#but then the flip side of this is seeing all the skinny black metal boys and yearning. so uhm uhhhh uhuh uhu huh.

[rxttingawayy]

literally nothing makes me more okay with being fat more than punk and thrash metal. like guys my size RUN the scene, u think some skinny mfer would survive a wall of death? u think they could crush a 6 pack and still be able to stand, let alone mosh? big boys own the stage and will continue to do so

[serrj215]

Road Trip

"On a dark desert highway, cool wind in my hair"  He sang with the radio. He couldn't be more off-key if he tried.  As the song went on he fumbled and mumbled half the words.  "da da Hoooteeel California"

Beast Boy found himself looking out a windshield. He was in a car, traveling on a highway heading north. It was either very late or ungodly early. Rain was lightly falling on the windshield and save for the headlights and the occasional street lamp it was pitch black. His head was resting against the passenger window. He sat up in the seat, straitening his back trying to remember where he was and what was going on.

"There he is!" The driver says. "You've been out for almost 300 miles, you missed me doing a heartbreaking rendition of Margaritaville about an hour ago. I might have missed my calling."

Beast Boy turned to see a skinny but older man in the driver's seat. He had shaggy blond hair that was months overdue for a trim, and was graying around the temples. When the street lights passed through the windows, he could see he had grey-blue eyes behind chrome wire-rimmed glasses. He must not have shaved for the last few days. The driver's voice was friendly and familiar but Beast Boy couldn’t place it.

The driver arched his back in his seat, stretching tired muscles. "Aggh, I am fading.  Don’t get old Gar, trust me. You ready to switch?"

Beast Boy just sat there staring at him as the music ended and the driver turned down the radio.

"Gar, you still asleep?"  He asked glancing at him before turning his attention back to the road. "Will stop for gas soon, I will buy you a cup of coffee. Three sugars right?"

"Um, Yea." Beast Boy didn’t know what to say which was new for him. He knew the driver and the driver knew him or at least knew him well enough to know how he likes his coffee. He just couldn’t pull the name from his mind. This man was important, he was safe with him but at that moment he would love to see his driver's license.  

"If you pay a few more bucks for the good stuff you don’t need all that sugar. There used to be a little coffee place near the university, they roasted their own beans. I will take you, If it is still there it's been almost 20 years."

"What time is it?" Beast Boy asked.

"Well it's too early for breakfast and too late for dinner " He replied with a smile "but we’re making good time."

Beast Boy knew he had heard that expression before. In fact he was sure that he had used the expression before.  But before he could think too much about it.  

"Please thank Raven for me," he said.  "You found a good one Gar,  It's not many women that would be okay with this.  I mean especially with a little on the way. " He flipped the turn signal and started merging to the right. "I just hate planes. I think it's worth it taking 14 hours to get someplace if it means I get to pick what and when I eat and I am not stuck in a metal tube with no leg room."

"I guess I am lucky I can fly myself " Beast Boy responded then in unison they both said.

"But boy do your/my arms get tired!"

They both started laughing at the very old humor.

"So when is Raven due again?" the driver asked

"Late September."

"So that means you and Raven got frisky right around New Year’s or the Christmas party?

"HEY!?"  He responded he could feel the blood rush up his neck.

"Oh, what?!"  The driver expounded.  "I am one of the foremost experts in primate biology, also I used to be 22 with a hot wife. " He laughed to himself. "You going to tell me that you and Raven go out and save the world, then go home and play Jenga?"

Beast Boy just retreated a bit in embarrassment leaning back against the door.

"You know you should keep it up, it can help with a lot of the pregnancy symptoms. The stress management and blood pressure benefits alone-"

"I do not want to talk about this!"

"Okay. Okay, changing the subject. Have you settled on names yet?" He started again not letting this conversation end.  "I know its tradition to name the firstborn son after the Mother's father but I doubt you're going to do that!"

"Yea that’s a no."  "We were thinking of Marie for a girl."

"Your mother would love that."

The exit came up and the driver pulled off the highway into a gas station. He turned off the car and tossed Beast Boy the keys.  "Okay throw $20 in it, I will get the coffee and you one of those peanut butter jobs if you don’t tell your mother I am getting one too. She worries"

"Dad?!"

"Yea?" he said looking at his son straight on.

Beast Boy really saw him for the first time with the car's dome light.  

"Your dead."

Mark Logan heard that statement and mentally weighed it, after a moment. He said with a smile that Beast Boy had only seen in old photos. "Yea, but I am still around."

The door slammed.

Beast Boy shot up in bed and then tumbled out of it onto the floor, taking the covers with him.  He pushed himself up onto his hands and knees trying to get a hold of reality.

"eg Gar are you okay?" Raven struggled a bit to sit up in bed. She wrapped her arms around herself. "And may I have the blanket back?"

Beast Boy got up, gathered the covers, and made the bed over his pregnant wife.  As he tucked her in he told her about the dream.

"Are you okay? She asked laying on her side looking up at him.

"Yea, I mean it was weird but it was just a dream."  he said not sure if he was buying that himself.

"Was it?"

"Rae? Are you saying that was real?”

"Gar, we have seen so much, different dimensions, time travel, different levels of existence. We have been to so many places and met beings that can use reality as a plaything. it wouldn’t be  unheard of that you were visited." she said just before a long yawn.

"Really?"

"No." she put a small but sympathetic smile on her sleepy face. A pale hand slipped out of the blankets to take his. "We have talked about this before Gar. I know you are-"

"Scared shitless"

"Apprehensive." she corrected "But I know you are going to be a good father. I know you wish your parents were here to help, but we have family and we are going to be okay."

"Yea I know Rae, there is just so much I wish I could ask."

"We will figure it out. Try to relax we have a big day tomorrow. Now come to bed, you neglecting your duties as my personal bed warmer."

He kissed her hand before letting it disappear back under the blanket.  "Okay, I will be there in a minute," he said before walking off.

Beast Boy looked flipped on the bathroom light and went to the sink.  He splashed some water on his face a few times and ran his wet fingers through his hair.  He straightened up and looked in the mirror, when he saw his face he jumped back a bit.

He slowly touched his face, making sure that the person in the glass was doing the same. Somehow he had missed it. He would look at himself every day, and see the goofy kid he was when he joined the Titans. That night he looked in the mirror and saw his father. His skin, eyes, and hair were still green but his chin, and nose, even the barely controlled chaos of his hair was the same as his Dad's.

Maybe Rae was right. Could it be he was trying to tell himself something? Could it be that in the vastness of creation and all of the unknown his father did visit him? Could it be that he just saw the Lion King too many times?  

He took a few deep breaths and headed back to bed.  He found his wife where he left her lying on her side, the blankets pulled tight around her.  He carefully climbed into bed kissing Raven's head.  But before he settled in he leaned over to whisper to his wife's belly.  "Grandpa says hello, and he loves you."

***************************

This story has been with me for a bit.  My father passed a year ago this month. We didn't see eye to eye about many things as I got older.  When I do remember when we did get along it was when we were on the road together.  Long road trips going up and down I-95, where we could talk.  In the passenger seat is where my father would forget that I was his son and we could talk like two men. 

[steamedlem0ns]

Adventures in Goth Sitting Chapter 2: Getting to know your goths dark side.

Part one:

Pairing Bucky x Chubby Powered Female Original Character (Morticia)

Word Count: ~1900

Summary: A glimpse of power has Bucky taking things into his own hands, with a little bit of help.

Warnings: NSFW, Explicit sexual content, dubcon (to be safe), fingering, kinda Dark!Bucky, angst, cursing, drinking, fighting, under the influence of power

Two weeks had passed since the Jumping as I liked to refer to it. Things had, unfortunately and predictably, slipped back to normal. Bucky and I were floating on opposite sides of the universe.

He was sent for a mission three days after and Steve made a point to tell me about his lack of nightmares. ‘Hasn’t happened for more than a night in years, Morty.’

It has nothing to do with me. And that was a hill I’d happily die on.

I sat on the communal couch, legs propped up on Loki as we watched another episode of Goosebumps. Nostalgia was like heroin to the God of Mischief and he was loving this show so far. He’d prodded about my outing with the Soldier but after I smashed a purple tendril into the side of his face he shut up. We’d just fallen into another episode when the sudden silence of our room was shattered.

The doors to the elevator hissed open and out stepped three drunk, loud men. Bucky and Steve had unbuttoned their shirts and Sam had simply shed his. A flask hung off of Buckys belt loop and I laughed.

Turning to Loki, I questioned, “Did you give them that?” He smirked and shrugged,

“The good Capitan said they needed a “boys night” and he said liquor would help. I was simply, helping a friend.”

I smacked his arm and laughed. Mischief, always.

“Morticiaaaaaa!” Sang Steve. The bumbling blonde ran over to the couch and draped himself over the back leaning his head to the side to look at me.

“Show em your pets.” He said. My eyes went wide. Pets. No. He didn’t tell them.

“Yeah, show us your pets, living dead girl.” Sam joined. He hiccuped and gripped onto Buckys side for balance.

“No. Steve, they aren’t pets. They’re a part of me and they’re dangerous. I’m not whipping them out to entertain a bunch of sloshed old men.”

He pouted. Steve Rogers stuck his plump, pink bottom lip out and pouted like a child.

“Please? Well stay back. I told them how cool it looks. Like scary fireworks.”

I relented after several moments of staring at him all big eyes and sweet cheeks.

Loki grabbed my arm as I stood and shot me a look, making sure I was okay with this. I brushed him off gently and he begrudgingly let me go.

“Everyone has to step back and stay back. Steve was wrong,” I walked to the edge of the room near the windows, “they aren’t pets. They’re me.” I glanced at Loki, “Keep them back, please.” He nodded and went to stand, gathering Steve and pulling the other two back toward the other side of the space.

It was like riding a bike, truthfully. Calling my tendrils was just muscle memory, but their impact and power consumption was nothing to joke about. It comes from my chest, deep from within. A cold fire that burns through my very soul, then they come out to play. Long whisps of neon purple dance from my fingertips as they seek to feed.

“They aren’t pets. They feed on impurity, deviousness, and evil. They feed my power without taking a soul. But, arguably their impact is worse.” I let them sing and crawl through the air for a moment, not paying attention to the awestruck group watching. And then I killed them, closed my hands and shut it off. My body crumbled. I fell hard to the marble floor and heaved in as much air as I could. Bringing them out without feeding was too much.

Before I could think again I felt hands wrap around my jaw, tenderly. I looked up to see Loki and Bucky crouched by me, obvious concern etched onto their features.

“I’m okay. It’s just a lot.” I assured them. Bucky braced me against him as he helped me up. They both steadied me as I ambled to the couch.

“Are sure you’re okay, sweets?” Loki asked. He bent, pressing a kiss to my forehead and smoothing my hair. I nodded with a half smile.

“I am. Let me explain, though.” I readjusted on the cushions and pulled a pillow into my lap. Steve and Sam joined us, everyone taking a seat. Loki staying on the floor nearest to me, Bucky on the couch beside me as well.

“I call them tendrils or chicken tenders. They help me when I need it most. They protect me and my abilities and allow me to coax what I need from who I need it. I don’t use them often as they leave the person, empty of all joy and hope. All goodness. I suck out and power their darkest depths at the same time. The tendrils turn them into living buffets of dark energy. Conscience be damned.”

“Do they take a lot out of you?” Sam asked.

“Only if I don’t feed them when they’re pulled out. Like, just now.”

I could see regret and embarrassment cross Steve’s face and he immediately stuttered an apology.

I shook my head, “Its okay. I won’t do it again but at least now if I have to use them in the field you know what they are. I don’t wanna see any of you get hurt because of me.”

I woke the next morning later than usual, having sent a notification to Natasha i would miss our morning session. It was mid afternoon before I emerged from my cave. Dressed in black skinny jeans and a Blackcraft crop top, paired with my black and white converse, I felt confident and cute. I always took the extra time for self care after energy drains, otherwise I’d be a complete bitch. The sun was bright through the windows in the common area, Sam sat at the bar talking to his sister on FaceTime. Scott and Natasha were battling it out on Mario Kart for the last piece of coffee cake and Bucky, Bucky snuck up on me.

He grabbed my hips from behind and yelled my name and I screamed, loud. A burst of purple flared out of my body and I made myself as small as possible. The room clattered to a halt. Natasha booked it to me and pushed Bucky away.

Bucky was just as startled. His chest heaved as the purple mist seeped into his skin. He cold feel cold begin to work it’s way up his spine and he shivered.

“Nat, get Bucky out of here.” I growled. She nodded and began to push the solider from the room. He relented, planting his feet with a horrifying grin.

“I want her.” He snarled. Buckys eyes bore straight through me. The normal glassy seas were tormented by black and purple pulses as the poison sunk into him fully and worked its way through his body.

Natasha shook her head, “Not a chance, big boy. Time to go to your room.” She shoved at him again and Bucky chuckled. He grabbed her wrist and twisted her arm, Natasha grunted.

He muttered to her in Russian and threw her down. Bucky began to stride towards me. My heart raced in my chest as I scrambled backwards. This stride was so much like the one I saw that day when we jumped. My pussy clinched at the thought. He snatched a fistful of my hair and drug me up, pain shot through my skull as I struggled, “Walk.” Bucky shoved me forward and I moved. I wasn’t fighting him. Something in me was screaming at me not to. He marched me to his room, ignoring the screaming of Natasha for Steve to “come get his guard dog before he’s out down.”

His bedroom doors opened much too slowly and he shoved me inside. My palms were sweaty with anticipation and I felt the ache between my legs only grow.

“What. Did. You. Do. To. Me?” Bucky rasped.

“You really scared me. It was an accident. I swear. I would nev…”

“I said, what did you do to me? I won’t ask a third time, doll.”

“It’s like my tendrils but it’s way toned down. It’s like a sparkler compared to a full firework. It uh…enhances darker ambitions and lowers inhibitions.”

Buckys fists clenched tightly at his sides and he huffed.

“Are you okay, Bucky?” I asked timidly. I took a step towards him only for him to step back abruptly.

“Do you wanna know why I stay the fuck away from you?” He asked, not looking up, “it’s because if I don’t, I’m going to fuck that soft body through my mattress and yours. I’m going to ruin you and break you and fucking demolish every single piece of you. And then, I’m gonna stitch you back together and do it again. Forever. Like, my own little toy.”

Holy shit. My breath stopped. Bucky turned to me and tilted his head,

“Oh, doll…you want that don’t you?” He mocked me. Bucky stepped closer and snatched me, flipping me around crushing my back to his body. His metal fingertips bruised at my sides as he ground me into his crotch. His flesh hand wrapped around my throat and tightened. I felt his hard cock beneath his jeans and moaned.

Fuck. I was gonna cave. So hard.

He smirked against my neck and tightened his grip on my hip.

“My little, dirty girl. You want this. You’ve wanted this. Haven’t you?”

I nodded as best as I could beneath his hand.

“Ya know, we didn’t have girls like you back in the day. Not often. And I find, that all you cute, big tittied goth girls -learned that phrase recently - have these lovely Daddy issues. That’s my favorite. I like the little clothes, the black lips, the attitude. But, most of all, I love how fucking wrecked you look when someone finally puts you in your place.”

His metal hand creeped to my jeans button and popped it open, sliding down my zipper. Buckys fingers dug beneath my panties and he cupped my pussy. He growled, squeezing just a bit.

“And chubby girls, god, your pussies are so soft and always so wet. Fuck. I’m mad at myself for shooting down a couple of dames when I was in the army now. If I had known about this,” his fingers slid through my obscene wetness, “I would have said yes. Plus, you’re the best cuddling partners.”

I could be mad at him for half fetishizing my body type and telling me he had a “no fat chicks” rule previously, but people grow. And with his fingers circling my clit edging me closer to orgasm, I could certainly say he was growing on me. Bucky drug his fingers from between my trembling thighs and stuffed them in my mouth roughly. He loosened his grip off my neck and groaned. I felt his cock twitch against my ass.

“God, such a good girl.” He praised.

“Time to be a bad girl though, you think you can do that?”

Bucky asked, kissing my neck and sucking a mark onto the skin.

“Yes, Sir.” I replied, with a dazed smile.

[midnightartemis]

Chapter One (Part One)

She learned that life was a game of survival from a young age. First, it was the religious fanatics— the ones with the locked fridge and the forced prayers and the idea that children were the spawn of Satan to be beaten and starved into godly angels. After them came the Johnsons. They were a young couple, hopeful and naive, and completely unprepared for the half-feral, skin and bones desert commune child that the government dumped in their laps. She didn’t last long there either. But they hadn’t let her starve and they hadn’t hit her and Rey tended to put that down as a plus in her book. It was why she started speaking (though in a British accent much to everyone’s surprise) and it was why she still kept their last name. Even when they gave up on her. After them… It was years in the system until she came to be in the hands of Unkar Plutt.

She learned how to survive. Learned how he always hit her where no one could see, but he only did it when he was raging drunk and he only was raging drunk a few times a month. She learned his tells, knew that some nights she was better off stealing a slushie from the 7-eleven and camping out at the skatepark until it was late enough to go back home. 

As long as she did her chores and didn’t give him trouble, Plutt let her be. Rey was okay with that. She could survive that. 

She sat on the lip of the park's bowl as the sun set, casting riotous shades of pink and purple and red across the cloudy sky. Summer had only just begun and while that met school, which she hated, was over, it also met more time with Plutt. More time in his shop. More ways to mess up and more drunken rages to avoid. She often wondered if he kept her around as something to look at or because she knew how to keep her mouth shut and balance his books. Both sets. 

She’s been coming to the park for a while now, at least when the weather was decent. The weather was always decent. There was something comforting about the sound of wheels and boards on concrete, the whoops and hollers of the skaters, the warmth of the sun on her skin. Reminded her of the desert- only the best parts. People left her alone. 

They learned after… Well, after they learned what happened when they didn’t. A few bloody noses. A few broken boards. Cause and effect. 

The only ones who ever paid her any mind were Kuruk and his small band of nerdy boys in black. Even then it was only a few words here and there. She respected their space and they respected hers. And after the broken nose incident, she’d almost become an honorary member of their group. A staple of the skatepark. She’d never had anywhere to belong before. 

It didn’t mean anything and you could fuck off if you thought it did. 

Rey watched them lazily, sipping on her stolen slushie as Cardo and AP kept biffing it on the same rail trick with a loud “fuck!” Every time. 

There were a few other people around, but like usual, most had left as it started to get dark. 

“Hey! Hey!”

Rey snapped to focus, frowning as she realized Kuruk had been trying to get her attention for a while and was now slowly jogging over to her. He held his board at his side and there was a lopsided smile on his face. He wore black baggy jeans and a baggy t-shirt like the rest of them and he always kept his dark hair buzz cut like he thought about joining the military but only committed to the hair style. 

“What.”

Kuruk laughed. “You’re a Rey of fuckin sunshine, you know that?”

Rey rolled her eyes. It was only the millionth time he had used that line on her. “What do you want, Kuruk?”

“The guys and I are headed to the loft. We wanted to know if you wanted to come.” He gave her that look that he always did that only told Rey he was trying to get in her pants. She was pretty sure the guys had a bet going on it. 

She sighed. “You better have the good vodka this time. And better smokes. Those last ones tasted like dried out ass crack.”

“Yeah, yeah. Totally. One of my buddies is coming back from Chandrila and bringing the good college town shit.”

She didn’t know much about college towns but was fairly certain that “good” college town shit didn’t exist. She nodded anyway. “Fine. But imma kick your ass in Mario Kart.”

“Bet.” Kuruk offered her a hand and Rey let him pull her to her feet. She practically flew off the ground and threw them both into the bowl. It wasn’t that Kuruk was supernaturally strong or anything- she had seen him shirtless and seen that unfortunate happy trail- it was just that she was built like a skinny prepubescent boy with an eating disorder. Rey landed in Kuruks chest and scowled, shoving him off before he could say anything. Some whistles echoed over the park. She grabbed her melted purple slushie and flipped off the rest of the guys. 

Rey went with them with the promise that life would maybe suck less for a little bit with them. At the very least they treated her to free booze and a toke. Inebriation was about the only thing that made Trudge and Ushar’s misogynistic idiocy palatable and Kuruk’s advances maybe not the worst thing in the world. It was nice to be liked. To be wanted. Even if it was just to win a bet. She’d never let them know that. Maker end her if they ever found out. She had enough self worth to know it would never fucking happen. 

They skated through the darkening streets of Coruscant, slow enough that Rey could keep up on foot. It wasn’t hard. None of them could go ten feet without tipping a trash can over or trying to nail a trick off the curb. No one cared as they loudly made their way down the street, making themselves known to the world in the one way they could. Rey trailed after them in the dark. They left the cracked and degrading streets and dipped through a hole in the chain link fence, passing through a barely used rail yard and a dry culvert until they reached a small mostly abandoned warehouse. 

A few years back some real estate guy had bought it and started trying to convert the place into condos. He got about half way done before, probably, coming to his senses and realizing that no one on the south side of Coruscant wanted to buy a luxury condo. Even if there was exposed brick and industrial aesthetic, there was also high crime rates and a hatred of outsiders and gentrification. Scared off most of the investors and the rest vanished after the recession hit and never seemed to leave the south side. Buying the one completed loft back from the city was the only smart decision the guys ever made. Even if they only did it to piss the cops off who kept kicking them out for trespassing. 

Part of Rey wishes she had seen the encounter instead of hearing about it every five seconds from one of the guys. The other part of Rey wondered how they were even smart enough to come up with that plan, let alone execute it.

The Loft as they called it consisted of a giant open area that functioned as a gaming room and kitchen, the most disgusting bathroom Rey had ever stepped foot in, and three bedrooms which had once been split between all of them till Cardo got his own place and Vic moved in with his pregnant girlfriend. Three bedrooms became six after one drunken night where Ushar had taken a sledgehammer to the wall and broken into the abandoned half-finished apartment next door. As far as Rey knew, they were arguing between turning that living room into a sex dungeon or a pool table room. The vote was fifty fifty since Rey refused to participate and Trudge refused to pick a side. The whole place constantly smelled of weed and Kuruk’s weird incense. 

Rey would never admit it, but she secretly loved the place. The ceilings were at least twelve feet high and there were huge metal framed windows that looked out over a field of dead grass to the lights of the city.

Kuruk dug through the mess of a freezer pulling out a half bottle of Everclear and a mostly empty bottle of captain morgans, which Rey snatched from him without a word. She found an unopened can of coke and poured it straight into the Captain's bottle, swishing it around before taking a large sip. No one blinked an eye. 

Across the room, AP cursed as he tried to get the projector working. It wasn’t that old of a projector, but it had been purchased from some seedy electronic store that definitely looked the other way on where they acquired their products. Gaming was about the only thing they ever spent their money on and they had almost every game and system out there. That was the other reason Rey secretly liked this place. Secretly liked most of them. 

Rey carried her bottle with her across the room, stopping AP before the short haired black kid started to rip the machine apart in frustration. If she was being honest, AP was the only guy she ever thought about letting win their stupid bet. He was shy and generally quiet and never really said much to her, which Rey prefered. He gave up the projector to her with a frustrated grunt and sat down on the giant sectional couch to roll a joint with the last of their weed. 

After Rey popped open the lid of the projector and blew out the fan and circuitry, the projector came to life with a small whine. She popped the lid back on and adjusted the focus so it hit the stretched sheet across the room right. 

She hopped down from the chair and took the lit joint from AP for a deep hit before passing it back. Trudge and Ushar eventually moved from the back rooms howling to each other and fighting over who would play COD first. 

“Hey, dickheads. The lady’s already chosen Mario Kart.” Kuruk slammed a shot glass on the table. “Loser finishes the everclear.”

“She always fuckin wins.” Trudge groaned. “She always picks rainbow road. I fuckin hate rainbow road.”

Rey smiled to herself as Trudge and Ushar groaned but ultimately complied with their ringleader’s orders. 

She could kick their asses at Mario Kart with a blindfold on. Rey snatched up the Wii remote and easily beat Trudge, Ushar, and Kuruk on Mario Kart’s three hardest courses. Even when Kuruk sat beside her and Trudge tried to tackle him over the back of the couch. Happy with her victory and at the sight of Ushar and Trudge gagging down straight everclear, she released them to fight over endless rounds of COD. 

Her and AP quietly pass the last joint back and forth, her eyes growing hazy as she practices blowing smoke rings into the air. 

“God you fuckers are rank.”

Rey grips tightly the mostly gone Captain’s bottle in her hand at the unrecognizable voice. People stopped by the loft constantly, but it was always someone she knew. She was halfway to smashing her bottle and brandishing it as a weapon when the guys broke into a flurry of motion, leaping over the couch and flying at the voice as they howled. Rey jumps in the opposite way, watching as the stranger was set upon by the guys. It took a moment for Rey to realize that they weren’t actually beating him up. She took a long swig of her drink. 

Out of the male-bonding wrestling pit emerged one of the tallest, broadest men she had ever seen. He wore all black like the rest of them, but there was something different about him. Long black hair came to his shoulders and Rey fought off the sudden urge to run her fingers through it. His pale skin was covered in smatterings of moles and freckles and his long nose was hooked from a break that didn’t heal right. It wasn’t until his eyes caught hers that the world seemed to break away under her feet. She felt his intense brown eyes from across the room. They dropped down before traveling back up again. He met her with eyes with a smirk and Rey scowled back. Something flashed across his face, too quick for Rey to tell what it was. Confusion, maybe? 

Kuruk caught him staring at her and puffed out his chest in some sort of testosterone filled dominance display. The stranger's eyes didn’t leave her. Rey did the only thing she could think of to win whatever battle she was having with this asshole and downed the rest of the Captain's bottle without breaking eye contact. The corner of his lip tweaked up. 

Kuruk cleared his throat. “Kylo - Rey. Rey - Kylo.”

[pussy-puncher]

A Twinkle of Life

Pairing: Avengers x reader

Warnings: Violence, swearing, blood

Word Count: 1.8k+

A/N: This is my first time writing a fanfic. I know it's not that good. But I still hope you enjoy!

-----------------------------------------------

Just seconds after you shot your opponent between his bright blue eyes, you saw the twinkle of life drain from his once charming blue orbs. Watching his body fall to the ground and red blood pool underneath his still form.

This mission was an easy one. Get in, collect the data then get out, and you could kill everyone in the building if you wanted.

Holstering your gun, you crouched down next to his lifeless body, searching through pockets. You quickly found the USB drive containing information your current employer so badly desired. You slid the small black rectangular device into a pocket on your utility belt then stood up, giving the man’s body one last glance.

You walked out of the room, down the silent halls of the old building that once used to be a factory, but now it’s just a hideout for gangs and mobsters, avoiding the dead bodies of guards, lower level mobsters, and a few unlucky witnesses. 

You see slight movement in your peripheral vision. You quickly unholster your gun, turn in the direction the movement was in and aim your gun at a skinny redheaded woman that had a gun of her own, its barrel aimed at you. Narrowing your eyes at the woman in front of you.

Her pink lips are curled into a seductive smirk. Her green eyes pierce into your own eyes, watching your every movement very closely. 

When she spoke her voice was steady, strong and dripping with pure confidence, “You’ve got something I need. Mind if I borrow it for a moment?” She took a slow step towards you.

You smirked at her, taking a step closer to the redhead as you said, “Sorry, beautiful. But I’m going to need it for later. You understand, right?” You take another step closer.

There was a short moment of tension filled silence. You quickly pulled the trigger of your gun. But she dodged it with inhuman speed and agility. You have never seen a person move as fast as she did. Within seconds of her dodging your bullet, she holstered her gun, ran up to you, grabbed your wrists, twisted the wrist with gun in hand with such force you groaned out in pain and dropped your weapon. She then kicked your gun away from you so you couldn’t get to it anytime soon.

You turned slightly, freeing your left wrist from her tight grasp, you jerked your arm to the right side then slammed it back right into her nose causing it to bleed. You smiled poundly seeing her let go of you and stumble back. She brought her hand up to her nose, some of the red liquid dripped through her fingers and onto the tight black catsuit she wore.

She pulled her hand away from her nose, looked down at her fingers covered in her own blood, looked up at you with an angered expression. She let out a low growl as you smirked at her. 

With the same inhuman speed as before, she lunged at you, grabbed your arm, yanking you around to where she wanted you, lifted her legs over your shoulders and wrapped them tightly around your neck. Her thighs were cutting off your air supply, your hands gripping her thighs, trying to pry her away. You had to get her off before you passed out.

You used one hand to reach down to your utility belt and grab a knife. You quickly jabbed the blade into her side and dragged it down, leaving a large gash.

She hissed in pain, using her thighs to throw you to the ground, she did a flip and landed on her feet with grace and ease. You dropped the knife, groaned, quickly stood up and looked over to see your gun was much closer to you than before.

You quickly grabbed your gun, glancing at the woman seeing her avaluate her injury. She held two fingers to her right ear, you heard her mumble something, “Boys, I need some backup over in the west wing.”

You immediately knew she had just called back up and if her backup was as strong as her, you were screwed. You stood up as fast as you could then turned the other way and bolted for your small private jet you used for all of your traveling.

“Headed your way, Cap!” You heard her yell into her earpiece as she ran after you. Lucky for you, you were pretty familiar with this building. So, you made a sudden left turn, knowing it would lead you outside. You ran down a few more halls and you had seemingly lost her but then ran into another problem. 

A tall, muscular blond man in a red, white and blue combat suit with a large white star on his chest and a shield with red and white circles, like a target on it with a white star in the middle, just like his chest. It looked like the American flag threw up on him. He glared at you and you glared back.

As you were examining the patriotic meathead another man jumps out of  vent behind you, trapping you between the two.

He was also blond, but shorter. His suit was black and purple, and had no sleeves. He had a bow and several arrows in the bag on his back. He quickly drew three arrows, all aimed at you.

You groaned, then pulled one of your favorite gadgets from your belt. Your  venomous daggers. The edges of the blades were dipped in a deadly venom.

You smirked at the two men. Jumping as the archer released the arrows, sending them whizzing through the air under you and directly at the other blond.

The patriotic soldier used his shield to deflect the arrows, then he ran at you. You dodged his attack and made a long gash on his bicep, moving past the two men you dashed down the hall to the exit of the old building.

Laughing, thinking you lost the men. But you abruptly stop in your tracks seeing the redheaded woman from before, two new men and a large green beast.

One of the men is very tall with long blond hair, half of it tied back the other half flowing down to his shoulders. He’s wearing a red cape and a shirt that looks like it’s made of metal, his arms covered in armor like sleeves. He holds a large hammer in one hand. He kind of looks like how you always imagined the princes looked in fairytales.

The other man looks like a robot. He wears a red and gold suit of shiny metal. The face of his suit is removed so I can see his face. He has dark brown hair with a pinch or two of grey. He sports an odd goatee but it looks good on him. He is significantly shorter than the other men but he still holds himself high and mighty. you can practically feel his ego from here. His arms are crossed over his chest.

The large green beast of a man is several feet taller than the others. He seems to have a stern look of anger etched onto his features. His large muscles bulge as he flexes. He looks like a science experiment gone wrong. Like he could level entire cities within an hour.

The two blonds from earlier come up behind you. You look around for an exit but see none. Then groan and curse under your breath. 

The tin man speaks up, annoyance clear in his voice, “Alright, Road Runner. Hand it over.” He holds his hand out and walks up to you. You give him an unimpressed look. “If you give it to us now we won’t kick your ass.”

You refuse by shaking your head. You look over his shoulder at the redhead, getting a better look at her. The sunlight hits her face perfectly. Not that you hadn’t noticed before, but you think she looks gorgeous. The tin man notices your staring and then looks over at her. 

“Hey, Nat. Why don’t you talk to her.You know, woman to woman. Or whatever”

She looks up at you. She was holding her side where you stabbed her. She walked over to you then looked at the men expectantly. They all went over to another jet you assume to be theirs.

Except for the archer. He hesitated to leave her alone with you. She gave him a soft smile, then he nodded and walked over to the others.

“Your boyfriend seems a little over protective, don’t you think?” You were more of a statement than a question.

She looked up at you. “He’s not my boyfriend. He’s just a friend.” She paused for a moment, “I’m not interested in men.”

You smirked down at her due to the height difference between the two of you. “Ah. I see. But... why tell me this?”

“So you know you can trust me. So you know I’m not lying to you.” She looked up at you with her green eyes and you could see she was being honest with you.

“If you give me the USB drive now, I might be able to make you a deal you won’t be able to refuse.” She says a small smile playing on her lips.

Your eyebrows raise in interest in what she has to say, “Go on. I’m listening.” You hadn't realised it but you was smiling at her like you used to smile. Before you turned into a mobster then a paid assassin.

“Me and my team work for S.H.E.I.L.D. Our team specifically is called The Avengers. We try to save people from the bad in this world. I’m sure I could talk my boss into letting you join the team. We need more skilled people like you.”

You stared at her for a long moment. The two of you just standing there looking at each other. Her hoping you would give her the USB drive. You thinking if you should give it to her or just try to run away. Her team, ‘The Avengers’, just watching the two of you from afar, waiting. You take notice that the once large green monster is now replaced with a nervous, short brunette man.

You heard her sigh, probably thinking you weren’t going to cooperate and see her look disappointedly. You pull the USB drive from the pocket on your utility belt you put it in earlier and hold it out for her to take. 

She looks at it sitting in the palm of your gloved hand then up at your eyes, her eyes have that twinkle of life, like that man did before you killed him in cold blood because “it’s your job”.

It’s a dull twinkle. One that has been beaten into submission, treated like it has no value, and told it has no place in this world.

But you see it. Because you have the same twinkle. She smiles and you smile back. Both pairs of eyes twinkle.

"Thank you, Y/N."

-------------------------------------------------------

A/N: Feed back is appreciated!

[whumpqin]

Day One - Anchor

Soooo I decided that I want to participate in the May 2020 whump challenge! I’m not planning on being able to finish this in time, but I do have an idea of where I want to go with all of this. Hopefully this counts...? This fic DOES include an anchor in it but the whump isn’t... surrounded by the anchor so idk fingers crossed!

Masterlist

General taglist: @spiffythespook (If you want to be tagged in my stuff or a specific story, just let me know!)

CW: Failed escape attempt, creepy/intimate whumper, gun involvement, drowning threat, broken fingers threat, alcohol use, noncon kiss on the cheek, maybe some other things I forgot to tag! Let me know if I have to tag something.

Word Count: 2,493

All is still and quiet, save for the sounds of the ocean waves rocking the boat back and forth in a continuous rhythm, waves crashing in the distance. Even the creaking of the boat itself was pleasant to the ears, moved against the ocean without need of worry or care. The ocean carried The Seeker like a dear friend, never once threatening to sink it below its depths. A kind of assurity that he could only dream of.

The only other noise besides the sound of the sea was the gentle sweeping of a broom against the deck, trying to rid the ship of what little dirt had made its way here. He tried to let himself focus onto cleaning as much as he could. That way, he didn’t have to think about anything else but the waves and where to sweep next.

For now, he was alone. The rest of the crew was down below in the underbelly of the ship, partying and singing whatever stupid songs they had come up with over the course of the voyage. It wasn’t often that they left him be and didn’t drag him to their celebrations over nothing, so he relished in the stillness they had left him in. He hoped that they would forget about him until morning..

Nereus paused in his cleaning and sighed heavily, as if trying to let the weight of everything flow off of his shoulders.

He cleaned his way up and down the ship, sweeping what he could off of the boat and into the dark waters below. By the time he had finished this end it was already dark, the light of the moon illuminating the deck in its cool glow. He couldn’t see in the dark like some other crew members or the Captain, so he was forced to squint against the little light that he was given. Nereus prayed that he didn’t slip and tumble over into the waters. Alone, there would be no one to find him. He wasn’t even sure if he could swim.

With a sigh Nereus wiped what little sweat he had on his brow away, lifting his head to see the silhouette of the ship as it rocked back and forth. His eyes caught sight of a dark, looming machine, round in nature with a large, hooked metal object on the end of a chain.

The anchor.

Because they were steadily going to the north, the anchor had been raised for as long as he could remember. Raising the anchor was a  big to-do with several crew members all working together to make sure the thing didn’t break off when they moved it. He knew it was probably one of the most important parts of the ship. After all, without it you’d have no way to properly stop the ship without it getting damaged in the process.

Nereus looked away quickly. He shouldn’t be thinking of that. It was hard to say what could happen to the ship, to the people, if he did such a thing. Everything might get ripped apart or worse!

In his attempt to divert his gaze, his eyes rested against one of the life rafts. Wooden with a couple of oars, small enough to fit on the side of the ship safely tucked away and pristine. Sometimes the crew would drop anchor and use it to catch fish to eat, when supplies were really running low. Nereus knew he could figure a way to untie it. If he’s really careful, he could let the anchor down and rush over to the boat and throw it into the water before anyone can get topside. He’d be gone before anyone could catch him.

It’s such a bad idea. He knew what happened the last time he tried to escape. But the whisper of freedom still called, beckoning him into the ocean. Nereus was desperate.

He dropped his broom where it was and made his way to the liferaft. First he needed to untie it and prepare for it to be in the water. It took him a moment longer than he’d liked, but soon everything was unfastened and the oars delicately placed inside the raft itself. Nereus shifted it so he could easily push it into the water, then stood up straight to look back at the anchor.

This is such a bad idea, his mind warned. Begging him to reconsider. But I have to try. If I don’t try then I’m just what he says that I am.

Nereus shrugged off his worries and embraced the idea of freedom. His feet carried him quickly to the anchor, stopping just in front of levers and buttons - things he never took the time to learn how to operate.

A rush of anticipation sped up his heart as he frantically tried to read anything that might tell him what the levers and buttons did. Just his luck, however, all of the words that may have once been there were no longer present, scratched off with time and use. Nereus cursed under his breath, glancing down to the cabin entrance.

The door opened, and his heart froze.

A Cambion, tall enough to have to bend forward to go through the frame, exited onto the deck. His skin was as blue as the sea, dark enough to look nearly black in the night air. Messy, nearly white hair was tousled and forced into a ponytail, strips of missed strands lying over his light blue eyes.

The Captain.

Nereus ducked for cover as The Captain’s gaze moved over to the liferaft, obviously noticing how it wasn’t secured like everything else should be. He hid behind the anchor, trying to still his breath enough to listen to the Captain’s boots thud against the deck of the ship. Nereus could hear him begin to hum a low tune, one of those dumb sea shanties to himself as he moved.

He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t been called. He wasn’t going to try and find out. Instead, he listened to which direction the sounds were coming from and slowly tried to shift away. Maybe if he swerved to the side he could still get away, still push the raft into the water before the Captain had a chance to grab onto him-

The sound of a gun clicked next to his head.

Nereus swallowed thickly, slowly moving his gaze to his right to stare down the barrel of a gun. He aimed his eyes higher, to look at the softly smiling face of the Captain as he watched. Nereus lifted his hands upwards, a sign of surrender. Tears almost immediately sprung to his eyes as the Captain took a step forward and placed the gun against his forehead.

“Thought you could sneak off in the middle of our celebration, did you?” When there was no answer, the Captain’s smile fell into a frown. “I left you with enough brains to speak, at the very least. Be honest with me and I won’t blow them out across the deck.”

“Y-yes…” he breathed, almost so quiet he could barely be heard above the waves. “I, I did.”

“Did what? What’s the magic words, boy?” The Captain lifted his thumb, cocking the hammer of the gun back to ready it to fire.

“Yes, yes Captain! I did Captain, I’m so sorry! I won’t do it again I promise, I won’t-”

The Captain raised the gun away from Nereus’ face and slammed it into the side of his head, sending him reeling against the ground. He whimpered, curling inwards to prevent any likely kicks against his ribs. He couldn’t do that again.

Above, the Captain grinned that fanged smile that struck fear into the hearts of the entire crew.

“I don’t need none of that babbling from you. Doesn’t work, from what I’ve seen.” He holstered his gun against his left pocket, taking care to put the safety on before doing so. “I know you’re not stupid, you’ll say anything to get someone off of your back, wont ya?”

Nereus didn’t say anything and only nodded, too afraid of what might happen if he accidentally started his “babbling” again.

“No, didn’t think so. Come on, I suppose a lesson’s in order, isn’t it? Gonna have to teach you humans the only way that seems to get through your thick fucking skulls, it seems.”

Hands snaked across his shoulders as the Captain leaned down, hooking fingers into Nereus’ collar and lifting him up with ease. He was so skinny now, it was hard to imagine anyone in the crew having trouble picking him up, let alone the Captain himself.

Nereus was flipped around, rough hands gripping onto the back of his shirt as he was marched to the side of the boat. He could see the waters much more clearly now, and it only filled him with fear as it got closer and closer. It was hard to say what the Captain was going to do with him, whether this might be his last night alive, eaten by whatever lurked in the dark waters or drowned because Nereus couldn’t get the hang of swimming in time, or if he was to be mercifully spared this time around.

He was pushed forward, nearly toppling over one of the metal bars. Suspended only by the Captain’s hand as he held him aloft. Hanging over the waters dangerously, but completely unable to save himself.

Nereus screamed.

“Captain! Please, please Captain I’m sorry! Please don’t drop me I don’t wanna drown, please!” he cried, arms reaching behind him to grab onto the Captain’s wrists.

“What? I thought you wanted to be out there in the open sea! Isn’t this what you wanted?” The Captain’s grip slipped just slightly, instead holding onto Nereus’ pants as he dangled further over the side of the ship.

“No! No, please! Captain I’m sorry! I don’t want to be in the water, please, Captain!” Nereus wasn’t sure if his begging was making sense, anymore. The primal terror in his bones screamed at him and every hair stood on end, proper words were hardly in his mind at the moment.

“That’s what I fucking thought.”

He was hoisted back up onto the deck of the ship and dropped into the floor. Nereus’ weak legs could barely hold his weight, and he collapsed against the floor sobbing. He curled up against himself, trying to protect the important areas even as fear coursed through his veins. There was no telling if the Captain would just leave his lesson at that, or if it would escalate into something worse.

Nereus whined as he was lifted into a sitting position, forced to face the gaze of the one who nearly threw him overboard. The Captain took his chin roughly and tilted his head to the side, inspecting where he had hit him.

“Ah, damn. Looks like that’s gonna bruise. Sorry about that, Roo. Wouldn’t have had to do that if you weren’t stupid enough to try and leave.” The Captain heaved a small sigh, watching Nereus cry into his hands for a moment. He could smell the tinge of alcohol on his breath. “You do realize that you’d likely get yourself killed if you tried to leave on your own, right? No food, no water, no idea where you’re supposed to be going? Why the fuck would you waste time trying to squander the one gift I’ve given you, huh? Look at me.”

Nereus forced his blurry eyes back up to the Captain, who smiled in return.

“There’s my trophy. Now, repeat this back to me. ‘I’m not going to try and escape ever again.’ Go on. Say it.”

He swallowed. “I-I won’t try to escape ever again, Captain,” Nereus murmured softly, voice gravely and cracking.

“Again. This time with feeling.”

“I won’t try to escape ever again, Captain.” It was stronger, with less breaks. Like a passionate opinion said amidst frustrated tears. 

“Good. Now,” the Captain murmured, leaning close to whisper in his ear, a hot breath making him shudder at the feeling. “If you ever try to escape again, Roo, it’ll be your last time. You understand me?” Nereus nodded quickly, terror latching onto his vocal cords and refusing to let go of them. “Good. And if you ever touch that raft again without someone telling you to, I’ll break all of your fingers one. By. One. Just to make sure you’ve gotten the picture. Got it?”

“Ye-yes, Captain. I understand, Captain,” Nereus finally blurted out, voice quaking and hardly any strength put behind it.

“Alright. Now you have two options, because you obviously can’t be trusted by yourself. You can go below deck and help pick up after my crewmen, or you can come up to my room and stay with me. You choose, Roo.” His voice was poisonous, the air of a threat that hung over him like a weighted cloak. It was hard to speak with the Captain’s hiss in his ear, let alone think.

Nereus weighed his options carefully. If he went to clean up after the crewmen, they might be drunk enough to leave him be for the night. He might be able to get a full night’s rest, curled into the safest corner that he could find. Though, the chance that they might be fully aware of him and might try to play mean tricks was always an option, too… But, if he went with the Captain, it was hard to tell what might happen to him. He was at the very least drunk, and the fact that Nereus might have pissed him off made him so very scared of what might happen behind closed doors.

The lesser of two evils was, like always, still evil. But Nereus was going to need plenty of energy to work tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that. If he wanted to survive, whatever would hurt him the least had to be the better option. 

“I’ll clean up after the crew, Captain,” he finally said, after he had managed to gather enough courage for it.

The Captain breathed a deep sigh, and Nereus wasn’t sure if he had made the right decision or not. He felt the gentle press of lips against his bruising cheek, before the Captain pulled away to stare him down with cold eyes.

“Skitter on down to the underbelly, then. I’m sure you know your way around by now. Don’t get any other… ideas, you understand me?” The Captain’s voice had turned to ice, and Nereus certainly wondered if there was a right and wrong choice. 

But he nodded like he was supposed to. You never disobey the Captain. 

Nereus forced himself to his feet and dusted himself off, before running to the door that led into the lower cabin of the ship, holding back king-sized tears and praying that none of the crewmembers asked him about the new bruise against his cheek.

[icyharrington]

Is It Wrong? (Michael Langdon X Reader)

SO! a couple months ago, @langdonsrapture and i had some... interesting conversations about stepdad duncan and stepbrother michael, and i ended up agreeing that i’d write a stepbro michael fic if she wrote a stepdad duncan fic. and she wrote her stepdad duncan fic, so..... i present to you, STEPBROTHER MICHAEL! i am so sorry for this foolishness.... (also, this is going to be a multi part series!!) 

plot: michael langdon is a picture-perfect fuckboy, and, lucky for you, he’s also your stepbrother. how will you survive?

warnings: inappropriate relationships (I MEAN OBVIOUSLY), fuckboy michael, fem!Reader, high school au, drug mentions, alcohol mentions, fingering, cunnilingus, dirty talk 

word count: 6k 

tagging some people i think might be interested: @langdonsrapture @avesatanormalpeoplescareme @wroteclassicaly @langdonsinferno @americanhorrorstudies @sodanova @alicecooper19 @ccodyfern @starwlkers @duncvn @xtheinevitableprophecyx

i.

The summer before your senior year of high school, your life was abruptly separated into two parts: before Michael Langdon, and after Michael Langdon. Up until then, your life had been peaceful- maybe a little boring, mundane, but peaceful all the same. You’d had a painfully average life with painfully average grades and a painfully average social life, but there was nothing to complain about, living in your modest high-ranch with your father in the middle of the suburbs.

And then your father met Miriam Mead Langdon, a slightly eccentric but nice-enough woman who oftentimes frequented the same grocery store he did. You hadn’t had a problem with Miriam; you were pleased to see your father happy after having been single for so long, ever since your mother passed away years before. No, you didn’t have a problem with Miriam- it was her son, Michael, that you couldn’t fucking stand.

Michael Langdon was everything you hated- cocky, rude, a smart-ass, spoiled. Everyone who met him seemed to fall under his spell, charmed by his smooth talking and boyish good looks, and so he always seemed to get whatever he wanted. There was no question of whether he was attractive, with soft waves of blond hair and admittedly beautiful baby blue eyes, paired with plump pink lips that always seemed to be curled into an infuriating smirk. Girls swooned over him, including your own friends (which you’d gagged over), and boys fought for his approval and friendship. It was beyond nauseating.

When your father had announced that he and Miriam were engaged, you’d been forced to swallow your distaste for the boy who, soon enough, would be your stepbrother. In June they were married, and soon afterwards, Miriam and Michael moved into your father’s home. Michael got the once-vacant guest room down the hall from your bedroom, and within a few days it had become an entirely new place; he’d plastered the walls with posters, depicting everything from horror movies to half-naked girls to metal bands. The top of his dresser was strewn with random things he’d thrown there: an empty Jack Daniels bottle, AXE body spray (because of course), an enormous glass-blown bong, a half-empty pack of Marlboro Reds, designer sunglasses. The entire room reeked of weed, sometimes drifting down the hall and into your room, but for some reason your father never mentioned it (which you were sure he would, had it been you who was stinking up the house and not Michael).

That entire summer, you were forced to witness Michael getting away with things you could never dream to: sneaking in girls at all hours of the night (no headphones were good enough to block out the scarring noises that left his room on these occasions), stealing your father’s expensive liquor from the glass-paneled cabinets, leaving the house at 1 am and coming back home after sunrise. It seemed that he was able to talk himself out of anything, and if you didn’t hate him so much, you might have even said you envied him a little.

The only upside was that you were graduating high school this year; the both of you would be off to college in the fall, and then you’d never have to see his stupid, smug face again. Or, at least, almost never.

That thought was the only thing that kept you from losing grip on your sanity; like a prayer, you’d tell yourself: only a few more months.

ii.

“Michael, I don’t know why you’re being so difficult. Just take your sister to school.” The even voice of Miriam filled your kitchen as you glared at Michael, who was slumped over a bowl of cereal- your cereal- at the kitchen table.

“My sister?” he repeated through a mouthful of corn flakes. You gagged dramatically, hoping the gesture caught his eye. “You guys got married not even four months ago and now I’m suddenly expected to act like she’s my blood relative?”

You rolled your eyes, frowning when he reached for the cereal box.

“Believe me, the feeling is mutual,” you muttered, grabbing the box away before he could take more from it.

“Michael,” said Miriam, her voice tinged with warning, but you knew she wasn’t actually going to do anything. Not to Michael, her precious, perfect baby boy who apparently could do not wrong. “You’re going to the same place. It only makes sense for you to drive her.”

“Whatever,” he griped, standing up to grab his backpack off the counter without bothering to put his dish away. Just as you’d expected, Miriam took his bowl and placed it in the sink without a word. “C’mon.”

You followed him to the front door, watching as he retrieved his ring of keys from the back pocket of his black skinny jeans.

“I don’t understand why you can’t just get a ride with (best friend’s name),” he said irritably.

“Because we’re no longer speaking, that’s why.”

“Is it because of-“ he paused, flashing you a shit-eating grin, cocking one eyebrow at you knowingly. Dickhead.

“What do you think?”

“Aww, come on, you’re still mad about that?” he chuckled, pulling his sunglasses off the front of his shirt and sliding them on.

“Yes.” You trailed behind Michael onto the porch, slamming the door behind you loudly. He dug his thumb into a button on his keys, and on cue his sports car- because of fucking course he had a sports car- let out its usual cheery beep as it unlocked.

“You mind getting in the back?” he asked you, tossing his keys up into the air idly and catching them before opening the driver side door.

You scoffed. “Um, yes, I mind?” You opened the passenger door defiantly to find the leather seat strewn with CDs, food wrappers, a math textbook which you highly doubted he used, and- you wrinkled your nose- was that a box of fucking condoms? Yep, condoms, Magnum XL with added lubrication (you seriously regretted taking the time to read the box).

“Ew, Michael,” you said, snatching up the box before tossing it into the back as though you might contract a deadly disease if you touched it for too long. “Very discreet.”

“What, was that the wittle virgin’s first time seeing condoms in real life?” he teased, slipping into the front seat and turning the key in ignition. You picked up as much of his junk as you could before throwing it haphazardly into the back, earning a wince from Michael.

“Not that I have anything to prove to you, but I’m not a virgin,” you lied.

“Riiiight.” He switched on the radio, screwing up his face indecisively as he flipped through the stations.

“No, seriously,” you said, getting in the passenger’s seat and shutting the car door. You considered putting on your seatbelt, but thought that might be something Michael would tease you about, so you refrained.

Why did you even care what he thought?

“Okay, then, who’d you do it with?” he said, reaching into the glove compartment to retrieve a crushed pack of cigarettes. He pulled one out and stuck it between his teeth, rotating his body as he searched the floor of the car for a lighter.

Your lips turned down in disgust. “Can you not do that right now?”

“Uh, it’s my car,” he snapped, and you retreated. He found a lighter, flicking it on and off presumably to test if there was any fluid left, and then he lit his cigarette. He inhaled deeply, letting the smoke unfurl from his nose, before his face lit up once more with a mischievous grin. “Oh right. Who was it that you had sex with, again?”

You pressed your lips together, annoyed that he’d remembered. “You don’t know him.”

You couldn’t see his eyes due to the fact that they were covered with tinted lenses, but you were sure he’d narrowed them suspiciously in your direction at this. It was so obvious that you were full of shit, and you knew it. “I know pretty much everyone who goes to our school.”

“He doesn’t go to our school.”

“Uh-huh,” he said, unconvinced, but you were grateful when he didn’t press on further. He rolled down the window, bringing the cigarette to his plump lips as he backed out of the driveway, hardly bothering to glance over his shoulders. You weren’t entirely sure how he hadn’t been in a car accident yet. Probably just dumb luck, which Michael always seemed to have an abundance of.

You stared out the window for a while, arms crossed in front of your chest as you attempted to avoid the smoke that Michael made no effort to shield you from. The morning sun shone through the window and bounced off Michael’s effortless mop of blond waves, just slightly overgrown, which he’d attempted to neaten with the smallest hint of hair gel.

He looked like something from a movie, you decided, with his leather jacket and laid-back stance, reclined against the back of the seat with one hand resting on the wheel. You couldn’t help but notice his sharp, angular jawline, clenching slightly as he craned his neck to look at the road, and for a moment you almost caught yourself… admiring him.

You shuddered. Absolutely fucking not.

You were halfway to school when Michael decided to break the silence. “So you and (b/f/n) are really done being friends?”

“I mean, I very clearly asked her not to fuck my brother and she did anyway, so yes, really.”  

You saw the vaguest hint of a smirk play at the corners of his lips, his stump of a cigarette dangling out from between them, and you fought back the urge to backhand him.

“So since you’re no longer friends,” he said, putting his cigarette out on the steering wheel and discarding it outside, “you won’t have a problem with us fucking again, then?”

Of fucking course. You should’ve known better than to believe he actually had any sort of interest in what went on in your life.

“I hate you so fucking much,” you murmured.

“I know,” he said, seeming pretty pleased with himself. Why the fuck did your father have to choose the mother of the worst goddamn person in the world to get married to?

Michael pulled up to the school and into his front-and-center reserved parking space, which he’d allegedly won year-round access to in some kind of charity raffle (though you had a sneaking suspicion it had more to do with the fact that every staff member at the school was practically up his ass and gave him whatever he wanted). Pulling the blinder down and sliding open the attached mirror, he examined his reflection for an unsettlingly long period of time before turning to you.

“Do you mind, like, not speaking to me when we get out of the car?”

You let out a huff as you stormed outside, swinging your backpack over your shoulders with exaggerated motions that you hoped were noticeable. Then, still not entirely satisfied, you flipped him the middle finger. From the driver’s seat, still entirely calm and composed, he laughed.

God, you hated him.

iii.

How you’d wound up getting a date with one of Michael’s fuckboy friends was beyond you.

You’d been stranded at school, because of course Michael had ditched you after you’d made him wait all of thirty seconds after the final bell sounded. Next thing you knew, a boy, whom you recognized as one of Michael’s friends, approached you as you wandered aimlessly by the front of the school- you’d exchanged the expected pleasantries (oh, you’re Michael’s sister, right? he’d asked, even though it wasn’t even a question, considering he was at your house almost every weekend) before he’d offered you a ride home, which you’d accepted perhaps against your better judgement.

On the drive home you’d made surprisingly easy conversation, and when he finally pulled up in front of your house, he stopped you before you got out of the car.

“I’d love to take you out sometime,” he’d said sweetly. “How about this weekend?”

Apprehensive as you were, you realized what a prime opportunity this would be to get Michael back. Also, he was pretty damn cute, with prominent dimples and curly brown hair and tanned skin. So you’d accepted the offer, and subsequently arranged for him to pick you up at 8:00 that Friday.

You couldn’t wait for Michael to find out.

iv.

“So how was school?” asked Miriam, shoveling a pile of mashed potatoes onto her plate with an unnaturally friendly grin plastered across her face. You always dreaded family dinners- the forced conversation, the fact that you had to pretend to get along with Michael, the awkward periods of silence as everyone quietly chewed on their food. To you, it was a nightmare, but your father insisted on having “quality family time” every night of the week, and so everyone was expected to be around the kitchen table at 6:00 sharp, no exceptions.

Even Michael wasn’t able to get out of the dinners; he’d attempted every excuse in the book, but your father had refused to let up. Tonight Michael had claimed that he had plans to study at the library- an obvious lie, even to your father, who truly thought Michael was some kind of golden boy; you’d reveled in the dejected look on his face as he’d grudgingly sat down across from you, unable to get his way for once in his charmed life.

“Fine,” you and Michael said in unison, responding to Miriam’s question.

“You kids always say that,” said your father. “Did anything interesting happen? Come on, there has to be more than one word to describe how your day went!”

“Well,” you said slowly, glancing up to see if Michael was paying attention; it didn’t appear that he was, his head resting in the palm of his hand, elbow settled on the edge of the table as he twirled and un-twirled his spaghetti on the end of his fork. You decided to proceed anyway. “I actually got asked out on a date.”

Michael’s head shot up to look at you, eyes wide. “No way. By who?”

You scowled at him. “None of your business.”

“It’s one of my friends, isn’t it?” He seemed pissed, perhaps a bit more pissed than you’d expected, and you were curious as to why he even cared so much.

“Maybe,” you said coyly, taking a sip of water. This was even more satisfying than you thought it would be, getting under his skin, and you made a mental note to try and piss him off more often.

“A date?” your father said, eyebrows furrowed in a stern expression. You weren’t exactly the most popular with boys, and so he wasn’t yet used to the prospect of his baby girl being taken out.

“Mhm,” you said, meeting your gaze with Michael’s and flashing him a barely-detectable wink. Goddamn, did it feel good to finally have the upper hand.

“Well, that’s exciting,” said Miriam. “He’s a very lucky guy.”

Michael still appeared to be beside himself. “Which friend was it? Was it Jacob? Matthew? Chris?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“(Y/n), I’m serious,” he said, balling his fists up on either side of his plate so tightly that his knuckles turned white. Okay, what the hell was his problem?

“Oh, so it’s okay for you to run around with my friends as much as you want, but if I wanna have fun and go out with one of your friends, it’s not allowed? Grow up, dickhead.”

“Language,” scolded your father. You ignored him.

Michael’s nostrils flared, and for a fleeting second, you almost thought he looked cute, all riled up and angry like this. The second the thought crossed your mind, you shuddered, willing it away as quickly as it had come.

“This is different,” said Michael, giving you a pointed look that said, you know what I’m talking about but I can’t say it right now because our parents are sitting right here.

Still, you weren’t actually sure you did know what he was talking about.

“No, it’s not. You’re just mad that someone’s finally giving you a taste of your own medicine,” you spat, abruptly jumping to your feet and picking up your half-full plate of food. “I have homework to do,” you said to your father, not giving him a chance to protest as you hurried over to the sink and dropped your plate in.

/

You’d just gotten settled on your bed when Michael barged into your room, startling you as he burst through the door without warning.

“You know he’s gonna try and fuck you, right?” was the first thing he said, somewhat smug as he leant against the doorframe to look at you.

“You don’t even know who I’m going out with,” you said as dismissively as you could manage, barely looking up from the Youtube video you were watching.

“If it’s one of my friends, he’s gonna try to fuck you, believe me.” He waited for you to react, and when you didn’t, he let out a condescending snort. “Have fun explaining to him that you’re a big fucking virgin.”

This caught your attention, and you averted your eyes up to your stepbrother, his hair just starting to fall from its hold, soft curls clinging to his forehead and neck. He looked so much more innocent like this- sweet, even, dressed in his plaid flannel sleep pants and plain white t-shirt rather than his usual all-black ensemble. He had one toned arm hooked in front of his chest, long fingers wrapped around the bicep of his opposite arm, his muscles rippling slightly with each movement of his upper body. You licked your lips, mouth suddenly going dry.

“What the fuck is your problem?” you asked him sincerely, as if he might decide to drop his act and actually explain to you what was upsetting him.

“I don’t have a problem. You know, excuse me for looking out for my little sister.” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his pajama bottoms for added emphasis, slumping his shoulders dramatically.

At this, you laughed, full and genuine. What a load of shit.

“First of all, Michael, I’m a month younger than you. And second of all, we both know you don’t give a fuck about me. So cut the shit.”

He sneered. “Whatever. I hope you like getting fucked and dumped.”

With that, he turned on his heels, disappearing into the darkness of the hallway and leaving you alone and, quite frankly, confused.

v.

You were in the midst of straightening your hair on Friday night when someone began pounding urgently on the bathroom door. You didn’t have to see the person on the other side, though, to know exactly who it was.

“What do you want, Michael?” You eased the iron down on a chunk of your hair, taking extra precaution not to accidentally burn yourself.

“You’ve been in there long enough,” he said, voice muffled by the barrier of the door. “I need to shower.”

“You showered this morning, dumbass,” you said, setting down the straightener for a moment to apply some eyeliner along the band of your upper eyelashes. You weren’t exactly well-versed in the art of makeup, but considering tonight was the night of your first real date, you’d decided to do some experimenting with the little makeup you owned.

“I have to pee,” he pressed on. You had been in the bathroom for a long time, enjoying yourself as you got ready and listened to music in only your underwear, but in all honesty you were having fun pissing Michael off.

“Too bad.” You brushed some light pink blush onto your cheeks, leveling your head back and forth in the mirror to make sure it wasn’t too much.

There was a scraping noise as the door swung open- that lock had always been faulty. Your arms flew up to your nearly-exposed chest, and your face bloomed deep red as Michael’s pale eyes dropped downwards towards the smooth expanse of your chest. His mouth fell agape before he shut it again, taking a step back, and you could’ve sworn that he, too, was blushing. Or at least it looked that way. It could be the crappy bathroom lighting, you supposed.

He quickly composed himself, poising an eyebrow at you.

“You own a matching bra and underwear set?” he mused.

You shifted, wishing he would just fuck off already, all at once feeling very insecure in your pale pink set that you’d purchased on sale at Victoria’s Secret a few days before. It was your first ever “nice” set of lingerie, and even though you weren’t necessarily planning for anything sexual to happen on your date, you’d thought that tonight would be the perfect occasion to wear it.

“Uh, yeah?” you said, hoping you came off as nonchalant as possible.

“Did you buy that just for tonight?” he asked you with a mocking twinge to his voice, eyes flashing venomously. Your skin prickled in embarrassment, and you looked away.

“No,” you said, picking up the hair straighter again and clamping it around another section of your hair.

“Aww, is tonight the night? Finally getting rid of that v-card?” You focused on your reflection, knowing that the cocky expression no doubt plastered across his face would only serve in making your blood boil.

“Will you just fuck off?” You shoved his firm chest with your free hand, hardly stirring him at all. He snickered, lips twitching at your attempt at being assertive.

“Have fun tonight,” he said in a singsong tone. “But just don’t expect some kind of amazing romantic experience. He’ll probably never call you again once he blows his load inside you.”

Before you could retaliate, he slammed the door shut, and you could hear him laughing to himself as he retreated to his bedroom down the hall. You could still smell his cologne, lingering in the air, even once he was gone.

All at once, a pit formed in your stomach.

vi.

The date was fine, until it wasn’t anymore.

Michael’s friend had arrived at 8:00 on the dot, wasting no time before he began showering you with compliments- he’d remarked that you smelled amazing, making a point to bring his face close to your neck and inhale deeply, which you’d giggled in response to. He’d gushed over how well your maroon sweater flattered your skin tone, eyes just barely ghosting over your cleavage.

First he’d taken you to a diner. Nothing fancy, but you still appreciated the gesture all the same. Over pancakes you’d discussed your plans for after high school, among other things, and you’d been pleased to find how well you both got along.

After dinner was when things had gone downhill. Instead of driving to the local bowling alley, like he’d told you he would, you’d both somehow ended up on the other side of town, parked outside of an abandoned supermarket.

Here we fucking go, you thought to yourself as he shut off the car and stared at you expectantly.

“So,” he said lowly, leaning in towards you while one hand slipped down the side of your seat, pushing down the lever to recline the back. “What do you wanna do now?”

“I thought we were going bowling,” you deadpanned. Perhaps you might have considered doing something sexual with the boy, had he not pulled some shit like this, but now there wasn’t a fucking chance.

“Mmm,” he said, and you cringed at his attempt at sounding sexy as he pressed his lips to the side of your neck. “I think I know a different game we can play.”

You lifted your shoulders up, the suddenness of your motions jerking his head back. “I think you need to take me home.”

He knit his brows, face falling, as he sat upright again. “Are you fucking serious?”

“Very much so,” you retorted, folding your arms in front of you.

“You’re a fucking tease, you know that?”

“And you’re a colossal fucking douchebag.”

You hated that Michael had been right about something, and you most certainly weren’t looking forward to explaining what had happened when you arrived home. You felt stupid, naive, but knew you had nobody to blame but yourself. Your heart sank- there was no way Michael would ever let you live this down.

The drive home was completely silent, and the boy didn’t wait for you to get inside before he sped off into the night. Not that you’d expected him to, after he’d revealed himself to be such a complete and utter fuckboy.

It was barely 9:30 when you arrived through the front door, trying your best to make as little noise as possible so as not to alert anyone of your arrival. The second you’d shut the door behind you, the first tear fell- you hadn’t even realized you were on the verge of crying, but now tears were flowing freely down your cheeks. You wiped your eyes with the back of your sleeve, inadvertently staining the fabric with eyeliner, and you let out a second choked sob at the sight.

You reached down to take off your boots, creeping up the stairs with as much stealth as you could muster. The last thing you wanted right now was for Michael to approach you, especially not while you were vulnerable like this.

Sniffling gently, you padded across the wood flooring to your bedroom, gritting your teeth in concentration as you tiptoed past Michael’s room. Your fingers had just barely brushed your doorknob, however, when you heard Michael’s voice behind you.

“Back already?”

You nearly had a heart attack right then, crying out when his voice cut brashly through the silence. You whipped around, no longer worried about preserving your pride, tear-filled eyes squinted in frustration.

“Yep, I’m back. And before you ask, yes, you were right. He was a fucking asshole. Go ahead and laugh, I don’t give a shit.”

He seemed surprised, the amused look on his face faltering ever-so-slightly. “Told you so.”

He tilted his head, leaning his weight onto his shoulder which rested against the doorframe. It appeared like he wanted to say something else, and you raised your eyebrows at him.

“You know, uh, you might feel better if you smoked some weed.” He pointed over his shoulder into his room. For a moment, you were speechless. Was he—inviting you to hang out with him? “I have some good shit. If you wanna smoke some with me.”

You blinked in disbelief. Was this some sort of sick joke? Something about the way he looked at you, though, told you that he was being serious. Giving him a weak half-smile, you patted away the remainder of your tears with the edge of your sleeve.

“You know what? I think I will.”

vii.

Lying on your back, you watched Michael’s color lamp fade from color to color with bated breath, entranced with the hazy display. The world was so much more beautiful like this, you thought, vision blurred around the edges with a soft glow.

You’d never been high before, but after taking one hit from Michael’s bong (and getting laughed at for coughing so hard), you were gone. Michael was just as stoned as you were, his bloodshot eyes drooping at the corners, lying next to you with his hands folded over his chest.

It was probably the first time the two of you had ever gotten along. You’d talked for what felt like hours- about what, you could hardly remember, but your stomach muscles ached from how hard you’d been laughing all night. Maybe Michael isn’t such a dick, after all, you’d thought in passing.

You turned your head over to Michael, whose porcelain skin was bright pink from the light of the color lamp, and without thinking you reached out and touched his cheek.

“What are you doing?” he asked with a smile, full lips curving upwards on one side, voice raspy and thick.

“Your face is pink.”

“So’s yours.”

You both stared at each other before erupting into hysterics, and then, out of nowhere, Michael’s lips were planted hard against yours. It happened so unexpectedly that it took you a moment to register what had happened, but your lips had already begun to move fluidly against his before the thought processed in your mind.

You whimpered, grasping at the front of his t-shirt and twisting the fabric in your palms, his tongue sliding past your teeth and into your mouth. You could taste his favorite cinnamon gum, the flavor melding seamlessly with that of stale cigarettes, and your breath hitched as he rolled on top of you, propping himself up with his arms on either side of you.

You panted breathlessly beneath him, lifting your hand to the back of his neck and pulling him back down towards you. You craned your neck to meet your lips with his again, your teeth clashing noisily as he deepened the kiss. When he pulled away, a silvery string of spit stretched between your mouths.

What the fuck was happening?

“I knew it,” he mumbled against your jaw, sending vibrations through your body and straight to your cunt.

“Knew what?” You writhed as his torso pushed against yours, feeling the hard protrusion in the front of his flannel pants against your thigh.

“That you’re a virgin. You can’t even kiss properly.”

You gaped at him, heart racing when he brought one hand to wander underneath your sweater, gripping your right breast roughly. You mewled at the possessiveness of his touch, sinking your teeth into your lower lip, and he smirked.

“So sensitive,” he remarked. He pulled down the cups of your bra and tweaked your nipple before massaging it roughly with his thumb, earning him a breathy moan from the back of your throat. “Mm, you like having your big brother touch you, baby?”

You nodded fervently, the ache of your cunt intensifying now, his head moving to the crook of your neck to plant sloppy kisses along your throat. “This is what you wanted all along, isn’t it? What you touch yourself thinking about, late at night when you think nobody can hear you.”

Your eyes widened, gasping slightly when he attached his lips to your neck and began sucking a bruise onto the tender stretch of skin. He brought his hand out from under your shirt, running his fingertips along your bottom lip, and obediently you opened up for him.

He slid two of his fingers into your mouth and over your warm tongue, pressing down as he gathered your saliva on the calloused skin. He bit down slightly on your neck before swiping his tongue over the freshly-formed hickey, relieving you of the small bit of pain he’d caused.

“M-michael,” you whined, once he’d pulled his fingers from your mouth. He shifted himself so he was resting on his side beside you, bringing his wet fingers down to your pelvis and undoing the button of your jeans.

“You want your big bro to make you cum on his fingers? Hm?”

The vulgarity of your words sent a fresh wave of arousal between your thighs, and you groaned.

“Hm?” he repeated, moving his hand from the waistband of your jeans to your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“God, yes,” you breathed. At this point, you were too far gone to think about how goddamn wrong this was. You’d never felt this way before, never been so turned on, and there was nothing in the world that could make you want to stop now.

He exhaled sharply in what sounded like a slight chuckle, and he returned his hand to the zipper of your jeans, pulling it down and shoving his hand into your underwear in one swift motion. You melted at the feeling of his damp fingers moving down the smooth layer of hair along your pubic bone, forming small circles over your clit once he reached it.

“Fuck-“ you exclaimed; all his experience with girls must’ve really paid off, because he knew what he was doing- carefully he pulled back your hood, exposing your pulsing clit, and with his middle finger he tapped lazy patterns on the bud.

Your stomach clenched as he dragged his fingers along your slit, spreading the abundant wetness there and sending shivers down your spine. Parting your lips, he pressed one finger to your entrance experimentally, kissing your shoulder almost comfortingly as he eased it inside.

“So fucking tight,” he rasped, sinking his finger further inside you with a lewd squelching sound. It was your first time being penetrated, and it burned as you felt your walls being stretched out, but within seconds the discomfort was overtaken with pleasure. “My little sis is so wet for me.”

He began pumping in and out steadily, your hips rocking against his hand instinctively, and it wasn’t long before he added a second finger; your jaw unhinged at the intrusion, your thighs spreading further to welcome him inside.

“Michael,” you moaned, eyes rolling back when he quickened his pace, repositioning himself so he could thumb your clit with his free hand. He tilted his head up, biting your swollen lower lip and pulling it towards him, toying with your clit so intensely that it was almost too much.

“You wanna cum, baby?” His hot breath warmed your cheek and desperately you bobbed your head up and down.

He slipped his hand out from between your legs, resulting in a disappointed groan passing your lips. Taking hold of the denim material clinging to your hips, he worked down your jeans and tugged them off, leaving you in only the pale pink lacy thong he’d seen you in earlier.

It was crazy, really, how drastically things had changed in a matter of a few hours.

He crawled down the bed and nestled himself between your legs, spreading them once he’d removed the thin scrap of fabric that was your underwear. You were overtaken with goosebumps as the air hit your throbbing core, his lips brushing teasingly over your inner thighs. You bucked your hips up and he snickered, pushing your pelvis back down on the mattress with one hand.

“You’re so cute when you’re needy,” he purred.

You would’ve shot him a look of distaste, had you not been so worked up.

Slowly, he dragged his tongue up your slit, your hand immediately flying down to tightly grasp at his mess of curls. He glanced up at you from underneath his eyelashes, eyes heavy-lidded from both lust and the THC in his system.

“Tastes so fucking good,” he said, swirling his tongue over your sensitive clit. You twitched, tugging at the root of his hair perhaps a bit too hard, grinding your hips up against his face. Latching his lips around your bundle of nerves, he sucked ruthlessly, sliding two fingers past your entrance for a second time and thrusting them deep.

“That’s it, cum for your big brother.” His words reverberated against your cunt and you cried out, threading his soft hair between your fingers.

He applied even more suction to your clit, turning his fingers inside you and curling them expertly to brush against your spongey inner walls.

It didn’t take much more of this for you to cum, the coil in your stomach snapping without warning. You cried out in ecstasy, your narrow walls tightening around his slender fingers, abdomen tightening as your orgasm flooded throughout your trembling body.

He didn’t stop until you fell back limply into his pillows, chest rising and falling and eyelids fluttering. Finally he pulled away, wiping your juices from his mouth with the back of his hand, a devious grin situated across his lips.

“And to think, all this time I thought you hated me.”

All you could do was roll your eyes.

[anninhiliation]

The Encounter

A/N: This is my submission for the iconic @cnc-oh-boi​ ‘s AU contest congratulations on the 500 queen and to many more! Sorry this took so long kdksfhskjfhdsk I also feel like I just wrote an episode of Supernatural jkhjhkjh (Zabdiel would be moose and Richard would be squirrel sdfjjshjkfs if this was a whole  ass Supernatural spinoff) 

Also; if you guys don't follow Riley TF you doing fam?

Masterlist               Spirit World Masterlist 

“Richuki mira aca” I heard a voice shout as the conservatory window creaked open and a pair of footsteps thudded onto the ground knocking a ceramic pot to the ground

“It seems we have visitors” Mr. Roswelled croaked as he balanced with his two hands on the brass of his cane and slowly lowered himself down on his red leather armchair

“It's been a long time since someone stopped by” I joked as I shut my book closed and filed it back in the bookshelf

“I got the bees-knees just checked out the noise and there’s a hoty-toty in here” Miriam gossiped strutting into the Library swaying her hips side to side 

“Is it just one person?” I questioned as we heard the conservatory’s door open and more footsteps enter

“Does that answer your question?” she cocked her eyebrow taking a drag out of her cigarette holder as a familiar sound of a chain dragging itself into the library approached

“M- miss L/N, I- I beg your pardon b- but there’s a mess of boys out exploring and y- you should check the kitchen y- you won’t believe it,” Curtis stuttered as he fidgeted with the chain around his neck

“Curtis its been seventy-one years that I’ve been telling you to call me Y/N” I stated matter of factly “what’s in the kitchen anyways?” I crossed my arms and raised my eyebrows.

“I r- reckon y- you ch- check for y- yourself miss” Curtis responded as he lowered his head eyes fixed on the rusty old metal links

“Will do Curt” I responded as I walked away

Walking down the hall I noticed it was a total of five guys, counting the one in the kitchen. A tall blonde stood in the conservatory admiring the stars. Another one with dark curly hair, a paperboy hat and a complexion that was close to Roberts walked towards the library. 

“My my well isn’t this a sheik” I heard Miriam gawk 

I found two in the parlor looking through the cabinets as Eugene and Eleanor kept an eye on them. 

“Chris mira” one giggled as he found Earls monocle and top hat

“Earls not going to like this” Eugene shook his head as he got up and walked into the music room

I continued to walk and stood in the doorway of the kitchen with pure shock as my jaw dropped. Seventy-one painstaking years of roaming the halls in between the four large walls I never thought I would see what stood before my eyes. It was him, it was the love of my life, Robert. But he was...different. His once short black hair was longer, shaved at the sides and dyed a crimson red. Tattoos covered his body, ears pierced and he had a nose ring. His clothing was all wrong too but this was Robert standing in the kitchen. I could sense that that was Robert’s soul. He opened the cabinets, then fridge like Robert used to do when he would come home from work making me smile at the old memories. 

"Yo that's wack" he muttered to himself as the rotting stench of the fridge pierced his senses 

I admired him until I noticed something in my peripheral vision making my eyes widen. I spotted Sam in the dumbwaiter, watching Robert attentively. After the incident, Earl was rarely spotted but kept Sam close making the young boy his little puppet. I walked past Robert, locking eyes with Sam as fear pulsated through me.

“Wheres Earl?” I hissed at the boy 

“Master doesn’t like me speaking to you guys” Sam stated as his gaze was locked on Robert

“You can’t tell Earl people are in the house. You understand that right?” I questioned

Sam simply nodded his head no as he tried to turn on the dumbwaiter. I grabbed his hand and forcefully pulled him out dragging him back to the library. 

“My my well isn’t this a night of surprises?” Miriam cheered as her eyes glued to the frightened boy “What’s it been? Ten years? No- must be about fifteen? Who knows.”

“It’s Robert he’s back- Earl, he’s going to try to hurt him we have to keep Earl away from him” I stammered to Miriam and Mr. Rosewelled 

“Dear, I’m afraid it’s a little late for that. The brute spotted one of the visitors-” Constance sighed as she entered the room

“I'M GOING TO KILL HIM!” I screamed shoving Sam towards Mr. Roswelled and ran around the mansion looking for Earl.

“Don’t interrupt me, dear!” Constance hissed as she followed me from close behind “it’s not the young man who looks like Robert it’s a different boy.” 

I stopped dead in my tracks and faced Constance “but Robert came in with these people so we have to protect them too”

“Oh my lord” She gasped hovering her palm over her mouth 

“What?” My eyes widened as I shot my head around the hallway 

“You’ve lost your mind. I thought I would be the first to go or Curtis since we are the oldest. But it’s you, all this Robert talk. I've seen both the real Robert and this redhead you call Robert. They both just look a lot alike...Please tell me you know that.” Constance placed her hands on my shoulders as we heard a loud thud and a man scream “Joel” making both our heads shot up the stairs 

“We have to go, Earls going to kill them” I grabbed Constance’s hand and dragged her towards the commotion up the stairs 

In the upstairs hallway, Earl had his hands around a guy’s throat, holding him up against the wall. The boy with the dark curls’ face was turning red, as he struggled to try to fight back the invisible force. His two friends looked like they were in bad shape, probably from Earl as they could only manage to lay on the ground and scream “Joel”. Anger fueled my body, as I appeared in the physical world and screamed on the top of my lungs at Earl. All eyes were on me as Constance looked at me with pure shock and the living souls screamed in terror at me. Earl looked at me filled with wrath and let the boy go vanishing through the wall, as Norma appeared for her residual haunting. 

“You’ve done it now dear” Constance sighed 

“Don’t mind her, she’s been doing the same thing for years now,” I told the three boys as I watched Normal do her routine of sprinting up the stairs holding her long dress high enough to show her ankles with a frightened expression, muttering incoherent words. She tripped halfway down the hall, turning around while still on the ground screaming as she lifted her arm as if she was trying to protect herself. Norma faded into the thin air letting me focus back on the boys

“Ay Dios mio...you're...dead…” The curly boy spoke as he did the sign of the cross

“And you’re in my house” I retorted

“Ay nena you’re not going to possess us...are you?” The skinny boy with long brown hair asked 

“I have a name you know. It's Y/N and no I don’t possess people...but you guys need to get out of here.” I warned as I inspected their injuries

“Yea...about that…” The dark curly-haired boy nervously spoke

“What?” I questioned 

“The windows and doors are locked” The skinny one with long brown hair admitted

“Great Earl’s playing cat and mouse with these poor boys” Constance interrupted as she nervously paced around us

“Well his games over” I declared 

The three boys looked at me as if I had three heads making me realize Constance had still not shown herself in the physical world. 

“Constance, you want to show yourself?” I glared at her

“Fine” she whined as she crossed over to the physical world

“How many of you are there?” The green-eyed boy questioned

“Doesn't matter” Constance snapped “follow me I know a way out”

“Wait we have two other friends downstairs”  The curly-haired one argued

The five of us rushed downstairs as the boys shouted “Richard” and “Zabdiel” finding Zabdiel in the library deep into a book and Richard in the music room playing with the instruments.  

I couldn't help but stare at Richard memorized by how much he acted and looked like Robert. He must have caught me staring because he shot me a look of confusion. 

“You look like someone I used to know” I explained to him as Constance paced around thinking of a way to get everyone out

I grabbed my shriveled up copy of A Streetcar Named Desire and flipped it to the middle where I hid a picture of Robert, Leroy, and I. Grabbing the photograph I showed Richard, pointing at Robert.

“This was Robert...my husband…this was Leroy our- my baby” I smiled remembering the day we took the picture. 

It was the first day of spring, Leroy was just four months at the time and Robert was just promoted in the factory, life was looking up for my family.  Richard stared at the photograph memorized, not even noticing his friend walk up to him. 

“Ay papa mira son iguales" Richard's friend gasped

“I got it!” Constance interrupted making all eyes land on her “just follow me, the walls have ears you know, but terrible eyesight” 

She walked up to the third floor and into what used to be her bedroom. 

“You know this house was built for me” She explained as she opened the doors to the walk-in closet “and when I died in here I couldn't help but take some secrets with me” 

Constance knelt down by a soggy old cardboard box and moved it to the side. She grabbed the corner of the moldy carpet and pulled it across the small room creating a triangle. Grabbing the edge of one of the wooden planks Constance lifted it up exposing a hidden crawl space. 

“It's a tight squeeze but it will get you out” she smiled

“Sure about that?” Echoed through the dark hole 

“Shit” I uttered as I threw the wooden planks back onto the ground “we need another way”

We ran down the hall, only to stop like a deer in the headlights as Sam stood at the edge of the stairs. Unexpectedly, Eugene appeared from across the hall and charged at Sam with full force. Both of them fell down the stairs, as Eugene grabbed Sam refusing to let him go. Eugene’s big build broke the stairs’ railing sending them both to the first floor. We heard Earl yell at Eugene making us run back into Constance’s room.

“Yo we cant leave you with that guy here” Richard argued

“That’s sweet dear, but I've been dealing with him since I was alive. Once the living is off the property I’m sure he will go back into hiding” Constance smiled as she uncovered the crawl space 

“Eleanor dear” Constance called out into the crawl space 

Slowly the little seven-year-old girl popped her head up from the crawl space. Her light blue eyes looked up at Constance as she rested her arms on the wooden floor. 

“Dear do you mind guiding the living safely out? Y/N and I are going to distract Sam and Earl as you guide them out...the closest way out is by the patio.” Constance winked 

Eleanor nodded her head as she moved away, allowing the boys to crawl in. They all looked at each other and backed away making me furrow my eyebrows. 

“What are you doing? Eugene cant distract them forever you know! It’s now or never! Go!” I hissed pushing them closer to the hole.

“Sorry shawty we can’t leave you guys here with that guy,” Richard remarked

Constance rolled her eyebrows, “Li-” she went to respond as Miriam appeared in the physical realm 

“Its always the macho men” Miriam laughed “Use ladies can take care of the big bad man” she purred as she stood in front of Erick lightly trailing her finger around his chest 

“But if you guys are scared I can guide you in the tight little space” Miriam flirted as she blew smoke into Chris 

Joel was the first move past the guys and step close to the crawl space. 

“I’ll get a priest to bless the house tomorrow if you can please bring me his things so we can get those blessed too,” Joel ordered before stepping into the crawl space.

Zabdiel was the next to step in, “I didn’t even want to come here in the first place dios mio” he muttered before disappearing into the darkness.

Erick looked at Chris who looked over at Richard. 

“We should go, como quieres pelear una fantasma?” Chris sighed as he placed his hand on Richard’s shoulder

“We gotta do something man” Richard groaned

“No offense pero nos podemos ir?” Erick asked as he tried to usher both of his friends into the crawl space 

Stomping came up the stairs and down the hall making all three quickly rush into the crawl space with the help of Miriam shoving them in. Earl busted down the closet door right after we fixed the carpet. 

“Where are they?” He fumed 

“Let me show you” Miriam purred as she slowly approached him “I cant take you to them real fast” 

He pulled out an engagement ring and flashed it in front of her. Her head slightly turned back, facing us with distraught. 

“M-my ring...Earl baby you wouldn’t” Miriam fake laughed trying to cover her fear

“Don’t test me or you’ll burn” He growled 

The two walked away, as I looked over to Constance who shared the same expression of worry as me. 

“We have to help her” I distressed as I went to leave the room

Constance grabbed my hand and stopped me. 

“There’s nothing we can do. If she does the right thing, she will accept her fate, if she makes the wrong choice we might have a new group of people with us” Constance acknowledged 

“Cant we distract Earl?” I pleaded 

“Dear, if we upset him further he’s going to send us to the flames” Constance stated matter of factly 

“Constance you’re not helping!” I snapped

“Dear, this is not your problem! Those boys should have known of the dark history of this property...yet they still choose to enter” Constance defended 

Constance was right but I didn’t want to admit, I was furious storming out of the room and acting on impulse. I marched down the stairs and into Earl’s office grabbing an old box of matches and everything flammable into the fireplace. The fire roared heating the room and illuminating the once dark and gloomy office. 

“What are you doing?” Mr. Roswelled questioned as I threw a stack of books into the fire

“Earl needs a taste of his own medicine he needs to burn” I explained as the fire burned through the pages 

“You’re only going to upset him further...his item is kept close to him” Mr. Roswelled spoke as he watched me throw anything I could get my hands on to throw it in

“Well he can ta-” I went to answer as Earl barged into the room with a crying Miriam 

“I’m sorry” she continuously choked out between the tears 

My eyes widened as Earl pulled out my heart-shaped locket and walked towards the fire. 

“You wouldn’t” I argued

“Watch me” He snapped as he held the chain over the hungry flames 

Glass shattered as a rock went through Earl and smashing a lamp. Earl looked up, confused as another rock came flying through the shattered window, taking more glass down. Earl pulled the chain away from the fire as he walked towards the window distracted by the commotion. I took the opportunity to grab my locket and bolt towards the door. I ran out the front door to be met with the same five people who entered. Erick and Chris were both distracted throwing rocks into the only room with light. 

“Richard!” I shouted as Earl trailed close behind me “you guys have to go” 

“But look who came out shawty” Richard shouted back as I heard Earl scream 

His spirit lit up the night sky, as I looked up towards the office window and saw Mr. Roswelled standing near the broken glass watching. 

“You took your item so I took his” He shouted

I looked back at Richard and jumped into his arms. 

“Thank you” I whispered and kissed his cheek 

“Richuki vamos!” Erick shouted as the four others crawled through a hole in the chainlink fence

“No problem shawty” He smiled before turning away and never looking back

[wittyy-name]

June’s Seventh Patreon Oneshot is Now Available

As part of the Special Offer I hosted in June, every patron of the $35 tier got to give me a prompt for a oneshot. These oneshots will then be patreon exclusive and available for all patrons for $3 and up. Three more to go.

Prompt: The gang goes camping, Keith and Lance get lost, romance buds between them.

Klance - Camping au - 9,481 words Keith and Lance have a rocky history, and Lance is willing to admit it’s probably his fault. But he’s changed his ways, seen the light, developed a consuming crush, and is now totally ready to woo the pants off of Keith. 

He’s been steadily inching closer over the past few months, but what better time to really buckle down and kiss the boy than a romantic camping trip out in the woods? Granted, their friends are all there, but that’s besides the point. Lance is great at camping, he’s totally going to impress Keith, and Keith will undoubtably swoon into his arms. 

What could possibly go wrong?

If you want access to this oneshot, many others like it, drabbles, early access to chapters, outlines, and other rewards, please check out my Patreon!

Reblogs appreciated! Excerpt Below…

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[ EXCERPT... ]

Lance > I hope you’re ready to lose mullet > You’re going down

Keith > What are you talking about?

Lance > CAMPING keith, keep up > I’m gonna beat you at camping so hard

Keith > Camping isn’t a competition, Lance

Lance > Au contraire mon ami > Camping is a TOURNAMENT of competitions

Keith > Did you have to google how to spell that?

Lance > …… > Shut UP KeITH > I’m trying to set the stage here

Keith > Set the stage for what?

Lance > For the camping competition!!

Keith > IF this is a competition, which it isn’t, what makes you so sure you’ll win?

Lance > Because I have YEARS of family camping experience behind me and YEARS of beating my siblings

Keith > Dad and I used to go camping every other weekend

Lance > Oh ho ho > I spy a worthy opponent >:)

Keith > Stop

Lance > >:))))))))

Keith > I’m going to stop replying

Lance > We both know you can’t resist me > ….. > Keith > KEEEEEITH > Buddy stop ignoring me

Lance stares at his phone for a moment longer before huffing, lifting his head to glare at the black car ahead of them. He can just make out the shape of Keith’s messy hair in the backseat of the car. He knows for a fact that Keith is ignoring him just for the hell of it right now. Just to prove a point. Just to get under Lance’s skin.

Well, it’s working.

Two can play this game.

Lance > Keith I s2g > If you keep ignoring me I’m gonna have to do something drastic > Drastic times and drastic measures and all that > This is your last warning > I’ll give you something you can’t ignore >:)

He gives Keith a courteous thirty seconds before slapping his phone down and turning to Hunk, who had been blissfully mouthing along to their patented Best Friend Road Trip Playlist as he drove. “Hunk, speed up.”

He blinks, brows furrowing as he sneaks a sidelong glance at Lance. “What?”

“You heard me. Speed up.”

“Lance, there’s a car in front of me—“

“I know. I need you to pass them. But like, pause right beside them for a second.”

Hunk groans, head falling back against the headrest, it’s a noise that’s long suffering and exasperated, but Lance swears there’s some fondness and acceptance in there, too. He may not know where Lance is going with this, but he sure as hell knows the direction. “What’re you going to do this time?”

Lance doesn’t even try to hide his grin, wide and shameless, alight with mischief. “You’ll see.”

“I don’t know if this is a good idea,” he says, but he’s already looking over his shoulder, waiting for the car next to them to pass so he can merge over.

“Hunk, buddy, my man, what’s the fun in road tripping with friends in a caravan if you can’t antagonize the other car when you pass?”

“But I wasn’t planning on passing them.”

“Please?” He asks, eyes wide and lip sticking out in a perfected youngest sibling pout. He leans over the center console, pressing his cheek up against Hunk’s arm. “Pretty please? You know I’d do it for you in a heart beat.”

Hunk glances down at him, a small smile on his lips even as he sighs. “I don’t antagonize our friends like you do.”

“It’s all part of my charm.”

“I say we do it,” Pidge says from the backseat. Matt’s passed out beside her, head flopped back and a thin line of drool sliding down his chin. She’s been lost in playing her Switch, but she sets it aside with the possibility of shenanigans.

“Why do you want to, anyway?” Hunk asks, and Lance huffs, indignant and overly bitter.

“Keith is ignoring me, so I wanna give him something he can’t ignore.”

“Mature,” Pidge says dryly, laced with amusement.

“Shut up, Pidge.”

“Weren’t you going to use this weekend to, and I quote, woo Keith?”

“Yes, and this is all part of my plan.”

“To annoy him?”

“I’m not annoying him!”

“I’m with Lance on this one,” Hunk says, shaking his head with a fond smile. “Keith is pretty blunt about things, and if Lance was actually annoying him, he’d say something about it. Instead he always keeps Lance going, and only ignores him to rile him up.”

“See?” Lance gestures to Hunk, twisting in his seat to scowl at Pidge. “It’s not annoying if Keith finds it endearing.”

“So what’re you gonna do that’s totally not annoying?”

Lance grins at that, and he sees the answering spark of curiosity in Pidge. “You’ll see.”

“Do it, Hunk. I wanna see what Lance has planned.”

And while he doesn’t admit it, Hunk does, too. It’s in the way his smile curls just a fraction wider, eyes glinting with his own brand of mischief and rampant curiosity. “Alright, hold on.”

“Hell yeah!”

As Hunk pulls out into the next Lane, Lance quickly unbuckles his seatbelt. “Whoa, what are you— Lance!” Hunk sneaks quick side long glances at him, eyes wide with shock and mouth hanging open. Behind them, Pidge cackles.

“Just keep going.” He waves a hand at Hunk as he gets up on his knees, turning in his seat to put his back tot he window, crouched on the seat like some sort of gargoyle. “Don’t forget to pause next to them for a second before passing them.”

“Oh my god,” Hunk mutters, gasping as Lance unbuttons his jeans. “Oh my god, Lance! You are not— oh, you so are. I can’t believe this.”

“You can, and you’re encouraging me because you’re still driving.”

“This is amazing,” Pidge gasps through laughter, scrambling to pull her phone out. “Hold on, I’m filming this.”

Hunk speeds up, muttering to himself the whole time but never once indicating that he’s not a hundred percent on board. As they pull up next to Shiro’s car, on the side where Keith is sitting, Lance shoves his thumbs into the waistband of both jeans and underwear, pulling them down and leaning back to press his ass against the window.

He’ll admit, it’s an awkward position. But judging from Pidge’s cackling and declarations of Oh my god, you should see their faces! and Hunk’s own startled laughter, it’s totally worth it.

Then Hunk puts the petal to the metal and speeds past them, merging back into the other lane ahead of Shiro. Only then does Lance pull his pants back up, settling back into his seat and re-buckling his seatbelt.

Pidge leans forward immediately to show him the video, and he relishes the horrified look on Shiro’s face, Adam’s startled laugh from the passenger seat, and Keith’s surprised face from the backseat. Eyes wide. Mouth hanging open. Completely in shock.

Beautiful.

His phone vibrates, and he reaches for it, grinning from ear to ear.

Keith > What the FUCK

Lance > Told you I’d give you something you can’t ignore ;)

Keith > If you think your skinny ass is enough to hold my attention, I’ve got some bad news for you

Lance > >:O !!!!! > RUDE!!!!

Just then, a car pulls past them, and he glances over in time to register that it’s Shiro’s car, and Keith is definitely flipping him off from the backseat.

He can’t help it. He laughs.

“Brilliant woo’ing technique,” Pidge says dryly.

“Thank you.” His chest flutters and squeezes, stomach doing these annoying flips. “I’m gonna get that boy to kiss me during this trip. Mark my words. Operation Impress Keith and Make Him Fall For Me is a go.”

Pidge scoffs, and Hunk reaches out, patting him on the arm. “Good luck, buddy.”

[timeaftertime-chriscornellfanfic]

Chapter 14 - Korea Or Canada Or Maybe Taiwan

Seattle Washington, December 7 1989

(Andi is 19, Chris is 25)

ANDI: "...boiler room song? Chris what the - ?" I giggle as I stand in the doorway to the little water heater closet where Chris was tapping different spots with his drum sticks on the large water heater.

"It fuckin' sounds cool right?" Chris says excitedly looking back at me for a second, then continues on tapping various spots on the water heater again.

Xana and I had moved in with Chris and Andy about a year ago, since we practically spent every single second together. Aside from the few times that I had time slipped, the episodes seemed to have calmed down once more and I haven't had a slip since July. The last slip I had was when Chris gave me the jet black Gibson guitar and of course it was hard for me to believe that with his salary from working at Ray's Boathouse, that he could afford it. Needless to say that I did give him shit for it - well I sort of just told him not to do that again, and secretly loved how he did that for me.

Soundgarden has made a little headway with their first major label record, finally settling on signing with A&M records and releasing 'Louder Than Love' in September. They have a few gigs booked here in Seattle with 2 nights in Hollywood California at the Whiskey A Go-Go which is being recorded for a live video release, the record company's idea to help boost sales for Louder Than Love.

Soundgarden has also received a nomination for Best Metal Performance for Ultramega OK in the 1990 Grammy awards that are being held in this coming February. I think it's freaking amazing while Chris thinks it's just all about the record companies trying to capitalize on the so called 'Grunge movement' that has recently garnered attention here in Seattle, and that 'Ultramega Ok is not Metal at all, that they aren't even a Metal Band, but if the Grammys say they are then well...

I still think it's an honor and that he should be proud and he is... he just doesn't like the attention so much. Needless to say we aren't going to the ceremony since the Best Metal Performance category isn't even being televised and Chris is definitely not interested in going to the pre-show dinner and neither am I. That is definitely not our scene at all.

On a strange note, that I thought would never happen in a million years, Susan and I have actually become quite close as friends. There was a little hiccup in getting to know her for a while there, me being my usual apprehensive shy little self and somewhat feeling intimidated by Susan, but I really had nothing to worry about. It’s just business and that’s it.

"...shit I gotta get this on tape... babe, can you grab me that little recorder in my night stand drawer," Chris says stopping for just a moment and flipping his curls to look up at me with those gorgeous blue eyes full of excitement. 

"Uh, yea," I say and turn to walk up the hallway to our bedroom.

It was a crazy miss mash of mine and Chris's guitars, posters plastered all over the walls of our favorite bands, my little shitty amp with the small little pre-amp that sits on top, his amps that he uses for Soundgarden shows, surrounding the room and one little corner that has all my 'girly stuff' that he calls it - which is just my makeup vanity and dresser. I quickly run over and open the nightstand drawer, pull out the little cassette recorder that I found for him in a thrift store downtown and then head back out of the bedroom, to see Chris tapping a tribal groove on the water heater and the walls surrounding it. As I click the record button, setting the recorder down by Chris as he continues, lost in the groove, the phone begins to ring. I then turn and head back down the hallway to the kitchen to pick up the phone, still hearing Chris from down the hall drumming away.

"Hello?"

"Hey sweetie... how are you?"

"Dad...?" 

It had been just over 2 years since I heard from my father. The last time we spoke was when I had decided to move to Seattle for school and ever since then I had made a few attempts to call him, but he was always on the road and I could never catch him.

"...I just wanted to check in, see how my baby girl's doing," He says with a chuckle.

"Dad... daddy I'm uh, I'm doing great, really great. Oh my god I haven't..." I started to get emotional, my voice becoming a little shaky and I think he could tell.

"That's good sweetie... I'm actually in town, got a gig with the band. Our first west coast gig and so I thought I'd give you a call, see if you wanted to come out and see us," He says.

"Dad... I'd love to... when?" I ask, wiping away a tear. It was so good to hear his voice.

"It's tonight actually... I hope that's not too short of notice,"

"No, no daddy it's perfect," I giggle as Chris's tribal drumming sound bellows out from down the hallway.

"Alright... it's at The Mecca. We play at 9:00pm tonight, but um... you want to meet up earlier? Grab a bite or something? I'd love to catch up with my girl before the show, only if you want to of course," He says and I could hear a little nervousness from his end. 

"Yea, yea dad that sounds great, um..." I trail off as Chris appears behind me who still has yet to put a shirt on, grabs a beer out of the fridge. He pops off the cap and takes a drink, glancing at me confused as I continue on the phone.

"... yea.. Chris... yea... yea... daddy... you sure...?"

Chris finishes his sip and raises his eyebrow at me as I look up at him while my father continues on the phone. 

"...alright... bye daddy," I say and hang up.

"So... what was that all about?" Chris asks taking another sip of his beer.

"My uh... dad wants to meet up tonight. He's playing here in town and um... wants to meet up for food and to meet you before and wants me to see his band tonight and - " I begin explaining a little fast only because I was still so shocked that he called me.

"Andi... baby hey, slow down. What about tonight?" Chris asks setting his beer down on the counter, then flipping his curls out of his face to look at me.

"My dad wants to meet you tonight before his gig... or something," I say.

"Ok, where?"

"At The Mecca... he um... wants to get together before for some food and... to catch up I guess and meet you," I say still so nervous about the fact that my father wants to meet Chris.

"Ok baby, it's no big deal. I'll meet your dad. There's nothing to worry about," Chris chuckles. He places a kiss on my forehead and I touch my hand to his bare chest, then grabs his beer off the counter and heads back down the hallway. As I watch his beautiful tall frame, his curls swaying with his movements, I realize that I may just be over-reacting a little bit. He is the first boy - man that I've ever introduced to my father so I just hope it goes smoothly.

*****

The Mecca Bar and Grill, Seattle Washington

ANDI: It was later on that afternoon and Chris and I had arrived at the bar to meet up with my father for the first time. It's been so long since I have seen him, I wasn't sure if he would even look the same. I made sure I looked presentable enough in my skinny ripped jeans and my Doc Martens, my favorite Black Sabbath shirt and my leather jacket. Chris, looked especially good in his plain black T-shirt, baggy black shorts and Doc Martens like mine with his leather jacket and his dark curls down passed his shoulders, which were much tamer than usual. I'll never understand how he can wear shorts in the winter but he has always been on the warm side in terms of body temperature.

As Chris and I walk into The Mecca, Chris holding my hand with his fingers laced through, I suddenly see my father at the far side of the bar, sipping on a beer, chatting with a few of his bandmates as they set up for the night. He looks exactly the same. You would never guess he is 42 with his shaggy golden curls to his shoulders. He still seems so young with that same beard now so much fuller than before, but showing subtle hints of grey, and his tall 6 foot 5 frame that makes him seem larger than life. 

They always say girls tend to pick men just like their fathers.

John O'Riden glances my way and smiles as he sees me for the first time since I left home to make Seattle my new one. I wish I could explain the mix of emotions inside me right now. I feel just like that little girl who was always excited to see him, always attached to his hip refusing to ever let go.

"How's my girl?" He smiles in his deep voice that I missed so much.

"Hey daddy," I say quietly as I let go of Chris's hand, my father embracing me in a big hug. His cologne that he always wore since I was a little girl filling my nostrils. After a few minutes of our embrace I slowly let go and he glances at me with that fatherly smile.

"You get taller? I swear you're so much taller now," He says and I giggle.

"No dad, I'm still the same as I always was," I say and he laughs. After a few moments, he glances up and sees Chris and I feel awkward that I totally forgot he was with me.

"Oh um, dad... this is Chris... Chris Cornell and um - "

"John O'Riden," My dad cuts me off as he extends his hand for Chris to shake.

"Nice to meet you um sir," Chris says and I'm completely taken aback by how formal he was.

"Sir? Oh fuck, don't call me that, call me John. Chris Cornell... I've heard a lot about you. Soundgarden right?" 

Chris gives me a quick glance and then back to my father.

"Uh yea..." Chris trails off for a moment as they still shake hands.

"You've got that '70s Sabbath thing going on mixed with that punk style... it's good. A lot better than that fucking hair metal crap anyways,"

"Dad..."I say giving him a look.

"Lets grab a table, you drink Whiskey Chris?" He asks as he takes the last sip of his beer.

"Yea," Chris replies and glances down at me and I raise my eyebrow at him. My father turns to the bartender and orders a few shots of whiskey to bring to the table that was near the bar. We then follow him over to the table and he and Chris seem to continue on their conversation while we wait for our drinks.

As I sit beside Chris, my father opposite of me, they carry on, practically leaving me out of it which is fine - it just makes me sip on my whiskey a little faster than normal. At first it almost seemed like my father was trying to interrogate Chris but then as Chris was able to come back with answers confidently, my father let up a little bit and began talking about all things music. As we eat, they talked about both of their bands and how my father was actually a bit of a fan of Chris, citing how incredible his voice was. After finishing our food, as soon as the waitress takes away our plates my father turned his focus onto me, asking me about everything that has happened since the last time we spoke, how my playing is coming along, how school is going, and how Chris and I met.

"... Mother Love Bone?" John chuckles taking a sip of his now third Whiskey shot.

"Yea dad... and we've been together ever since," I giggle as I feel Chris glance back and forth between us as he takes a sip of his Jack straight up.

"You um... you haven't told anyone about your...y'know... have you?" John says glancing down at his shot glass.

"Daddy it's ok... Chris knows. In fact all of my friends know now and they're ok with it," I explain as I feel Chris lace his fingers through mine under the table.

"You're still slipping then?"

"Yea, but it hasn't happened in a while. I'm ok daddy really..." I re-assure him.

"She used to scare the shit out of her mother y'know... disappearing and then popping up again somewhere or somewhen else," John says glancing at Chris as he twirls his shot glass in between his fingers. Chris gives him a half smile.

"Fuck how I just wish sometimes..."John starts looking down at the shot glass but then catches himself. I could see a little glimpse of regret of how he left that night. I don't blame him anymore. I never really did. I just hated the fact that my mother always started their fights and just never accepted who he really was. It broke my heart that he left but I knew he had to. She tried to change him so many times. 'Stop playing, stop touring and be with your family' she would say. It never made sense to me because that's what made her fall in love with him in the first place. 

"Well this is not how I intended this to go before my gig let alone meeting up with you," John chuckles dabbing his eyes that have welled up with tears.

"It's ok dad..."I say and I reach across the table and he reaches out for my hand. He takes it in his, my hand completely engulfed and he looks at me with nothing but love.

"Chris... I like you. You remind me of myself about 20 years ago," He says with a chuckle. "I want you to take care of my little girl here. I can see just how much you love her and if you ever hurt her - "

"Dad," I say shooting him a look.

"Don't worry John, I won't. I promise," Chris says and glances at me.

"Yo, John! Soundcheck!" Someone calls from the stage area as some more people begin to come through the doors of The Mecca.

"I guess that's my cue... you two gonna hang and check out the band for a bit?" John asks as we all rise from the table, Chris tucking his chair back in.

"We'd love to," Chris smiles.

"Alright, well in case I don't see you after the show, it was great to meet you Chris," John says as he extends his hand to shake and Chris takes it.

"You too," Chris smiles and my father pats him on the shoulder.

"And you... " My father turns and gives me that silly smirk he always does, and I embrace him in the biggest hug, just like when I was little.

"I love you so much, baby girl. I'm so proud of you," He says low in my ear as he holds me tight.

"I love you too daddy," I say, my voice shaking a little and I didn't want him to let me go. After a few moments, he places a quick kiss on my forehead and then turns to head towards the backstage area to get ready.

"See...? I told you he would like me," Chris smiles at me as I glance up at him and shake my head giggling. 

*********************************************************************************************

A/N Hello lovelies! Alright, so I wanted to right a feel good fluffy part with Andi and her father so I hope you guys like it. I also picture Andi's father as Jason Lee when he played Jeff Bebe in the movie Almost Famous

[caiuscassiuss]

Bandages (Skater Boy AU! NCT Jisung)

y o u n g  v e r.

Description: You swore to god, that attractive boy who kept on coming to the nurse’s office was going to kill himself at this rate. (featuring nurse assistant! you and rebellious skater boy! jisung)

Genre:  fluff | romance | comedy WC: 5.3k Warnings: swearing and some serious roasts

masterlist | requests | updates

(A/N: I hope you enjoy! Please like and reblog~)

______________________________________________________________________

The silence of the nurse’s office was a great contrast to your loud, bustling high school outside. You were glad you got this moment of respite for 2 hours everyday, away from gossiping teenagers and the general chaos of high school.

The nurse was out for a quick break, so you were left to your own accord for a short period of time. You were her assistant of sorts for a few days of the week, selected out of many, so she trusted you in the office. You hummed to yourself as you stocked the cabinets above the sink, a little tune you heard on the radio. You put the antiseptic there, the cotton buds in a jar, and so on. Your thoughts drifted to the never-ending stress as you did your menial task; you had a biology paper due in a few days that you haven’t even started despite being assigned weeks ago, a Calc test coming up, and an anatomy extra credit assignment due that would really boost your grade. It seemed all your time was being claimed by school, school and more school, to be honest. You sighed and wiped a few stray hairs that came loose from your ponytail. All this to become a doctor.

The door creaking and loud chatter from outside broke your anxious thoughts. You told whomever that had entered you would be would with them in a minute as you quickly put back all the stuff and washed your hands. The person hummed in acknowledgement and sat down on own of the beds of the office. You turned around with a smile, only for it to be replaced with a frown.

Park Jisung.

Rebellious Skater Boy extraordinaire.

His dyed blonde hair created a messy halo above his face as he looked up at you with a sheepish smile. His eyes were sparkling and he toyed with the metal chain hanging on his neck.

“Hey Y/N, how’s it going?”

“You’re here again?”

Jisung put on a mock hurt expression and grasped his chest like you had stabbed him.

“Oof! You don’t want to see my handsome face anymore?” he grinned.

You sighed and put your hands on your hips. “What kind of injury have you afflicted upon yourself this time, Jisung?”

Jisung sheepishly held up his bleeding hand and you gasped.

“Jesus Christ! Have I not told you to be more careful?” you nagged as you got out your recently stockpiled antiseptic and swabs.

He leaned back and shrugged. “No pain, no gain, I guess.”

“Gain? Landing that front flip thingy?” you scoffed, taking out the gauze from the closet.

“It’s called a frontside Y/N,” Jisung said, exasperated.

“Front flip, front side, whatever; same thing. Either way, you come into my office looking like you just lost a fight with the concrete!” you shook your head as you bent down beside him to soak the cotton in the antiseptic. So focused were you in this task, you didn’t notice Jisung look at your visage admiringly, appreciating your beautiful features and liking the way your hair fell in front of your eyes.

“Lowkey kinda did— ah, fuck! What was that for!” Jisung exclaimed as he snatched his injured hand away from yours.

You rolled yours eyes and grabbed back his hand. His hands were warm and slightly calloused, however, marred by the many scars he had gotten from skateboarding. You ignored the little spark you got from touching his hand and went back to what you were doing.

“You big baby. A little antiseptic never hurt.”

“Well yeah of course it doesn’t, but when you just press it on my hand without warning, it stings like hell!” the teen whined as your dotted the cotton swab around the wound, cleaning the blood up and the cut.

Your rolled your eyes for the nth time and a comfortable silence fell between the two of you. When you finished cleaning his hand, you reached for the gauze and Jisung broke the silence.

“Did you finish that bio assignment Mr. Allen assigned yet?” he muttered, blushing from the prolonged contact (not that you could see).

Despite fully fitting the rebellious skater kid stereotype, Jisung was actually pretty decent at school. He took some of the same honors classes as you, and mostly got B’s while you strived for A+’s. He was always unfocused in class, unfortunately, and when he got randomly called on by the teacher and he didn’t know the answer, you shook your head disappointedly at your front seat.

“Um… kinda?” you fibbed while you carefully placed the gauze on his hand.

Jisung scoffed. “You haven’t even started it, have you?”

“Well you haven’t either!” you defended.

“Y/N, Miss A+, the greatest and most examplenary student in this school,—” he exaggerated, while you pouted, “—procrastinating? Wow, the world must be ending!”

You hit him playfully on his shoulder, momentarily letting his hand go. He laughed.

“Shut up!” you said, unable to respond to him wittily while you both blushed.

______________________________________________________________________

“You, sir, are whipped as hell,” Jeno squinted at Jisung, pointing a ketchup-covered fry in his direction.

Jisung was shaken out of his thoughts by his best friend and looked away from some point in the distant he was staring at.

“Huh?”

“This proves my point, idiot.” Jeno said, as he took a sip of his coke.

“No really, what?” Jisung asked confusedly.

“We were just stating some facts. I like EXO, Haerim is totally cheating on Yoonsung, and you have the biggest crush in the world on Y/N, you love-struck fool,” Haechan jumped into the conversation savagely, all in a matter-a-fact tone.

“Holy shit, Haerim is cheating on Yoonsung? With who?” Jaemin put his bag down at the table and sat down.

“Whom, Jaemin. Not who. With Eunhyung, actually, but that’s not the point,” Haechan narrowed his eyes at Jaemin, who rolled his eyes and dug into his pizza.

“Shut up Haechan.” Jisung pouted, while discreetly checking you out.

“I mean look at you! Everytime we go to lunch, you have to sit at this spot so you can gawk at Y/N for a solid 30 minutes. You look like a fucking creep,” Jeno exclaimed.

“I-I just can’t help but notice! Y/N’s really pretty and nice and smart and—”

“The reason you purposely slam yourself into an extension when we’re at the skatepark?” Chenle slyly added as he looked up from his book.

The whole group laughed uproariously, drawing many gazes to the notorious Skater Boys’ table. Jisung covered his red face with his hands, his embarrassment keeping him from making his usual savage comebacks. When it came to Y/N, Jisung turned into mochi mush.

“T-That’s because my wheel popped out!”

“Oh? What happened when you couldn’t stick the landing after the flatrail?” Haechan crossed his arms and raised his pierced eyebrow.

“I—”

“You’re one of the best people on the flatrail I know, bro. The one time my skateboard came out from under me you kicked me while I was down, so don’t give us that bullshit.” Renjun accused.

“Well, it’s not like it’s purposeful or anything, but, uh, like—”

“Shut up Jisung. Work up your courage to confess to her, it’s not that hard!” Jaemin offered, while sending a wink to the group of girls passing by their table.

“Says the boy who gets, like, a gazillion confessions a day. Bro, she’s out of my league! Ugh.” Jisung exclaimed and slumped dejectedly to the lunch table.

______________________________________________________________________

“What is it now?” you asked, not even looking up from your desk.

“Uh, my leg?”

You sighed and swiveled around on your comfy office chair, one of the perks of being a nurse assistant.

Jisung was wearing a neon yellow track jacket and some black skinny jeans today, some blue checkered vans adorning his feet. Your eyes zoomed in on one of the rips of the jean, placed on the knee, and it was bloody and bruised.

“Christ,” you muttered.

Again, you took out the cotton swabs and the antiseptic and the gauze while he sat down on one of the medical beds. You put the materials on the bedside table and he lifted his knee up to his attention.

Luckily was the wound was superficial and not that deep, so it would be easy to heal, but it sure as hell would probably hurt for a long time.

“So… how’s the, uh, campaign trail going?” he asked awkwardly after a moment of silence.

“You know about it? Ah, well, it’s going pretty okay, actually. We’ve drummed up alot support from the arts kids, but not as much with the athletes,” you murmured, surprised he knew that you were running for student body president. You wiped the antiseptic over his knee and his leg gave an involuntary jerk, and he gave a sheepish smile.

“Yeah, your posters all over the school.”

“Oh yeah, that,” you blushed, slightly embarrassed you didn’t notice that glaring fact in front of your slight crush. He looked so handsome today, unlike your usual clean-guy type. He looked wild and rebellious and fun all wrapped up into an attractive package.

“Well, I’m really busy nowadays. I never have time to do anything that’s mildly entertaining, like reading a good book or drawing,” you lamented.

“You call that fun?” Jisung snorted. You pouted and slapped him on his shoulder.

“Hey!”

“No no no I don’t mean it like that! It’s pretty admirable that your straightedge and everything. But… is that, like, all you do?” he frowned shifting closer to your scent.

You nervously put ointment over the wound, unnerved by his proximity.

“Well… yeah?”

“That sounds… yeah. Hey, erm, do you wanna go out with our group, one time?” he nervously twiddled his thumb as you momentarily paused.

“Why? Because I’m so boring?” it was said aggressively, but the twinkle in your eye and the slight smile gave away your mischievous intentions.

Because Jisung was Jisung and he became the living embodiment of mush around you, he didn’t notice your signs and inwardly panicked.

“No! Uh, I just thought you’d like to try something different I guess,” Jisung stuttered, flailing for some grounding around his crush.

You stared at him, hard and direct. Jisung didn’t look like he had ulterior motives. He looked back at you in the eyes, a blush still on his cheeks because of his embarrassment.

“Sure. When and where?” you smiled brightly at him, and he sighed in relief.

“I’ll text you.”

______________________________________________________________________

Honestly, you never expected you find yourself in this situation.

It was 10 at night, you weren’t studying, and you were somewhere, in the city, in a near deserted skatepark.

Your parents were going to kill you.

Well, if they found out.

“FUCK YOU, YOU THOT!” you heard a voice shouting.

You look over to see Haechan yelling at Mark, who was laughing and speeding away on his neon green skateboard. Haechan quickly sets down his orange skateboard and runs after Mark, arms and limbs flapping wildly.

On the other hand, Renjun and Chenle were playing tag around the skatepark, completely ignoring the skateboards they had brought with them. Their skateboards seemed to lie pitifully on the ground, unused while Chenle was screaming loudly. Someone was going to trip over that shit.

Jeno and Jaemin, however, were leant up against a streetlight and drinking… capri-suns? You did a double-take and looked closer. Yes, indeed they were drinking silver Capri-Sun juice packets; Jeno holding a grape-flavored one while Jaemin was slurping on a strawberry kiwi one.

Update: Someone did trip over the skateboard. RIP Haechan.

Haechan starts screaming at Renjun and Chenle, who start laughing at his disheveled appearance. Not gonna lie, you jumped a little when Haechan suddenly put them in a headlock, and the Chinese boys were looking like they were about to choke.

You hear a big sigh to your left and you turn to see Jisung facepalming in the fluorescent lamplight. He held a neon blue skateboard with green glow-in-the-dark lines etched onto the deck, still vibrant and colorful despite it’s wear-and-tear.

“Why are they like this?” Jisung sighs again.

Jaemin hears Jisung’s complaint and raises an eyebrow.

“Why do you have to be so emo, Jisung?” Jaemin taunts, the silver of his juice packet flashing as he takes a long sip.

Jeno snorts and in turn spits out some of his grape juice. The rest of the group notice the flying liquid out of Jeno’s face and start laughing at him.

Jisung, after chuckling at Jeno’s mishap, turns back towards you.

“Welp, these idiots happen to be my friends, and they’re fun... I guess.”

You chuckle softly and hug your cardigan closer to you. It was getting chillier as the night progressed, and you were admittedly, totally unprepared. You had come straight here after school clubs instead of going home, so you had nothing but your light brown cardigan to keep you warm.

Jisung sees you slightly shivering, and frowns.

“Hey, are you alright?”

You smile slightly at him.

“Yeah, don’t worry about it.”

Jisung tilted his head and pursed his lips. “No you’re not.”

Before you could do anything, Jisung sets his skateboard down roughly and shakes off his windbreaker. You opened your mouth to protest, but the blond-haired youth just threw it at your head

“Just take it, Y/N,” he huffs.

Because of your blocked line of vision, you don’t see Jisung blush heavily and then pout cutely. You carefully take it off your head and clutch the fabric in your hand, confused why he was doing this.

“Just… just think of this as payback for all the times you treated me at the clinic, o-okay?” Jisung stuttered, raising his now-bare arms and scratching the back of his head. His head was turned slightly away from you, so only some parts of his face you could see.

“I… thank you, Jisung.” You grin widely up at the tall boy and slip on his neon windbreaker. It was, of course, quite large and hit you mid thigh, and the sleeves gave you very extended sweater-paws. However, you could smell his deodorant faintly from the fabric and you wanted to die in a hole.

The neon yellow of the jacket reflecting in the lamplights attracted the attention of the other boys, and they start jeering loudly.

“Damn, Jisung, it’s only the first date and you’re already giving her clothes to wear?” Mark shouts at the two of you, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“FUCK OFF!” Jisung took off running towards Mark while you covered your red face in your hands.

______________________________________________________________________

It was currently… 12 AM right now and you were confused as fuck.

The group were still energetic and high even after 2 hrs at the park, frequently exchanging high fives while passing each other on their skateboards. They all performed dazzling tricks in the artificial light and it had turned into some competition on who could impress you more. Chenle did a cool grabby thing with his board, while Jeno did a stellar flip on his and they all looked to you to see who you were impressed by.

Except, you eyes were captivated by one.

You were staring dumbfounded at the blond-haired boy who seemed like he was flying on his skateboard. JIsung looked like some character in a 90’s teenage movie, rebellious and unrestrained fun written all over his neon clothes and his gleeful face. He seemed much more in his element here, at the skateboard park, unlike school where the walls couldn’t contain his thirst for life; Jisung was so much more free.

However, you couldn’t ignore the glaring fact that Jisung was much better at skateboarding than you thought.

Okay, so you knew he wasn’t bad, but he wasn’t very good either. He comes into your office like… what, 2-3 times a week? By those statistics, Jisung should’ve been tripping over his board and currently in the hospital by now, but no, Jisung was nimbly doing tricks and runs on his skateboard. He slid down the flatrail with ease and landed perfectly before rolling to the bowl, in which he jumped and flipped his skateboard. This, clearly, was not the skating of a untrained and clumsy newbie; this was the skating of someone experienced and who doesn’t get hurt all the time.

You looked at the time on the dim screen of your phone, of which was at 19%. Despite it being the weekend, you wanted to get home quickly.

“Jisung!”

The boy’s head snapped towards you and he quickly halted his lap around the park.

“Y/N are you alright?” Jisung asked concernedly while the other boys in the group paused in their tricks.

“Yeah I’m all good! It’s just it’s getting a bit late now, I’m gonna go home!” you shouted, still clutching his windbreaker around your body.

“Wait, let me accompany you!” Jisung picked up his board and walked towards the bench you were occupying.

“Hey, morons! I’m gonna get Y/N back home, okay?” Jisung turned back to the rest of the boys.

“OOOoooOOOooOOhhHHHh sPicY!” Haechan laughed at Jisung.

“Yeah yeah we’ll follow you up as soon… as soon as we get Chenle out of this bush,” Jaemin stared, desperately trying to contain his laughter at Renjun and Jeno trying and failing to get the poor Chinese student out of the bush after his board had slipped out from under him.

“BYE THOT!” Jisung put the skateboard under his arm.

“BYE, ROMEO!”

The pair of you walked in a semi-awkward silence back to your house, the usual noises of a suburban neighborhood surrounding you.

“Uh… you got through the primaries for pres position?” Jisung asked, breaking the silence.

“Yup… after completely crushing those underclassman,” you grinned up at him, the streetlights casting shadows upon his face.

“Eyyyy nice.”

You two easily lapsed into light-hearted conversation, discussing the teachers that you hated and the gossip around the school.

There was a pause in conversation, and you took that opportunity to ask Jisung something that had been on your mind all night.

“Hey, uh, if you don’t mind me asking… how are you so good at skateboarding?”

A momentary flash of panic struck across his face, which quickly settled itself into to feigned confusion.

“Huh?”

“Like… erm, you know how you always go to my office a lot for your injuries? I just thought…” you floundered, trying to get information without somehow insulting the skater boy.

“Oh, I’m usually much worse than today,” he waved it off.

“I guess today was my lucky day, probably. I think I just perform, uh, much better in front of company?” Jisung eyes roved, searching everywhere but you.

“Ah.” It fell silent before you broke it.

“Jisung… I had a really fun time tonight. And I wanted to thank you for that,” you said, lucky that your blushing cheeks were covered by the darkness of nights.

“No problemo Y/N! I think everyone had a bit more fun with you here… you can always go out with us, if you want, you know… yeah.”

“Sure, I’ll hit you up,” you fingered with the buttons of your cardigan in nervous because of Jisung’s close proximity to you.

Pretty soon the two of you stopped near your house and you looked at each other awkwardly.

“Yeah… again, thank you for taking me out,” you stuttered, wondering whether you should hug him or not.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s all good.”

Fuck it. Let’s carpe diem this shit.

You extended your arms to the boy and a brief look of shock and panic crossed his face before he, too, extended his arms to your waist and pulled you closer. He had to bend down a little to your height, and you too held each other for a few seconds. In this brief few seconds or so, you buried your face into the crook of his neck, while he settled his head on your shoulder. Jisung was warm and comfy, and while you were initially tense, you relaxed in his hold.

You released each other and you ran to your doorstep.

“Bye Jisung! I’ll see you Monday!”

“Yeah, uh, bye!”

You entered your house quietly, before tip-toeing to your room. As soon as you sat down on your chair, you realized you had forgotten to give back Jisung’s jacket.

Shit.

______________________________________________________________________

Jisung stared at your door for a few seconds, trying to figure out whether the last few minutes was a dream or not. His body still felt warm from the time you had touched him. He must of looked like a straight idiot or a stalker, staying and staring in one position for an extended amount of time.

However, he was in a daze of confusion and happiness. Holy shit, had he just hugged his crush of the past 2 years? And… she initiated it? Holy fucking shit. Alsfskfhaslfdjsjfs.

Jisung turned to walk back to his crew and it was only a few steps until he suddenly fist pumped and jumped in the air in joy. He was getting closer.

______________________________________________________________________

“Thank you!” you had thanked the bus driver, a old sweet lady, and she smiled a red-cheeked smile at you in return. You stepped off the bus and made your way to your classroom, kind of nervous of what you were about to do. You were going to give back Jisung’s jacket.

Many people greeted you in the hallway with hello’s or good morning’s because of your popularity as soon-to-be class president, and you waved back or acknowledged them. You entered your classroom to set down your bookbag, the early morning light nearly blinding you from the windows.

“Hey Y/N!” your classmate Soora greeted you from her perch atop her desk, in the midst of talking to her friends.

“Hi Soora! How are you?” you smiled at her as you pulled the neon windbreaker from your bag.

“I’m fine! You?”

“All good!” you sent her a thumbs up.

“Say, whaddya got there?” she jumped off her desk and leaned closer to the neon object hanging of your arm.

“Oh, yeah, um, it’s someone’s jacket. I need to give it back to him,” you waved off, knowing Soora was nosy as hell.

“Hold the phone; HIM? As in the singular pronoun of the male gender? XY chromosomes? H-I-M?” she gasped loudly and as a result, several people turned their heads towards the disturbance.

“Shhhhh! Soora!” you softly scolded, looking suspiciously around and smiling at everybody so they could get their attention off of you.

“Well who is it?” Soora crossed her arms across her chest, a small pout on her tinted lips.

“No one you know,” you replied, walking out of the classroom. Unfortunately, the gossipy brunette followed you out, cutting herself out of her group’s conversation.

You took a quick pace, sneakers tapping across the floor loudly, in hope you could lose her or she would give up. No good; Soora just upped her pace to keep in line with you.

“Y/N! Tell me something!” she whined to you.

You rolled your eyes.

“You’ll find out soon anyway,” you replied as you turned a corner to Class 5275; Jisung’s Lit classroom.

The door was open, thankfully, and you quietly went in, however, people saw you as soon as you entered.

A chorus of hey’s and hello’s were given to you and you acknowledged them. You looked around the classroom to see a mop of blonde hair; aha! You could see Jisung by the window talking to a few friends, his face contorted in a laugh as Jeno cracked a joke. The sun was shining on his face and reflecting off his hair, so he looked hella handsome today.

“Jisung!” you called out. Jisung’s head snapped to you, as did many other’s.

“Y/N?” Jisung said confusedly as he got out of his seat.

“Hey Jeno! Hi Chenle!” you waved to the group of boys near him.

“Hey Y/N!” they called out and snickered as Jisung neared you. Jisung turned to glare at them.

“Uh, hi?” he greeted you as he stood in front of you.

“Jisung! I’m so sorry I totally forgot it on Saturday; here’s your jacket!” you smile as you hand him the neon windbreaker on your hand.

His eyes widened in recognition as he took it out of your hands.

“Ah! So you’re the reason I was freezing all weekend!” he smirked at you.

“Shut up! You offered!”

“And you forgot.” You slapped his bicep in retaliation, a mock-hurt expression on your face and you both laughed.

“Well anyway, thanks. I’ll see you later, I guess?” Jisung looked down at you.

“Yeah, yeah. Bye!” you patted his forearm and turned towards the doorway.

“Oh wait; don’t forget to vote for me!” you looked back at him.

“I will!” he waved back at you.

As you stepped through the doorway, you realized how semi-quiet the classroom had gotten. Most conversations had died down and all of Class 5275’s attention were on you and Jisung, eyes wide at the unexpected interaction.

Soora was waiting for you at the doorway, her mouth open in shock.

“Park Jisung? You were giving a jacket back to Park Jisung, the low-key emo skater kid who happens to be hella hot????” Soora loudly said.

“Uh, yeah? I forgot to give it back to him,” you leaned away from the eager girl.

“Wait wait wait, hold up, I’m so shook right now. First, how did you get the jacket? Where did you get the jacket? Second, how do you know Park Jisung? And his group of friends? Do you know how many people are crushing on him—”

“Calm down Soora! I was hanging out with them and I was cold so Jisung gave me his jacket, that’s all-”

“PARK JISUNG GAVE YOU HIS JACKET?!” Soora burst out in the middle of the hallway. Suprised faces turned to you, growing even more shocked when recognizing who you were. Loud whispers and conversations started up as you facepalmed at the girl’s idioticness.

______________________________________________________________________

For the next few weeks, you were bombarded in questions about your friendship with Jisung. It was a bit unexpected, you supposed; the skater kid is friends with a preppy smartass. However, the gossip surrounding you and him made you more popular, so it was beneficial to your campaign at least.

You, Jisung, and the rest of the kids hung out more as time progressed. You got together during the weekends at the skatepark, you sat next to each other in class, and shared inside jokes and memes on the groupchat you were added into. You got closer to all of them, but you were just naturally more attached to Jisung.

As the two of you hung out more, Jisung and you had become very close. He was now not some annoying skater kid who went your office nearly every other day to get his injuries treated; Jisung was a friend who you could confide in one moment, and roast in another. He was amazing and scarily, you found him more and more attractive.

Park Jisung was giving you feelings you’d never experienced before. You got butterflies in your stomach when you spoke to him, you sometimes stuttered when you were close to him, and your face was always red when you hugged him. He was funny, he was charming, and really, really fun. You couldn’t believe you never noticed him before when you were in his chem class a few years ago.

Jisung still visited your office with suspiciously less injuries since you got closer. You would chat with him while helping other patients. You asked him if he was skipping class, but he always denied it and said it was his free period so “he might as well hang out with someone he could tolerate”.

Because of your close friendship, many people asked both you if you were dating, which made it worse. You both always denied it, unaware of the longing gazes you two would send each other.

It all came to a point a few days later, when the presidential elections were announced. You had won (by a landslide it was rumoured) the position of student council president for the next school year and were in the midst of a flurry of congratulations when you felt a hand on your shoulder.

“Y/N?” Jisung’s voice rang out.

You turned towards him and an immediate smile crept up your face.

“Jisung! It’s nice to see you!” you greeted, turning your attention away from your other classmates.

“Congratulations on your election!” he held his arms out, and you stepped into them so you could hug each other.

“Thank you!”

Jisung suddenly grew a bit nervous, and he scratched the back of his head.

“Uh, could you come with me for a moment? In private?” he asked.

Needless to say, you were a bit confused.

“Sure!” you waved goodbye to your friends and walked with him.

His long-legged gait led you both to the courtyard. It was sunny today, and as a result, Jisung just wore some skinny jeans and a Supreme t-shirt while you were in a floral sundress.

During the walk there, you had an inward debate with yourself. These feelings had been going on for quite sometime, and since it was nearing the end of the school year, you might as well let it out. You decided, uncharacteristically impulsively, that you were going to to confess to Jisung.

He took you under a tree and paused there.

“I have something to say,” he intoned seriously.

You took a deep breath.

“I do to.”

“Huh?” Jisung frowned.

You could do this. It was the perfect time to do it, anyway.

“Park Jisung… I like you. Like, as in more than a friend kind of like,” you let out, looking down.

It was silent for a few seconds, the only sound was the leaves rustling in the breeze.

“Well shit. Holy shit.” he breathed out in amazement.

“What?” you asked, your heart pumping from the nervousness of your confession.

“I… I like you alot too. In fact, I was going to confess to you before you said it. Wow, this is great, like, holy fuck I can’t believe this is happening.” he ran his hands through his hair.

“Really?” You jumped up and circled your arms around his neck and giggled. He hugged you back tightly.

“If we’re on the subject of confessions, I have something else to confess.” Jisung whispered in your ear.

You leaned back from him for a moment, high off the joy that your crush liked you back.

“Y/N, I have liked you since our chem class 2 years ago”— your eyes widened—” and… um…” he mumbled the last part.

“Sorry, what?”

“I may have... went to the nurse office alot so I could see you.”

Your brows came together, until your mind worked out what he was implying.

“Wait a fucking minute! Did you deliberately get injured so you could… so you could…” you sputtered, bewildered from this new information.

“Yeah?”

“Your confession is rejected, you little shit! Do you know how much supplies you took up? Also, did you keep in mind what you could’ve to your body?!” you nagged and slapped his chest and he laughed.

You two settled into comfortable silence, luxuriating in each other’s presence.

You reached up and pecked his cheek.

“Just kidding, I like you a lot, you idiot,” you smiled up at him.

Your blissful moments were interrupted by loud cheering from the bushes. You both turned to see the squad cheering, Chenle fake-sobbing into Renjun’s arm dramatically as Jeno and Jaemin spun each other around, giggling.

“My son… my son has grown up from a skateboarding little shit into a skateboarding little shit who has a girlfriend!” Haechan wiped a fake tear as he stood in front of you.

“EVERYONE! PARK JISUNG AND Y/N ARE DATING NOW!” Mark shouted to the rest of the school.

“MARK!” Jisung shouted.

Many people shouted their congratlations and cheered, while you buried your face into Jisung’s chest.

In the midst of Jisung threatening to break Mark’s board in half, he hugged you tighter.

[summerb4jc]

Sickness/injury prompt #2?

Hello Anon! Sorry this took me a few days, ya girl had a crazy busy weekend. But we’re here! The fic is written! Let’s Get Into Some Deep Angst:

It was foolishness, really, that brought him to the boy’s door.

Or window, rather.

Foolishness and pride.

Look where it had gotten him.

Oh, he had enjoyed the moment immensely, watching the boy squirm under the glow of his yellow eyes. Was it The Ghost? Was it a cat? Was it two bright stars?

It was fun.

Just a harmless bit of fun, a way to scare the boy, scare him away, scare him onto his ship and onto the ice so he could freeze and die and leave Christine alone.

He winced at the pain in his abdomen as he maneuvered through back streets and alleyways toward the Opera house.

In all his planning, he’d forgotten the boy was a soldier, and soldiers carried guns, and now the yellow-eyed cat was bleeding. 

Stupid, foolish.

Erik knew he was better for her in all the ways that mattered. He was smarter. He was more talented. He knew music, and Christine was music.

Yes, the boy was handsome and wealthy and could walk in the sun, but Erik had his own wealth, Erik had his own ways, Erik had his voice.

The ground seemed to tilt for a moment and he collided with a wall. Not much further now. He could do this, he could make it.

The streets blurred and twisted and only some innate call to find shelter kept him moving. He felt his way through his tunnels blind, and crawled the last few feet to his bathroom.

Gripping the edge of the sink, he pulled himself up. His shirt was soaked, sticky, and he hissed through his teeth as he peeled the cloth from his body. Vials and lotions and pretty bottles of scent he’d purchased for her use clattered around him as he swept his hand through the cabinet. He pulled down a roll of bandages, a suture kit, and a bottle of alcohol. 

He tried to light a match, and another, and another. They kept slipping. He couldn’t quite grasp...again, and again, until finally the match took, and he waved the flame over the needle’s point.

He took a few quick, bracing breaths, bit down on a washcloth and poured a healthy splash of the liquor onto his open wounds.

The pain was immediate, and he almost choked on the rag in his mouth as he gasped involuntarily. Fingers shaking, body shaking, he started the slow, arduous process of stitching up the two gunshot wounds as best he could. His eyes were watering and it was hard to see and he ripped his mask from his face, sparse strands of hair tickling his cheeks as felt his way through the final stitches.

The needle fell into the sink with a clatter, and he took the washcloth out of his mouth. Wetting a clean cloth, he gently sponged the area around the sutures as best he could, but knew he couldn’t delay the inevitable for long. Slowly, slowly, with the trepidation of a boy on his way to be punished, he pulled a large, square mirror from its hiding place beneath the sink and placed it on the counter. 

He observed the suture, making sure that every stitch was tight and straight before splashing the area again with the alcohol and wrapping the area with clean bandages. The tears from the pain refused to subside, coming instead from somewhere deep inside himself as he took in the angry red of the blood against the tired yellow of his skin, puckered old scars and bones too close to the surface. His breathing labored as he tilted, tilted, tilted the mirror. Skinny arms, scrawny neck, and always, always the papery, tired yellow of old leather, of used and discarded things. He met his own, shadowed eyes in the mirror for a long moment, watched the muscles of his jaw move as he clenched his teeth, ran his eyes over the streak of blood that he had managed to smear on his forehead, stared into the crowing glory that was the great, black hole in the middle of his face.

He was a dead man, covered in blood.

That was all he had to offer her.

His chest began to heave as his breathing came fast and ragged, spittle forming at the edges of his thin lips as he gripped the sides of the mirror. This was what he was offering her. A dead man covered in blood. A dead man covered in blood. A dead man who stank of decay and rot and old things and the dark and she, she, she was sunflowers and the air and that butterfly he saw that day mama forgot to close the window all the way, gold and red and flying across blue, and he was Don Juan on the edge of triumph and the mirror’s decorative frame was biting into his hands and he was still, he was still, HE WAS STILL–

He heaved the mirror above his head, poised to send it crashing to the ground.

It was her mirror.

His arms stayed above his head. He had bought it for her, thought she might like the pretty, gilded flowers scrolling around the edges. She would need it when she was his wife. He stood panting, gasping, his arms trembling from the loss of blood and the weight of the mirror, and with a scream that tore at the back of his throat he swung the mirror down, clutching it to his chest with a final, broken cry.  

He slid the mirror back into its hiding spot with a controlled calm he did not feel. The room was growing dark around him. He stumbled out of the bathroom and into the sitting room before the darkness overtook him.

o...oOo...o

The carpet was rough against his unmasked face when he finally came to, and the clock was ringing in the hour. He counted the gongs. Four...five...six...seven…eight...

Eight?

He scrambled to his feet too quickly, and a wave of dizziness washed over him. He leaned against the arm of the couch and pushed toward the kitchen. 

Eight in the morning or eight at night?

The cupboards were fully stocked in preparation for his bride’s arrival, and he pulled a chunk of bread from a loaf, and sliced a small wedge of cheese from a larger wheel. The food was hard to get down, it always was, but he needed his strength this evening.

He sat at the table for a few moments in silence until he felt his equilibrium return. The question remained...eight in the morning? Or eight at night?

He grabbed a clean mask and the little bag of Life and Death from it’s hook and crossed through the Louis-Phillippe room. Her room now.  It once carried the stench of memories best left forgotten, of his mother crying, crying in that bed when she saw him come, young and trembling, to her room for comfort after a nightmare, but the scent had dissipated, lifted, been replaced by a sweet scent, her scent, lilacs and the lotion she loved and the air outside.

He pulled a key from the little leather bag and opened the door to the torture chamber. He settled the mask on his face before he walked into the room of mirrors, ignoring his lanky reflection as he crossed to the iron tree. After a complicated series of gentle taps and tugs on various metal twigs, there was a cracking sound. A gap had formed between the trunk of the tree and one of the branches, and he turned the branch like a crank until panel opened in the ceiling. A ladder slid from the panel and he climbed up into the darkness. Using his fingertips, he lifted the trap door just enough to break the seal and let in sound. Violins and drums and cellos and trumpets, and floating over all of it, like a butterfly, was her sweet voice. 

Eight at night, then, and that at least half an hour ago.

There wasn’t much time at all.

Stupid, foolish. The Vicomte would have been plenty scared when Christine never arrived for their assignation. He should have left well enough alone.

His plan had many facets, many moving parts, smoke, mirrors, things to turn the attention away from him and away from her.  Her disappearance from the world above was meant to be nothing more than a quiet ripple. But now there wasn’t time for that. Now the plan would have to change.

He scrambled down the ladder and raced through the house, hastily wiping up the bloody sink and discarding the bandages, grabbing a case of doctored bottles, and slipping necessary tools into his pockets.

He rowed quickly across the lake. He was still reforming the plan, still examining what pieces were necessary and which could be discarded, and it wouldn’t do to be found at the opposite edge of the lake without the boat. The rowing motion pulled at his stitches, and his breaths came out in tiny hisses through his teeth. 

He slipped up through the tunnels, past the mirror looking into her dressing room, through the walls and down to the gas organ that controlled the lighting. 

The walls around the organ were peppered with panels he had installed long ago, panels he could reach through to fiddle with valves and turn certain knobs should the lighting need an immediate adjustment. He took a few, precious minutes to peer through these panels, locate the bottles of ale that the men in the room were drinking, and switch them with the doctored bottles he had brought with him. 

Intermission. He could hear the sound of the audience rising and falling like the swell of the sea above and around him as he prepared a soft place for Christine to land. He made his way to a discreet corner of the stage, hidden in the folds of the curtains, and watched an act of the opera. Let the boy gaze on her, let him plan their future from his lofty box seat. The boy would not have her after tonight. The world would not have her after tonight. 

He savored the sound of her voice ringing out into the theater. Her pure, crystalline voice filling his opera house for the last time. After tonight, her voice would belong only to him.

He slipped away from the safety of the curtains and made his way back down to the gas organ. Perfect timing. He pushed open one of the larger panels and climbed into the room, stepping over the bodies of the unconscious men as he made his way to the master switch. The switch was spring-loaded to prevent losing light during a show, an invention of his own design. If flipped by mistake, the switch would spring back up automatically, ensuring that the gas stayed running until someone latched it into the off position each night. 

Or held it down long enough.

He pulled a long cord from his pocket and tied one end to the switch. Threading the cord under one of the low bars screwed into the floor at the base of the organ, he left a bit of slack as he wrapped the other end into the gears of one of the pumps. The slack in the cord grew tighter with each pump of the machine, and he watched with satisfaction as the switch shifted down an inch. If all went according to plan, the cord would hold the switch down long enough to cut off the gas before snapping and releasing the switch, turning the gas back on.

He made his way back to the cushion he had positioned beneath the stage. Earlier in the show, Mephistopheles made his entrance into Faust’s chambers through this trapdoor, but the stagehands had all flitted to the flies, leaving the space beneath stage quite deserted.

He reached for the latch of the trapdoor and held it. Waiting, waiting, waiting…

The stage creaked above him as the actors moved across it, and he could hear her beautiful voice swelling into a crescendo. She stepped onto the trapdoor, and he caught a glimpse of her golden hair through the seams above him.

“Holy angel, in Heaven blessed, My spirit longs with thee to rest!” She sang out, glorious, resplendent, incandescent. His heart swelled inside him at the sound, at the words, and in that moment, the lights went out.

The screams from the audience drowned out the sound of her fall and the trapdoor re-latching. Drowned out the sound of her terrified gasp of “Erik?” before the chloroformed cloth came down. Drowned out the sounds of her struggling.

She went limp just as the gaslights slowly seeped back to life. He flung the cushion into a dark corner and pain ripped across his stomach at the sudden movement. He gasped but pushed pass the feeling, letting the adrenaline of the moment cancel out everything else. He heaved Christine over his shoulder with another slice of pain and hurried down the stairs to the third cellar, to the flats from Le roi de Lahore. He had left the trapdoor to the torture room unlatched, and he kicked it open before carefully descending with his precious cargo. He noticed a slick of blood on the cellar floor as he latched the trapdoor, and he went down the ladder as fast as he was able. Was it Christine? Was she hurt? Had the fall done her harm? She was growing heavier and heavier the longer he carried her, and he staggered under her dead weight as he reached the bottom. He laid her gently on the floor as he cranked the ladder back into place and locked the branch back in place.

It took more effort than it should have to lift her off the floor, and he caught a glimpse of the two of them, cracked and fractured where Joseph Buquet’s boots had ruined his perfect illusion, her hair, long and loose, cutting a soft, pale swath across his dark reflection. He looped an arm about her waist and rested her head on his shoulder as he half-carried, half dragged her across the room, reaching up with his free hand to press the small indentation that sprung the door open. He pulled her through the opening and into her room before the door closed behind him with a soft click. He made it to the sitting room, sweat dripping beneath his mask and struggling for breath as he laid her gently on the sofa. 

She was covered in blood.

“No. No. No no no no no no no no,” he muttered in a whispered chant and he searched for the wound. He head was fine, her arms, her hands, there weren’t even any holes in her dress. 

An idea, murky and dim, surfaced, and he put his hand to his own stomach. His long fingers came away red. Dark, angry red against the tired, tired yellow. He had to fix this. He needed to-

He crashed back to the floor as his legs gave out from beneath him.

Christine began to stir.

He pulled himself into a sitting position and rested his head on the couch near hers. He watched her eyes move beneath closed lids, watched her lashes twitch on her freckled cheeks, watched her brows furrow as she fought her way into consciousness. Her eyes fluttered open gently, and she gasped at the sight of the masked face so close to her own. She scrambled into a sitting position, kicking him accidentally as she pulled her knees to her chest. She wore the long, white, sleeveless tunic of Marguerite’s prison scene, stained in places with that angry red, and she bundled the end of her skirts about her bare feet in an attempt at modesty. They stared at each other for a long, tense moment. Her blue eyes never left his, and he watched as tears began to pool at her lashes.

“Erik, let me go.” Her voice was a timid whisper.

“You were going to leave me,” he said, his tongue thick and heavy.

“Erik.” Her voice was harder now. “Let me go.”

 “You were going to leave me.” He matched her tone, pushing himself  himself to his knees and grabbing fistfuls of her dress. “You were going to leave.”

She shoved him off of her and leapt from the couch, putting distance between them until she backed into the piano with a discordant twang.

“Yes. Yes, I was going to leave you. I am going to leave you.” She was shaking, and tears slipped quietly down her cheeks. “You’ve lied to me.”

He pushed himself up. Up again to his knees, up again to his feet, leaning heavily against the couch.

“You’ve manipulated me.”

He straightened to his full height. She leaned back further against the piano, eyes wide, knuckles white, trying so hard to be brave.

“You’ve frightened me.”

Her simple words hit him like shrapnel.

“It’s because I’m not handsome, isn’t it?” He pushes the word through gritted teeth. “It’s my face? You’re terrified of Erik’s face? If I was good-looking, if I looked like that boy-”

“It’s not your face!” She pushed off the piano and moved toward him, a fire burning, a living flame, voice low and dangerous. “I stopped caring about your face a long time ago. You threatened the man I love. You treated me like some sort of pawn in your power-play for the opera.”

Her stained white tunic and golden hair blazed in the light, and he squinted against the glare. She stalked toward him, a vision, missing only a flaming sword to completely the picture in his mind. A few scattered notes played somewhere in the back of his head, he itched for a pen, a piano, but there wasn’t time for that.

“You used my pain against me. You used my sorrow to sew us together. You used my father-” her voice broke, and she shifted back into Christine as she stopped in front of him. Her voice grew higher and louder as she strove to maintain control. “You twisted my father’s promise into something dark and frightening and I am leaving because I don’t have to stay! I am leaving because I owe you nothing! I am leaving because I am afraid of you, and I don’t want to be afraid anymore!”

Her words ended on a ragged sob, and he collapsed under the weight of what he had done to her. He only ever wanted to be outside, to touch the wings of the red gold butterfly as it cut a path across the blue blue sky. But butterfly’s wings aren’t meant for touching, and their tiny feathers come off their cut glass wings like so much dust. He never meant to take the sky from her.

He felt her arms around him, slowing his descent to the floor. She crumpled beneath his weight and they both fell. 

“Erik? Erik?” Her voice was high, panicked. She pulled at him as best she could, shifting him in her lap until she saw his blood-stained waistcoat. She touched the dark stain and looks at her reddened fingertips. “How did this happen?”

“Stupid, foolish, pride.” He whispered. Her face floated above him, haloed by the lamp behind her. He did not want to tell her it was the boy. “My own fault.”

“Let me see,” she said, pulling at the buttons of his shirt, “let me see it, I can help.”

“No, no!” He pushed gently at her hands, not wanting her to see the puckered, gnarled, tired yellow leather of his skin. “No, it is too late for that.”

“No…no…it can’t be.” The words were like a plea. She clung to his hands. “Not like this. You can’t go like this.”

She dissolved into wordless sobs, and he could feel her tears on his hairline, his chin.

“You have to stay alive!” She said through clenched teeth, shaking him gently. “You have to stay alive so I can stay mad at you! I’m the one leaving! I’m the one leaving, not you!”

He pulled the mask off to catch the precious droplets, to feel them on his skin. She did not flinch, did not pull back from the sight of him.

“Are you crying for Erik?” His words came out stilted and harsh, and his chest rattled as he struggled to breathe. Her hair was a golden curtain. All he could see was her. He reached a trembling hand and cupped her face, brushing away a tear with his thumb. She put her hand over his, trapping it against her cheek.

“Don’t go, I’m sorry, I’ll stay with you, just...not you too, you can’t leave me too...” Her words were hard to understand, but struck a chord inside of him as very wrong. 

“No, Christine. Don’t apologize. Not too me. I-” He turned his head away as a wet cough racked his body, and he felt her arms grow tighter around him. He could feel a trickle of something run from the corner of his mouth as he turned to face her. “I am...sorry, Christine. All I wanted was...a measure of happiness...for you to be happy...with me…but that was selfish.”

“Erik-”

“Selfish. You are...too good...too kind...to be chained in the dark with something like me”

“Don’t say that-”

“It is better this way, Christine...and I am sorry...for all of it…” With every ounce of strength he had, he pulled her hand towards his lips and pressed a kiss to it. A slash of red glistened against her skin, and he dragged his eyes toward her face, her beautiful, crying, living face. Alive alive alive! His breathing was rapid and ragged. “You did not die! Erik kissed you and you did not die!”

His breaths grew faster, shallower, and she smiled at him, a small, sad thing. She leaned down towards him, the tendrils of her silken hair brushing his cheeks, lips, throat like a benediction. She pressed a soft kiss to his brow and rested her forehead against his.

“I forgive you, Erik.” She breathed, and her sweet scent lingered about him as he drifted off to sleep.

o...oOo...o

Christine pushed her way through the mirror before stumbling a few steps back toward the dark tunnel. She hadn’t expected anyone to be in her room.

“Christine?” Raoul rushed towards her and scooped her into his arms. He held her for a long moment, but she couldn’t think, couldn’t move, couldn’t lift her arms. He pulled back and looked at her, saw the blood on her gown. He ran his hands over her arms, her face, trying to find the wound. “What happened? Are you alright?”

Christine looked at the gleaming gun in Raoul’s cummerbund, and it’s twin held by the other man in the room. That strange man...the Persian? She looked between the two in confusion.“This is the Daroga,” Raoul said gently, “he was going to help me find you. He knows...he knows about him.”

Christine felt the heat of tears in her eyes as she looked at the man. His face seemed to fall, just a fraction, as understanding hit him. There was a rough knock on her door. The Daroga opened it.

“Mademoiselle Daae is here, she is well. She fell through a trap-door in the stage and hit her head. Got lost on her way back to her room. She is fine now.”

The older gentleman closed the door on the inquiring voices beyond, and she saw sorrow matching her own in his kind face. She turned back to Raoul and leaned against his chest. His arms went around her, and slowly, slowly, she slipped her arms around him, clinging tighter and tighter as if he was driftwood and she was alone in the middle of the sea. Her eyes found the the Daroga’s as she whispered:

“Erik is dead.”

[midnightartemis]

Chapter One (On AO3 Now!)

She learned that life was a game of survival from a young age. First, it was the religious fanatics— the ones with the locked fridge and the forced prayers and the idea that children were the spawn of Satan to be beaten and starved into godly angels. After them came the Johnsons. They were a young couple, hopeful and naive, and completely unprepared for the half-feral, skin and bones desert commune child that the government dumped in their laps. She didn’t last long there either. But they hadn’t let her starve and they hadn’t hit her and Rey tended to put that down as a plus in her book. It was why she started speaking (though in a British accent much to everyone’s surprise) and it was why she still kept their last name. Even when they gave up on her. After them… It was years in the system until she came to be in the hand of Unkar Plutt.

She learned how to survive. Learned how he always hit her where no one could see, but he only did it when he was raging drunk and he only was raging drunk a few times a month. She learned his tells, knew that some nights she was better off stealing a slushie from the 7-Eleven and camping out at the skatepark until it was late enough to go back home.

As long as she did her chores and didn’t give him trouble, Plutt let her be. Rey was okay with that. She could survive that.

She sat on the lip of the park's bowl as the sun set, casting riotous shades of pink and purple and red across the cloudy sky. Summer had only just begun and while that met school, which she hated, was over, it also met more time with Plutt. More time in his shop. More ways to mess up and more drunken rages to avoid. She often wondered if he kept her around as something to look at or because she knew how to keep her mouth shut and balance his books. Both sets.

She’s been coming to the park for a while now, at least when the weather was decent, which it almost always was in Southern Cali. There was something comforting about the sound of wheels and boards on concrete, the whoops and hollers of the skaters, the warmth of the sun on her skin. Reminded her of the desert- only the best parts. People left her alone.

They had learned to after… Well, after they learned what happened when they didn’t. A few bloody noses. A few broken boards. Cause and effect.

The only ones who ever paid her any mind were Kuruk and his small band of boys in black. She respected their space and they respected hers. And after the broken nose incident, she’d almost become an honorary member of their group. A staple of the skatepark. She’d never had anywhere to belong before.

It didn’t mean anything and you could fuck off if you thought it did.

Rey watched them lazily, sipping on her stolen slushie as Cardo and AP kept biffing it on the same rail trick with a loud “fuck!” Every time.

There were a few other people around, but like usual, most had left as it started to get dark.

“Hey! Hey!”

Rey snapped to focus, frowning as she realized Kuruk had been trying to get her attention for a while and was now slowly jogging over to her. He held his board at his side and there was a lopsided smile on his face. He wore black baggy jeans and a baggy t-shirt like the rest of them and he always kept his dark hair buzz cut like he once thought about joining the military but only committed to the hairstyle.

“What.”

Kuruk laughed. “You’re a Rey of fuckin sunshine, you know that?”

Rey rolled her eyes. It was only the millionth time he had used that line on her. “What do you want, Kuruk?”

“The guys and I are headed to the loft. We wanted to know if you wanted to come.” He gave her that look that he always did that only told Rey he was trying to get in her pants. She was pretty sure the guys had a bet going on it.

She sighed. “You better have the good vodka this time. And better smokes. Those last ones tasted like dried out ass crack.”

“Yeah, yeah. Totally. One of my buddies is coming back from Chandrila and bringing the good college town shit.”

She didn’t know much about college towns but was fairly certain that “good college town shit” didn’t exist. She nodded anyway. “Fine. But imma kick your ass in Mario Kart.”

“Bet.” Kuruk offered her a hand and Rey let him pull her to her feet. She practically flew off the ground and threw them both into the bowl. It wasn’t that Kuruk was supernaturally strong or anything- she had seen him shirtless and seen that unfortunate happy trail- it was just that she was built like a skinny prepubescent boy with an eating disorder. Rey landed in Kuruk’s arms and scowled, shoving him off before he could say anything. Some whistles echoed over the park. She grabbed her melted purple slushie and flipped off the rest of the guys.

Rey went with them with the promise that life would maybe suck less for a little bit with them. At the very least they treated her to free booze and a toke. Inebriation was about the only thing that made Trudge and Ushar’s misogynistic idiocy palatable and Kuruk’s advances maybe not the worst thing in the world. It was nice to be liked. To be wanted. Even if it was just to win a bet. She’d never let them know that. Maker end her if they ever found out. She had enough self-worth to know it would never fucking happen.

They skated through the darkening streets of Coruscant, slow enough that Rey could keep up on foot. It wasn’t hard. None of them could go ten feet without tipping a trash can over or trying to nail a trick off the curb. No one cared as they loudly made their way down the street, making themselves known to the world in the one way they could. Rey trailed after them in the dark. They left the cracked and degrading streets and dipped through a hole in the chain-link fence, passing through a barely used rail yard and a dry culvert until they reached a small mostly abandoned warehouse.

A few years back some real estate guy had bought it and started trying to convert the place into condos. He got about halfway done before, probably, coming to his senses and realizing that no one on the south side of Coruscant wanted to buy a luxury condo. Even if there was exposed brick and industrial aesthetic , there was also high crime rates and a hatred of outsiders and gentrification. Scared off most of the investors and the rest vanished after the recession hit and never seemed to leave the south side. Buying the one completed loft back from the city was the only smart decision the guys ever made. Even if they only did it to piss the cops off who kept kicking them out for trespassing.

Part of Rey wishes she had seen the encounter instead of hearing about it every five seconds from one of the guys. The other part of Rey wondered how they were even smart enough to come up with that plan, let alone execute it.

The Loft as they called it consisted of a giant open area that functioned as a gaming room and kitchen, the most disgusting bathroom Rey had ever stepped foot in, and three bedrooms which had once been split between all of them till Cardo got his own place and Vic moved in with his pregnant girlfriend. Three bedrooms became six after one drunken night where Ushar had taken a sledgehammer to the wall and broken into the abandoned half-finished apartment next door. As far as Rey knew, they were arguing between turning that living room into a sex dungeon or a pool table room. The vote was fifty-fifty since Rey refused to participate and Trudge, convinced he could have both, refused to pick a side. The whole place constantly smelled of weed and Kuruk’s weird incense.

Rey would never admit it, but she secretly loved the place. The ceilings were at least twelve feet high and there were huge metal-framed windows that looked out over a field of dead grass to the lights of the city.

Kuruk dug through the mess of a freezer pulling out a half bottle of Everclear and a mostly empty bottle of Captain Morgan, which Rey snatched from him without a word. She found an unopened can of coke and poured it straight into the Captain's bottle, swishing it around before taking a large sip. No one blinked an eye.

Across the room, Ushar cursed as he tried to get the projector working. It wasn’t that old of a projector, but it had been purchased from some seedy electronic store that definitely looked the other way on where they acquired their products. Gaming was about the only thing they ever spent their money on and they had almost every game and system out there. That was the other reason Rey secretly liked this place. Secretly liked most of them.

Rey carried her bottle with her across the room, stopping Ushar before the stout Mexican twin started to rip the machine apart in frustration. His brother, Trudge, was the same in almost every way- built like a tank and while they could be bright at times, they were oblivious to almost everything.

If she was being honest, AP was the only guy she ever thought about letting win their stupid bet. He was shy and generally quiet and never really said much to her, which Rey preferred. He was cute, too, with short black hair, dark skin, and brown eyes. But he was more like a brother than anything. He was insanely smart, which made him the brains of the operation, and about the only one with any real sense. He took up his usual position on the couch and started to roll a joint from their last bits of weed.

After Rey popped open the lid of the projector and blew out the fan and circuitry, the projector came to life with a small whine. She popped the lid back on and adjusted the focus so it hit the stretched sheet across the room right.

She hopped down from the chair and took the lit joint from AP for a deep hit before passing it back. Trudge and Ushar eventually moved from the back rooms howling to each other and fighting over who would play COD first.

“Hey, dickheads. The lady’s already chosen Mario Kart.” Kuruk slammed a shot glass on the table. “Loser finishes the Everclear.”

“She always fuckin wins.” Trudge groaned. “She always picks rainbow road. I fuckin hate rainbow road.”

Rey smiled to herself as Trudge and Ushar groaned but ultimately complied with their ringleader’s orders.

She could kick their asses at Mario Kart with a blindfold on. Rey snatched up the Wii remote and easily beat Trudge, Ushar, and Kuruk on Mario Kart’s three hardest courses. Even when Kuruk sat beside her and Trudge tried to tackle him over the back of the couch. Happy with her victory and at the sight of Ushar and Trudge gagging down straight Everclear, she released them to fight over endless rounds of COD.

Her and AP quietly pass the last joint back and forth, her eyes growing hazy as she practices blowing smoke rings into the air.

“God you fuckers are rank.”

Rey grips tightly the mostly gone Captain’s bottle in her hand at the unrecognizable voice. People stopped by the loft constantly, but it was always someone she knew. She was halfway to smashing her bottle and brandishing it as a weapon when the guys broke into a flurry of motion, leaping over the couch and flying at the voice as they howled. Rey jumps in the opposite way, watching as the stranger was set upon by the guys. It took a moment for Rey to realize that they weren’t actually beating him up. She took a long swig of her drink.

Out of the male-bonding wrestling pit emerged one of the tallest, broadest men she had ever seen. He wore all black like the rest of them, but there was something different about him. Long black hair came to his shoulders and Rey fought off the sudden urge to run her fingers through it. His pale skin was covered in smatterings of moles and freckles and his long nose was hooked from a break that didn’t heal right. It wasn’t until his eyes caught hers that the world seemed to break away under her feet. She felt his intense brown eyes from across the room. They dropped down before traveling back up again. He met her with eyes with a smirk and Rey scowled back. Something flashed across his face, too quick for Rey to tell what it was. Confusion, maybe?

Kuruk caught him staring at her and puffed out his chest in some sort of testosterone-filled dominance display. The stranger's eyes didn’t leave her. Rey did the only thing she could think of to win whatever battle she was having with this asshole and downed the rest of the Captain's bottle without breaking eye contact. The corner of his lip tweaked up.

Kuruk cleared his throat. “Kylo - Rey. Rey - Kylo.”

Kylo. Rey glared. What was it with them and stupid names?

Kylo frowned at her glare for only a moment before shoving a black backpack into Kuruk’s chest. “I brought your shit seeing as that’s the only reason you wanted me back, fucker.”

Maker, his voice. Deep and rough liked smoked whiskey and thunder. She wasn’t high enough for this.

Rey sat back down on the end seat of the couch and tried to mindlessly watch as Trudge and Ushar went back to trying to kill each other. AP returned to his rolling board with the fresh bag of weed. Bag of bags Rey realized. There had to be several hundred dollars in a dozen different strains in there. She tried not to let her eyes drift to the newcomer. He stood in the kitchen pouring drinks with Kuruk. The muscles in his back stretched his tight black t-shirt as he moved. The bottle he held looked fucking minuscule in his hands. He talked to Kuruk with dark eyes and a scowl on his face, never stopping as he pulled bartending tools out of various drawers and cabinets. He knew the loft. He knew them well enough to waltz in and start digging through the drawers.

Rey looked away before Kuruk could catch her watching Kylo. It was barely a secret that Kuruk was trying to claim her— a fact that pissed her off to no end. But the last thing she wanted tonight was to start a fight. She just wanted to bliss out for a bit. Pass out on the couch so she didn’t have to wander back to Plutt until the afternoon when her shift started.

Her eyes kept betraying her, slipping away from COD to the man taking up a majority of the kitchen. Kylo had pulled several bottles of liquor and mixers from the bag and- was that a fucking lemon and lime?

Kylo’s eyes flickered up to meet hers. A little smirk formed on his lips and Rey kept her mouth in a firm scowl. She already had too many cocky assholes in her life. She didn’t need one more.

She looked away from him and poked AP with her foot. Without skipping a beat, he pulled her favorite bong out from under the table, packed it, and handed it and a lighter to her. Maybe she wasn’t completely surrounded by assholes. He knew not to give her sativas, not after the time he found her in the bathtub having a full-blown panic attack.

Rey adjusted herself and lit up, filling the pipe until it was opaque with smoke. She sucked the entire take deep into her lungs in one go, holding it there as she let her head fall back. She let the smoke out slowly playing with it and blowing double rings into the air to watch them drift lazily up. Kuruk wasn’t lying. This was the good stuff. A dark figure stepped into the corner of her eye and Rey looked up to find Kylo standing by the couch. He held a dark amber drink in one hand and a pale pink drink in the other.

“Trade?” There was a teasing quality to his question that pissed Rey off. No doubt the pink drink was meant for her. Rey smiled sweetly.

“Sure.” She pressed the bong to his ridiculously broad chest— no she was not noticing or thinking about it at all— and snatched the glass of amber liquid from his hand. A puzzled look crossed over his face and Rey pushed away the unwanted thought that he was kinda cute. For an asshole. A moment later that cocky smile was back and he set the pink drink on the table. Kylo motioned for the lighter and she handed it to him snatching her hand back like she was burned when his hand brushed against her own. Rey blamed it on the fact that she was half-way to Elysium when she openly stared at him as he took a hit as strong as her own and pulled off a proper French inhale.

It wasn’t sexy.

It wasn’t sexy at all.

A moment later he exhaled completely, their smoke combining to hang around them in a thick haze. His eyes never left her and Rey wondered if he could see into the darkest depths of her soul to see his own reflection. He handed the bong back to her, reached down for the pink drink and downed it all in one go.

A loud swear from Trudge broke Rey out of whatever hellish subspace she had been trapped in with Kylo. AP shot her a glance like he saw everything that happened and behind him in the kitchen, Kuruk looked close to murder. He had seen too.

“How long you staying, Ren?” AP shifted between the two of them, sensing the impending fight as much as Rey did.

“No fucking clue. Might stick around for a bit.”

“Awwww was college too much for you, Einstein?” Kuruk pouted mockingly.

“Nah. They’re blaming me for nearly blowing up the chem building. Academic probation since they can’t prove it wasn’t an accident.” Kylo held on to his glass and stared down Kuruk. AP went back to rolling his joints not wanting to get in the middle of it. This was bigger than her, Rey realized. Territory dispute.

Strange how they do that. Though girls tended to be worse than guys. Guys just wanted to sleep with her. Girls wanted to murder her. Sometimes it was cause and effect— either way.

“Was it?” It took a moment for her brain to catch up to her mouth to realize she had said that.

Kylo raised an eyebrow. “Was it what, sunshine?”

“Fuck off, dickwad.” Kuruk plopped down beside her and threw his arm on the couch behind her shoulder. Not quite touching her but still trying to stake a claim on her. As if he could. He smelt of BO and stale cigarettes and she couldn’t get the thought of that sad happy trail out of her head. She wasn’t in the mood to be the chess piece in whatever fucked up game they were playing.

“Touch me, Kuruk, and you’ll wake up without a dick.”

Mr. Tall, dark, and asshole snorts, but his eyes widen ever so slightly as Kuruk actually takes his arm away from her without complaint. She smirks a little, thinking back to the time when Kuruk thought she was only joking. He had figured out pretty quickly that Rey would follow through on her threats when he woke up with a knife hovering over his junk. It was clear to them after that that no one touched her without her permission. After a while, they just straight up accepted it. No one touches Rey. Kuruk was the only one to ever press that boundary.

Rey picks up her bong and goes back to practicing smoke rings. She’s been working on her triple ring trick for a while but can’t seem to get the timing down. It’s relaxing. She could focus all her energy on just that and let the rest of the world drift away for a while.

AP finished rolling his joints and packed her bong again before picking up his bag and taking off without a word. He’d be back in a few hours and about 500$ richer. Split between the six of them with the majority going to Kylo and AP, she’d maybe get twenty bucks out of it. Still twenty bucks was twenty bucks. Maybe she’d actually buy her slushie next time.

Her neck burned as if someone was watching her. Sure enough when she looked over Kylo’s eyes were unabashedly fixed on her and ignoring Kuruk’s pointed glares. Rey stared back at him, her eyes slowly caressing over his cheekbones and strong jaw. She found constellations in his freckles. He leaned back in his chair letting her observe him, a faint cocky smile ghosting his lips. She wondered for a minute if she should feel embarrassed for ogling him like this, but she couldn’t. Not when she felt so light and free. Not when nothing mattered. Not really. This must be what death felt like.

She wondered what he’d taste like. What his moans sounded like. If his touch would feel like fire against her skin. He looked at her as if he knew exactly what she was thinking and was wondering the same thing.

But why?

Why... when you’re nothing. When you’re no one. When you’re far too skinny and you have no tits and half-healed bruises on your ribs. When even the gentlest touch makes you want to puke. You’re nothing but a quick lay. Something to use and discard.

Rey frowned and quickly locked her emotions down in the darkest parts of her. Kylo frowned, too. His eyes flitted away from her but never strayed far.

Learning how to swim but the lands are dry Feeling like a shark, If I stop I'll die Things are lit and the blood's on fire Underneath the buzz of the telephone wire

All my friends are doing fine While I'm looking for a sign Is this body even mine? Feels good to be alive but I hate my life

So tied up and tired of this self-inflicted fight In spite of, I light up, to leave my demons inside Tell myself I'm fine while I'm looking for a sign Is this body even mine? Feels good to be alive but I hate my life

- Good to Be Alive, PVRIS

[thethistlegirl]

Return to Cairo

Jack’s met genocidal war criminals he likes better than James MacGyver. “You can’t be serious.”

James doesn’t seem to be aware of the actual gravity of the situation. “I told Webber not to involve you. Specifically.”

“Matty didn’t call me.” Actually it was Riley, but Jack has no desire to throw his girl under the bus. “And all I know right now is, Mac is missing in freaking Cairo, on freaking Cairo Day so you better tell me what the hell is going on.”

At least he didn’t have to fly far. He was after Kovacs in Libya when the call came in. His team knew better than to argue when he grabbed his gear and left. All Riley was able to tell him was “Mac’s in trouble. In Cairo.” But that’s all he needed to hear.

“First of all, Dalton, that insane superstition is ridiculous. It’s just a day. Statistically no more dangerous than any other day of the year.” James’s voice carries an edge that tells Jack Mac probably came to his father with the same protest. James is too logical to believe in the curse of Cairo Day.

“Angus was in the middle of an infiltration when he went dark.”

“And you’re not doing a damn thing to get him back?”

“The only reason he was infiltratingthe compound rather than us making a full scale raid was because they are heavily guarded and now will be even more so.”

“So what…”

“We have no guarantee that he’s even been captured. It’s possible he felt the need to disable his comm unit for some reason.” It certainly wouldn’t be the first time Mac’s destroyed every available communication device. But it’s Cairo.Jack is not taking chances.

“Where was he going into?”

…

James isn’t willing to be forthcoming with any information. But Jack has allies. Between Matty’s secret handoff of the mission brief and Riley hacking Mac’s comms for last known location, Jack has a location. And a plan.

Apparently this terror group took over an old factory as headquarters. There’s a large machining floor, but the underground level is divided up into a boiler room and storage spaces. And the boiler room vents to street level through a grating.  

Jack really hopes this isn’t the way Mac went in. If it is, there might be someone waiting for him to do the same. Or maybe they’ll assume no one else is dumb enough to try it.

He quickly realizes that this wasn’t Mac’s entry point. The vent shaft is mined. Fortunately, he’s spent the past several weeks working very closely with the crews disabling Kovacs’s work, and it’s brought back his memories of what he learned as an EOD Overwatch.

When the devices are disabled, he makes his way into the boiler room. It’s pitch black and cool, the engines haven’t been run in years. He unlocks the door and steps out into a hallway. He has no idea which of the storage rooms Mac might be in. He’s just going to have to try them all. Matty’s voice in his ear is telling him that they have motion at the building, trucks are being loaded and pulled away. He hopes they’re not taking Mac with them. He also hopes Mac isn’t dead.

Matty assures him there are no more heat signatures on the upper level. They can’t get a read into the basement, not with all the metal upstairs, but Jack hasn’t seen any guards. Which means he doesn’t need to bother being quiet about getting through doors.

He clears three rooms before he kicks down a door and hears a shuddering breath accompany the movement. He pulls out his flashlight and scans the whole bare room.

Mac is curled up in a corner of the room, shaking. Jack feels his stomach flip over. What did they do to him? The kid’s barefoot, his once light blue shirt is crimson, and he’s shivering. Jack takes a few steps closer, then stops when Mac apparently hears his steps and tries to curl up tighter, a keening whimper slipping out.

“Mac, it’s me. It’s Jack.”

“J-jack?” Mac looks up, his face is a mess of blood and bruises. And his chest…the shirt is shredded off him and that’s where all the blood is coming from. Or at least that’s what Jack thinks until he gets a little closer and realizes the kid’s back is in the same condition. They whipped him or something, and made sure he wouldn’t be able to lie on his back or stomach. The only comfort Mac can find is to be on his side. “You s-shouldn’t be here.”

“I’m here to get you out. And don’t worry, Matty told me everyone in here is gone so we’re home free, hoss.” Guess they figured he was in no condition to escape. “They must have taken off with the bomb, the backup tac team is tracking them now.”

Mac shakes his head, struggling to sit up. “No, Jack, they left me here because this is ground zero for their explosion. The bomb is here, in the building.”

Oh hell. “Man, I told you, working on Cairo Day is bad luck.”

“Tried not to,” Mac mumbles. But James wouldn’t listen. Jack wonders how the man will react when he sees the torture Mac’s been through. Probably brush it off like he has everything else about the kid.Mac is far too skinny, and Jack feels terribly guilty for leaving him alone with all of the things that have happened since he took off.

“I saw it, before they grabbed me. I can disarm it.”

“No, we’re getting you out of here.”

“There’s not enough time.” Mac shakes his head. “It’s nuclear. Big enough to take out this whole city sector and contaminate the rest.”

“Wonderful. Then let’s go.” Jack lifts Mac to his feet, trying not to put any pressure on his flayed back. Oh kid that’s gonna be a mess.There’s no way he doesn’t come out of this with lasting scars.

…

The bomb isbig. It’s been pushed up against some of the factory equipment, hidden from easy view but not less deadly. Mac’s muttering under his breath, Jack’s familiar with hearing that through the radio in the Sandbox. He’s doing his thing.He has complete faith in Mac, even as the timer ticks down from 1:43. Mac grabs a tac knife from Jack’s belt, without permission as usual, and pries off the front plate of the bomb, getting at the tangle of wires behind the timer. He pulls a red one to the front and examines it, then puts it back, grabbing a blue one with a wry half-smile.

Mac snips the wire and literally collapses, falling backward into Jack. And the timer stops at 0:22.

…

Jack feels a little guilty that Mac looks surprised when he wakes up in the hospital and sees Jack beside him. “I thought you…”

“Were chasing a terrorist?” Jack shrugs. “Turns out I do a lot better accidentally running across them with you.” He shakes his head. “Remember when you turned in your resignation to Phoenix last year?” Mac nods solely, clearly still out of it on the drugs they’re pumping into him. “Well, turns out you never formally came back. You said you’d stay till we got Murdoc, but you never actually filled out the paperwork. So technically…you’re a literal free agent.”

Mac frowns. Clearly his brain’s not keeping up. “What…?”

“You don’t belong to Phoenix. And they can’t order you to do anything.” Jack grins. “Boy was James pissed when I told him that.” He leans in. “I know you don’t remember a lot about what happened back there in Cairo, but that man was gonna leave you to die. He didn’t care about you, all he cared about was the mission. And I’d rather die than see you continue to get dragged around by him.”

“But he…”

“You owe him absolutely nothing, Mac. Nothing. I’ve already cleared it with my task force. They’d be happy to have a former EOD tech and trained agent on the team, and they’re willing to give you the recovery time you need. And let me stay.”

Apparently that Mac does understand. Because his hand slides across the blanket to twist into Jack’s. “You’re staying,” he mutters, simplistically, but it’s the simple things in life that mean the most.

@macgyvercairo

[peterparkers7evilexes]

okay but I can't stop thinking about Peter introducing harry to tony and tony seeing the boy and being so reminded of himself at that age and his relationship with howard (yes that's what I'm implying) that he has to have the boy. harry obviously has major daddy issues and tony has a thing for taking good care of broken boys that they, and peter, work perfectly. please, I just want to see harry happy for once.

Y’all ridin the same wavelength and i’m here for it. I love finding my Harry some happiness.

When Harry goes a week without laughing, only the faintest of pained smiles at Peter’s dumb jokes, Peter says he has a plan to ‘cheer Harry up’, which sounds vaguely ominous.

“Stark Tower?” Harry says incredulously, looking up at the massive skyscraper, raising an eyebrow at Peter.

“C'mon,” Peter says, taking him by the hand and dragging him in.

Peter leads them to the lab where his internship is, and Harry startles when he sees Tony Stark himself stooped over a workbench, welding massive joints of metal together. He looks like a totally different man - nothing like the posturing playboy Harry's seen at galas and conferences.

Stark looks at them and grins, shutting his tools down and straightening up. As he comes over to greet them, Harry can't help but stare at the thin black tank clinging to his broad chest, his eyes tracing the faint glow of his arc reactor the sheen of sweat down his shoulders and over his bulging biceps. To his side, Peter giggles and gives him a sly little smirk, and Harry stamps on his foot.

“Pete, hey. You didn't say you'd be bringing a friend.” Stark claps a friendly hand onto Peter's shoulder, pulling him into his side for a hug, and Harry bristles, any attraction giving way to a sharp sting of possessiveness.

“It's a pleasure, Mr. Stark,” Harry says coolly, watching the way Stark's fingers curl ever tighter around Peter's bony shoulders.

Stark laughs and shakes his hand genially. “No need to be so formal, Harry. Any friend of Pete's is a friend here.”

As it turns out, Stark seems to mean it. He gladly shows Harry around the lab, never once bringing up his father or OsCorp, never making him feel stupid. Harry finds himself drawn in by the man’s charm and - he sees the appeal, he has to reluctantly admit.

He starts coming over to Stark Tower with Peter more regularly, and to his amazement, Tony Stark genuinely seems to take a shine to him. He watches as Tony grasps Peter by the back of the neck, looking over his shoulder at his programming and idly imagines it's him, thinks about Tony pushing him down over his workbench and fucking him, murmuring sweet, filthy words of praise, even pictures Peter sitting on the table beside them, kicking his legs and watching with his bright smile on his face.

And then one day Norman goes too far and Harry has nowhere to go - he can't think and he's running to the subway, his vision blurred with tears and he finds himself standing in front of Stark Tower.

He lets himself up with the access code Tony gave him and his feet take him to the lab, a place Harry now associates with safety and being wanted. He can already feel himself calming down, the anxiety slowly ebbing away, but he's still unfocused enough that he walks right into the lab without knocking.

“Harry!”

He blinks, staring in shock as he meets Peter's eyes, his best friend sitting in Tony's lap and currently impaled on cock. Harry’s frozen in place, his eyes hungrily drinking him in. Peter's naked, his skin flushed with exertion and arousal, his lips bitten pink and wet. Between his plump asscheeks, he can see the thick base of Tony's cock buried deep and snug inside Peter, splitting him open. The man himself is still mostly dressed, his usual black tank clinging to his chest and jeans still bunched around his dark thighs.

As Harry looks up at Tony, the older man gives him an unbothered grin, then actually thrusts up into Peter's ass, dragging a startled mewl from him. “Everything okay, Harry?”

The question knocks Harry back to himself and, despite his now rock hard dick, he finds himself crying again in the worst possible situation.

“Not really,” he says miserably, ducking his head, humiliated as tears roll down his cheeks.

There's a murmured curse, then the shifting of fabric and the chair squeaking, and then Harry finds himself being embraced by Tony and Peter. “Hey, Har, you're okay,” Peter says, pressing his forehead against Harry's, uncaring that he's still totally naked.

“You're staying here tonight,” Tony says in a firm voice, gently guiding Harry to the sofa in the corner of the lab. “Have you eaten yet, Harry?”

Overwhelmed and anxious again, Harry just shakes his head. He watches in some detached amazement as Peter and Tony immediately take care of him exactly the way he needs. Peter wraps his skinny arms around his waist and cuddles up to him, telling Harry stupid knock-knock jokes until he laughs. Tony tends to him like a mother hen, ordering from Harry's favorite Thai place and giving him a thick blanket and pillows.

Eventually, Harry relaxes enough that there's room for embarrassment in his head again. “I'm so sorry about walking in on you two,” he grimaces.

“You didn't seem to hate it,” Tony says with a pointed grin, leaning back in his seat.

Harry flushes and shrugs. Fuck it. “It's hot. I'd fuck both of you. Whatever.”

Peter leans forward into his space suddenly, eager and delighted. “Wait. You really mean that, Harry?” He looks at Tony gloatingly. “See, I told you he wanted to fuck you too. Dumb old man.”

Harry looks between them, bewildered. “He's Tony Stark, Pete.”

When Peter flips Tony a triumphant middle finger, Tony just rolls his eyes, but the corner of his lips are upturned. “All this is to say, I think we're propositioning you. Not tonight,” he adds hastily, “but when you're in a more emotionally safe place. And only if you wanted it, of course.”

The tenderness that wells up in Harry's heart is nearly enough to make his eyes sting again. He can't remember his own father ever concerning himself with his son's emotional well-being. “Yes. Yes. But, um,” he thinks about the scene he'd walked in on, his dick twitching in his jeans. “I wouldn't say no to watching the both of you finishing what you were doing tonight. Just as a primer, of course.”

“Oh, of course,” Tony agrees silkily, squeezing Harry's shoulder meaningfully. The gesture sends a shiver down his spine.

Without delay, Peter's naked again and straddling Tony's lap, beaming at Harry. “Thank God,” he says loudly. “Thought I was gonna have to jerk myself off tonight thinking about you two assholes finally fucking.”

“Would you like to help me shut him up?” Tony asks politely, tangling his fingers through Peter's hair to hold him still.

“Yes, sir,” Harry says with a smirk, and he pushes himself up to press his lips against Peter's, Tony's voice warm in his ear.

[blacknight1230]

Damsel - Hiro Hamada Imagine

Despite only being in your teens, you’ve been accepted to the San Fransokyo Institute of Technology, and  on your first day  you run Hiro Hamada. As you continue your education at the school, you and Hiro not only become fast friends, but you started to gain feelings for the fourteen year old. Yet, you have no idea about Hiro’s activities in Big Hero 6. Unfortunately, this leads to you being put into danger one day. Will your live being in danger finally allow both of you to voice your affections for one another, or will it be too late?

Original story on Quotev

You walked through the hallways of San Fransokyo Institute of Technology, also called SFIT for short. A schedule and map in hand,  you were trying to find your way to your private lab. Since you were so focused on your map, you weren’t looking where you were going. You ran into a hard chest and fell to the floor. Your things went everywhere while you fell onto your bum. “I’m so sorry! Are you okay?” a male voice asked. 

You looked up to see a young teen looking at you with worried eyes. You noticed his unruly hair and that he was really young to be a college student, like you (btw you are 15, 1 year older than Hiro). “Yeah, I’m okay. Sorry from bumping unto you,” you said, getting onto your knees and trying to gather all your papers. “Here, let me help you,” the messy haired boy said. He bent down and helped you to gather all your things off the floor. “Hey, these blueprints are pretty good,” the boy said. 

“Thank you. I’ve been working on them for a while now. They’re actually what got me into this school,” you admitted, taking the objects he collected back. “You’re new here?!” “Yeah. I was looking at a map trying to find the labs when I bumped into you.” “I’ll show you! I’m actually on my way there now!” the boy exclaimed and smiled. 

You noticed he had a gap between his two front teeth, making him look adorable. “Well, thank you. I’m (y/n) (l/n),” you introduced yourself. “I’m Hiro Hamada. Follow me and I’ll take you to your lab.” He helped you up by grabbing your hand. The contact sent butterflies fluttering through your stomach. Anyway, he led you down the hall and toward where the labs were, you following him. 

~ Several Minutes Later ~ 

Hiro opened a door and strode into the room. “Hey, guys! I’m back! And I brought the new student!” Hiro exclaimed. You looked at the people in the room. There was a tall skinny blonde girl in a lab coat messing with chemicals in beakers, a black haired girl working on a yellow bike, a big African American huy organizing his tools, and a long haired blonde guy sitting on a couch wearing what looked like a reptile mascot. All four of them looked at you and Hiro once you stepped into the room. 

The tall blonde girl walked over to you, seeming even taller since she was wearing pink heels, and smiled kindly. “Hello! I’m Honey Lemon! What’s your name?” she said excitedly. “I’m (y/n),” you replied looking up at her because of your short height. “This is GoGo,” Honey Lemon said pointing to the black haired chick. “This is Wasabi,” she said pointing to the big African American guy. 

“And I’m Fred!” the blonde guy said jumping up from the couch. He put his mascot head back on and started to swirl around a sign with the college’s name on it. “I’m not actually a student here, but I give the guys ideas.” “Which we never listen to because they’re all about turning him into a superhero,” GoGo said as she walked past, hitting Fred on his mascot’s head. You heard a “Hey!” come from inside, causing you to silently laugh. “Here, I’ll show you your lab,” Hiro said. “Okay. I was great meeting you guys!” you shouted to the others as you walked away. 

They all said their goodbyes as you followed the little Asian teen. You both stopped at a transparent glass door, which only showed you the outlines of objects. Anyway, you both went inside and you looked around. The room was all white, with light wooden floors. There was a wooden long desk and a steel workbench placed on opposite sides of the room. There was a big glass window facing the door, allowing natural light to come in. I’ll definitely will customize this place to my liking later, you thought. 

You placed your blueprints on your workbench and your papers on your desk. Right before you started to organize your tools, you turned to Hiro. “Thank you, Hiro, for helping me out. Maybe we’ll become friends during our time here,” you said. “No complaints there. You seem like a nice girl. I’m sure the others will become your friends too,” Hiro replied.  “Anyway, I have lots to do so…” “Oh, okay. See you later, (nickname)!” Hiro called as he turned to leave. You giggled at the new name and turned back to your work. 

~ Several Months Later ~ 

You were walking the streets of San Fransokyo to the Lucky Cat Café. Since becoming a student at the SFIT, you have become friends with Hiro, GoGo, Honey Lemon, Fred, and Wasabi. You even met Fred’s butler, Heathcliff. He barely showed any emotion, but would give you a kind smile from time to time. Anyway, as you were walking, you were going over something in your head. It wasn't something to do with your inventions, but was about your best friend, Hiro. Earlier that day, you realized you had feelings for Hiro. 

Romantic feelings where you want to kiss him and make him smile. You were walking past a store selling TVs, when the news popped onto all the screens. A female announcer started to talk to the camera. “Hello, San Fransokyo. This is Valmera Kaba bringing you breaking news. In downtown San Fransokyo there is a battle between what appears to be a rip-off look-a-like of Godzilla against the city’s Big Hero 6,” she said, reading off a bunch of papers in front of her. Live footage showed the superhero teens fighting a giant lizard. 

Their helmets hid their faces from the public making everyone curious about whom they really were. Even you. Your respected them and thought they were doing the city good, unlike some people. Critics complained their appearance causes villains to emerge and disastrous events to proceed. The news announcer continued to talk, warning people to steer clear of the downtown area. You continued to walk, since Hiro’s Aunt Cass’s café wasn’t downtown. You were distracted as you continued to think about Hiro. 

Sadly, since you were distracted, you missed the turn that brought you in the direction of Hiro’s and Cass’s house. You didn’t even notice your surroundings until people started to rush past you faster than normal, all screaming in terror. The rushing people sent you against the hard walls of the nearby building. It hurt you, scraping against the rough outer of the building. Luckily, you weren’t crushed by the mob. When the scared crowd left, you fell to your knees and huffed for breath. 

You looked around to see what they were running from when you saw a terrible sight. You were in the destroyed downtown of San Fransokyo. The streets were ripped up, cars flipped over, electrical wires and telephone poles on the ground, holes here and there, and small fires everywhere. “What the-” Your sentence was cut off when a giant hand grabbed you and picked you up. You screamed as the monster brought you to its face. You started to squirm and kicked at the hand, but its grip was strong and its skin was like metal. 

Actually, now that you think about it, the visible texture and the touchable texture was that of metal. You looked into the yellow eyes of the ‘monster’ as the yellow disappeared. Inside the head was a man behind clear glass at a control panel, directing the so called monster. The monster was actually a giant robot. “Sees like I caught the perfect damsel in distress,” the man said, smiling creepily. “Let me go! I don’t deserve to be manhandled!” you yelled at the man in frustration. “Be quiet, girly. You’re my ticket to getting away. So, I would be quiet before I decide you’re not worth the hassle,” the man threatened. “Suck a lemon’s ass!” you screamed. The man growled and was just about to do something on his control panel, when a voice called out. “Stop right there, Dr. Silva!” the make voice said. That voice is familiar. Too familiar. It can’t be… you thought. 

You looked at the person, who was in purple battle gear and on the back of a robot in red battle gear. You recognized the big brown eyes, messy black hair, and gap tooth mouth. It was Hiro! And his brother’s health care robot Baymax! Hiro recognized you shown by his eyes widening. He didn’t say anything and neither did you. “Let the lady go, Dr. Silva. She’s not involved with this,” Hiro said, his voice strong. “How about, no. This girl has become part of everything right when I landed sight on her. So, little hero, I suggest allowing me to leave or else I’ll crush this girl like a bug!” Hiro frowned, glaring at the evil doctor. “Sorry, Silva, but I can’t let you escape. Honey Lemon, now!” he shouted. A pink ball hit the eyes of the robot and pink foamed covered it. You heard the man inside scream in frustration as Baymax quickly broke the metal hand holding you. 

Sadly, Baymax didn’t think about making sure you didn’t fall, so as soon as the metal around you was gone you started to fall to the hard pavement below. It was a long way down, making you scream as your stomach felt like it was in your chest and the air rush past you. “Baymax catch her!” you heard Hiro yell. Suddenly, you stopped falling and were in the arms of the health care robot. “Hello, (y/h),” Baymax said calmly, as if he didn’t just catch you from falling to your death. “Hi Baymax,” you said. “Guys, I’m going to bring (y/n) somewhere safe. I’ll come back with Baymax as soon as I can,” you heard Hiro say, seemingly to himself. 

He must have a comm-link in his helmet. And our friends are the other members of Big Hero 6, aren’t they? you thought as you went over what happened in your head. You thought you recognized the familiar qualities of the team members to your friends. So, they have all been lying to me. As you proceed through your own mind, Baymax flew off into the sky. You noticed you were now near the San Fransokyo Bridge, the sun setting in the distance. “Baymax, land on top of the bridge,” Hiro commanded. 

The normally marshmallow-like robot landed on the central pillar and set you down on the orange metal. Hiro climbed off Baymax’s back and made his way to you. “(Y/n), are you alright? Did he hurt you?” he worried, inspecting you for any injuries. Your hand formed into a fist and punched Hiro in the arm, hard. “Ow! What was that for?” Hiro exclaimed. “Why didn’t you even tell me you were the leader of Big Hero 6? Is this why you’re always bailing out on helping me with my inventions?” you yelled at him. “(Y/n), listen-” “I heard a sound of distress. What seems to be the trouble?” Baymax interrupted, walking up to you both. “It’s nothing, Baymax,” Hiro protested. “On a scale of one to ten, how would you rate your pain?” Baymax continued. 

“Zero. Now can you-” “I’ll scan you both for injuries.” “Don’t you dare scan me.” “Scan complete.” “Unbelievable,” Hiro muttered, running his hands down his face. “According your statics, I have concluded that you are feeling fear, worried, and love caused by each other,” Baymax said. Both yours and Hiro’s cheeks were red. “O-Okay, t-that’s enough now,” Hiro stuttered and turned to Baymax. “I even have a pre-recorded confession towards you, (y/n),” Baymax continued, ignoring Hiro. He started to play an audio recording. (Y/n), since I first landed my eyes on you, I knew you were the one- the recording said. “Baymax, stop, now!” Hiro yelled his whole face red. Baymax listened and turned off the recording. 

“I leave you two alone to speak about your feelings,” Baymax said. He shuffled away and sat on the edge of the pillar. “Hiro, is what Baymax said true? Do you really have feelings for me?” you asked. Hiro sighed and nodded his head. “I’ve kind of had a crush on you since I first met you,” he said bashfully, not looking you in the eye. “Baymax said you felt the same. Is that true?” Hiro asked. “Yes. I haven’t been able to tell since something always comes up or I chicken out,” you replied. Hiro took off his helmet, his wild hair springing back into place. You noticed you were really close to Hiro, an inch or more between your faces. “(Y/n)?” Hiro asked breathlessly. “Yes?” “Can I kiss you?” 

Instead of replying, you closed the distance between you. You closed your eyes as you lips met Hiro’s in a kiss. Your hands rested on his shoulders as Hiro’s came to hold your waist. He started to kiss, a smile on his lips. The kiss was sweet and full of love, tasting like the gummy bears Hiro probably ate while ago. You both broke away for air a short while later. Hiro laid his forehead against yours, trying to regain his breath along with you. “I love you, Hiro. I may be worried about you putting yourself in danger, but I trust you,” you whispered. 

“So, you’re not mad at me?” Hiro asked. “Of course, I’m mad at you. Lying to me along with my other friends is wrong. But I think you can earn my forgiveness on two conditions,” you said. “What?” “One, no more lying, which means you have to tell me about your hero duties. Two, you have to date me and continue to give me kisses,” you joked. Hiro chuckled and said, “Nothing to complain about there.” He caught your lips in another kiss, both of you smiling while doing so. You continued to kiss on the San Fransokyo Bridge as the sun set over the horizon.