now.”

“Peter, just admit that you’re allergic to cats!”

“Huh?” Morgan cries from the living room where she has her kitty on her lap while she watches Curious George. “Peter’s allergic to Waffles?!” The cat dives off her lap and out into the kitchen, hiding behind Peter’s leg.

Peter winces. Then his nose wrinkles up and he sneezes four times into his wad of tissues. When he draws in his next breath, it’s more of a wheeze.

Tony heaves out a sigh. “Alright, we’re done here.” He bends down and scoops the cat up. “Waffles is staying in Pep’s office for the remainder of this weekend.”

“What?” Morgan blurts.

“Yeah, what?” Peter echos, snatching the cat back from Tony’s arms. “You can’t do that!”

“Pete, he’s making you sick,” Tony points out as Peter sneezes yet again. “If you’re already this bad in three hours, how do you expect to breathe in a couple more days?”

Peter looks stricken. “But… But you don’t understand.” He hugs the cat a little tighter and Tony swears he can see fresh hives emerging on Peter’s neck. “I just love him so much, Mr. Stark,” he says earnestly. “I would honestly die for this cat.”

Tony sighs and pats his shoulder consolingly. “Yeah, and that’s looking more and more like it might become reality, kiddo...”

X

It takes some convincing—and a bit of bribery—but eventually he gets the kids to agree to his plan. In the end, Morgan and Peter settle for a six-foot-tall ‘Royal Castle Kitty Condo’ (complete with a litter moat) in exchange for Waffles’ temporary banishment. He then sends Peter to the guest room while he and Morgan transfer the cat’s most essential supplies into the office, grateful for once that Pepper’s staying downtown this weekend.

Waffles promptly makes himself at home on the very top of her bookshelf—after first knocking over two glass figurines and a meticulously ordered stack of papers, sending legal documents flying around the room.

(Tony wonders just what kind of royal castle equivalent he’s going to have to bribe Pepper with when she gets back.)

X

It’s 12:16 a.m. when Tony remembers that they forgot to give Waffles his anti-hairball paste that evening and comes grumbling out of bed to do so.

It’s 12:19 a.m. when Tony opens the office door to see Peter, sitting on the floor with that damn cat curled up in his lap, wheezing out a high-pitched chant of, “Who’s a good kitty? Who’s a good boy?” between puffs of his inhaler as he strokes Waffles’ fur.

It’s 12:21 a.m. when Tony just gives up trying to reason with the kid and goes raiding the bathroom cabinets for Benadryl.

X

Link to all my fics

If you liked this story, you might also like:

Beanimia

Morgan Stark, M.D.

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[writethehousedown]

Stories for Monday Chapter 1 (Multi) - astrodrag

Author’s Note: Hey everyone! I’m super excited about this fic, it’s been a while in the making and I really hope you all enjoy it! A huge thank you to Mac (@imalwaysaslutfordrag) for being an amazing beta, making the moodboards for the chapters, as well as yelling at me to keep going throughout the writing process. You can find me over at @astrodrag

Summary: Jaida, Jan, Jackie, Crystal, Nicky, and Gigi are childhood best friends who grew up going to summer camp together. Now, they’re all in college and it’s their turn to be counselors at the camp that brought them together.

If Jan’s life were a movie, she swore Walking on Sunshine would have been blasting at full volume as she got out of bed that morning. She’d dance around her room as it played, getting ready for the day in record time before flying down the stairs to go meet her best friend outside.

But her life wasn’t a movie, so instead Jan woke up to a loud banging on her bedroom door and the unmistakable sound of Jaida and her younger brother screaming at each other in the hallway as something hit the wall with a thud. Jan had just enough time to groan and pull her blanket over her head before Jaida was in her room, dropping onto the bed as her hands grabbed Jan’s shoulders to shake them.

“Wake up sleeping beauty! You and I have got to get on the road in three hours, and I know for a fact you haven’t packed shit yet!” If Jan hadn’t still been half asleep, she would have laughed at Jaida’s words, or attempted to defend herself by saying she had at least made sure to pack her hairbrush into her suitcase after having forgotten the item the past two summers in a row. Instead, she just let out another groan and attempted to burrow further into her bed.

Jaida made a disapproving tsk, tsk noise before abruptly tearing the blanket off of Jan, which caused Jan to immediately let out a shriek. Her hands flew to try to grab the blanket back, but it was no use - Jaida had thrown the blanket onto the floor, and was chuckling to herself as Jan scowled up at her.

Jan reluctantly sat up, but not without grabbing a pillow to hit Jaida’s shoulder with. It was Jaida’s turn to glare at Jan, but it didn’t last long, because next thing Jan knew she was being physically pulled up out of bed by Jaida and pushed towards the bathroom.

“Go. Get. Ready!” Jaida insisted, giving Jan one final push as she stumbled into the bathroom, catching herself on the sink so she wouldn’t trip. By the time Jan looked at herself in the mirror, her fatigue had begun to dissipate, instead replaced by a bubbling sense of excitement as the realization settled over her. Within a few hours’ time, she and Jaida would be embarking on their annual mini road trip to Camp Daybreak. Three hours on the highway and another hour driving through backwoods, and they would be back at their home away from home, reunited with friends they had known since they were little kids. To say Jan was excited was an understatement, the blonde letting out a squeal before turning the shower on.

No matter what happened, she was determined to make it a good summer.

****

By the time Jan got back to her bedroom, patting her hair dry with a towel as she walked, Jaida had laid out half the things she’d need for camp on her bed and had taken up residence sitting at Jan’s vanity. Jan’s eyes quickly scanned the piles before throwing the damp towel into her laundry hamper, impressed by Jaida’s work. She had laid out all of Jan’s old camp shirts, pulled out damn near every pair of shorts she owned, and had tossed a couple pairs of sneakers into a heap on the floor beside Jan’s bed.

“Someone was busy,” Jan mused, leaning against the doorframe as Jaida rolled her eyes with a playful smirk tugging at her lips.

“Well someone had to make sure you had clothes to wear this summer. I’m not letting you steal my damn shorts again, Janet,” Jaida quipped back, pointing to a pair of denim shorts she had set beside her on the vanity for emphasis.

“In my defense, I could’ve sworn I had already given those back to you,” Jan laughed as she held her hands up in mock surrender.

“Child,” Jaida drawled as she shook her head. “Just finish packing bitch, I’m gonna go raid your folks’ pantry for snacks so we don’t have to stop at some sketchy gas station 10 minutes into the trip.”

Jan watched as Jaida stood up and padded out of the bedroom, not without playfully slapping her ass as she passed by. Jan let out a surprised yelp followed by laughter, shooting Jaida a look as she swatted at her friend’s arm.

“Keep your damn hands to yourself!” Jan called out, shaking her head lightheartedly. “Save that hanky-panky for when Crystal’s around!”

Jan watched as Jaida stopped dead in her tracks at the top of the stairs and slowly turned, her face scrunched up in one of her infamous death stares. She locked eyes with Jan, and before Jan had a chance to react, Jaida was charging at her, muttering about how she was gonna kick Jan’s ass for mentioning Crystal because that was a one-time thing.

Jan let out a shriek, running into her room in an attempt to escape her friend’s wrath. But then Jaida grabbed her by the waist and tackled her onto the bed, the two girls landing on top of the stacks of clothing with Jaida on top of Jan. They locked eyes for a split second before the pair dissolved into a fit of laughter, Jaida allowing herself to completely collapse on top of Jan.

Their laughter stopped the moment they heard someone clear their throat just outside Jan’s bedroom door. Both girls immediately looked towards the door to see Jan’s little brother, Jared, standing in the hallway, still in his pajamas.

“Gay,” he deadpanned, rolling his eyes before walking away without another word.

“Jared!” Jan gasped, throwing one of her pillows at the doorway in vain, the pillow falling to the floor without ever even coming near hitting Jan’s brother.

“You’re a little bitch, Jared!”

“Jaida!”

****

Once Jan had finished packing, she and Jaida began dragging her bags down the stairs to load them into the back of Jaida’s old Wagoneer. One suitcase, two duffle bags, and a backpack later, and they had managed to stuff everything into the back with Jaida’s multitude of bags.

“Damn, Jai, how much did you pack?” Jan teased, closing the hatch on the back of the old Jeep.

“Just the essentials,” Jaida replied with a shrug. She leaned against the side of her hand-me-down car, twirling the keys around her index finger as Jan moved around the side of the car.

“Mhmm, sure,” Jan hummed, shaking her head in disbelief.

Before Jaida had a chance to make a witty comeback, Jan’s parents stepped out onto the front porch to wish the two girls a final goodbye and a safe trip. Jan took the opportunity to run up the steps and hug them both; Jaida, on the other hand, gave them a friendly wave before sliding into the driver’s seat of her car and turning the vehicle on.

Evidently their hugs were taking longer than Jaida anticipated, because soon Jan could hear the distinct sound of Jaida’s horn ringing through the air. She let out a laugh as her dad yelled at Jaida to give them all one more minute, then they could go.

“Have a good summer, honey,” Jan’s mother hummed, giving her one final squeeze.

“I will! I promise,” Jan reassured her, hastily pressing kisses to both of her parents’ cheeks as she murmured her final goodbyes to them. It felt weird for Jan to be spending her final summer of college away from her family, but at the same time, she couldn’t imagine spending it any other way. Camp Daybreak had made her into the person she was then, and without the camp, she doubted she ever would have become such close friends with Jaida - or any of the others she and her best friend were set to meet up with in a few hours.

Flashing her parents one last smile, Jan turned and eagerly darted towards Jaida’s car before hopping into the passenger’s seat.

“Camp Daybreak, here we come!” She squealed excitedly, drumming her hands against the dashboard as Jaida pulled out of the driveway.

****

It wasn’t until they stopped at a gas station about an hour from Jan’s house that she realized she had still managed to forget something, even with Jaida helping her pack.

“Damn it!” She exclaimed, making Jaida stick her head out of the window of her car, glancing at Jan beside the gas pump. “I forgot to pack a bathing suit.”

[galivantingg]

Alpha and Beta

Old Friends

It was the beginning of a new school year. The weather was still warm out, so the school field was filled with groups of kids lounging around during lunch and after school ended. Sometimes even before. With the new school year came the much loved atmosphere of stress, the smell of energy drinks and coffee, and of course, exhaustion. Alex and Cal witnessed the high school student slowly descend into madness. The lights in the communal spaces of the pack house stayed on throughout the months, albeit dimmed, but still on, so students could work late into the night on certain projects that they didn't get to during the afternoon.

Alex and Cal were seniors now, turning eighteen on the first of July and January respectively. Alex was excited, because he had been waiting for his mate for as long as Cal could remember. Cal, on the other hand, was dreading this, because it meant he would be able to find his mate. He still did not want to meet his mate. He had witnessed not only his parents but also Alex's parents do horrible things because of the mate bond, and he wanted nothing to do with it. He would not allow something he had no control over make him abandon everything he stands for. He would choose his own path, he would choose his own mate, not now, but much later in his life, when he knows who he is.

Another reason he was dreading this season was not only because of the start of his senior year, but also because of the Mate Hunt.

It was an arbitrary thing, old fashioned and out dated. Sure they had modernized it a little, but Cal still didn't like the whole idea of it. The Mate Hunt used to be a gathering where all the unmated young women of each pack would travel around to neighbouring packs and participate in a sort of 'hunt' for their mate. Originally, it would only be the girls of age, and they would literally be hunted down. Now it's a little different. Everyone of age or near age participates, and they travel around to different packs to find their mates. If someone thinks they've found their mate, but has to wait for their birthday, they stay there with that person and their pack until their birthday rolls around. Then, if they aren't mates, the person catches up with their pack. Cal and Alex were technically exempt from this, since they are the Alpha and Beta of their pack they will not travel, but they will have to participate in every other sense. They needed to find their mates, since wolves who are mateless for too long after their birthday go insane, but Cal still didn't like it.

Not to mention what a headache it was to house and feed on average twenty more teenagers. Plus they were always so moody. Cal felt old. He was sitting in his office, what used to be his parents room, staring out the window facing the Lawn. It had taken him a long time, but he had finally mustered up the courage to flip this room, along with the rest of the bedrooms. Iphigenia had his old room to herself, the twins shared a room in the basement, Asclepius and Nestor shared the spare room upstairs, and Cal was in the smaller room upstairs. It wasn't a big house, the bedrooms were quite small and he heard complaints from his brothers all the time, but they managed. Not to mention that Alex was here almost every night too, sharing Cal's bed. Honestly, it kinda bugged Cal. At least Alex helped get the kids ready and cleaned the house too.

Cal understood why Alex stayed with him most nights. Alex was scared that Cal was going to leave him, like his parents. Cal was never going to leave him, Alex knew too much about him.

He heard a soft knock on the door. "Come in," he spoke softly, his voice a little rusty from disuse. He glanced at the clock, not realizing how long he had been there for. The door creaked open and in came little Iphigenia. She was six now, but acted like she was eight. She took care of them all, not by cooking or doing laundry, but by checking in one them. She made sure they were all still mentally stable, which was really confusing cause she was six. How did she even learn how to do that? She walked up to him steadily, asking him to be lifted up by lifting up her arms. He grabbed her gently and Set her down on his knee, pointing out the window.

"That's where I'll be in," he checks the time again, "shoot, right now. Okay Nia you're coming with me to meet Alpha Jacobson and the teenagers here for the mate hunt. Sound good?" She nodded, sticking her thumb in her mouth. In her hand was the stuffed animal bunny Cal had kept close to himself as a kid. He thought about it for a second, thinking of his first best friend, Daisy Duke, and how she had given him that rabbit when they were so little, before he had left. She had a matching one. His bunny was wearing purple tartan, with a yellow boy around its neck, from Daisy's bunny. Her's is wearing yellow tartan. Well, it was. He didn't know if she still had it after all these years. He had left when they were five, and now he's seventeen. He barely remembered her, he doubts she remembers him either.

Nia put her hand on his cheek, snapping Cal out of his thoughts. He stood quickly, walking out the room and down the hall towards the front door. As he did, he heard the cars pull up just in front of the Lawn in the parking lot. "Shoot shoot shoot," he censored himself, knowing that Iphigenia would repeat anything he said. He hastened across the grass towards the front stoop on the pack house where Alex was standing.

"You're late," Alex gritted out underneath his breath, knowing full well that Alpha Jacobson could most likely hear them. Cal was out of breath.

"Sorry," he panted, "got lost in the paperwork and then Nia came in to remind me it was time."

Alex's voice changed as he reached over and gently took Nia out of Cal's arms. "Cal should have been keeping a closer eye on the time, hey Sunny?" She nodded and smiled. Betrayed by his own sister, Cal would never get over this. He grinned at them, and they all jumped when they heard a cough from in front of them. Alpha Jacobson and his teenagers were standing in front of the cars, staring at them. Cal's ears burned.

Alex's face went stoney. "Welcome Alpha Jacobson and the teenagers of the Velvel Pack. I am Alpha Alex Edwards and this is my Beta, Calchas Edmonds." Cal scowled at his full name, Alex would be hearing about that later. Instead of calling him out now, like he very much wanted to, he instead put on a smile.

"Please," he interrupted Alex. Oh boy he was gonna hear about that later. "Call me Cal." He looked over at Alex, urging him to keep going. Surprisingly Alex didn't look pissed.

"Thank you for coming," Alex continued, looking out at the teenagers. "We understand that you are primarily here to find your mates, but you are also staying long enough that you would be missing school. We have taken the liberty of enrolling you all for the three week period that you are all here, and all of our resources for everything from school to personal lives are at your disposal. Please come see either me or Beta Cal if you have any questions."

"Thank you Alpha Edwards for your warm welcome," Alpha Jacobson smiled. Alex smiled back, and that was the first time Cal had seen him show much expression since they had realized the other pack was here. Alex handed Iphigenia off to Cal, and Alpha Jacobson lead his pack forward to be toured through the pack house. Cal was going to be bringing up the rear, so no one got lost or left behind.

Cal watched as the teens filed past him, some stretching their arms up and others yawning from the long drive. The Velvel Pack was about a seven hour drive from them, and Cal's pack was the closest to them. They had many more hours to travel on their trip, but the drives would be shorter from now on. There were two girls at the end of the line, chatting animatedly. Something about one of them seemed so familiar, but Cal couldn't quite put his finger on why. She breezed past him, glancing at him and Iphigenia, then froze and looked back.

"That bunny," she stammered. "I have one exactly like it!" The two connected eyes and suddenly everything fell into place. Those eyes, the familiarity. Everything makes sense now.

"Daisy?" Cal murmured. She frowned.

"How do you know my name?"

"It's me," Cal said softly. The second girl kept looking between the two of them then walked a little bit away, giving them some space.

Finally, she smelled him. Her eyes widened. "Cal?!" He nodded. Her face broke out into the same smile he knew so well from his childhood. "Oh my god Cal! It's been so long, where have you been?"

He shrugged, inexplicably happy all of a sudden. "My parents brought us here. Where have you been?" Her eyes clouded over, and he had a chilling sense of foreboding. Something had happened at their old pack, something bad. "Ah, never mind," he waved it off and watched as relief pooled in her face. "It doesn't matter now. What matters is that we found each other again, and this time I will not let let go." They stood there smiling at each other, not noticing that Alex was staring at them from inside the house while talking about the history of the pack house. His eyes were clouded, but he hid his pain well. All he could see was his best friend hitting it off very well with a very pretty girl. But the other girl noticed.

"Come on," Cal said suddenly feeling like he was doing something wrong. "Let's catch up with the others." They turned and caught up with the other girl Daisy had been walking with, and she introduced herself as Elizabeth Chen.

They were walking behind the group silently, when Elizabeth spoke up. "So," she said awkwardly. Cal looked over at her. She wouldn't meet his eyes. "What's the situation with you and the Alpha?" She still wouldn't look at him.

"Alex is my second oldest friend, we've been inseparable since a little after I got to this pack. Why?" He was a little confused. Where was this coming from?

Elizabeth looked up at him in surprise. "Oh! It's just I saw the way you two handled the little one you're holding, and I was wondering if you two were together and had adopted her."

Cal burst out laughing. He didn't know why he found it so funny, maybe he was covering for some other emotion, but he laughed nonetheless. "Alex and I? Nah, this is my little sister. We raised her together, along with all my other brothers."

"Other brothers?" Daisy questioned. Last time she had seen the Edmonds family, Tia had been very pregnant.

"Yeah, Tia had twins, then proceeded to have two more sons, then little Iphigenia." Cal tickled his little sister on the stomach and she giggled, shoving his hands away lightly. She was by far the easiest of all of them, even Remus. She was just so happy, so warm. Cal didn't notice the shadow that had crossed Daisy's face at his use of his mother's first name.

"What are your brother's names? Do they know about me? How old are they? What are the like? How are your parents?" Daisy shot off, hitting Cal with question after question. He smiled and laughed lightly, not able to hide the pain behind his eyes white fast enough.

"Tia passed, and Henry is god know's where. But I'll introduce you to my brothers, they have heard about you. My first best friend. They refuse to believe I had a best friend before Alex though, so we might have to tell some embarrassing stories to prove it." Cal and Daisy grinned at each other, and Elizabeth was suddenly hit with a feeling of not belonging. She and Daisy had been best friends since Daisy had joined her pack, but she was different with Cal. Lighter. Elizabeth was jealous for a second, before shaking that thought. She had no reason to be jealous. She had a different relationship with Daisy, and that was fine.

Elizabeth slipped away unnoticed, heading to the front of the tour, silently joining Alpha Alex. He didn't notice her at first, but when she coughed lightly he jumped and turned his head to look at her. "Well hello there, you are terrifying," Alex said. He took in her face, she was pretty, short hair and bright brown eyes, lovely skin. She smiled, revealing straight white teeth. How could one girl be this pretty?

"Hi," she said, sticking out her hand for him to shake. "I'm Elizabeth."

After a pause he took her hand and shook it firmly. "Hi Elizabeth, I'm Alex. Nice to meet you."

Alex glanced back and saw Cal still hitting it off with that girl, then he noticed Elizabeth studying him.

"They come from the same pack," Elizabeth explained. Alex nodded. It still hurt seeing him so close with someone else. He started to panic, but felt something grab his hand. He looked down to see another hand, which led to Elizabeth. She smiled tentatively. "Maybe we can help each other?" He smiled too, and squeezed her hand once.

And just like that, a new friendship was born.

[thisdiscontentedwinter]

Stella and the Wolf - Chapter 22

You can read it on AO3 or find the Tumblr Chapter Index here. 

Stiles might not have much experience at being the center of attention at school, but Jackson and Lydia certainly do. They’re waiting in the parking lot, leaning against Jackson’s silver Porsche—if it was scratched on Friday night by Peter’s journey through the back roads of the Preserve, the damage has already been buffed and polished out—looking ridiculously attractive. Both of them.

“Hurry up, Stilinski,” Jackson says when Stiles pulls in nearby.

Jesus. What a dick. Except Stiles gets the feeling that it’s all pretty much an act now—it’s a fucking good act, he’ll give Jackson that. He’s totally committed to the role, for sure—so he slings his backpack over his shoulder and picks up his pace as he reaches them.

They both look like they’ve stepped off the front page of a glossy fashion magazine, whereas Stiles is pretty sure he has peanut butter on his shirt.

But they make room in between them like he belongs there, and stride toward the school like they expect there are cameras watching.

Are there classes or something? On how to be this attractive and intimidating? Weekly sessions in a secret undisclosed location, with a teaching staff made up of supermodels and disaffected beautiful people? Because Beacon Hills seems to have a lot of that going around, but Stiles never got sent the prospectus.

The crowds part for Jackson and Lydia like they’re celebrities. It’s weird. Everyone is looking and whispering, probably wondering if Stiles’s kidnapping makes him suddenly cool enough to be elevated into Lydia and Jackson’s social sphere, but nobody dares approach. It’s like Lydia and Jackson project a force field that the regular kids can’t penetrate. And Stiles would know. He was on the other side of it as recently as Friday.

They escort Stiles to his locker, and then to the door of his homeroom.

“You’re eating lunch with us today,” Jackson tells him with a haughty expression.

Stiles sees right past it.

“Okay,” he says. “And Jackson?”

Jackson cocks an eyebrow at him.

Lydia takes her compact out of her purse and inspects her perfectly applied lipstick.

“What you guys did the other night, both of you, was just…” He swallows. “But you got Stella away from her, Jackson, and like, I owe you. I owe you everything.”

Jackson flashes him a cocky smirk. “Whatever.”

Stiles rolls his eyes.  

Jackson lowers his voice. “Is she okay?”

Because heaven forbid anyone overhear him and realize he has a heart.

Lydia snaps her compact closed and slips it back inside her purse.

“Fuck you,” Stiles says warmly. “You pretend to be this total douche, I see through you now, you asshole.” He looks at Lydia. “I used to wonder what you saw in him, but I get it now. I get it.”

“Are you saying he’s your type?” she asks.

Jackson snorts. “I’m everyone’s type.”

He’s such an asshole.

Stiles loves him.

***

In Chemistry, Harris is still a total dick to Stiles, so some things never change.

In English, Allison looks totally shell-shocked and when she tries to look for a pen in her bag, she spills the contents all over the floor and Scott scrambles to help her pick them up.

Stiles wonders if she knows.

***

“She doesn’t know,” Lydia says at lunch, stabbing her salad delicately with a fork. “I talked to her yesterday. She’s buying the whole story about her aunt being a domestic terrorist.” She slips a piece of lettuce into her mouth and chews for a moment. “Scott should really tell her.”

Stiles laughs weakly. “Scott? Why would—”

“Don’t play dumb, Stilinski.” Jackson rolls his eyes. “Derek told us everything when we were burying his uncle.”

Right. Grave digging duty. It probably brings people together and stuff. Nothing like a bond formed over a shallow grave.

“Also, nobody gets that suddenly good at lacrosse,” Jackson mutters, like he’s still personally affronted by that most of all. “Not when they were so freaking lame to start with.”

They’re sitting alone at the popular table. Scott keeps casting Stiles worried looks from where he’s sitting with Allison, but as far as Stiles is concerned he has werewolf shit to discuss with Jackson and Lydia, and if Allison’s not in the loop then it’s not their place to bring her in. That’s on Scott. Also, her crazy hunter aunt tried to kill him and his family on Friday night, and he’s still processing that. He really doesn’t have the capacity to deal with her inevitable shock at any werewolf reveal in addition to that.

“Anyway, she doesn’t know,” Lydia says. “And Mr. Argent says that his father is coming to town for Kate’s funeral, and he’s apparently just as crazy as Kate was, which is the reason Allison’s parents don’t want her to know anything about hunters, and werewolves, or anything that could drastically lower her life expectancy.”

Wow. Apparently while Stiles was reading Batman and watching TV over the weekend, Lydia was on a fact-finding mission at the Argents’ house. Also, that explains Dad’s phone call from Chris Argent last night.

Lydia catches his look and shrugs. “You’re not the only one who likes to get the complete picture.”

Jackson helps himself to one of Stiles’s tator tots. “How’s Derek?”

“I don’t know,” Stiles says. “I mean, he just lost his last family member. How do you think?”

Jackson and Lydia exchange a look.

“What?” Stiles asks. “What?”

“It’s nothing,” Lydia says airily. “So is Derek staying with you?”

“Yeah.” Stiles feels like he’s been sidelined somehow.

“Good.” Lydia clasps her hands together. “We’ll come and visit him after school.”

“Wait, what?” A part of Stiles’s brain snags on the idea of Lydia Martin in his house, and he shakes his head to untangle himself. “Why?”

“Because Gerard Argent, Allison’s grandfather, is very likely going to have Derek in his sights when he comes to town,” Lydia says, explaining it like he’s slow. “And an Alpha needs betas to be strong. At least two, preferably more.”

Stiles squints at her. “How do you know all this in two days?”

Jackson snorts. “Guess you’re not the smartest person in the room for once, Stilinski. Now you know how the rest of us feel all the time.”

Lydia flashes Jackson a warm smile, and turns back to Stiles. “I told you, I did my research.”

“So what?” Stiles asks. “You’re still chasing the bite, Jackson?”

Jackson reaches for an apple and takes a bite. “So what if I am?”

“Even after the other night? You saw what hunters do.”

“This time I’m not chasing it,” Jackson says. “But I’m volunteering. An Alpha needs a pack.”

Stiles fights down the sudden rush of jealousy that wants to tell Jackson that the Stilinskis make a fine pack, thanks very much. Because it’s not exactly true, is it? Derek has the Stilinskis, and they could be a family for him—last night Derek folded laundry and sorted Dad’s socks, and it doesn’t get more family than that—but maybe Jackson’s right. Because Derek is an Alpha now. Maybe an Alpha needs more than a family. Stiles isn’t a werewolf. He can’t know the difference between family and pack, but he should know better than to assume there is none. Maybe an Alpha does need a pack, and there must be times where the meanings of the words overlap—he thinks of Derek’s story about Peter kidnapping the Hale kids for a Disneyland trip—but it’s possible they’re not an exact synonym.

And maybe Jackson isn’t being selfish. Maybe he’s not looking at what the bite can give him, but at what he can give Derek instead.

Stiles remembers in third grade when Jackson had a meltdown in class over one of those dumb family tree projects, and that’s how everyone found out he was adopted. Maybe, for Jackson, family was never quite what he needed to be. Maybe he thinks pack will give him something that he still feels he’s missing.

“Okay,” he says. “I mean, there’s no harm in offering, is there? If you know the risks.”

“I do.” Jackson crunches down on his apple.

Stiles glances at Lydia. “You said betas? Are you volunteering as well?”

Lydia huffs. “God, no. Trust me, that’s not even an option.”

“Because Scott’s no fan of Derek’s,” Stiles says. “Like, at all.”

“We know,” Jackson says, and rolls his eyes. “McCall is a dick.”

Stiles bristles out of habit. “Takes one to know one.”

Lydia elbows Jackson before he can retaliate. “We’re working on it, Stiles.”

Working on it? What does that even mean? Does she have an alphabetized list of potential beta candidates lined up or something? Will they have to submit résumés? Will there be interviews?

He’s just about to open his mouth to ask when he becomes aware of someone approaching in his periphery. He turns his head to see Allison standing by the table, her eyes red-rimmed and her hands clenched at her sides.

“Stiles?” she asks in a fragile voice.

“Oh. Um, hey, Allison.”

He’s aware that the entire cafeteria has stopped to watch this exchange, and wonders if they’re expecting fireworks.

Allison draws in an audibly shaky breath. “I just wanted to say that I’m really sorry for what happened to you, and your father and Stella. And I understand if you don’t ever want to talk to me again, but—”

“Oh, hey!” Stiles pushes his chair back so quickly that he almost overbalances, and leaps to his feet. “No, Allison. I mean, she was your aunt, but you didn’t know. I’m not going to hold it against you just because she was, well, crazy pants.”

Allison’s brow creases.

Okay, so that wasn’t the best way to phrase things. Stiles tries to regroup. “Anyway, if I was going to judge you on your relatives, okay your aunt tried to kill us, but your dad came through, so that totally evens things out, right? Math for the win!”

Lydia groans, and Jackson winces, but Allison only tilts her head and stares at Stiles blankly for a moment.

“Oh god,” Stiles says. “I can’t believe I said that.”

Allison blinks, and tears brim in her eyes, but at the same time her mouth twitches and a small, strangled noise escapes her. It might even be a laugh? “So we’re good, you and me?”

“Totally,” Stiles promises.

She shows him a tentative smile. “Thank you, Stiles.”

And then she darts forward and hugs him quickly before turning away and going back to sit with Scott.

No fireworks in the cafeteria today.

Stiles sits back down, shooting an accusatory look at Jackson when he sees his diminished amount of tater tots.

Jackson smirks. “Hey, I’m carb loading for lacrosse. What’s your excuse?”

“My excuse is I paid for those!”

Jackson shrugs.

“Asshole,” Stiles mutters.

Jackson’s smirk grows.

Lydia rolls her eyes, but she at least shoves her salad in Stiles’s direction so he doesn’t starve to death.

[codename-bewareofthefangirl]

Messed Up

Hi!

A few days ago I read these headcanons about the Bakugou Family by the lovely @cutekirikitty and I felt so inspired, enough to beat for a night my writer's block. Sooooo... this is the result. I wanted to write a ff revolving around Mitsuki, that I headcanon as a very complex and beautiful mother figure. I believe she may have had a past similar to his son, especially due to her flaming personality, and I don’t believe that just because she became a mother all her issues have magically disappeared. Parenting is hard and there’s no guide to it. That’s why I love her so much. I hope you enjoy this ff as much as me!

And thank you again Cutekirikitty for reading and betaing and helping me to improve it! You were such a great inspiration and help!

Have a nice day!

Read On AO3

Mitsuki Bakugou, Masaru Bakugou & KiriBaku

Light Angst, Parenting, Anger Issues, Motherhood, Mother-Son Relationship, Fluff, Kiri is a Sunshine, Established Relationship, Official Introduction to the Parents

“I’m home!”

Masaru’s voice echoed through the rooms of the Bakugou’s household.

As he tiredly took off his shoes, no answer was screamed back at him. He frowned, then let out a little sigh.

Looking around as he straightened, he realized that all the lights were off; he couldn’t hear anything from the kitchen nor any other room.

Oh.

So, that was it?

He silently padded down the corridor, up the stairs and then to the bedroom he shared with his wife. Finding the door closed, he decided to knock before entering. When nobody answered, he turned the knob and quietly stepped into the dark room.

His lips stretched in a bitter-sweet smile.

There she was, Mitsuki, curled in the middle of their bed, with photos scattered around her as the light of the dying sun dyed her in red. He could only see her back but knew by heart all the telltale signs of when his wife was upset.

“I’m home…” he repeated in a murmur.

A flinch.

“…welcome back.”

“Can I sit?”

A shrug.

Satisfied with the reaction, he seated on the corner of the bed. Close enough to reach out to her in case of need, but not to suffocate her.

Mitsuki was staring at a crumpled photo in her hands, chin resting on the knees.

It brought Masaru back in times, to when they were younger. When Mitsuki was fighting with herself day by day, when she would suddenly get silent and mad and flee away from him for no apparent reason. When Masaru would wait for hours under her window to know if she was alright, when he would let her cry into his arms. When life was less complicated, and they were the only ones they had to take care of.

Masaru leaned to look at which one she was looking, even though he could sort of tell by all the wrinkles. A photo she had the habit to pick when she was angry at herself.

A young Katsuki flashed a blinding smile to the camera, holding triumphantly some flowers in his hands. There were two or three bruises on his skin.

They had gone hiking for the first time ever; well, more a walk than anything. Katsuki had been so excited about the smallest things, running wild into the woods. The scars were a badge of honor for having tripped down a slide as he tried to pick some flowers for Mitsuki. His mother hadn’t had the heart to scold him, too moved by the innocent gift.

“…wasn’t he happy?” she whispered, voice scratchy.

He could see how puffy her eyes were but made no comment.

“Yes, it’s one of my favorite photos.”

She nodded in agreement.

“It was one of the last times I genuinely complimented him wasn’t it?”

Masaru didn’t reply.

They both knew the answer.

Mitsuki was an overly proud mom.

Who could blame her?

She had a caring, honest husband she loved to death and a strong, shiny son who deserved the world. She still couldn’t believe she had been blessed with them, especially thinking of all the flaws and issues she had always harbored inside.

She had managed to do something good in the end, hadn’t she?

That’s why she had always showered Katsuki with compliments, love, and affection. Well, partially it was also to compensate for when she would lose control and let her anger burn, but she was working on it; she had already improved in comparison as to how she was during high school. But, most of all, it was because she genuinely believed Katsuki was the best child ever.

Strong, beautiful, capable, smart, confident… And with a strong quirk to match! She couldn’t count how many people had complimented her, saying her Katsuki was born to be a hero.

How could have a mother not let it go to her head? She had always been bad at control herself, at doing things with measure.

She had let it blind her.

Stupid of her, right?

Then small things had started to pile up… a harsh comment, a sentence that had made her nearly snapped, bruises on his skin, stubborn replies, an annoyed click of the tongue... Small things that should have told her what was happening, that should have made her understand. But… she didn’t want to see. Katsuki was probably the best thing it had ever happened to her and she didn’t want to accept she may have… ruined it. She wasn’t ready. She was scared. She wanted to believe they were just tantrums, that they would pass soon.

Until the truth smacked her in the face and she was left with no choice.

She truly realized how things had escalated only during a quiet afternoon after she had picked up Katsuki and Midoriya from the kindergarten. Usually, all the boys would go play at the park in front of the house, but that day… ah, that day Mitsuki had asked Midoriya and Katsuki to play in the garden. Even though Katsuki had seemed annoyed by something and the other boy more nervous than usual, she had brushed it off. The house was empty, she had the laundry to do but didn’t want to feel lonely, and, most of all, she was curious about what they would play. It had passed some time since she had seen them enjoying themselves, hadn’t it? They were already growing.

At first, the afternoon had passed smoothly.

Mitsuki had finished her laundry and then moved to vacuum the bedrooms on the second floor. The kids were playing some adventures in the garden when she heard a pained gasp.

Dropping everything, she rushed down the stairs with the heart in her throat.

“Katsuki! Midoriya!” She called, stumbling out in the garden.

“What?” Bakugou replied, his tone clearly annoyed.

Mitsuki froze.

Her son was standing on the grass with a stick into his hands, while Midoriya had fallen to the ground. He was wearing some strange rags and had written on his forehead “Bad”; his knees were scratched, and tears streamed down his cheeks as he trembled like a leaf.

“W-what’s going on?” Mitsuki asked.

Bakugou rolled his eyes.

“We are playing at the hero and the monster. Deku is being weak.”

“Deku?” Her eyes grew wide, but the boy didn’t flinch.

“Yeah, I chose it. We were playing, I was defeating him when he fell and said he didn’t want to play anymore.”

Mitsuki looked at the small boy, who tried hurriedly to hide the tears.

“Are you alright, Midoriya?”

The boy nodded and stifled a smile.

“I-I am!”

“It doesn’t seem so.”

The boy threw a scared glance at Katsuki, who clicked his tongue, and nodded again.

“I am! I’m fine!”

Mitsuki frowned, stepping closer.

“Why don’t you change the game? You could be both heroes and I can play the monster!” she suggested as she helped him stand. A strange uneasiness was creeping into her heart.

Midoriya seemed to light up, but Katsuki immediately protested.

“No.”

Mitsuki glared at him.

“Why not?”

“Because he’s weak.”

His mother blinked, shocked.

“What?”

“Deku is weak. He can’t be a hero, he doesn’t even have a quirk yet!” Bakugou was clenching his fists, explosions echoing against his palms. “Tsk, I didn’t even want to play with him but you just brought him home…”

“Sure he can! What are you saying about your friend! Obviously Midoriya can be a hero! And stop calling him Deku, it’s not nice!” she snapped angrily, her tone sharper than what she intended.

Bakugou took a step back, shocked, but immediately glared back even more fiercely.

“He’s not my friend! And he can’t! You said it! Only strong kids can become heroes! He’s not!” he yelled, stomping a foot on the ground.

“He can be strong too!” Mitsuki should have remembered she was talking to a kid, but something in Bakugou’s attitude was making her brain shortcut. Was the look in his eyes? Or the conviction in his tone?

“He’s not! Everybody knows he’s weak! I am strong! I will be the hero!” She didn’t see the fear behind her son’s eyes, “I am the best! You said it, dad said it, the teachers said it!”

“This doesn’t mean that Midoriya is-”

“HE’S NOT! I’M THE ONLY HERO!” Bakugou roared, explosions going wild as he turned and pushed Midoriya to the ground once again, “HE’S NOTHING!”

Mitsuki’s heart stopped.

Her hand moved before she could think.

The slap echoed in the garden.

Bakugou stared at her with the mouth open.

Soon, his eyes filled with tears.

“W-why?” he whined, confused, angry and scared at the same time.

Mitsuki glanced at her own hand, fear strangling her from the inside.

She had never, never hit her son before. Never.

Midoriya started crying too.

She felt the panic rising, lost as what to do.

“K-Katsuki! Go to your bedroom! Now!” she ordered, trying to hide her insecurities behind a mask of anger.

“But I didn’t-”

“Now!”

The boy clenched his jaw.

“I hate you! Liar!” he seethed before running away.

Mitsuki watched him disappear inside the house, heart heavy and mind blank.

“Bakugou-san?” Midoriya was tugging at her sleeve, desperate.

She blinked at him and bent to pick him up, moving more on instinct than anything. She felt like an empty doll.

All she could think was that she had messed up.

She had messed up.

Mitsuki replayed what had just happened over and over again, in a state of horror, as she carried Midoriya home.

All those praises, the compliments, her stupid pride… she had messed up.

And only as she bowed deeply to Iinko, apologizing with all her heart for the behavior of her son, she realized what she had done to Katsuki.

It was her fault.

She had messed up. Once again.

Now she had to fix it.

From that day, Mitsuki gradually stopped complimenting Bakugou. She now saw how much they had inflated his pride and blinded his sight, and wanted to do something to fix, but didn’t know what. She hid her fear and regrets behind her short temper; she started making harsh remarks as soon as he misbehaved, faking not to see how good he was at everything he did and how much he put his efforts into it, finding flaws to mine his growing ego. No matter how much it hurt, how quickly the arguments between them increased, how similar their explosive personalities became and how bitter the resentment in Katsuki’s eyes grew, she shut her heart off.

She genuinely thought that would have been the right solution, believing the rare and awkward moments of shared affection would be enough to keep their relationship working.

Mitsuki only wanted him to realize his limits and flaws, to humbly accept that others could be great too.

She just wanted to be a great mother to a great son.

But when she realized that her attempts had only had the opposite effect, it was again too late. She had forgotten how to love Katsuki without hiding, how to show her love without shouting and being brusque, and Katsuki had grown distant and resentful, had seen through the mask all her flaws and pathetic attempts at parenting.

“What happened today?” Masaru asked gently, pulling her back to the present.

She didn’t say a word but took her phone and threw it into his lap. As soon as the screen lightened up, he realized it was already open on a message. By Katsuki.

“Tomorrow I’ll come for lunch with my boyfriend. I don’t want to, but he’s being a pain in the ass because he wants to meet you.

Don’t mess up, old hag.”

A gasp of surprise left his mouth.

Katsuki had a boyfriend?

He took the time to let it sink, then gave her back the phone.

“I doubt this is due to the fact it’s a boy and not a girl.”

“Who fucking cares!” she snapped, “It’s already a miracle he found someone with the horrible personality he-” She bit her own tongue, grimacing.

Ah, she was doing it again.

Her husband slowly rubbed circles on her back.

“Then?”

“The last sentence. It’s a fucking warning.”

“He must really care about him…” Masaru couldn’t help but smile fondly. The only thought that Katsuki had found someone special warmed him up.

“Obviously!” she scoffed, “As he could do something half-assed!”

Masaru chuckled, “You’re right.”

But that didn’t explain why Mitsuki was torturing herself again.

However, he let her be with her thoughts, just pulling her slowly closer.

After what seemed an infinite amount of time, she gently pushed him back.

“I have to prepare dinner…” She uncurled, stretching, and climbed out of the bed.

Her husband frowned a little, but his hand stopped in midair.

Should have he grabbed her? Insisted?

Ah, he had never been good at insisting, not even when it mattered the most. Not even when he should have. That’s why he had always ended up looking at the two people he loved the most in his life tearing each other apart, without being able to help. Tired and out of the loop after a day at work, too mellow and soft to contrast their anger or stop their aggressive arguments. Oh, he was good at comforting them afterward, when they were locked in their rooms berating themselves and the other at once, but it was too late. That was damage control, not a useful help.

But his wife knew him.

“It’s a threat, Masaru,” she said, stilling on the door without turning, “A warning for me. Don’t fuck up this time or it’s the end. And we all know how good I am at messing up.”

When they had told her Katsuki had been kidnapped, her world had shattered.

Katsuki? Her son? Kidnapped?

Before she could make up, before they could fix their relationship, he had been taken away. And what if that was the end?

She could remember rushing to the tv and stilling in shock as the new reported the incident, the world around becoming a buzzing blur. She had come back from the abyss of regrets and anger only as Eraserhead defended Katsuki, the only one who had seen the truth people always ignored about him, and she had never felt more grateful Katsuki had found teachers like him. The tears had streamed down her face without stopping until she had seen him being saved by his friends.

But what had she done when Katsuki had finally returned home?

Ah, just a hug. A hug was all that she had managed before her anger and issues had exploded.

She had screamed at him.

Because she had felt like dying while he was in danger. Because she was angry at Katsuki for letting them kidnap him and at herself for being angry for such a stupid reason. Because she felt so relieved, broken and frail she didn’t know how to hide it.

Because, simply, Mitsuki didn’t how to deal with the turmoil in her heart and always messed up everything, letting anger take the wheel as she tried to push back the rest.

They had ended up locked into their rooms once again, in a never-ending déjà vu, until Masaru had put her pieces back together and helped her going to Katsuki’s room without chickening back. It had taken all her courage and strength to knock and enter; she didn’t even have had the heart to switch on the light.

Since Katsuki hadn’t screamed to go away, she crawled into his bed and hugged him to the chest; feeling his arms circling her was such a relief. She let silent tears fell onto his blond hair, holding onto him as he buried the face into her chest. Outside the room, they both knew Masaru was sitting on the floor, waiting.

“…I’m- glad…” she managed to whisper.

Katsuki raised his head to meet her gaze.

“…me too…” he replied all too softly.

But she saw the disappointment in his eyes, the question screaming.

Why? Why couldn’t they be better than this? Why they always had to hurt each other? Why?

The next day, Mitsuki had let his son into the hands of the U.A teachers.

She had felt so disgusted by herself: for a second, she had felt glad they were taking him. She had been glad he would go and live at the dorm because she didn’t know how to answer that “Why?”; because she knew that those teachers were helping him grow and mature far better than she had ever done. Because every time she looked at him she remembered what a shitty mother she was, and it hurt.

And the worst was that Katsuki knew, she was sure he knew, and what could he ever feel for her, a mother messed up and scared to raise her own son, more than disappointment?

As the fated hour approached, Mitsuki grew nervous and nervous.

She was helping her husband in the kitchen with the lunch, but her hands trembled so badly she was murdering that poor potato.

“Why don’t you set the table?” Masaru gently took the knife away from her hands.

She sighed.

“I already did. Three times.”

“Three?”

“The second because I was agitated. The third because I snapped and hit a glass by accident. It shattered,” she grumbled begrudgingly.

“Are you okay?” Masaru took a look at her hand.

She rolled her eyes.

“Except for the fact that I’m a 38 years old grown ass woman but I’m panicking like a middle schooler because I have the short temper of a ticking bomb and I’m on the verge of ruining my son’s happiness once again? Fucking peachy.”

Masaru couldn’t help but burst into an amused laughter.

“You’ll be fine, Mitsuki. Katsuki wouldn’t have accepted to bring him home if he really thought you could mess up, would have he?”

She scoffed, crossing her arms.

Mitsuki knew as well as she knew that she was the adult there and had to pull herself together instead of going crazy. But she just… cared so much. It was scary. She was tired of making mistakes.

Sixteen years and she still didn’t know how to be a good mother.

Pathetic.

Masaru flicked her forehead, before returning to the curry.

“Stop it.”

“What?”

“Overthinking. And berating yourself.”

“I wasn’t!”

“You were!”

“I wasn’t!”

A ring cut their banter.

The potato fell from Mitsuki’s hands.

“You go, I’ll finish here.” Masaru gave her a small push, and she slowly made her way to the door.

She turned the knob holding her breath.

Red eyes.

Spiky blond hair, sharp jaws, always present pout and smell of nitroglycerin.

“And here I thought I would die before seeing you again,” she couldn’t help but smirk. Ah, Katsuki was dressed well today.

“Shut up, old hag!” he growled back, averting his eyes.

“Dude!” the gasp reminded them they weren’t alone.

Mitsuki’s eyes immediately ran to the boy who was waiting a step behind Katsuki and narrowed as she scrutinized him.

There was something familiar in him… Red spiky hair, scarlet eyes, well-built physique, nervous smile and…the joined hands.

“Ah!” she exclaimed, startling him, “You’re the boy who saved my dumb son!”

He seemed to be surprised about being recognized, but quickly brushed it off as a “Bakugou’s smart thing.”

“Yes, ma’am! Well, not exactly, I just helped out saving him- I just- well-”

“Yes, he fucking saved me! Stop mumbling idiot!”

Both the boy and Mitsuki almost gaped at Bakugou’s admission of having been saved, but if the first just smiled and squeezed his hand, the woman had to restrain herself from cursing.

“A-anyway… I’m Kirishima Eijirou, Ka-Bakugou’s best friend. I’m glad to finally meet you!” The boy bowed respectfully, with an adorable smile.

Oh, Katsuki had found a nice boy?

“Boyfriend!” the blond growled, “He’s my stupid boyfriend!” he repeated making Kirishima blush, but his glare was trained on her. As to dare her to say anything.

Mitsuki carefully smiled to Kirishima. He had never seen her son warier and more protective at the same time, she didn’t want to let him misunderstand not even for a second. Not this time.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Kirishima-kun. I don’t know how this brute won you over, but I’m glad you’re here. Come, Masaru had just finished preparing lunch. Do you like curry?”

She led the way as Kirishima chirped how he loved it, but she glanced at the way Bakugou seemed to relax a little and sighed in relief.

They entered in the kitchen as Masaru was washing his hands. He quickly dried them with the apron and smiled gently to Kirishima, who looked almost surprised at the man’s appearance; Mitsuki had to hide a smirk: she loved how people thought Bakugou had taken his horrible personality from his father and then remained shocked to discover it was quite the opposite.

“I’m Masaru, Bakugou’s father. It’s nice to meet you, Kirishima-kun.”

“The pleasure is mine!”

The boy bowed once again, but now his smile was even more relaxed. Poor thing, he must have been so anxious. Mitsuki could remember how nerve-wracking she’d felt when meeting Masaru’s family, and she was nowhere near as nice as Kirishima.

“Let’s seat! It’s still warm!”

“Thank you!”

Bakugou quickly sat by Kirishima’ side and his parents in front of them; Mitsuki caught sight of his hand giving a last squeeze before letting Kirishima go.

The lunch went on smoothly.

The usual banter between Bakugou and Mitsuki never escalated, Kirishima was more than happy to talk for everyone and keep the mood light, and Masaru was ready to fill the awkward silences or cut the occasional tensions.

“…and so, as soon as I suggested Momo would be better than him at tutoring me, Ka-Bakugou immediately offered. Well, more threatened me than anything.” Kirishima finished his story, making the couple laugh wholeheartedly as Bakugou muttered curses against the palm of the hand.

“You fucking asked for it, Shitty-hair!” Bakugou bit back, with a smirk.

Even though she could say there was not an ounce of malice in his tone, her heart almost stopped at the nickname. Memory from the past flashed in front of her eyes. Her shoulders tensed.

“Brat!” she almost growled, slamming the hand down, “What are you calling your boyfriend? Haven’t you learned how to respect other people? It’s already a miracle he’s bearing you and you call him like-”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Katsuki yelled back, explosions crackling from his palms; the red eyes were already burning with flames, “Shut your mouth, old hag! You don’t fucking know anything about me and Ei-”

“Katsuki!” Kirishima interrupted them even quicker than Masaru. He elbowed gently his boyfriend’ side, “She’s still your mother. Not cool.”

Bakugou snapped his head towards him, ready to chew him up too, but as soon as he met Kirishima’s stern and clear eyes he stilled. Under the couple’s flabbergasted stare, his rage slowly…dimmed. His features softened, the coldness melted.

“She-”

“Still not cool,” Kirishima rebutted with a grin, stretching a hand to catch Bakugou’s, “And I’m fine. Don’t worry!”

They held the gaze for few more heartbeats before Bakugou sagged into the chair.

“Whatever…” he grunted in the end, turning his head to the wall.

Whatever.

To anyone else that could have seemed nothing, if not annoying, but Mitsuki knew what it means: Katsuki was surrendering, he was willingly letting an argument go in favor of someone’s else. And he wasn’t even pissed about it, just as if Kirishima had been right about he said… Mitsuki had always counted every “whatever” said in that sighing tone as a personal victory.

She couldn’t believe someone else knew that too, but there he was that red-head boy, barely hiding a soft smile as he gazed at the blond.

Kirishima turned to Mitsuki.

“Ah, please don’t worry Bakugou-san. I can tell when Bakugou’s words have no bite, nor real mean intentions. It’s just his way of addressing people, me and the whole class are used to it. We don’t care, nor we are hurt. He has also improved a lot since our first year.”

Bakugou rolled his eyes but said nothing.

“Besides,” Kirishima’s tone was now teasing, and he winked at the woman, “He’s using those names because he’s too embarrassed to call me anything else. When we are alone he calls me Sun-”

“EIJIROU!” Bakugou slapped a hand over Kirishima’s mouth, horrified, “Don’t you dare, asshole!”

The other laughed amused, not even remotely scared of having an explosive hand pressed to the face.

“Sorry, sorry…” But he didn’t sound sorry at all.

Mitsuki started giggling without realizing, and it almost startled the boys.

Kirishima seemed content to hear her chuckle, while Bakugou simply stared at her with an unreadable expression.

“Kirishima-kun, you’re an incredible boy. I’m really happy to have you here.” Her heart hadn’t felt so light in days. Masaru squeezed her hand as she smiled earnestly at Kirishima.

He gaped.

“…you have the same smile,” he blurted, turning to Bakugou.

He frowned, annoyed.

“We don’t.”

“You do. But it’s okay, I find yours cuter.”

“Do you want to die, Shitty-hair?”

The rest of the lunch ended peacefully.

When Mitsuki stood to clear the table, Kirishima hurried up and stopped her.

“P-please let me do it! I already intruded you and with such a short notice!”

She flicked his forehead.

“It’s fine, my husband cooked, not me. I can-”

“I insist!” Kirishima repeated, biting his bottom lip. He seemed to be debating if it would have been ruder to let it go or insist more.

Katsuki decided for everyone.

“Let him do, old hag. He won’t stop feeling bad for it, otherwise.”

“Hey!”

“And you?” Mitsuki couldn’t help but ask.

Bakugou rolled his eyes, “I’ll avoid he destroys our kitchen,” he mumbled, before nudging the other boy, “Come on, I don’t want to spend the afternoon washing the dishes.”

“I’m not that bad!”

“Please don’t get me started, Hair-for-Brain!”

Without anything to do, Mitsuki walked to the living room almost in a daze. Masaru was seated on the couch, reading one of his favorite books, and she plopped down next to him.

He glanced at her, amused.

“What?”

“He…” Mitsuki said quietly, “…is different.”

Instead of prodding, Masaru realized his wife was lost in thinking and let her be with her mind until she was ready to elaborate. However, after ten minutes, she stood up again and silently walked to the door kitchen.

She had left it ajar and couldn’t stop herself from peeking it.

Mitsuki felt so… curious.

She didn’t exactly know that Katsuki. A protective, wary Katsuki who also wore a soft expression. A Katsuki whose lips were always pulled in a faint, almost invisible grin when nobody looked. A Katsuki who wasn’t watching only at himself anymore.

She wanted to see him more. It was fascinating. It filled her heart with… joy? And pride?

Inside, Kirishima and Bakugou were standing near the sink.

The red-head was vigorously washing the dishes that then passed to the blond, who dried and put them away; they seemed to be talking animatedly, or at least Kirishima was, Bakugou mostly nodded and listened, making small comments from time to time. But Mitsuki could tell he was attentively listening.

At some point, Kirishima must have said something funny or stupid, because Bakugou scoffed and tried to hide his laughter behind the hand, but it didn’t work well. His usual stern or scowling expression was nowhere to be seen as he clutched his stomach and let his voice booming freely, cheeks slightly red and eyes tingling with amusement.

Whatever he may have said, Kirishima seemed deeply embarrassed and his face was completely red. He tried to make Bakugou stop by smacking weakly his shoulder, but the other boy was laughing too much, so he decided to sport a cute pout.

When the blonde realized, a lazy, teasing grin replaced the laughter as he leaned against the counter. Kirishima made an attempt at averting his eyes, but it was clear how pulled by his boyfriend he felt. Bakugou grabbed his t-shirt and made him stumble closer, before placing his hand behind Kirishima’s neck and bringing him down for a heated kiss.

Ah, too much.

Mitsuki retread few steps, guilty as if she had just pried into a secret, private moment. Her back collided with something and she jumped, caught by surprise.

“They make a good couple,” Masaru murmured, gently wrapping an arm around her waist. She relaxed against his chest.

“Uhm,” she agreed with a small nod, “He’s changed.”

“For better?”

“For better. Don’t you see it?” she scrunched her nose, making him chuckle.

“I do see it, I just wanted to hear you say it.”

Mitsuki glance at him, confused.

“Do you know why he has changed?”

“…because he has met great kids and teachers who have been able to help him mature.”

“Exactly, so it has been a good idea, hasn’t it? Sending him to the dorms, no matter how much it hurt and made you feel like you were running away from your problems. You took the right choice. Nothing to regret or torture yourself with anymore.”

Oh.

Mitsuki blinked.

Oh.

“I… took the right choice.”

“Yes, I’m glad you did.”

“I-I’m glad too.”

Something in her heart was melting, she felt as if a weight was falling from her shoulders.

She had taken the right choice for her child, she had done something good. Even though she wasn’t the main reason for his changes, even if she hadn’t done anything more than saying “yes”, even if all she had managed had been recognizing she couldn’t do nothing for him and trust someone else, it was something. A small step.

“You can be proud of it,” Masaru said, reading her thoughts.

“Oh, shut it!” She wiped away the small tears who had escaped her control.

He chuckled and left a kiss on her forehead.

“We can be proud of him.”

“…’ve always been,” she muffled begrudgingly, much to his amusement.

“Yeah, but you had never let yourself say it aloud. Don’t you feel better?”

She just shrugged and turned to hug him as she hadn’t done in a long time. Those stupid teenagers in love were making feel her young and in love once again, how annoying.

Her romantic moment was interrupted by Katsuki’s outraged scream.

“ARE YOU A FUCKING IDIOT?!”

Instinctively, Mitsuki slammed the door open. Mom’s instinct.

“What happened?”

Bakugou didn’t even notice her, focused on examining the hand of his boyfriend between his, while the red-head seemed so embarrassed he could die.

“You can fucking harden! How the hell did you manage to cut yourself?”

“You were distracting me!”

“Than fucking put the knife down!”

“Katsuki!” Kirishima whined, but Bakugou smacked lightly his head, “I’m fine!”

“You’re bleeding!” he growled, before turning to Mitsuki, “Old hag, help him wash the cut while I go to search for the band-aids! Dad, are they still in the same place?”

The blond stomped out of the kitchen like a hurricane.

“Ah, no…” Masaru stuttered, “We moved them…” he added, tailing his son.

Mitsuki, still perplexed, reached Kirishima and stretched a hand.

“Can I?”

The boy groaned but let her look.

Mitsuki snorted, “It’s such a small cut.”

“I know!” Kirishima sighed, a palm over his eyes, “But he says I’m irresponsible because of my quirk and always gets stressed when I’m hurt. I’m sorry for the fuss.” He seemed genuinely troubled.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” she waved it off. Mitsuki still couldn’t believe it was her son had just got so worried for someone else.

“I should have paid attention, but we were joking around…” he explained with a faint blush. And even though he seemed embarrassed, his eyes shined with fondness at the thought.

“…you really love him.”

“What?”

Ah. The words had slipped from Mitsuki’s mouth.

“I… said you really love him.”

Now, Kirishima’s face was the same color as his hair. But his gaze didn’t waver.

“Y-yes, ma’am. I-I really love Katsuki.”

“Why?” That was what worried Mitsuki, the real question.

Kirishima seemed taken aback and frowned.

“Why?”

“My son is… difficult. He has issues. And treats most people like dirt,” she explained, crossing her arms as to defend herself from those red eyes that seemed to bare her.

Mitsuki didn’t miss the flash of anger in his eyes, nor the way his jaw clenched, so similar to how protective Katsuki had seemed during the introductions, but he soon softened again.

“Katsuki is… complex, I know that. He’s foul-mouthed, has one of the biggest egos ever and doesn’t know how to interact with people other than competing,” he agreed with a bitter-sweet smile, “But there’s much more to him, isn’t it? The strength and passion that drive him, his pride as a man, all his vulnerable fear and insecurities that he tries to face alone, his will to become a hero…ah!” he chuckled, “That’s what made me fall in love. I’ve never met anyone who wanted to become a hero more than him, no matter how flawed he knows he is, no matter how hard it feels or what the world says. He’s willing to face all his demons if it means he can improve, and he’s ready to change. Katsuki is burning with passion, he just needs to find his way to convey it… properly. This hit me so hard. Only by being next to him I feel braver and stronger as if nothing could defeat us. Being worthy of his respect and love for me is… amazing. Even if I know he’s not perfect and even if I’ve seen all his ugly sides… I just love him. He makes me a better person.”

Mitsuki didn’t have words to reply, she stared silently at Kirishima, who grew more and more fidgety as the seconds dragged by.

“…glad.”

“What?” he stuttered, panicking.

“I’m glad you are the one he loves. And I’m glad you love him back. You see the best in him… thank you.” Mitsuki’s voice was so quiet as she spoke, looking at the ground.

Kirishima felt the urge to hug her but had already learned how to deal with a Bakugou and stopped himself.

“You don’t have to worry, ma’am. A lot people are beginning to see it too. Bakugou is not alone anymore, you know? We’ve made a lot of friends! I’ll bring them to you if you want to know them! But don’t worry, he’ll be fine!” Kirishima reassured her with a toothy-smiled

She had to force herself not to cry.

What a special boy her son had found. He had completely seen right through her, hadn’t he? Better than what she had ever admitted to herself.

“I’d love to, Kirishima-kun.”

Bakugou chose that moment to barge back in the kitchen, armed with a first-aid kit, Masaru behind him.

“I found it! Uh? What’s this?” he asked suspiciously as he moved the gaze between the two of them.

Mitsuki and Kirishima exchanged a glance, before chuckling.

“Gossiping,” the woman replied with a teasing smirk.

Bakugou narrowed his eyes.

“She had promised to show me your childhood photos!” Kirishima added with a bright smile.

“What? No fucking way!” Bakugou protested marching to him with the disinfectant already in hand.

“Please, Katsuki!” Kirishima begged with his best puppy-eyes.

“I’ll go searching for the albums!” Mitsuki left the kitchen with a laughter.

“I think I have some videos…” Masaru mumbled quietly.

“Dad don’t you dare!”

When the time to go came, Kirishima had nearly been adopted by Masaru and Mitsuki. Not that Bakugou would have ever doubted his boyfriend’ scary ability to befriend even inanimate objects, but it was still a relief.

And… his mother seemed happy. Genuinely happy. He hadn’t seen her like that in a long time, right?

“Thank you again for the hospitality!” Kirishima bowed for the umpteenth time before Mitsuki pulled him into a crushing hug.

“I’m the one who’s happy, Kirishima-kun! You’re really a wonderful boy, feel free to hang here whenever you want.”

“Alright, alright!” Bakugou was losing his patience and roughly dragged his boyfriend away from his mother’s arms, “You have said it already ten times! We’re going to UA, not the fucking north pole! Stop being so dramatic!”

Kirishima laughed, letting the blond manhandle him.

“Goodbye again! I look forward to the next lunch together!” He yelled cheerfully as the other pushed him out of the door.

“Fucking move, Shitty-Hair!”

Once he had finally sent him away, Bakugou turned to his parents.

“I’ll be going…” he said awkwardly.

“Stay safe, and call more often,” Masaru patted his head with a sigh. He really would have liked to stay with them a little longer.

Bakugou shrugged but didn’t protest.

He moved as to open the door and leave but stilled.

He turned to his mother instead.

“Thank you,” he murmured so quietly Mitsuki almost feared to have imagined it, “Eijirou really cared about this, but I too am happy you met him. I’m glad you like him.”

Katsuki was meeting her eyes, and there was no hidden disappointment. No anger. No fear.

He was there honestly revealing his thoughts to her.

Almost vulnerable.

For a heartbeat, it almost sent her mind in a frenzy. She wasn’t ready, she wasn’t used to it.

Her brain was already pushing out an automatic, snarky reply as always when she felt vulnerable or lost, but she bit her tongue.

Katsuki had improved. He had done his best to grow.

Mitsuki had to be worthy of all his efforts.

“You really don’t deserve someone as good as him, try not to scare him off.”

“Of course we like him. He’s the best boy you could have ever met,” Mitsuki replied with the same quiet honesty.

Katsuki showed a small smile, biting the inside of his cheek.

“I know,” he scoffed, “That’s why I chose him.”

“Maybe I could adopt him instead of you, brat.”

“I would have never expected less. Look at you, Katsuki, all proud of your boyfriend! I can’t wait to call him my son-in-law,” she teased, making him blush.

“MOM!” he burst.

She laughed hard, happy and so relieved at hearing him calling her mom.

“I hope to see you soon! Kick some ass and show the world your resolve, brat!” She threw an arm around his shoulders and pulled him into a hug, ruffling his head.

“That’s what I always do, old hag! And we’ll come back, stop nagging and let go!” But he made no real attempt at shoving her away, letting her enjoy the moment.

When she finally stepped back, he simply nodded and walked out of the door. Kirishima was waiting on the walkway and started waving enthusiastically as soon as he saw them.

“Goodbye!” he yelled to them as the couple waved back.

Bakugou muttered something under his breath and grabbed him by the hand, quickly pulling him away. Soon, Masaru and Mitsuki remained alone, looking at the sunset.

“See? You didn’t mess up.”

She turned to him with burning eyes.

“I didn’t mess up!” Mitsuki cheered, and, seeing her shining, proud smile, Masaru remembered why he had fallen in love with her in the first place.

“You two are really similar,” Kirishima mused as he and Bakugou walked toward the dorms, hand in hand.

The blond scoffed yet didn’t deny it.

“Horrible personality. Messed up.”

Kirishima rolled his eyes. Those two were really similar.

“Complex. Fierce. Scared to love and yet so full of passion. You have your issues, but both of you are fighting, right? I really admire that. You make me want to give my best too!”

Bakugou halted and turned to stare at him, eyes wide open.

“Are you fucking serious?”

“Sure!”

“…How can you say things like this without getting embarrassed?” he growled, blush creeping to his cheeks.

Kirishima chuckled sheepishly, scratching his nape.

“I just say what I see…”

Bakugou gazed his face, almost tempted to search for a lie even though he knew there wasn’t one, before sighing.

“’Guess you really see it.”

“One day you’ll see yourself like that too, I’m here for this.”

“Fucking annoying.”

“But you love me!”

Bakugou chuckled, but leaned closer, “Yeah, I fucking love you.”

And shut his boyfriend with a kiss before he could blurt more embarrassing truths

[spinach-productions]

Miami Vices (TF2), part 1/2

Wordcount: 12,726

Summary:

"Our contact in Miami wants to speak with someone from the organization.  Spy, that’s where you come in.”

“Naturally,” Spy says neutrally.

“Aaand,” Miss Pauling draws out the word, “He specifically asked to speak with a real person, not a mask.”

“Ah,” Spy says less neutrally.

“Which is where you come in.”  She beams at Scout, whose face is anything but neutral.  “Spy might need backup and you’re the only one who’s already seen him without a mask.”

In which Scout and Spy take an involuntary cross-country road trip.  Includes bad clothing and unexpected family bonding.

Warnings: cannon-typical violence, internalized homophobia, personal headcannon about ScoutMa.

part 2

NOTES:

Is this fandom still alive?  I love this fandom, whether it's alive or not.

This was based off of @sugarandmemories‘ comic about Spy and Scout having to go on a mission together in Miami (here) which I planned to make a short fic for and instead made this because I have apparently never done a thing half-way in my life.

Thanks to @tired-pinetree for being a fantastic beta-reader and editor, and for sitting me down and going "these parts aren't working".  Without you, I'd just have a mess of words on the page <3

Enjoy!

-

“Thank you for coming,” Miss Pauling says. She is cleanly dressed and holding one of her many clipboards in one hand. Scout waves at her when he enters the room; Spy rolls his eyes skyward and steps silently into the space just behind Scout’s shoulder.

“Hi,” Scout says, “What’s up?”

“I have an assignment for you,” she says brightly, “Now that you’re both here—”

“Both—?”

Scout actually jumps when he registers Spy in his peripheral vision. It’s very satisfying. Spy catches the elbow aimed at his throat before it can make contact.

“Bon matin,” he says smugly.

Scout shakes Spy’s hand away and growls something obscene under his breath.

Miss Pauling clears her throat. “Yes, hello.” She gestures to two chairs set up between a projector screen and a Kodak Carousel, “If you would?”

Spy takes a seat. Scout, still glaring, flops into the remaining seat.

Miss Pauling dims the lights and brings the carousel to life. A picture of the RED team logo appears on the screen. “As you know, I occasionally ask people to do a little ‘extracurricular’ projects for the company,” she says, her air quotes silhouetted in the light of the projector. “And today I’m tapping you two.”

Spy arches an eyebrow but doesn’t comment.

The carousel clicks to its next slide, showing a loaf of bread. “As you know, one of our subsidiaries is Red Bread.”

“I thought that was a front,” Scout says.

“The Administrator doesn’t like to use words like ‘front’,” Miss Pauling says with more air quotes, “And besides, Red Bread is a real company servicing the real community of Miami, Florida. We’re bringing baked goods to other underprivileged ‘subsidiaries’ at affordable prices.” She clicks forward to a picture of a blond man ducking out of a suspicious-looking pizza parlor. “This is Mikhail Vasechkin, one of our local connections. Apparently there’s been some new development he can’t communicate through writing or phone and he’ll only speak with a RED agent in person. Spy, that’s where you come in.”

“Naturally,” Spy says neutrally.

“Aaand,” Miss Pauling draws out the word, “He specifically asked to speak with a real person, not a mask.”

“Ah,” Spy says less neutrally.

“Which is where you come in.” She beams at Scout, whose face is anything but neutral. “Spy might need backup and you’re the only one who’s already seen him without a mask.”

“He’s ugly,” Scout says. It comes out like a reflex, as though his mouth has fallen back on instinct while the hamster wheel in his head works on something else. “It’s just a there-and-back, ain’t it? If Spy’s so good he can do it alone.”

“We don’t want to risk it. This could be a new development about the subsidiary underbelly, or it could be an attempt to capture one of our best agents. The Administrator and I are in agreement that this is a two-man job.”

Scout looks sharply at Spy. “In a car, all the way to Miami. With Spy.”

Spy pointedly does not look away from the projector screen, even as he agrees with the sentiment. “Well summarized,” he says, “Details?”

“Estimated time: one week. We’ve already loaded a souped-up car with supplies, maps, and disguises. Your first destination is written down in an envelope in the glovebox, you’ll get further instructions from there. No weapons, and no contact until you get back to base. This should be a simple operation, but you’ll be way out of respawn range so make sure you don't die. You have an hour to pack any personal items before you leave. Then you’re off on a road trip vacation!” Miss Pauling sheepishly tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m a little jealous.”

“You could come wi—”

“Thank you, Miss Pauling,” Spy interrupts. “We’ll be ready. Come along, Scout.”

“But—”

Spy grabs him by the back of the neck and forcibly steers him out of the room. “ Come along. ”

Miss Pauling either doesn’t notice or politely ignores the struggle. Scout starts shoving in earnest once they’re back out in the desert heat. “Let go , what the fuck?”

“She obviously cannot take a week off from work and asking would only make her feel worse,” Spy says.

Scout finally yanks himself free and rubs his reddened skin where Spy’s fingers dug in, mumbling, “You don’t have to be a dick about it,” which is as close to ‘thank you for not letting me make a bigger ass of myself than usual’ as he’ll ever get.

“It seems to be the only language you understand,” Spy replies, lighting a cigarette, “I’ll meet you at the car. I am driving.”

“Asshole’s the only language you understand,” Scout snaps, jogging ahead to the barracks to, presumably, fill a suitcase with dirty laundry and baseball cards. Spy exhales a nicotine cloud. His disguise kit can hold up to ten cigarettes, but he’s going to need at least double that to make it through the week.

-

“Minnesota!”

Spy grunts and almost drops his cigarette when Scout's fist connects with his shoulder. He’s certainly made up this ‘license plate game’ with the sole intent of punching Spy while he can’t retaliate, and while he’ll never admit it, Spy’s arm is getting sore. Luckily, the cars on the road are precious few; by the rules of his own game Scout has only been able to hit him six or seven times. Spy subtly rolls his shoulder. He can see Scout grinning in the corner of his eye.

He adjusts the cigarette in his mouth. “If I were not driving, I would kill you.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Scout says as he begins to play with the radio. He’s wearing the red-tinted glasses they’d found in the glovebox next to their instructions, which turned out to be nothing more than an address several miles outside of Miami.

“I’m no school boy but I know what I like, you should have heard them just around midnight,” a singer croons.

“You cannot honestly think you could beat me in a fight.”

“You think you’ve lost your love, well I saw her yesterday-yi-yay. It’s you she’s thinking of and she told me what to say-yi-yay--”

“Oh man, I’m so scared right now.” Scout holds up his free hand and wiggles his fingers. “Look at them shakes. So scared.”

“Hope you’ve got your things together, hope you are quite prepared to die--”

“If you do not pick a station,” Spy says calmly, “I’m putting a knife through the speaker.”

“You said you didn’t care what we listened to.” Scout continues to flip through the jumble of radio waves. It’s a miracle he can hear anything over the noise of the car traveling at 150 mph (courtesy of Engineer’s tinkering and Spy’s impeccable driving), let alone identify the sounds coming through the speakers well enough to decide to look for something else. “And anyway, you don’t have a knife.”

“There are almost a dozen within reach,” Spy mutters.

“You brought a weapon on this mission? Spy, I’m hurt! Miss Pauling specifically said--”

“I saw you put your bat in the trunk.”

“For batting practice! Can’t afford to slack off.”

“I saw you put your gun in the trunk.”

“For shooting practice! Can’t afford to--”

“You know what,” Spy says abruptly, “There is something I’d like to listen to. Have you ever played the quiet game? ”

Scout’s incredulity is so strong, Spy can see the expression without turning his head. “Are you kidding. Are you kidding me right now? You’re seriously treating me like a kid?”

“If the shoe fits--”

“No freakin’ way. If you felt like being a parent, you missed the boat like twenty years ago.”

Spy sighs slowly through his nose. “Are we going to have a problem, Scout?”

“No problems from me.” Scout props his feet up on the dashboard and shoves a piece of gum into his mouth. He idly spins the radio dial with his toes. A million stations fill the cabin, accompanied by the sound of the most obnoxious open-mouthed chewing Spy has ever had the misfortune to experience. Scout’s toothy grin tells him none of this is accidental. “How’s about you, Spy? You got anything you’d like to air out?”

Spy takes a deep breath. His has worked in international espionage since the age of fourteen. He once spent three years undercover in a maximum security hair salon. He once escaped a Boxing Day party using nothing but his wits, a pen cartridge, and two sprigs of rosemary. Surely he can endure one cross-country road trip without killing his remarkably irritating son.

Scout sticks out his gum-covered tongue. He must have added three more pieces to the one he was chewing because dear god the resulting bubble is going to kill them both. Spy grabs one of the three knives taped behind the steering wheel and bursts the thing in self defence. He gets his quiet when the splatter engulfs Scout’s entire head, gluing his mouth shut for three blissful minutes until Spy’s conscience kicks in and he cuts Scout an air hole.

“If you say anything,” Spy says as Scout gasps and sputters back to life, “I will let you suffocate in your own idiocy.”

His gummy passenger probably glares, but the effect is lost under the bright pink candy. Scout spends the next half hour silently clawing gum off his face. Spy magnanimously doesn’t count his deeply disgusted noises as talking.

-

Scout, who doesn’t seem to handle idleness well at the best of times and began fidgeting in his seat several hours ago, throws himself out the passenger-side door as soon as Spy backs into their designated motel parking space.

“No, don’t worry about it, I’ll take care of our things,” Spy deadpans. He slings his suit jacket over his shoulder and walks around behind the car before it becomes apparent Scout isn’t coming back.

A quick glance at their room confirms it: the door is open. Perhaps they’ve chosen a poorly secured placed to stay, but Spy has been driving for ten hours and doesn’t care to search for another. He collects his case, locks the trunk, and enters their room.

Scout has already claimed the bed farthest from the door. He sits cross-legged with his attention fixed rapturously on the TV. Spy assumes there is some kind of baseball game going on.

“Did you at least check the room before you zoned out?” He asks, closing the door behind him.

“Bathroom’s clear, nothing under the beds,” Scout says.

“Perfunctory. You realize anyone could have come in here before us?”

“It’s fine.”

“You assume everything is fine,” Spy says, “You have no idea what kind of dangers there are in our line of work.”

“Uh, yeah I do, I get killed like twenty times a day. Besides, the door was locked and the window in the bathroom ain’t been picked, so.” He waves his hand in a shushing gesture without looking away from the game.

“Clearly it wasn’t if you could get in,” Spy says, but his finely-honed sense of misplacement is going off. “Did you steal keys from the manager?”

“Nah,” Scout says with a smirk.

Spy checks his pockets. He checks them again. He checks his jacket pockets. He even pats down the twin knife holsters under his shirt because there is no possibility that Scout picked his pocket.

“Check your gloves?” Scout asks sarcastically. Sure enough, he’s spinning their keys on his finger.

“You little brat,” Spy hisses.

“What about your fake molars? Maybe they’re in there.” When Spy storms towards him, Scout flicks the key ring away. It pings across the room with unerring accuracy and disappear down the floor vent. “Whoops, clumsy me.”

It takes several very long moments for Spy to master himself. When he can speak without grinding his teeth, he calmly crosses the room to the TV. “If you are going to act like a child.”

“Hey--”

“Then you are,” he snaps an antenna, “Grounded.”

The screen immediately flips to static. Scout lets out a cry of horror and shoves Spy aside, but the damage has already been done: reception is well and truly lost. He fruitlessly beats the side of the box with his palm. “Nonono no .”

“Do you know how to fix a broken receiver?” Spy twirls the severed metal between his fingers. “I do, but I seem to have forgotten. If only I could go for a walk to jog my memory without leaving the door unlocked.”

Scout scowls murderously.

“Alas, the keys are misplaced--”

“You're a bastard, you know that?” Scout says as he stomps into his shoes.

“Ah-ah, I believe 'grounded’ means you are to stay here.” Spy moves to lean his shoulders back against the door, “And I want those keys.”

“First, fuck you. Second, I got nothing to get them out, so get the fuck out of my way,” Scout says, roughly shoving Spy’s arm.

Spy continues to block the door. He wonders how long Scout’s tenuous sense of self-preservation will keep him from attacking. “Let me be more clear: get the keys, or I will call your mother.”

As it turns out, Scout is even less concerned with his own well being than predicted. He throws his full weight behind a forearm against Spy’s chest and, when Spy doesn’t yield, moves the arm to his neck. “Listen, asshole,” Scout growls, “I’m not even gonna pretend to get your relationship with my Ma, but for some reason you make her happy enough to forgive you for running off when she got pregnant. You and me got shit, sure, whatever, but you do anything to make her even remotely upset,” he grinds his arm into Spy’s throat, presumably for emphasis, “I will fuckin’ kill you.”

Spy grabs Scout’s opposite wrist and bends it the wrong way. To his surprise Scout rolls his arm with the motion and smashes his elbow into Spy’s side. Spy counters with a sharp knee to Scout’s gut. They stagger apart in opposite directions.

After a nice long string of curses, Spy uses a bed as leverage to get to his feet. He manages to grunt, “The feeling is mutual. ”

“Fuck,” Scout wheezes from where he’s clutching his stomach and swearing into the carpet. “I mean good. ”

Spy ignores his spasming diaphragm to straighten his tie. “It is truly a mystery how a woman as lovely as your mother raised a monster like you . I am going to take a shower,” he says, turning towards the bathroom where he can catch his breath away from Scout’s spiteful gaze.

Just as the door closes behind him, he hears Scout mutter, “Probably because she had to do it alone.”

After more than thirty years of intelligence work involving lies, betrayal, and the occasional murder, Spy thought there was nothing anyone could say to hurt him. He turns on the water and ignores everything he’s thinking.

-

When he exits the bathroom an hour later, Scout has already passed out on the bed by the defunct TV. Predictably, he tosses in his sleep, mumbling and kicking and shoving the bedclothes away only to frown and throw a searching hand onto the floor when he can’t find them. Spy watches him feel half-consciously across the carpet for his missing blankets.

“Snipes,” Scout mutters, “Can’tcha just...”

Even unconscious, he is too loud and too energetic. Spy is probably supposed to feel ‘fondness’ or perhaps ‘contentment’, but all he finds a muted version of his usual annoyance.

After finding Scout’s name just after his own on RED’s roster (and hadn’t that been a nasty shock), Spy had expected watching his deaths to be unpleasant. Braced himself for it, even. Instead he found the same irritation he’d feel towards any coworker’s incompetence; watching Scout meet his end in enemy fire felt the same as watching a receptionist load their typewriter backwards. Spy supposes he never was the sentimental type, but to feel nothing at the repeated deaths of his own child is… disappointing.

Spy removes his tie and shuts off the light. He listens to Scout shuffle across the mattress until sleep comes for him.

-

Spy is only a morning person through discipline. It took years of training to get himself out of bed before noon, so he’s surprised to see Scout awake only ten minutes after Spy has made is morning espresso.

“Where the hell did you get coffee?” He grumbles, hair sticking up in all directions.

“I brought it with me,” Spy says coolly.

Scout blearily smudges the heel of his hand across his eyes. “Lemme guess, you only brought enough for one.”

“I could be convinced to make another cup, if you--”

“Get the keys, yeah, I get it.” Scout yawns and shuffles across the room, leaving blankets trailed across the floor in his wake. “You're such a bastard.”

Spy eyes the blankets with distaste. “You are twenty-seven years old, not a teenager. Perhaps consider acting your age.”

Scout flips him off as he disappears into the bathroom. He even slams the door for effect. It reopens a moment later. “The fuck are you wearing?”

Spy sips his espresso and refuses to feel any embarrassment. “The disguise Miss Pauling chose for me. Yours is hanging in the shower.”

“Is that floral print? Why the fuck are you wearing sunglasses inside?”

“You know, I somehow thought your vulgar word choice was to appeal to our teammates.” Spy sets down his tiny cup. “How foolish of me to think of you as anything but an uncouth man child.”

Scout rolls his eyes and slams the bathroom door a second time.

The truth is that after years wearing a mask, Spy isn’t comfortable with his own uncovered face. He’d rather deaden his eyesight than be exposed.

By the time Scout emerges from the bathroom, Spy has washed his tiny cup and saucer and set them on the windowsill to dry. Scout is still wearing his pajamas, but has bent the clothes hanger into some approximation of a hook.

“You don’t really expect that to work,” Spy sneers.

“Chill, asshole.” Scout peers into the vent, “You’re lucky I’m doing this at all.”

Spy watches as he studies the grating. Scout looks at it from all angles, adjusts his makeshift fishing tool, and slowly lowers it into the vents. The wire taps against the metal duct a few times. Scout actually sticks his tongue out in concentration.

“It isn’t possible to—”

“Got it.” Scout carefully draws the wire back. Sure enough, the keys dangle off the end. “Time to put your coffee maker where your mouth is, jackass.”

Spy cocks an impassive eyebrow. “Can you handle espresso?”

“After the stuff Medic makes for me, I’m gonna need at least three of those before we hit the road,” Scout says dismissively.

“No wonder you’re so short.”

Scout chucks the keys at Spy’s head. “Asshole,” he grumbles, wandering back into the bathroom. The shower sputters to life a moment later.

Despite his best efforts, Spy is both mildly impressed at the boy’s dexterity and mildly concerned that Medic is feeding him questionable energy drinks. He shelves both thoughts and flips the coffeemaker on. It gurgles. The shower rattles. Spy looks out the window on the off-chance something interesting happens outside. On a whim he rummages through his suitcase for a tube of welding glue and uses it to reattach the TV antennae. It flickers to life when he turns the knob. He turns it to a local news station and attends the espresso.

The shower squeaks back off. Scout makes a terrible racket of thumping and swearing, finally emerging in the clothes Pauling picked for him. The hat is only slightly different from his uniform, but the enormous black and white tracksuit is quite the departure from his uniform. “What the fuck is wrong with Miami?”

Spy has similar feelings on the matter. If this clothing selection is accurate, Florida has done something terrible to these people.

“Hey, you fixed the TV. I figured you didn’t know how,” Scout says as he picks up his coffee. To Spy’s disgust, he tosses back the espresso like shot. “Ugh, this stuff tastes like shit.”

“And that is why I only brought cheap coffee.” He plucks the empty cup from Scout’s hands before he can do something stupid with it. “I will be leaving in ten minutes. Be in the car or I will leave you behind.”

Scout mutters something like “asshole” under his breath, but collects his things all the same.

-

“ Louisiana! ” Scout slams his fist into Spy’s arm. It’s the third poignantly forceful punch since they began driving this morning.

Spy takes a deep breath. “You said the plates only counted if they are from another state. We are still in Louisiana.”

“Whoops, my bad,” Scout says in a tone that convey zero apology. Another car drives by and he shouts, “ Louisiana!” again.

Spy catches his fist this time. “If you hit me one more time , I will drive this car back to Teufort and tell Miss Pauling it is because you failed. ”

He means to sound threatening. To his immense irritation, Scout bursts out laughing. “That’s such a freakin’ dad thing to say.”

“It is not,” Spy says through gritted teeth, “It’s something adults say to children who cannot behave.”

“You tried to play the ‘quiet game’,” he says, making air-quotes the way Miss Pauling might, “You ‘grounded’ me, and now you’ve pulled ‘don’t make me turn this car around’. Sure you don’t have kids running around somewhere? Oh, wait.”

Spy grits his teeth. They will be at their first destination in eight hours. Surely he can refrain from doing anything rash for that long.

“There’s another one! I think the license plate starts with an ‘L’--”

-

Thanks to Engineer's ridiculous turbo-boosters (as he calls them), they arrive in Tampa by nightfall. Spy finds an independent motel a few short miles from center city. The motel owner is a professional who offers a copy of the evening paper without asking why Spy is wearing sunglasses at night, or why his car is making repeated banging noises. Spy smiles politely, pulls up to their room, and smugly lets Scout out of the trunk.

“I fuckin’ hate you,” Scout grumbles, massaging bloodflow back into his limbs.

“The feeling is mutual,” Spy replies, shoving Scout’s suitcase into his arms. “Behave and you get to ride in the car tomorrow.”

Scout glares, but keeps his mouth shut and keeps the TV to a reasonable volume for this evening’s game. For a while, Spy pretends not to notice the furtive staring he does between pitches, but he’d be a poor intelligence agent if he couldn’t recognize someone psyching themselves up to speak. “Do you have something to say?” He asks without looking up from the paper.

Scout makes a face that suggests he’s thinking about something dangerous. “Nah,” he says, “But uh. Do you wanna watch?”

“I do not follow baseball,” Spy says.

Scout looks away. His face hardens and his shoulder hunch. “Right. Probably not a thing in Europe or wherever.”

Spy studies him in his peripheral vision. “No.”

Scout turns back to his program, but no longer seems to be paying attention. He doesn’t say anything through the evening continues to hold his peace after the lights go out.

-

They leave early the next morning. Scout, who has been quiet and, dare Spy say, polite , gets to sit in the passenger seat. He stares out the window and keeps the fidgeting to a minimum. Even the radio remains untouched. It’s heavenly, better than Spy could have hoped.

It’s also suspicious.

“Scout.”

“What?” Scout says, breathing on the window to doodle in the condensation.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing.”

“You are always doing something, what is it?”

Scout throws his hands in the air. “I’m not doing anything! I’m not doing any of the shit you were complaining about: I’m not making noise, I’m not moving around, I don’t even have any gum.”

Spy’s eyes narrow. “You are always doing something.”

“For fuck’s sake, Spy, there’s nothing else for me to not do! Do you want me to stop breathing, is that it? Am I breathing too loud?”

“You are certainly complaining too loudly now,” Spy snaps.

Scout makes a frustrated noise and a strangling gesture, then dives headfirst over the center console into the back seat.

“What are you doing?!” Spy yells, holding the gearshift so Scout can’t kick it out of place.

“Fuck you,” Scout says as he squirms beneath their clothing and into the foot space, “Wake me up when we get wherever.”

“Oh yes very mature, hide in the backseat like a child. ”

Scout throws up a one-fingered salute in the rear view mirror.

“Good riddance,” Spy hisses, settling himself back into the driver’s seat.

The miles rack up in silence. The sun creeps up over the horizon ahead of him, chasing off the night with pink and orange ombre. It’s beautiful in a cliche sort of way, and as if he could not be more of a French stereotype, reminds him of the night he met Scout’s mother.

The second of Don Genarro’s five children, Minerva had wrenched the throne from her older brother who cited a sudden desire to become a painter in Canada and hasn’t been seen since, leaving her as mob boss of the greater New England area. Spy met her one night at a bar, long after her (mostly peaceful) takeover. She had recently performed a (mostly peaceful) restructuring of her nuclear family, and was taking a rare night on the town before rolling up her sleeves and diving into single motherhood; Spy was paid by a rival gang to watch her for weaknesses. She had seven (seven!) children, was six years his senior and wore her hair in a beehive and swore like it was going out of style and snorted when she laughed.

“Gonna stare all day,” she’d asked, “Or are you gonna buy me a drink?”

Her dress was a similar pink to today’s sky. Upon taking the seat next to her, he’d found himself on the business end of a stiletto blade that, to this day, she will not tell him where she hid. It hovered just over his femoral artery while the the bartender made her drink.

“Here’s what’s going to happen: you’re going to tell me what Donnie Mareto thinks he’s going to accomplish by ruining my fucking night off, then you’re going to pay my tab and just maybe I won’t have to ruin my new Ava Gardner dress with your arterial spray.”

He never had a chance.

“Are you going to sulk back there all day?” He asks the back seat.

Scout doesn’t reply. He seems intent on sleeping, or possibly on ignoring Spy.

Spy knows Scout’s mother wants him to get along with their son. It isn’t reasonable, there’s too much time and too many difficult emotions between them to ever be a ‘real family’ (her words, not his), but still he grits his teeth and asks, “What do you want for breakfast?”

The backseat yields no answer.

“I understand a traditional American breakfast involves pancakes.”

“Fuck off,” Scout mutters from under a sweater.

When Spy sees a diner advertised on the next exit board, he makes the executive decision to pull over for food. He enters the establishment alone and orders a breakfast special and coffee. Scout, who is always less stubborn than hungry, shuffles in ten minutes later to a plate of eggs and bacon.

They don’t talk, but they don’t argue either. Spy sips his coffee. The diner seems to be some kind of neutral ground between the arguing.

“You already eat yours?” Scout asks.

“I ate in the motel.”

“Was it one of those weird-ass tiny dinners you keep in your teeth?”

“If you must know, it was fruit. I managed to find some at a gas station yesterday.”

“Yeah, I didn’t see that part because I was locked in a trunk.”

“Hmm,” Spy says, pointedly not meeting Scout’s glare, “I remember you being insufferable and then much better behaved.”

Scout snorts, but doesn’t stop shoveling food into his mouth. Breakfast seems to have mollified him. “You can never call Ma on me now, y’know. I got the last word on everything because you locked me in a trunk. ”

Spy had considered this at the time, and ultimately decided a full eight hours of silence was worth the potential backlash. “It seems our problem must stay between us.”

“No shit.” Scout folds a pancake in half and starts loading eggs onto it like a tortilla. “I’ll be honest, I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“Oh?” Spy asks, watching breakfast foods pile into the makeshift tortilla. It’s horrifying, yet fascinating to see what Scout will try to eat next.

“You like to keep your hands clean, I figured you’d be a wuss in an actual fight.”

“Just because I wash my hands--”

Scout makes a stop gesture with the hand holding his breakfast wrap, splashing a drop of syrup on the table. “Not like that, jackass. You always do things sneaky-like, all disappearing and backstabs and ‘right behind you’ . You never take a guy head-on. I didn’t think you’d be any good at it.”

Spy leans back in his seat and cocks an eyebrow. He’s actually curious to see where this conversation goes. “You have seen me kill enemies with my bare hands on multiple occasions. What on Earth made you think I wouldn’t be able to fight you?”

Scout shrugs and bites off half the pancake concoction. He mercifully does not try to talk around it until he’s finished. “Mick says you’re a wuss.”

That gives Spy pause. “I wasn’t aware you two were on first-name basis.”

“ Sniper says your a wuss,” Scout says with an eye-roll.

“That man lives in a car and engages enemies by running five miles away and looking at them through a tube. What does he know?”

“He’s got long arms,” Scout points out.

“That he uses to hold two tubes glued together.”

“Got a big knife.”

“Compensation,” Spy says.

Scout chokes on his food.

Spy studies Scout’s face to make sure the sunglasses aren’t distorting his vision. “Surely you are not--”

“No.” Scout bangs on his own chest to clear it, glaring at Spy through the endeavor. Given the short duration of the choking, his face is redder than it should be. “Fuck no, and fuck you. I don’t think of anyone like that.”

“Good god, you are prude. You are so American, you can’t stand even the thought of another man’s body.”

Scout grabs the remains of his breakfast off the plate. “And that’s it for me.”

“How have you survived in the locker room for this long? Everyone gets changed at the same time, surely you’ve seen--”

“Nope.” Scout crosses the diner toward the door, pancakes in hand. “Not talking about this.”

Spy sips his coffee as Scout makes his red-faced exit. He spares a moment to imagine the pairing (what would Scout and the busman even do? Go camping? The idea is laughable) and takes his time flagging down a waitress for the bill. He is… not amused, but not completely irritated either. He muses on this as he leaves change on the table.

-

The address leads them off the highway, down a small side alley, then onto a wide road running parallel to the Tampa’s main street. It clearly has no problems being less prestigious than the city center, with its more sedate traffic and fewer neon lights. It appeals to Spy’s sense of décor until they pull up to their destination.

“Non,” he says, helplessly staring up at the billboard.

“Hell yeah! ” Scout says, already vaulting out of the car and over the hood.

MATINEE DOUBLE FEATURE, the theater sign announces proudly, PSYCHO and BILLY THE KID V. DRACULA.

“Why would anyone put those things together,” Spy asks the empty car, as though it can save him.

The marquee is done up in dozens of lights. Large, well-lit letters over the billboard proclaim that this mockery of an theater is called The Danvers, and the front window is lined with tacky second-hand movie memorabilia. Spy reluctantly parks the car and approaches the ticket counter, where Scout is somehow already causing a commotion.

“And then it’s like eeek-eeek-eeek! And she’s like ‘ahhh!’ ,” he says, dramatically miming what appears to be a woman being murdered with a knife.

“Did you know they used chocolate sauce for the blood,” the ticket taker asks excitedly. She can’t be older than sixteen, which puts her mental age a few years ahead of Scout’s. No wonder they’re getting along.

“Psh, yeah, everybody knows that ,” Scout replies, sniffing in a way that communicates his complete lack of knowledge on the subject, “S’not like they could’ve used real blood or anything.”

“Two, please,” Spy interrupts unenthusiastically.

She takes his money (a complete waste of a dollar, they could have used that to buy so much coffee ) and stamps their tickets. “You’re in for a real treat, mister! It’s a double feature, Psycho and—”

“I saw the sign.”

His deadpan doesn’t seem to dampen her mood. “Real good, both of ‘em. Enjoy!”

“I will not,” he says, grabbing the back of Scout’s jacket to drag him away from the counter before he can re-engage with the ticket taker.

“Fuck off ,” Scout jabs an elbow into Spy’s ribs to make him let go. “What’s your problem now?”

“I have to spend the next four hours watching terrible American films,” Spy replies testily as they approach the gaudy front doors, “I will not spend one moment longer than necessary in this god forsaken excuse of an entertainment house.”

“Shoulda guessed you’d be a killjoy,” Scout says.

Spy is more than happy to have a target for his ire. “And I should have guessed you’d like this kind of tasteless drivel. Of course you would enjoy watching a deranged man kill naked women in showers, and whatever the second monstrosity is.”

“Billy the Kid fights Dracula the Vampire. It ain’t that deep, dumbass.”

Spy responds by shoving Scout into the doorframe. It makes him feel a little better, and better still when Scout retaliates by tackling him into the popcorn stand and starting a short brawl in the wreckage. Unfortunately they seem to have found the East Coast’s most tolerant theater, as the fight only earns them an escort to their seats and a stern warning that further destruction of property will earn them a fine.

“Fuck,” Scout gripes after the usher leaves, “I wanted a coffee, you asshole.”

“I was hoping we'd be thrown out,” Spy says gloomily.

“You were willing to throw the whole freakin’ mission just so you wouldn’t have to sit through a movie? ”

“Two movies,” Spy corrects, crossing his arms and sliding down in his chair. It sticks to the back of his jacket, as though to really, truly emphasize how badly his day has been ruined.

The lights dim, and Spy switches his sunglasses for the tinted pair provided by Miss Pauling. To his disgust, they’re still sticky from Scout’s gummy brush with death. He picks at the residue through the opening credits before sliding them on, bathing the black-and-white movie in shades of pink. Despite the color change, Psycho doesn’t deviate from its usual story: man and woman cannot be together due to financial problems so woman steals money from her employer in the name of love (or something, he doesn’t really care).

“The costuming in this movie is terrible,” Spy grumbles, “And why must we see every errant thought that runs through her head? It ruins the pacing.”

“Shut up,” Scout says without looking away from the screen.

The movie drags on. Spy watches half-heartedly.

“They could have cut half of this so-called plot and had the same film. This could have been a commercial between segments of a soap opera.”

“If you’re so freakin’ miserable, give me the glasses and go do something else,” Scout hisses.

It’s a tempting offer, but Spy has seen Scout become distracted by his own shoelaces while pinned down by enemy fire. There’s no guarantee he’ll be able to watch a movie and keep an eye for the film’s encoded messages at the same time. He explains this to Scout, who has some creative ideas about what Spy can do with his ‘shitty fuck-ass opinions on other people’s fuckin’ attention problems’.

“You do not have ‘attention problems’,” Spy says, disdainfully eyeing Scout’s bouncing leg, “You have a problem paying attention.”

Scout snorts. “Oh yeah, I’m gonna take your word for it.”

Something about the way Scout emphasizes ‘your’ in ‘your word’ sticks in Spy’s head. He picks at it until the thread unravels into clarity. “Medic has been focusing your attention with the energy drinks. That’s why the caffeine content is so high.”

“Duh,” Scout says.

It’s painfully obvious in hindsight. Spy watches him for another moment, reexamining all the fidgeting and chattering in this new light. He pulls a balisong from one of the many hidden pockets he’d sewn into his ridiculous disguise. “Give me your hand.”

This finally draws Scout’s eyes from the screen. “Uh,” he says, eyeing the knife, “No.”

Spy flips it open in the simple three-step clockwise rotation. He does this again more slowly, then puts the knife in Scout’s hand. “Do you understand?”

“What the fuck,” Scout says, which probably also means ‘no’.

Spy walks him through the steps again. Scout’s eyes keep darting between Spy’s face and the knife in his hands until he finally tries to open it himself. He immediately nicks his palm, but the cut is shallow and Spy trusts Scout to be undeterred by a little blood. With uncharacteristic patience, he guides Scout’s hands through the motions until he can replicate them on his own.

“Good.” Spy watches until he is satisfied Scout won’t cut off his fingers, then returns his attention to the movie. “Do that.”

“Why?” Scout asks as he continues flips the blade open and closed.

“Having your hands occupied will help you concentrate.” He glances to where Scout is playing with the knife. “It is something your mother used to do.”

Scout moves the balisong through open and closed a few more times. “I guess so. She messes with hair pins, though.” He curses when he misses a catch and has to close the handles manually.

Spy’s knife continues to click in Scout’s hands as the movie ponderously waddles on. He receives a few cuts, but his fingers remain firmly attached and his leg stops bouncing so Spy considers this a success.

Because Mikhail is a bastard, their secret message doesn’t turn up until the end of the movie. He’s somehow managed to highlight specific letters in the credits. Spy jots them down to spell out a second address and flees the theater. Surprisingly, Scout follows him with minimal complaints, still fiddling with the knife as they walk back to the parking lot. It would be satisfying to put him down for playing with a knife in public, you ridiculous child . The insult rises easily on Spy’s tongue, but he finds that he cares less about public opinion than Scout’s ability to focus. Besides, he’s gaining fluidity with the motions, and can now talk and flip at the same time.

“You owe me a movie,” Scout says as Spy pops the trunk.

“I taught you how to open a knife without killing yourself,” Spy replies, locating a map and shoving their luggage aside to spread it out, “Surely that’s time better spent than watching a movie about cowmen and vampires.”

“I bet Pyro can get the Billy the Kid movie when we get back to base.” Scout leans back against the car, spinning the knife around his finger in a trick Spy did not teach him, as Spy runs his finger across the roads. “So what’s the place?”

The address is a small dawn-to-dusk park in the heart of Miami. Spy memorizes the location and briefly considers slamming the trunk closed on Scout’s jacket. “Apparently we are going to walk in a park,” he says, shooing Scout away from the car to close the trunk instead.

“Now?”

“There was no time indicated, so I can only assume we are meant to attend now.”

-

part 2

[arisu-artnfics]

An Akuma on Konoha - 3

Summary: The class is going to Japan as a last school trip of the year; but what would happen if an akuma attacks when they are arriving and that made them travel to another universe where they meet ninjas and those ninjas are around 17 years old; what would happen, is there will be a reveal or how would they are going back to Paris? Beta by: @rendevok​ & @lily-codie19​ Also on: DA/FF/AO3/FB Original published date: March 29, 2018

Previous/Next Spanish version if this chapter

Cover, art by me: *http://fav.me/daxtkrp (February 4, 2017)

Chapter 3: “A small adventure”

Once all the students, teachers, and the principal had been escorted to what would be their new temporary home, the principal gave them a half hour to locate and settle into their respective rooms - or what they thought to be rooms. When the principal saw the blueprints, he thought that the design was weird to have such a spread out distribution. But, he had sworn that what had been confirmed as small houses for one person, was bigger than just a room. Once inside one, his suspicions were confirmed. They were definitely bigger than what he thought. At least they were what they seemed to be - a living space with a bit of everything. The inside was divided into many parts; a personal bedroom, a toilet and bath, a small kitchen and dining room, and a living room. There was even a small laundry room which included an old washing machine, something similar to a dryer, and even an area to hang-dry clothing. On the top floor, Marinette could hardly believe that they were in a different reality, and even less so that they were so easily accepted and distributed into living quarters just like that. She knew that sooner or later she would need to find a way to separate from the group and transform into Ladybug to investigate, because the akuma couldn’t be that far away and she knew very well that she alone had to stop the akuma in their tracks. On either side of the hall, the last six houses were distributed, among them were Naruto’s and Sasuke's houses. Once they had arrived and finished guiding the rest of the people into their respective homes, team seven and Sai went to Naruto’s after he insisted they continue hanging out together like old times.

“Oh c’mon! Don’t tell me that you are not at least a little bit curious to know where they are from or how they came-ttebayo.” “It’s not that Naruto. You can’t just go and introduce yourself just like that to a group of strangers. It doesn’t matter if it looks like they don’t even know where they are - there is nothing sure about them.” “In reality, Sakura, there is one,” Sai interjected. “What?” was her only answer. “Well, in Root, they taught us to not show emotions...” “Mmmm,” said Sasuke, seeing where he was going with his thought. “And then what?” asked Naruto. “Well, simple, Naruto-kun. They also taught us to see if someone was lying through the expressions that are shown.” “What was the conclusion that you came to?” asked Sasuke seriously. “Oh, well, Sasuke-kun... Until now all the people that I had observed while they had been explaining themselves in Kakashi-sama’s office - they spoke the truth. They don’t know where they are, nor how they came, but…” “But?” Sakura asked this time. “A lot look like they were preoccupied and/or scared. Also the word ‘akuma’... that seemed like it was a key part of this situation. It had been mentioned at least once by one of the members of every team - including the last one. One of the students murmured something like ‘About time, stupid akuma ruining everything’.” “What are we waiting for?!! Ttebayo!! We have to find that akuma - whatever it is - and stop it!” “Naruto…” Sakura said, stopping Naruto. “Dobe,” said Sasuke, who was watching the situation. “Naruto-Kun, although what you say could solve this dilemma, I think that akuma was what you and Sasuke-Kun sent back to wherever all these people came from.” “Mmmm…” was the only thing Sasuke said. “I see,” said Sakura, who then turned to look at Sasuke. “Sasuke-Kun?” “Hn? What happened?” “If for now we can’t do much than wait for it to return, what are you going to do?” “…I’ll go to my room.” “Hey, teme, wait! So soon? Don’t you all want to stay a little longer? I insist to go to introduce ourselves!!!!” he said with a smile which was promptly wiped off his face when Sakura sent him flying into the wall by the door with a single hit. “Dobe.” “Buah, Sakura-chan, that wasn’t necessary.” “Well, I’m sorry Naruto-Kun, but I have to return to the tower. I really only came here to guide the people,” spoke Sai, leaving while smiling his typical smile. In the next room over, Adrien was still processing all that had happened. It was becoming more than clear that the blonde and dark haired boys were, respectively, Naruto and Sasuke, and the girl with the pink hair was none other than Sakura. There was no doubt that they had been in front of the current hokage, Kakashi. Since being on the plane, nothing about what he had seen made any sense. One moment, he had been asking himself how to transform and save everyone from the akuma in the plane, but then from seemingly nowhere, Naruto and Sasuke appear. Then the plane was landing and everyone was guided to the emergency exists in a calm orderly fashion. People acted as though it weren’t a catastrophe, as they gathered their belongings. It wasn’t the expected or normal response, but at the very least there wasn’t any imminent danger. “Hey, Adrien,” Plagg spoke, pulling Adrien out of his thoughts. He was mentally noting the exact place where they had landed, because he knew that later or sooner he should return to investigate as Chat Noir. “What happened, Plagg? Do you think we will be brought back home just by stopping the akuma?” “I don’t know kid, but do you have cheeeeese…? I’m starving.” "When no? Look in the small cooler that I stashed inside my suitcase. By the way, you are lucky that they didn’t pass through x-rays, because I could have gotten in serious trouble. You know that, right?” “Relax, that wouldn’t happen.” “How can you be so sure?” “Well… I don’t know,” Plagg said, shrugging, “I’m just hungry. Cheese, please!” “I know, I know...” Adrien grumbled, shuffling around to find the small cooler, opening it, and then extracting a slice of camembert from its container, giving it to Plagg. “I’ll put the rest in the refrigerator that I saw in the kitchen. Don’t even think about eating it all at once, understood?” “Whatever you say.” “I’m serious Plagg, I only packed a small amount of cheese. It wouldn’t be that much of an issue if we were in Japan, because it’s possible to find a replacement. But we are in Konoha. In Konoha. Do you understand me??” “Honestly, no,” Plagg responded after swallowing the cheese slice he was given. “I don’t know what or where Konoha is -- never heard it.” “Of course not, it’s not a real place! We are in the Naruto manga…” Adrien pauses and finds a lost look on his kwami’s face. “It’s fiction Plagg-- fake.” “I know what fiction is, kid. But I noticed that everything here looks unquestionably fake.” “They’re the same thing, Plagg…” “Look, Adrien, you and I saw the akuma in the plane right?” “Yes.” “Well then it’s simple: That akuma is the one responsible for all of this. Don’t ask so many questions that don’t have answers. I know you’re going to search for the akuma sooner or later, right?” Adrien nods. “Then it’s decided…” “Yes, I think you’re right. Thanks, Plagg.” “No problem, kid.” In that moment, Adrien and the rest of the residents of the top level heard a loud thud and left their rooms to investigate. Their given free time had not yet passed and it didn’t seem that the noise had disturbed many others in the building.

“Hey, what do you think that noise was?” Alya questioned. “I don’t know... Hey, look! Nino is here too.” Said, Marinette. “Hey, girls. I’m guessing you two also heard that? I don’t know if that came from Adrien’s room or the other side…” Nino wondered aloud. “From A-Adrien??” Marinette sputtered. “Girl, that’s his room,” Alya informed, pointing to a door along the hall, choosing the precise moment Adrien opened it to investigate. “Hey, hi” Adrien greeted his friends as they walked up to his doorway. “Hey, dude.” Nino greeted back. “If that noise wasn’t from your room… then?” Adrien asked. “I don’t know… wait your rooms? Are you staying on other side?” said Nino. “Yup,” informed Alya, “Mari is in the other one on the end, I’m in the second one and this guy”, Alya points to Nino, “is in that one,” she explains, finally pointing to the one that is to the left of Adrien’s. “Yes, I remember, that's how it was agreed” Said Adrien. “I wonder who lives in the last ones,” said Marinette while looking to where the noise came from. “I think that the leader said something like his ex-students?” proposed Adrien, making a sound as though he didn’t know. Because, it was still a bit complicated to understand how could he had the luck of live right next to none other than Naruto Uzumaki and Sasuke Uchiha. “Mmmm… I can’t remember well, but I think Adrien is right.” Right as they were musing the residents of the last two rooms on their floor, Naruto’s door opens, and they were greeted with the scene of a pink haired girl checking the a blonde boy in his head, while a dark haired boy simply observed the situation without a comment or change in demeanor. “Well, without doubt, you don’t have anything, Naruto. Next time don’t be such a loud mouth.” Sakura fumed. “But, I don’t know what I did, Sakura-Chan… I only want to introduce myself.” “Dobe.” “Um…” Marinette shyly interrupted, causing the three ninjas to stop and look to the four teens in the entry. “Oh, look at what you’ve done, Naruto. We had agreed to not cause any trouble but you had to do go and make a huge noise!”

“But, Sakura-Chan…” Naruto tried to protest. “I’m sorry, this idiot slip and fell directly into the wall,” Sakura, explained. “Hey!! That’s not true -dattebayo!” “Datte… what??” asked Alya “Oh don’t pay him any attention… It’s just something that he says… Well, I suppose there is not another way…” Sakura mumbled, proceeding to point to her blond companion.“This idiot over here is Naruto Uzumaki,” Sakura spoke, then pointing to the black haired boy, “Sasuke-Kun and I’m Sakura Haruno.”

“Nice to meet you,” said Alya, observing closely all the actions of the ninjas. “Wait a moment…” she mutters, beginning to pull out her phone only to have her movements halted by Marinette. “I apologize. She is Alya, I’m Marinette,” she explains, moving to point to Nino, “Nino,” she offers, then turns, looking at Adrien, immediately blushing before shaking her head and turning back, finally pointing to him, “and he is Adrien.” “Nice to meet you,” said Sakura “Hey, what’s that? Ttebayo!!!!” said Naruto animatedly pointing to the mobile on Alya’s hand “Wow,” Alya marveled, taking a small step back. “How do you not know what this is?? It’s a mobile, duh.” “A what??” Naruto asked, confused. “A mobile, dobe.” “hey teme and what’s that?” “wait a second, you don’t know was a mobile phone” “wow dudes, that’s really weird” “really? Just that Nino??” “what?” “look” then she puts the video that record on the plane “hey, that’s us teme, look… but how could you do it? It’s like if you had done a report of what happen inside the pla… pla…” “plane?” offered Adrien “yes, that” “so let’s see if I understood… no planes and no mobiles, no video… no technology??” “that’s what it looks like Alya” “wow dudes, that’s sad… tell me at least music??” “music? What’s that?” asked Naruto “Nooooooooooo…” “Nino, no technology means no technology… tragic, I know… but hey my phone works at least” “yeah until it runs out of battery” “nooooh… charger dah” “yeaaaahh… but have you seen the powerpoints??” “yes, there are Japanese, as they advice us to be prepared with adapters” “Japanese?” -repeat it Nino “yap” said Alya “mmm… has sense, although this is Konoha, is based in Japanese things… I supposed” thought Adrien “hey guys I’m still not understanding much of what you are saying… especially those images of the teme and I…” “teme?” Asked Alya “forget it” said Sakura “those two always goes with the dobe and teme… but that’s something just between them, totally irrespective, isn’t it, Sasuke-Kun??” “hn” “ok?” said Marinette “hey right Alya, what was your point with that video?” “oh right, don’t you see it?? Those two were the ones who stopped the akuma” after hearing that the three ninjas stared at Alya making her to stop “Akuma, what’s that?” asked Sasuke seriously “ahh… that…” said surprised Alya “a victim” said Adrien “victim?” asked with the same seriously of before Sasuke “yes,” contribute Marinette “victim of Hawk Moth” “Hawk who?” asked Naruto serious “Hawk Moth, he is the real villain in this situation, where we live, he is in charge of torment the city creating akumas of victims that he possess” “And these victims that you are mentioned, victims of what?” asked Sasuke “Wow dude, how serious you are” “Nino, it’s serious what is happening, and you know it” Adrien answered him “I know, dude, but if we are going to explain what is going on… I don’t know, be at least a bit less serious…” he feels how is observed with extreme seriously and analysis by Sasuke and stop “Well,” said Marinette, noticing the tension that it was creating, “Where were we?” “We were saying what’s an akuma.” Said Sakura “Right” said Marinette “well as I was saying the akumas are victims who are… anyone, to be honest, but only when there is a huge emotion” “Negative, for what we know.” Supported Alya. “Yes, negative,” continuous Marinette ,“Then there is no knowledge of how nor when until it is too late, Hawk Moth simply takes advantage of them and transforms them into akumas -” “- that Ladybug and Chat Noir stop when they break the cursed object, freeing the victim and turning all back to normal.” Concludes Alya. “Mmm… then, in conclusion,” says Sakura ,“Where you live, there is a guy named Hawk Moth that controls akumas that curse the object and in that way, controls victims of with negative emotions and apparently those heroes, if you do consider that, can stop them?” “Mmmm… yes, that’s it.” Answered Marinette. “Yes, but Ladybug and Chat Noir are heroes, we don’t only consider it, they are, right Marinette??” “Yes, including Alya has a blog… that I doubt a lot that you know what’s that.” “Yeah, no idea.” Said Sakura. “Hey dudes, now that everything is clear… I’m still confused.” All turn to see Nino confused. “What was that noise a while ago, exactly?” “Oh, haha,” laughs nervously Sakura, “In reality that was my fault, the dumb of Naruto made me feel mad.” “Hey… but I’m fine I swear dattebayo” “Hn”was the only thing that Sasuke said “Then, he didn’t fail as you said before?”asked innocent Marinette “Nah, he can be dumb, but not that bad… I just exaggerate a bit.” Said Sakura, hitting him a bit in the back. “Don’t mentioned it, Sakura-Chan…” with that Naruto rubbed a bit his back. “Well dudes, now everything is clear… I think that I’ll return to my room…” and with that he turns to go. “Hey, Nino are you still installing yourself??” asked Alya “Yeah… I didn’t think that it would take me so long, less that I would get distracted by a noise of a hit…” “Let me help you” and with that starts walking with Nino to his home “Okay? I suppose I’ll get going too.” Said Marinette “Hey, wait!” Said Naruto, “ the teme, Sakura and I thought on going to Ichiraku to eat ramen.” “Wait a second, Naruto when did we agree? I don’t recall that.” said Sakura “Hn” Sasuke grumbled. “C’mon guys, like the old times! Pleaseeeee?” begged Naruto. “…” sighs Sakura “alright, but first let me go to my house” “Teme?” “…” Sasuke saw Naruto, “Hn… I’ll also go home for awhile, let me know dobe when you get out…” with that he went the next door Marinette observed the situation and noticed Sakura going down. “You don’t live here too?” “Ah? No, no… I’m with my parents…” and with that Sakura leaves. “Well you two are joining us, right??” asked Naruto that he still standing in the door of his home, that make look back to Marinette and Adrien also turns back “Ah? Us??” said Marinette “Well yes you and the other two… if you can… do you think that would be weird if I knock the door and invite them??” “No, I don’t think so,” said Adrien but he noticed that in that moment Marinette was looking down remembering that they only have half hour, “but…” “But?” “I don’t think we can, right, Marinette??” “Ah?? What,” Marinette noticed and assumed the question, “No, I don’t think so… the principal just gave us half hour and almost…” “Oh… but then let’s go now, well while more the better.” Said Naruto. “But Naruto, it’s Naruto right?” Naruto nods. “Didn’t you say to your friends that it was to spend a nice time, like old times?” “Yes, but still, it’s the best with more people. Let’s go! It would be cool and we’ll be back before you guys have to do whatever you have to do.” “I don’t know…” then Marinette saw her phone to see the time and noticed that it had been just 10 minutes. “Hey Marinette…” at this, Marinette looked up. “You know, I think that would be a good idea to explore a bit, don’t you think? I bet Alya and Nino are also thinking the same and though I know that maybe as class president, part of your duties is that the class doesn’t make any trouble, isn’t it? We three are part of the class and we won’t have troubles if you’re with us, right? Also, I can see that you as well have curiously to know more in respect and we know very well that in about…” Adrien looks at the time on his phone. “20 or so minutes, the principal will only give us a long and boring talk about all that we shouldn’t do…” “And that would include ‘don’t go walking around there without the teachers’, right?” said Marinette, surprised of how relaxed she was. “Exactly, let’s Alya and Nino know… or do you need something from your room??” he remembered that Plagg was hidden inside and needed to take him, just in case. “Uhh…” Marinette thinks for a moment until she remembers Tikki, “In reality, I think that I forgot my bag and some money… yes, I’ll be back.” “Oh right, I’ll knock Nino, explain them the situation, go for some money and we’ll meet here?” “Yes,” Marinette replied, a bit shy, “See you.” and with that, she returns to her room. “Perfect,” said Naruto, “just knock when you’re ready.” “Alright.” and with that, Adrien went inside to his room, got Plagg and went to Nino. “Hey, dude,” saluted Nino, “we were about to go looking for you two, Alya insist in exploring before they look after us.” Adrien smiled to that. “I was about to say that to you.” “Ohhh… then tell us, sunshine boy, how are we going to reveal?”   “Haha, well not exactly… or yes, now that you mentioned it… but remember Naruto?” “The blonde one of your neighbour,” Alya saw how Nino looked at her with a pout, “the other neighbour.” That made Nino smile. “Yep, that one.” “Ok, what’s with him?” “In a way, he invited Marinette and me, but extended the invitation to you guys too, to Ichiraku ramen.” Adrien answered. “Ohhhh… then Marinette and you…” said Alya. “Well, yes. You two just left when it happened… also Naruto extended the invitation, saying that the more the better.” “Okay.” Said Alya. “You don’t need to go to your room or something before going?? Mari went for some money.” Adrien gazed in the direction of Marinette’s room. “Nope, I have everything here,” she points to her pockets, “I was about to look for Mari. When I heard the sound for that I simply closed well my door and started walking to here when Mari also got out, closed her door and I asked her if she knew what happened, when she said that no idea was when we saw Nino and then you…” “Ah, I see…” the Adrien noticed Marinette closed her door and started walking to them, “oh Mari are you ready?” “Ah? Um… yes” Marinette replied when she joined them. “Genial, let’s go. Nino? Alya?” “Yeah, yeah, yeah…” said Alya and with that, got out with Nino but joined Marinette to walk next to her while Nino was walking next to Adrien. “Hey dudes… do any of you know what’s ramen??” “Mmm… I’m not so sure, but isn’t it a Japanese soup or something like that??” “But I don’t understand… this is not Japan…” “Good observation, Nino.” Said Alya. “Maybe this place is based off Japan?” Offers Adrien the chewed truth, “sincerity, not even I know how to explain without admitting that we are in a manga.” thought Adrien. “Mmm… maybe.” Analysed Alya. “Well, Naruto said that we should knock when we were ready.” Said Adrien once they had arrived to the ninja door. “Well, what are we waiting for?” Alya animatedly said, “I bet that in the way we can even explore more before the principal even notices.” “But Alya… what if Miss Bustier notices it…” “You did see how annoyed Chloe was, right??” “Argh, don’t remind me.” “To when for real they put all together, it’s going to be more than a half hour, trust me that we had also thought about it, Nino and I while he finished accommodating himself” “Riiiiight.” Said Nino. In that moment, Sasuke appears opening the door as if that was his own house. “Hey, dobe, hurry up. I lost the ambus if you want to eat your stupid ramen in peace for once…” “I’m going, teme… and I told you to not call me dobe… also, how did you open the door?” “Hn… close it well next time.” “Oh? You are here. Hey, teme, why didn’t you tell me that they were here too” “Just hurry.” “Hey, Mari… don’t you think that they sound like they just got married.” Whispers Alya, hiding her mouth with her hand. “Ahh.” was the only reply of Marinette. “C’mon now.” Said Sakura, appearing from behind of the guys. “Sakura-Chan, you came.” “I said I would, wouldn’t I?” “Yes-ttebayo!” exclaimed Naruto. “Hey, why not you go first, so it would be easier for you, right?” “But…” said Marinette “It’s easy. Get out to the right, two blocks straight and then to the left one block.” “Ok…” said Marinette with some worry. “Hey, don’t worry, Mari.” said Adrien, noticing that she was getting nervous again and decide to calm her down, putting an arm on top of her shoulders, semi hugging her. “I told you before - while we are with you, there won’t be a problem. After all, you are the class president, right??” “Yap.” said Marinette while blushing. “Then it’s decided, let’s go.” And with that, Alya gave a small push to Adrien and Marinette, forcing them to walk in that way, even down the stairs. Behind them was Nino and Alya in a similar way. “Well,” said Sakura once the Parisians were out of sight, “Any of you noticed something weird on those four?” “Ah? No, nothing, Sakura-Chan… won’t we go to Ichiraku??” Sakura sighs. “Yes, let’s go.” and starts descending the stairs slow to give some distance to the new ones. “Dobe,” said Sasuke, “Don’t forget to close properly this time.” “Teme…” and with that, Naruto closed the door well. And like that, the three ninjas went to the restaurant, although in a different route. That meant that while the group of Parisians arrived from the left, the ninjas from the right. Adrien was still hugging Marinette who was still blushing, but it wasn’t so clear as the beginning; while Nino hugs Alya and she was getting close to give a small touch on the shoulder a Marinette from behind to animate her. While Naruto contagious by the enthusiasm of the group, he also hugs his friend in the same way, while Sakura simply was observing without surprising of how much had change Sasuke.   “I see that you arrived without any trouble.” said Sakura, once the four were close by. “Yes.” replied Marinette shyly. Alya gave her another small touch in the back. “Cheer up girl, that you are with Adrien.” She whispers. “Alya…” Marinette whispered back. While Adrien was watching the dynamic of the girls, but without hearing them and saw how Nino had taken advantage of the situation to hug Alya closer. Adrien feels some of envy, but also happiness for his best friend. He knows how much he wants to be that close to Ladybug, but for the moment he was happy of being accompanied by his friend, Marinette. Although for him Marinette was also a as good friend, she wasn’t Ladybug, yet he didn’t want to get far from her, because there was something about her that made him feel fine. That and the fact he was with good friends, and apparently, he was making good friends with the cooler ninjas that he even saw, even though had been just in a manga. “I can’t believe that I will try the famous ramen that Naruto likes so much.” thought Adrien once everyone was accommodated in their respective places. “Mmm…” said Alya, analysing the local. “Is it just me or this place is new?” “Ohhh, right” said Naruto “the old man Teuchi had to rebuild it… well a lot had to when they free from the Infinite Taikijutsu.” “From the infinite what?” asked Alya. “Wow dudes, infinite what? How someone free from something infinite?” said Nino “well you see… Sasuke used Susanoo and…” “Naruto, I don’t think that these outsiders in first place know or want to know all the details from the Fourth Shinobi World War, and less know what’s a Susanoo…” “Hn” “Wow wow wow… war? Like fight? Between a lot of people with soldiers and all?” asked Alya. “And what do you mean with four… there had been only two world wars…” “Hey, Alya… shhhh… this is not our reality baby, it’s alright.” Comforts Nino. “Poor Alya, although this world may or not based in Japanese things here had been four big wars and though she is a good reporter and all… not even I can imagine what could feel that had been so much…” thought Adrien. “I’m fine, Nino. It’s just, I never thought that it could be a reality worst than our in history. How much do you think would pass until what I think is now peace, is broken again? In our reality, there had only been two world wars and that’s more than enough to keep the peace. Everyone does the impossible to nothing like that happen even Ladybug and Chat… they fight a big enemy that we are thankful that he is not causing international comfits or more… also is it possible that inclusive appears new heroes to stop him for once and for all…” And Alya noticed that her friends looking at her incredulously. “What? Don’t you think it would be genial? In that way I would have even more material for my blog…” “Alya…” said Marinette. “Forgive her, she is always gets animated when it talks about heroes…” while Adrien chuckles. “Dude” Nino chuckled as well. “Well, ramen to everyone old man-ttebayo.” “If that’s what everyone wants, here are seven plates of ramen and the first round is on the house, because I always feel happy to have new clients and more if they are friends of Naruto.” said Teuchi “WHAAAAAAT?!!!!” said the four teens at the same time. “Yes, kids, there is not a problem. But you have only to promise me that you will spread the word and tell to your friends and come back.” said Teuchi “If you insist…” Said Marinette, a bit shy. “Dude that’s for sure” Nino said enthusiastically. “Oh yes, that doesn’t sounds nothing bad, this place looks cool…” “Yes,” said Adrien, “typical of Teuchi, he had been always so nice to Naruto.” He thought. “Genial, old man.” Said Naruto. “Hn” “Thanks.” said Sakura. Time passed and Teuchi gave them their plates of ramen to each one. Sasuke, Naruto and Sakura were sitting at one side, followed by Adrien, Marinette, Alya and Nino, as how they have been walking. Marinette at the beginning was nervous of sitting next to Adrien, but after a while and see how everyone were eating happily she relaxed - being surrounded by her friends, including the new ones, was helping her a lot. On the other side, Adrien couldn’t believe the luck he was getting. He wasn’t just trapped, for the moment, as he remembers, but without any more preambles trapped in Konoha, he was living very close to the Team Seven that was always his favourite. All were enjoying the soup calmly, when Marinette remembers the small time left that they have. “Uhhh… guys.” Marinette said out of nowhere. “What happened, girl?” “I don’t want to be the party pooper, but…” “We are running out of time, right Marinette?” Finished Adrien, who remembered that he promised about not getting in trouble. “Oh right! Mari, you are right.” said Nino checking the time in his phone. “Mmm…” said Naruto while finishing another portion of ramen. “Oh, it’s true you only have short time. Too bad, we want to take you guys to explore Konoha, I bet that you are dying for it, right?” “Ohhhhhhhhhhh yes! That’s a yes. Though I can’t use the internet here, I know I can still record the adventures that we have here and who knows - maybe we’ll find the akuma and Ladybug and Chat will fight it!” “But that would be a next time Alya… if we can.” “It’s true Alya, Adrien is right. You know very well that Mr. Damocles and the other teachers won’t allow us to go out without supervision again…” Reasoned Marinette. “I agree with Mari. Also, I don’t think that would work again the excuse that she is the class president to save us again…” “Okay, okay… you’re all right, but if that akuma returns and I’m close to it don’t try to stop me.” “We know Alya. You’re the only one that goes running to danger.” said Marinette. “Even when I tell you as Ladybug…” thought Marinette. “Al, you know that you should be more careful, right?” “yeah, yeah, yeah. How many akumas has it been?” Sees that nobody answers her. “Okay, that’s no fair, not even I know. But how many times has something bad happened to me?” “Alya… just because Ladybug can cure everything and return all back to normal means that nothing happens to you, you are not invincible…” “Marinette is right, Alya. You should be more careful.” Commented Adrien. “Trust me, I know it for experience, though I do it to save my lady.” thought Adrien. “He agrees with me!” thought Marinette. “Well, well, as all of you agree,” Alya give Marinette a small nudge to her ribs to bring her back to reality, “I supposed that I would be more careful the next time.” She then smiles wide. Marinette sighs. “Thanks for the food, sir. You didn’t need to invite us all, but your ramen is really delicious…” “No problem kid. Just don’t forget to return soon.”

After saying that, the four return back from where they came, leaving Team Seven who are still eating their ramen. When they were about to arrive the building, Alya was the one who broke the silence that had formed while the four were walking separately together as a group.

“Hey, did any of you also noticed how the cartel apart of have the Japanese, has French just below, like if it was translating it by itself?” then everyone looked at Adrien. “What?” Adrien asked confused. “Dude, japanese?” “Hey, I have chinese lessons.” “Ohhhh right, sorry Adrien.” “it’s alright, but now that you have mentioned that Alya, well, yes. I noticed, but I didn’t think that it was weird or wasn’t it?” “Dude.” “Well, I mean, considering that we are in other reality… Nino.” “Oh yeah… haha.”

With that, they arrived just in time to the building. The principal was about to look for them, when he saw them join the rest of students that had descended, he didn’t give it too much importance and began to say the new rules that would be applied. Although in reality they were more than just repeating the agreement with the parents in the last reunion just before the travel, because Japan or not, they’re still in charge of the students and need to do all that is possible to make sure nothing happen to them.

To be continued... :D :D