#but there's another hurricane forming and I am a bit concerned about that

[tj-crochets]

My birthday is coming up, and every year for my birthday* I try to make a thing just because I want to but this year I am not sure what I want to make. Like, zero ideas. Well, I mean I always have ideas, but none that appeal more than others? I'm not sure if I should ask for suggestions or just make a series of polls leading up to my birthday to narrow it down, what do you think? *within a few weeks of my birthday, I am bad at time

[jjmaybankswh0re]

𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐓𝐰𝐨 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝𝐬 ~ 𝐎𝐁𝐗 𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐅𝐈𝐂

Part 2!

Blurb ~ Kalani thought Midsummers was the hardest thing to shake, but the Pogues’ new adventure plunges them into deeper chaos. Sunken boats, cryptic messages, and John B’s quest for gold lead them to the eerie Crain house, a place steeped in dark legends. As tensions rise, especially with John B’s kiss with Kiara, secrets and dangers unravel.

The revelation that Ward Cameron is John B’s guardian shakes the group, but they press on, following a map to the Crain property. Amid creepy tales and an overgrown yard, Kalani takes a fall, and JJ’s unexpected concern sparks a new, unspoken connection between them. As the mystery deepens, so does the strange bond forming between them, unnoticed but undeniable. ~

Read part 1!

Master List

Word count: 10,011

I woke up groaning, my head pounding, the dull red glow of my digital clock screaming 7:34 AM. Way too early for someone who spent the night tangled in chaos. I rolled onto my back, staring at the ceiling, but the memories of last night wouldn’t let me rest. They played over and over, each one a knot in my stomach.

After ditching the suffocating Midsummers party—and good riddance—the Pogues and I headed to Rixon’s Cove. That’s where we belong, not at some Kook circus with crystal champagne glasses and fake smiles. Kie showed up, too, leaving behind her “perfect” world for the one that actually matters. We all just wanted to chill by the bonfire, forget everything for a bit. But, of course, John B had other plans.

He told us he’d made another discovery about his dad. Another one. Ever since Big John disappeared, John B’s been on a mission, collecting clues like his life depends on it. And maybe it does. His dad’s been gone nine months. Nine months of nothing—no calls, no sightings, just silence. Two months ago, the cops decided to close the case. Told him to sign the papers and declare his dad officially dead. He refused, obviously. Said he wasn’t going to let them write the final chapter when he wasn’t even sure the story was over.

For the longest time, I thought it was just his way of coping. Building theories, imagining his dad out there somewhere, alive. We all did. But last week, something happened. Something real.

It started right after Hurricane Agatha. We took the HMS Pogue out, exploring the marsh, and that’s when we saw it—a sunken boat. A Grady White. It was shiny, new, and way too expensive to be floating half-buried in the mud. Seeing it there, abandoned, gave me chills. It felt wrong, like a secret begging to be uncovered.

Curiosity got the better of us. Of course it did. We dove into the murky water, swimming down to see what secrets it held. John B stayed down the longest, and when he came back up, he wasn’t just holding his breath. He was holding a motel key. The kind with a plastic tag and a room number, straight out of some shady movie.

Not just any motel key either. It belonged to the one motel on the island, the kind of place people go when they don’t want to be found.

We thought about calling it in—reporting the boat to the Coast Guard—but when John B tried, they didn’t even let him talk. Told him to get lost. That’s when we decided to handle it ourselves. We went to the motel, figuring out which room the key opened. Me, JJ, and John B snuck in while Pope and Kiara covered for us. Inside was like something out of a crime novel. A safe with stacks of cash, a gun, and an aura that screamed don’t trust this. JJ claimed the gun immediately, of course. It’s JJ.

We didn’t have much time to process what we’d found before the cops showed up. And not just any cops— Shoupe and that other lady he is always with, the ones who seem more interested in us than in actual criminals. We barely made it out, slipping through the shadows and running like hell.

Later, we learned the boat belonged to Scooter Grubbs, a guy who had no business owning something as fancy as a Grady White. A dirtbag who always seemed broke but suddenly had cash to burn. And now, he was dead, found after the hurricane.

After the body of Scooter Grubbs was found floating in the marsh by a fisherman, everything shifted. The cops suddenly perked up, acting like they cared about what was going on out here on the Cut. They were out there now, combing the marsh, looking for the sunken boat we’d already found. But so far? Nothing.

It’s almost laughable, the way they stumble around trying to piece things together. We’d been there, seen it with our own eyes, touched the secrets buried beneath the surface. But we can’t say a word. Not now.

We went back to the marsh to find the sunken Grady White the cops were searching for. JJ convinced John B to steal scuba gear off Ward Cameron’s yacht, The Druthers. Since John B works for Ward, he could sneak it out without raising suspicion. Once we got to the wreck, John B dove down and returned with a duffel bag.

On the way back to the Chateau, we noticed a boat tailing us. At first, we thought it was nothing, but when they started shooting, panic set in. We pushed the HMS Pogue to its limit, speeding through the marsh, but they wouldn’t back off. Kiara saved us by throwing a fishing net into their propeller, giving us just enough time to escape.

Back at the Chateau, we opened the duffel bag, and out fell an old brass compass—John B’s dad’s compass. It felt like a gut punch. Why did Scooter Grubs, a random fisherman, have something so personal to Big John? John B showed us a hidden compartment in the compass with “Redfield” carved into it, written in his dad’s unmistakable handwriting. It wasn’t random. It was a clue.

A few days later, John B and JJ went to see Lana Grubs, Scooter’s widow, hoping for answers. When they arrived, the same men who’d chased us were tearing apart Lana’s house, demanding something Scooter had. After they left, John B and JJ found Lana in bad shape. When John B asked about the compass, her fear was palpable. She told him Scooter didn’t have the compass and warned him not to let anyone know he did.

John B made the connection between the name “Redfield” and his great-great-great-aunt, Olivia Redfield, whose tomb was hidden in an old graveyard on OBX. We followed him there, through a maze of crooked stones, to a weathered grave. John B found a crack in the stone tomb, climbed inside, and emerged with a small parcel addressed to him from his dad.

Inside the parcel was a voice recorder and a map of the coastline. John B clicked play, and his dad's voice crackled through the tiny speaker: "There she is, kid, the Royal Merchant."

The map had a black "X" marked near the lighthouse, a few miles off the coast. The Royal Merchant is one of the most famous shipwrecks in history—sank with $400 million worth of gold. And John B's dad had been part of the search for it. He found it. Not the gold, but the wreck itself.

Then last night, at Rixon's, John B dropped the bomb that he was meeting Sarah to get an old plat map from her. He’d found a letter from Denmark Tanny, and he explained that if we could get an original map of the island, we’d be able to find the location of the gold. But then he blindsided us with news about Sarah, and Kiara lost her cool—honestly, I couldn’t blame her. That whole mess got worse when we went to the Hawks Nest, where John B and Sarah had planned to meet up. He told us to stay back, wanted to do this on his own. Bad move.

Topper—drunk after Midsummers—decided to push John B off the top of the Hawks Nest. I heard Sarah scream for help, and we ran from the Twinkie, straight to her. John B was unconscious, laying on the grass, and out of nowhere, Sarah kissed him. It was like everything stopped for a second, and then we had to rush John B to the hospital.

Now, it’s 7:34 AM on Saturday, and I can’t shake the images of last night from my head. The chaos, the danger, and the way everything’s unravelling. I keep replaying it all, wondering how much longer we can keep this up before everything falls apart.

I could already feel the weight of the inevitable lecture coming my way from my parents after ditching Midsummers last night, so I had to get out of there before they even had a chance to wake up. I rolled out of bed. I grabbed a white halter top with a low V-neck that hugged my chest, then flared out loosely at the waist. It’s the kind of top that’s cute but still feels laid-back enough for my usual chaos. I pulled on a pair of distressed denim shorts in a dark wash, the kind that were perfectly worn-in and a little frayed at the edges. To finish it off, I slipped on my dirty, worn Converse high-tops—comfortable and a little beaten up, just like me.

I kept the jewellery from Midsummers on, each piece a reflection of a world I was born into—polished, perfect, and just a little too much.

I adjusted the gold necklace with the small sun pendant, feeling it rest against my collarbone like a quiet symbol of something I couldn't escape.

I reached for my perfume, Good Girl Blush Elixir by Carolina Herrera. It was my scent, the one that lingered with me long after I’d left a room. I spritzed it on my wrists, neck, and behind my ears, the soft floral notes a small comfort in the chaos of my thoughts.

Slipping my phone into the back pocket of my denim shorts, I glanced around my room one last time. With a sigh, I stepped out into the upstairs hallway, trying to shake off the lingering tension from the night before and whatever was coming next.

I slid into my car, the engine purring to life as I made my way to the chateau. I had no idea if John B was home, but JJ would probably be there. He usually was. His home life was a disaster—his dad Luke, a piece of work, always causing trouble—and so JJ spent most of his nights crashing on the pull-out sofa bed in the chateau's living room. It was his escape.

When I pulled up to the chateau, everything was eerily quiet. No music, no voices, just a hollow stillness hanging in the air. It felt off. John B always left the back porch door unlocked, so I figured I’d let myself in. I walked around the old, creaky shack to the back porch and made my way up the stairs. The door gave a protesting groan as I pushed it open slowly, peering inside.

The familiar sight of the kitchen and living room hit me. A chaotic mess—empty beer cans, fast food wrappers, half-smoked joints scattered about like confetti from some never-ending party. I stepped inside, shutting the door behind me with a soft click.

My eyes drifted to the living room, landing on the pull-out bed where JJ was sprawled out, deep in sleep. Told you. He was shirtless, his chest rising and falling gently as soft snores escaped his parted lips. His body was tangled in the sheets, half in, half out, like he hadn’t even bothered to get under them properly.

I reached over and tapped JJ lightly on the back. "JJ?" I said, my voice soft but insistent.

He groaned in response, shifting on the bed with a disgruntled frown as he rolled over, still half asleep.

"What?" His voice was thick with sleep, a little annoyed but nothing I hadn’t heard before.

I rolled my eyes, sitting down on the edge of the pull-out bed, careful not to get too close. "Where’s John B? Is he still at the hospital?" I asked, glancing at him while he kept his eyes shut, barely acknowledging me.

“Yeah, Sarah’s probably with him,” he muttered, throwing his arm over his eyes like he was trying to block out the world.

I hummed, a small frown on my face as I started absentmindedly fiddling with the rings on my fingers. "Kie was so pissed last night," I said, more to myself than to him.

“Mhm,” JJ mumbled, sounding like he was on the edge of falling back asleep. "John B’s in a lot of trouble."

I couldn’t help but let out a quiet laugh, shaking my head. "Yeah, a lot. You think Topper caught them kissing up there or something?" I asked, half-curious but also just trying to distract myself from the mess of it all.

JJ gave a lazy nod. "Probably. I mean, Sarah is cheating on him," he said, like it was the obvious conclusion.

"Yeah, she is," I replied, my voice quiet as I processed it. I hadn’t even made the connection until now, but it hit me like a ton of bricks. “Well, John B is fucked,” I muttered, feeling the weight of it. He had no idea what kind of mess he was about to be in.

JJ sat up, dragging a hand down his face, his movements slow, almost reluctant. “You know, John B kissed Kiara a few days ago,” he muttered, like it was just another piece of gossip. But the way his gaze darted to the floor right after? That gave him away. He wasn’t supposed to tell me that.

I froze, staring at him as the words sank in. My jaw dropped, and before I could even think, the word was out of my mouth—loud, sharp, and disbelieving. “What?!”

JJ flinched when my voice shot through the air, his hand coming up defensively. “Jesus, Lani,” he muttered, shooting me a half-hearted glare before looking away. “Yeah, they kissed. But Kiara shut it down, told John B she didn’t like him like that.”

My jaw stayed slack as I tried to process it, the room feeling too small all of a sudden. Kiara shut it down. That sounded like her—always knowing exactly what she wanted, or in this case, what she didn’t want. But still... John B had kissed her?

I rolled my eyes, letting out a dry laugh that barely masked my disbelief. “So, in the last week, John B has kissed Kiara and Sarah?” I said, mostly to myself, the words dripping with sarcasm as I pieced it all together. “Lovely.”

“Yeah, but don’t tell anyone I told you that,” JJ said, pointing at me with a sharp look, his face uncharacteristically serious. “Seriously, Lani. If John B finds out I told you, or if Kiara finds out John B told me—” he shook his head for emphasis—“they’ll both kill me. And you too. So shut your mouth, got it?”

"Your secret’s safe with me, JJ," I said, the sarcasm dripping from my voice. But honestly, it was true. I wasn’t about to go telling anyone about this.

JJ nodded, a small, tired smile tugging at his lips, clearly relieved that I wasn’t going to spill the beans about John B and Kiara. He swung his legs off the side of the pull-out, stretching as he let out a loud yawn that echoed through the room. I barely had time to process it before my phone buzzed in my back pocket, the sudden vibration making me jump a little.

I pulled it out and saw the notification: a message from John B.

John B: Meet @ the wreck, now.

Kalani: You're alive? Thank God.

John B: Yeah, yeah. Just get your ass here, it’s important.

Kalani: K, omw.

I slid my phone back into my pocket and looked up at JJ, who was still sitting next to me, his expression expectant.

"John B just messaged," I said, "He wants us to meet him at the wreck."

JJ raised an eyebrow, clearly confused. "What? Why?"

I shrugged and made a half-hearted "I don't know" sound, then got to my feet. "He said it was important, so put a shirt on and let’s get outta here."

He let out a small groan, but stood up anyway, stretching his arms. He grabbed his shirt from the pull-out and pulled it over his head. It was an old, worn blue muscle tee, faded with the logo of the marina, and definitely showing its age. As he adjusted his cap backward, I stood up and walked toward the door.

I stepped outside, walking around the chateau and to my car. The morning air was sticky with humidity, but it wasn’t enough to deter me. I leaned against the car, crossing my arms as I checked my phone again. I wasn’t sure what John B had gotten himself into now, but with the way things had been going lately, I knew it couldn’t be good.

A few minutes later, I saw JJ round the corner of the chateau. His shirt was on, cap in place, and he wore those black worker boots of his, the rolled-down black socks barely visible beneath them.

I looked up at JJ, giving him a smile before opening the drivers side door and getting in. I slid into the driver’s seat, feeling the familiar cold leather beneath me as I stared at the dashboard of the Audi Q3. Every time I get in this car, it’s like stepping into another world—a world that isn’t mine. The high-tech touch screen, the sleek leather, the polished chrome details—it all feels so... perfect, like it’s meant for someone else. Someone who’s not me.

I never asked for this car. When my parents first asked me what I wanted for my 16th birthday, I had it all planned out. I told them I’d pay for half of a second-hand car myself. I’ve been working at the boutique in town since I was 14, and I’ve saved up a good chunk of change. Enough to cover at least half of a decent, second-hand ride. I didn’t care about fancy new cars or anything. As long as it had Bluetooth, I’d be fine. But they shot that idea down without even letting me finish. No explanation, just “No.”

So, imagine my surprise when I walked outside on my birthday and saw this Audi Q3 sitting in my driveway like it was a joke. It wasn’t a joke. It was their idea of a gift. A fully decked-out, brand new, high-end car that felt like something straight out of a Kook’s playbook. I stood there in complete shock for a moment, staring at it. What was I supposed to do with this thing?

I was grateful, in a way. I mean, who wouldn’t be grateful for a brand-new Audi, right? But the thing is, it wasn’t what I wanted, and it wasn’t what I needed. It was theirs, not mine. It was a Kook car, and no matter how grateful I tried to be, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I didn’t belong in it.

But what could I do? My parents, with their Kook mentality, had decided this was the car for me, and honestly, I felt like I couldn’t even say no. They’re the ones who pay the bills, and they’ve always overdone everything for me, in ways I didn’t ask for. So, here I am, driving a car that feels like a constant reminder that no matter how hard I try to fit into this world, it’s never really going to be mine.

JJ slid into the passenger seat and tossed his cap onto the dashboard with a loud thud. "Nice car, kook," he said, his grin wide as he slammed the door shut.

I rolled my eyes, shaking my head. "Don’t start," I muttered, hitting the button to start the car—no key, just a button, because of course, that’s how these things work.

JJ chuckled, watching me with an amused glint in his eyes. I unlocked my phone and connected it to the car’s Apple CarPlay system, the sleek head-up display flashing on. I handed the phone to JJ, Apple Music already open. Yeah, I know, Apple Music is kind of lame, but it’s what my parents pay for, so I use it.

“Here, you can pick the music,” I said, leaning back into the seat as I shifted the car into reverse, slowly backing out of the gravel driveway.

He raised an eyebrow as he scrolled through my playlists. "What the—why do you use Apple Music?" JJ asked, swiping through the endless options of songs and playlists.

I shrugged, not caring enough to explain further. “Dude, I don’t know. It’s what my parents pay for.” I turned the wheel, heading down the street toward the main road that would take us to The Wreck.

He laughed, tossing a quick glance at me. “Your parents are rich as fuck. They’d probably pay for Spotify too.”

The first notes of “Sex on Fire” by Kings of Leon started blasting through the speakers.

I shook my head, laughing a little. “Yeah, they probably would,” I said, the irony not lost on me. It’s not like I had a say in any of it, but sometimes, I guess you just roll with the punches.

The rest of the car ride was mostly silent, with JJ selecting a few songs while I hummed along, my mind running through everything that had happened. JJ tossed in a joke here and there, and I half-smiled, half-rolled my eyes at his usual antics. It was easy to get lost in the familiar rhythm of the drive, especially with everything else weighing on my mind.

The Wreck was the only halfway decent restaurant around OBX, though Kiara’s parents owned it, which meant it wasn’t exactly our go-to place. They didn’t love the Pogues, and we definitely didn’t fit into their “upscale” crowd. But it was still a good spot, and the tourists made it a cash cow for them.

I pulled into the parking lot, which was still mostly empty since it was only about 9 AM. The only other cars I could spot were the Twinkie (obviously), Kiara’s car, Pope’s truck (the one he borrows from his dad), and a few other cars that were probably from customers already inside. I parked the Audi, the engine quieting as I cut it off, then turned to look at JJ.

He glanced back at me, that familiar smirk tugging at his lips.

“Ready?” I asked, my voice casual, though I was already feeling the tension start to creep in.

He gave a quick nod, then jumped out of the car without saying anything else. I followed behind him, my footsteps heavier, though I didn’t rush to catch up. JJ never waits for anyone, and today was no exception.

The inside smelled like coffee and fried food, a little bit of the greasy, touristy charm The Wreck had going for it. I spotted John B, Pope, and Kiara sitting at a table by the window, and JJ slid into the seat next to John B without a word. Kiara’s face immediately tightened into a scowl, like she had the weight of the world on her shoulders. I didn’t blame her; I was feeling it too. I took the seat next to her, not saying anything yet, just waiting for John B to drop whatever news he had.

John B cleared his throat and looked around the table, like he was about to give us a serious briefing. He had that look in his eyes, the one that said something was coming, and it was going to change everything.

“Okay, now that everyone’s here, I need to fill you in on something,” John B said, his voice heavy.

The rest of us leaned in, our attention on him, trying to read his face. I caught a glimpse of the cast on his arm, a reminder of how close we had all come to losing him last night.

“So, Ward Cameron has signed papers to become my legal guardian… foster parent thing, I’m living at Tannyhill” John B said, his words cutting through the room like a knife.

For a second, no one said anything. My stomach dropped at the thought.

I glanced at Kiara—she looked like she was about to explode, her jaw clenched so tight I thought it might snap. I couldn’t blame her. We were all trying to process it. Ward Cameron, of all people, now had some kind of power over John B? My heart was pounding in my chest. This was bad, really bad.

Kiara’s voice snapped through the air, dripping with frustration. “I’m sorry. You’re staying where?” she demanded, her eyes wide as if she couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

“Tannyhill,” John B replied, like it was the most casual thing in the world.

Kiara shot him a look, her eyebrow raised. “So, you’re living with Sarah Cameron?” she pressed, not letting him wiggle out of the question.

John B raised his hand to his forehead, rubbing it like he was trying to ease the headache coming on. “Okay, look, the only reason I’m staying there is because her dad bailed me out, all right? And it’s better than foster care, which, by the way, I was about to end up in if Ward hadn’t—”

“Wait, wait, hold up,” Pope cut him off, leaning back in his chair with that smirk of his. “So, do you have a membership to the clubs now? You, uh, joining the country club scene or what?”

I had to bite my lip to hold back a laugh. I glanced at JJ, and I could see he was trying to keep a straight face too. Kiara, however, was all business. No smile, no joke—just that hard, focused expression she wore when she was trying not to lose it.

John B’s patience was wearing thin. He shook his head. “I don’t know, Pope,” he muttered, voice laced with annoyance.

JJ jumped in with his usual teasing. “What about those little golf carts they get to drive around? You get one of those?”

I had to look down at my feet to hide the grin forming on my face. JJ’s timing was perfect.

Pope wasn’t done either. “Does it come with a sweater-vest, or do you have to buy one on your own?”

Kiara rolled her eyes, sitting up straighter in her chair, clearly over it. “Look,” she said, her voice level but tight, “you promised.” She shot John B a pointed look. “You said you weren’t with her.”

John B froze. He’d been knocked out cold the night Sarah kissed him, so he had no idea that Kiara had seen it. He was totally oblivious to the tension in the air.

JJ gave him that look of disbelief. “Bro, just own it. She gotchu,” he said, grinning like he knew exactly what was going on.

I couldn’t help but feel the same. “Look, if you want to hang out with her, that’s fine,” I added, my tone casual but carrying that edge of “don’t drag me into this.” I wasn’t about to get caught up in Sarah Cameron’s mess.

Kiara gave me a sharp look of agreement. “Me and Kalani aren’t doing anything with Sarah,” she said firmly, and I nodded, my lips pressed together. There was no way in hell I was involving myself in anything that had to do with Sarah Cameron.

John B, finally starting to get irritated, rolled his eyes. “Do you guys see her here?” he asked, looking around The Wreck. “No, right? Okay, can we focus here for a second?” He motioned to the table in front of Pope, where an old plat map was spread out. “We’ve got the map, right?” It was the one John B must’ve gotten from Sarah, all folded and crinkled at the corners like it’d been carried around for a while.

“It’s all outta whack ‘cause the guy was ganja’d when he drew it,” JJ says, casually tossing out his explanation like it was the most logical thing in the world.

I looked up at him, narrowing my eyes. “It’s ‘cause the coast has changed,” I corrected, the words coming out a little sharper than I intended.

JJ blinked at me, his mouth opening slightly in a surprised “ooh” kind of way. He gave a nod, clearly playing it off like he knew that, like he wasn’t a second away from looking clueless. “Right… duh, I totally knew that” he muttered, as if trying to save face.

Pope, never missing a beat, leaned over the map with a furrowed brow. “So, we just have to look for landmarks that haven’t changed,” he said, analysing the worn-out map with a serious focus.

John B, who had been staring at the map with a look of frustration, suddenly brightened. “What about the old forts?” he asked, pointing to a section of the map where the fort sites were marked.

“Battery Jasper,” Kiara piped up immediately, her finger tracing the spot on the map. She didn’t hesitate for a second.

I leaned forward, glancing at the map to make sure I wasn’t missing anything important. The landmarks around here were all familiar in a way—places we had all been to a million times.

We all crammed into the Twinkie, the familiar creak of its ancient hinges and the hum of the engine filling the air as we drove out toward Battery Jasper’s lookout spot. Everyone seemed lost in their own thoughts as we bounced along the uneven roads toward Battery Jasper. The faint smell of salt air hit us as we got closer to the lookout, mingling with the engine’s faint whine.

When we arrived, it felt like stepping into a different time. Battery Jasper was one of those places you almost forgot existed until you were standing in its shadow, surrounded by overgrown brush and the sound of waves crashing against the shore. Battery Jasper stood as a quiet, forgotten monument to the past. It felt oddly fitting—us digging through old maps and clues, chasing something that probably wasn’t even ours to find.

JJ had already climbed up onto a large rock, perched there like some kind of pirate lookout. He was scanning the horizon with a casual air, but I could tell his mind was working overtime. Kiara, of course, was wandering a few feet away, crouching down every now and then to inspect a plant or two. Classic Kie. And John B? He was just standing there, staring out at the waves, looking like he was waiting for some divine revelation to hit him. He was about as helpful as a flashlight with dead batteries.

Pope spread the map out over a large, flat rock, his movements careful as he tried to smooth out the creases. His face was a mask of concentration, eyes flicking between the map and the landscape in front of us. “If this is Parcel Nine…” he started, his finger circling a faint marking on the map. His brows knit together as he tried to piece together the lines from decades ago with the current view in front of us.

I leaned over his shoulder, squinting at the map as if staring harder would make it any clearer. “So, Parcel Nine has to be northeast of here,” I said, pointing toward a stretch of the coastline that seemed to match the general direction of the map’s markings. My voice sounded sure, but in my head, I wasn’t entirely convinced. Everything looked so different now compared to the map’s decades-old sketch.

“Somewhere over there,” I added, pointing out to where the land curved and the horizon seemed to shift. Gesturing toward a cluster of trees and rocky terrain.

“Right,” Pope agreed, nodding like he was trying to solidify the idea in his mind.

JJ was still up on his rock, squinting into the distance. “Over there? Guys, that’s not Tannyhill—that’s a subdivision,” he said, gesturing vaguely with one hand like the answer was just going to fall out of the sky.

John B, who’d been staring out at the water like he was trying to will the answers to come to him, crossed his arms. “Tannyhill plantation used to be the entire island,” he shot back, his tone sharp.

I crossed my arms, looking up at JJ with the sun glaring behind him, forcing me to squint. “It got sold into smaller pieces over time,” I added, my voice softer but no less firm. It was weird to think about how much the island had changed—how much had been carved away and sold off.

Pope’s finger hovered over a spot on the map, a section marked with a faint stone wall that cut through the property like a scar. “So, we’re just looking for an old stone wall,” he said, his voice steady but edged with the realization of how impossible that task might actually be.

I looked out at the endless stretch of coastline, the sunlight reflecting off the waves like shattered glass. The enormity of it all settled in my chest like a weight I couldn’t shake. It wasn’t just about finding a wall or following a map. It was about finding something that could change everything for all of us.

We piled into the Twinkie again, settling into our usual spots like puzzle pieces fitting into a well-worn frame. Pope took his place up front with the map in hand, acting like our navigator, while John B, ever the captain, was behind the wheel. Kiara and I slid onto the long, beat-up bench seat in the back, the cracked red vinyl underneath us telling its own story—every rip and scratch like a roadmap of adventures past. JJ, naturally, claimed the oddball seat in the corner. It wasn’t even a real seat, more like a half-hearted addition someone thought might be a good idea. It wobbled if you leaned on it too hard, and the vinyl was just as battered as everything else. Still, JJ perched there like he owned the place, his hat pushed low over his face.

As the van rumbled northeast, the road stretched out ahead like a promise we weren’t sure would be kept. Pope leaned forward, pointing out the windshield. “Okay, the road should split up here,” he said, his tone confident but a little tense.

John B nodded, hands steady on the wheel. “Got it.”

Kiara was beside me, staring out the window with a distant look in her eyes. The soft strumming of Mess is Mine by Vance Joy hummed through the van’s speakers, blending with the steady drone of the engine. The atmosphere felt quiet, like we were all lost in our own heads—until JJ decided to stir things up.

He was sitting directly across from me, and we’d somehow fallen into a game of sticks. My fingers were spread out—three on one hand, two on the other—while JJ held four on one hand and two on the other. It was my turn, and I leaned in, tapping his hand with two fingers to knock out his four.

“You’re cheating!” JJ exclaimed, his voice breaking the calm like a rock tossed into still water.

I burst out laughing. “Am not! You’re just a sore loser,” I teased, grinning at him.

JJ rolled his eyes, throwing his hands up like he was ready to declare war. “No, you definitely cheat,” he muttered, but his smirk betrayed him.

“Sounds like someone’s salty!” I shot back, my voice playful.

The bickering escalated from there, a back-and-forth filled with muttered insults, laughter, and a few not-so-gentle kicks under the seat.

“Will you two shut up!” Pope suddenly snapped from the front seat, whipping around to glare at us. His expression was pure exasperation, like a parent trying to keep a car full of rowdy kids in check.

JJ shrugged, turning to face Pope. “It’s her fault,” he said, his voice full of mock innocence.

I rolled my eyes and gave him a light kick in the shin.

“You little shit,” JJ growled, twisting back toward me.

“Oh, please. You started it,” I retorted, sticking my tongue out at him like a five-year-old. JJ reached over and slapped my knee, a little too dramatically.

“Hey! That was uncalled for,” I said, pointing an accusatory finger at him, my face scrunched into an exaggerated scowl.

JJ leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms, and muttering something under his breath, pretending to sulk.

“Shut up,” Pope repeated, his voice sharp and final as he turned back around in his seat, clearly done with our nonsense.

Kiara snorted beside me, trying to hide her amusement.

“All right. You’re gonna take a left,” Pope says, pointing out the next turn. John B jerks the wheel sharply, the Twinkie bouncing down the uneven dirt road and tossing all of us around like ragdolls. I grip the edge of the bench seat, glaring at him. “Smooth driving, Cap,” I mutter under my breath.

We pull up alongside a mossy, crumbling stone wall, its edges barely visible under a blanket of overgrown bushes and weeds. Pope sighs, leaning forward. “This is it,” he says as John B shifts the Twinkie into park.

“That looks like a stone wall to me,” JJ says dryly, peering out the window.

I give him a sideways glance. “No shit,” I reply, turning back to take in the sight.

It’s hard to tell where the wall ends, and the wild growth begins. The vines creep along like they’re trying to swallow the thing whole. Beyond the wall, I can make out the faint silhouette of a house through a gap in the trees. My stomach drops as I realize where we are.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I whisper, stopping dead in my tracks as the others start walking toward the wall.

“Not the Crain house,” John B mutters, the tension in his voice unmistakable.

Of course, it’s here. Of all the places on the island, it had to be here. My feet feel rooted to the ground, dread clawing up my spine. JJ steps up beside me, his jaw tight, his gaze locked on the house ahead.

“Worst-case scenario,” he mutters under his breath. His voice is steady, but his hand flexes at his side like he’s ready to bolt.

“Why’d it have to be here…” Kiara murmurs, barely loud enough for me to hear.

“Of all places?” I add, shaking my head as my pulse quickens.

“I heard Mrs. Crain buried her husband’s head on the property,” JJ says casually, as if he’s commenting on the weather.

I whip my head toward him, my face scrunched in fear. “Don’t remind me.” The island’s been full of creepy stories about this place for as long as I can remember, but that one always stuck with me.

Kiara’s voice cuts through the rising tension. “JJ, shut up,” she snaps, her glare sharp enough to silence him for once.

“Are we going over?” John B asks, gesturing toward the wall like scaling it is no big deal.

I shake my head, but the rest of them nod like it’s just another day in the OBX. Typical. With a sigh that feels like it comes from my soul, I mutter, “Guess so,” under my breath.

We take turns climbing over the wall, the rough stone scraping against our palms. I land awkwardly in the overgrown yard, the dense weeds clawing at my ankles. The house looms ahead of us, shrouded in shadow and silence. Its dilapidated facade seems to watch us, daring us to step closer.

The wind rustles through the trees, and I can’t help but glance at JJ. “If we die, I’m blaming you,” I say, my voice barely steady.

JJ flashes me a grin, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Noted,” he says, stuffing his hands into his pockets as we move toward the ominous silhouette of the Crain house.

Kiara takes the lead, her shoulders squared as she pushes through the tangled mess of overgrown bushes and weeds. I follow close behind, brushing aside stray branches that snag at my shirt. JJ is right on my heels, muttering something about poison ivy, while Pope and John B bring up the rear. The yard is eerily quiet, the only sound the crunch of our footsteps against the dead leaves underfoot.

Me and Kiara keep our eyes locked forward, trying not to dwell too much on the reality of what we’re doing—trespassing into the front yard of Mrs. Crain, the island's unofficial boogeywoman. She’s probably inside right now, totally oblivious to the fact that five teenagers have just vaulted over her stone wall and are trudging through her overgrown front yard, all in the name of hunting for gold.

The place looks untouched, like time forgot about it. Small, moss-covered statues peek out from under the wild greenery, half-hidden like eerie little sentinels. There’s a birdbath that’s cracked down the middle, its basin filled with murky rainwater and a couple of drowned leaves. The once-pristine yard is now a jungle of neglect, but it’s clear this place used to be something else entirely.

I glance around, the ghost of a memory tugging at me. When I was younger, maybe seven or eight, back when I still hung out with the kook kids my parents pushed me towards, we used to sneak into this yard. Back then, it was spotless—perfectly trimmed hedges, vibrant flowers in neat rows, the statues shining bright without a speck of moss or grime. We’d play hide and seek for hours, darting behind trees and crouching behind the garden sculptures. Back then, the Crain house was still mysterious, but it wasn’t this. It wasn’t haunted by the stories of murder or madness.

I slow for a moment, my fingers brushing against the rough bark of a tree as I take it all in. The yard is unrecognizable now, swallowed up by years of neglect. Mr. Crain’s death—or murder, depending on which version of the rumour mill you believe—changed everything. After he was gone, Mrs. Crain stopped caring for the place, or maybe just couldn’t anymore. She’s too old now, and it shows in every vine that’s strangled its way across what used to be a manicured paradise.

It’s sad, really. This yard used to have life, like someone loved it enough to keep it beautiful. Now it’s just... forgotten. I shake off the thought, hurrying to catch up with Kiara as she ducks under a low-hanging branch.

“Look, you guys know whose house this is, right?” I say, looking over my shoulder at the boys behind me still keeping my pace as I walk behind Kie.

“Oh, yeah. No, I do.” JJ says.

“Look- Honestly, I don’t really believe the stories of this place.” John B says, his voice a little too loud.

Pope turns around and shushes him louder than John B was talking.

“What?” John B says a soft whisper that’s barely audible over the soft crunch of leaves and grass beneath our feet.

JJ catches up next to me, walking alongside me rather than behind me I keep my eyes forward as I continue behind Kie. It’s not until JJ starts talking that I look at him.

“Which stories did you hear?” JJ asks me.

We continue  to walk through the overgrown front yard, “The one where she killed her husband with an axe.” I say like it’s obvious my voice tight with (add something here) “And that shes been holed up ever since.” I say, looking back at Pope and John B as JJ continues to walk next to me.

“On certain nights, when the moon is full…” I turn to look at JJ, walking backwards, “you can see her in the window!” I drop my voice to a soft whisper lifting my hands up and wriggling my fingers in JJ’s face in a “creepy crawly” kinda way.

“No, Lani, it’s not funny,” JJ says as I turn around making a “Waah!” noise as he continues to talk, “cause its all true.” JJ says from behind me.

“I swear to God, guys, this is all real. I knew Hollis.” JJ continues, looking back at John B and Pope. We walk into a more open area of the yard, it’s a cleared space but still overgrown. There is a statue of a lady and as JJ turns back around, “Jeez!” he says, lifting his arms up, ready to punch.

This causes all of us to jump.

We all stop walking for a second, “Wait, you knew hollis Crain?” Pope asks JJ.

“Yeah, dude.” JJ responds.

Pope puts his hand on JJs shoulder, pushing him back a little, “Dude, how do you know Hollis Crane?”

“She was my babysitter, man.” JJ says, “She told me all about it.” His voice drops to a low whisper, “Told me the truth… about her mother.” JJ says, we all stand around him, looking at him with disbelieving eyes, “About what happened in this house.” JJ says, jerking his head towards the house in front of us.

JJ continued, telling us about what Hollis Crane, JJ’s babysitter and Mrs. Crains daughter, had told him… apparently.

“So as a kid, she heard all the stories that her mother killed her father, and… she was a murderer and all.” JJ says, looking around at us, “Hollis didn’t believe it… until that night.” He says, ominously looking down at the grass.

“What night?” Kie asks, raising an eyebrow.

JJ turns to look at Kie, his eyes boring into hers, “It all came back to her.” He says.

JJ turns to look at the house behind him, “When Hollis was six years old, she heard her parents arguing downstairs.” Sounds familiar, I think to myself.

Kiara is looking around, like as if she is paranoid something or somebody is going to pop out and jump us. My eyes stay locked on the house as JJ recounts his story, my eyes flickering between the various windows to see if I can see Mrs. Crain staring back at me. Nothing yet.

“So, she goes downstairs to see her mom washing her hands in a sink…” JJ takes a step forward to John B, “Full of blood.” He says his voice strong.

John B looks away from JJ, his face is saying everything he is thinking: “Bull shit.”

JJ continues, “Her mother just says that she cut her finger.” Popes eyes are wide like he is believing every word that is leaving JJ’s mouth. “The next morning, she says her father and her split up.”

“But then, Hollis noticed something.” JJ says, looking at John B again. “Her mother going into the parlour. Constantly. In and our and in and out with plastic bags.”

“Weeks pass, and Hollis decides to use the outhouse.” JJ continues, my eyes are still locked on the windows of the house… Hold on, I think I see somethin’ lookin’ at me through dat window. Oh, nevermind, its just a curtain. Ha, Ha, Ha.

“And as she’s using it, she looks down,” JJ pauses for a moment looking down, dramatic effect, I guess. His eyes are still glued to John B like he is trying to convince him that all this is real, he has me, Pope and Kie convinced, that’s for sure. So far, anyway. “And there, in the outhouse,” He looks back up at John B, “is her fathers head,” He points his fingers to his eyes, “Looking straight back at her.” JJ says, emphasising his words.

John B throws his head back, looking up at the sky and JJ looks confused as to why John B isn’t quite understanding the importance of what he just told him. “God, you are so full of shit.” John B says, shaking his head.

“Do you guys even know whose house this is?” I ask, glancing over my shoulder at the boys trudging behind me, my pace steady as I follow Kiara, pushing through the mess of overgrown bushes.

“Oh, yeah. No, I do,” JJ says nonchalantly, as if we’re walking up to the Wreck for a basket of fries and not trespassing on the infamous Crain property.

“Honestly, I don’t believe the stories about this place,” John B pipes up, his voice just a little too loud, like he’s trying to convince himself it’s no big deal.

Pope spins around and shushes him sharply - louder than John B was talking. “What?” John B hisses, his whisper barely louder than the crunch of dead leaves and grass beneath our feet.

JJ picks up his pace, falling into step beside me instead of behind. He’s always like this—itching to turn tension into a story or a joke. “So, which stories did you hear?” JJ asks, his voice dipped in curiosity, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

I let out a short breath as we push through another tangle of overgrowth, the damp leaves brushing against my legs. “The one where she killed her husband with an axe,” I say flatly, my tone tight with discomfort. “And that she’s been holed up ever since.” I glance back at Pope and John B for a moment before turning my attention back to JJ, who’s nodding like this is all completely normal.

“And on certain nights, when the moon is full…” I turn, walking backward now so I can face him, dropping my voice to a stage whisper, “you can see her in the window!” I wiggle my fingers in front of his face in a mock-spooky gesture, barely holding back a grin.

JJ swats my hands away, rolling his eyes. “No, Lani, it’s not funny,” he says, his voice trying to sound serious but failing because of the grin creeping up. “Because it’s all true.”

I spin back around, throwing my hands up dramatically. “Wooooo, scary!” I say in a teasing voice, earning an exasperated groan from him.

JJ doesn’t let it drop. “I swear to God, guys, this is real. I knew Hollis.”

That pulls my attention back. My brow furrows as I glance at him. “Wait—you knew Hollis Crain?” Pope asks, stopping to turn toward JJ, his expression a mix of disbelief and curiosity.

“Yeah, dude,” JJ says, as if this is just another casual fact.

Pope puts a hand on JJ’s shoulder, giving him a gentle shove back. “How the hell do you know Hollis Crain?”

JJ shrugs like it’s the most casual thing in the world. “She was my babysitter, man.” He pauses for dramatic effect, glancing at each of us like he’s about to deliver a mic drop. “She told me everything.” His voice drops conspiratorially, his tone low and chilling. “Told me the truth… about her mother. About what happened in this house.” He jerks his head toward the looming shadow of the house behind us.

“Everything?” Kiara echoes, her voice tight as she glances nervously toward the looming house ahead.

JJ nods, and we all freeze for a moment, the weight of his words settling over us like a heavy fog.

JJ launches into the story, his voice low and deliberate, drawing us in whether we want to hear it or not. “So, as a kid, she heard all these rumors—that her mom killed her dad, that she was a murderer. But Hollis didn’t believe it… until that night.” JJ’s voice is calm, almost too calm, as he looks down at the ground, like he’s pulling us deeper into the story one word at a time.

“What night?” Kiara asks, her voice tight, her eyes darting nervously toward the house.

JJ meets her gaze, his own eyes dark with the weight of the tale. “It all came back to her. When Hollis was six years old, she heard her parents arguing downstairs.”

The words hit me in the chest, unsettling and weirdly familiar. I glance at the house, my eyes scanning the windows, half-expecting to see a face staring back at me. So far, nothing.

“So, she went to check it out.” His voice drops, and he takes a step closer to Pope. “She finds her mom at the sink. Washing her hands. In blood.”

“Her mom told her she cut her finger,” JJ says with a shrug. “But the next day, her dad was gone. Just… disappeared.”

John B scoffs softly, shaking his head, but JJ keeps going, undeterred.

“And then,” JJ adds, stepping closer to Pope and lowering his voice, “she starts noticing her mom going into the parlour. Constantly. In and out. Always carrying these plastic bags.”

A chill runs down my spine as the story twists darker, the tension in the air thick enough to cut. my eyes are still locked on the windows of the house… Hold on, I think I see somethin’ lookin’ at me through dat window. Oh, nevermind, its just a curtain. Ha, Ha, Ha.

“Weeks later, Hollis goes to use the outhouse,” JJ continues, his voice hushed. He pauses dramatically, glancing at each of us before finishing. “She looks down. And there… was her father’s head. Staring straight back at her.”

The silence that follows is thick, suffocating. For a moment, none of us move, the weight of JJ’s words settling over us like a heavy blanket.

John B groans, throwing his head back. “God, JJ, you are so full of shit.” He looks back down at JJ, his voice tight.

JJ’s face falls, genuinely offended.

“Dude, I swear to God, man.” JJ mutters, breaking eye contact with John B, his gaze flicking to the ground. JJ always had a thing about eye contact, like it made him too vulnerable or something.

Pope steps in closer to him, his voice low and cautious. “Did she call the police?”

“She didn’t have time—” JJ starts, but John B shoves himself between them, cutting him off.

“Wait! Hold on—dude!” JJ snaps, grabbing John B’s arm and spinning him around.

“What!” John B barks, and yeah, he’s pissed now.

JJ hesitates, glancing at me like he’s searching for backup, then back to John B. “Are you sure you wanna do this? She’s an axe murderer. You got a cast on, dude,” JJ says, gesturing to John B’s injured arm.

John B narrows his eyes, his voice a sharp whisper. “I don’t give a shit if she’s an axe murderer, okay? I’ve got nothing to lose, right?”

They stand there, locked in a tense stare-down. Pope shifts awkwardly beside them, his eyes darting between the two like he’s watching a tennis match.

“You comin’, or what?” John B says, before turning and stalking off. Kiara and Pope follow close behind him without hesitation.

JJ stays rooted for a second, scratching at his arm. I walk up next to him, nudging his shoulder. “Come on,” I say softly, jerking my head in the direction of the others.

He looks down at me, his face unreadable, then finally sighs and falls into step behind me.

We creep through the overgrown yard, ducking lower as we approach the house. The shadows feel heavier here, stretching out across the ground like claws. John B stops abruptly, motioning for all of us to gather closer.

“Hey, come on. Come here,” he hisses.

I quicken my pace, closing the gap between us. JJ moves up behind me, his presence a comforting weight, even if he’d never admit he’s as freaked out as the rest of us.

John B leans in, lowering his voice. “So, here’s the plan. We need to look for the wheat near the water, like it said in Denmark’s letter.”

Right. The cryptic message we decoded back at Rixon’s the night before. “Wheat” meant gold. Simple enough.

“Okay, but, like, what kind of water?” Pope whispers, his forehead creased in concentration. “Like pond water?”

JJ snickers, never one to miss an opportunity. “Bong water?” he quips in a lazy, exaggerated stoner voice.

I roll my eyes and glare at him, Kiara and Pope doing the same.

“Seriously?” I mutter under my breath.

John B’s patience is clearly hanging by a thread. He sighs, exasperated. “No. It—it just said ‘look for water,’ okay?”

Kiara crosses her arms, raising a skeptical brow. “That’s the shittiest secret message ever.”

“You wanna complain a little more, Kie?” John B snaps, his tone sharp. “Nobody said it was gonna be easy.”

They peel off from the group, leaving me, Pope, and JJ standing awkwardly in the clearing.

Pope turns to us, his expression all business. “I’ll search the northeast quadrant. You two take the northwest quadrant.”

My eyes widen in protest, but Pope walks off before I can get a word in.

“The decapitation quadrant,” JJ mutters under his breath, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Great,” I grumble, my voice barely audible.

JJ glances at me, his smirk softening just a fraction. “Come on,” he says, grabbing my arm and pulling me along through the tangled mess of greenery.

I don’t resist, but as we move deeper into the yard, the air feels heavier - charged, like we’re trespassing on something more than just property. And for once, JJ’s silence doesn’t feel like a joke waiting to happen. It feels like he knows it, too.

“Were you serious about all that stuff with Hollis?” I ask JJ, my voice low but sharp, as his grip on my arm pulls me through the jungle of weeds and crumbling statues.

He glances over his shoulder briefly, his expression unreadable. “Most of it, yeah,” he replies, shrugging like it’s no big deal, before turning his attention forward again.

“Most of it?” I repeat, my tone incredulous. “So, what parts were you not serious about?”

JJ doesn’t even slow down. “The part about her seeing her dad’s head,” he says flatly. “But that’s it.”

I freeze for a second, staring at his back. “Oh, great. Super comforting, JJ,” I mutter, shaking my head as I quicken my pace to catch up to him.

His lips twitch like he’s fighting a smirk. “Relax, Lani. You’ll live,” he says, tossing a glance at me before stepping over a fallen tree branch.

I didn’t even see the branch—it came out of nowhere, or maybe I was just too lost in my thoughts. My foot caught on it, and before I could steady myself, I was falling. JJ’s grip on my arm tightened, but he didn’t have enough time to pull me back.

I hit the ground hard, knees colliding with jagged dirt and rocks. A sharp sting spread through my leg as I felt the scrape.

“Shit! Lani!” JJ’s voice was urgent, panicked, as he crouched beside me in seconds.

I shifted, moving to sit on my butt, lifting my knee to inspect the damage. Blood was already pooling in the scrape, a nasty mix of dirt and raw skin. I winced, letting out a quiet, “Ow.”

“You okay?” JJ’s hand landed firmly on my shoulder, his blue eyes flickering between my face and my knee.

I nodded quickly, even as my face scrunched up from the sting. “Yeah, yeah, I’m okay. It’s just a scrape,” I said, trying to sound tougher than I felt.

“You sure?” JJ asked, his hand sliding down my arm in a gentle but searching way, like he wasn’t convinced.

“I’m sure,” I said, looking up at him. A small smile crept onto my lips, hoping to reassure him.

For a moment, his eyes locked onto mine—those stormy blue eyes that always seemed to be either full of trouble or, like now, concern. Then he stood, brushing the dirt off his knees, and held out his hand.

“Come on,” he said.

I took it without hesitation, his grip steady and strong as he pulled me to my feet. My knee stung like hell, but I wasn’t about to complain. JJ still held my hand for a moment longer than necessary before letting go.

“Next time, watch where you’re going, klutz,” he teased, but his voice was softer than usual.

“Yeah, yeah,” I said, brushing off my shorts and trying to play it cool. My cheeks burned a little, though, and it wasn’t from the fall.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading 𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐓𝐰𝐨 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝𝐬, and I hope you are enjoying it so far 😏! Please give this post a like so I know you guys are enjoying it, again thank you so much, part 3 will be out soon 💞

Also... I hope you enjoyed the small Lani and JJ moments I have sprinkled in there 😘

[ceruleanchillin]

5 Day Stay

| Or, Angel down bad for a week |

Angel x F!Reader

Warnings: language, infidelity, Angst (?), lil bit chili spice at the end

Mon:

Angel felt he was too young to consistently feel so bone-tired, yet that’s how his day had been ending for weeks now. Sometimes it was all he could do to get off his bike and make it to the door, only to have to rest his head against it to prepare to make it to the couch and collapse.

Tonight was one of those nights, and he wanted to be dead to the world until it dragged him back into it.

It was the smell of mixed spices that hit him first. It felt like he was in suspended animation, and slowly being released as different things started to register to him.

His TV was on, someone was rummaging through his kitchen, and music played faintly from his desk. Thinking back to the last time an unwanted guest was in his kitchen, he placed a hand on the holstered knife fastened to his back.

The fridge door closed, and you appeared in the window, eyes focused intently on whatever you were cooking on the stove.

He exhaled, feeling like complete shit. It only spoke to how weary his mind was that he could forget you were staying with him for the next week. Especially after the conversation that led to it.

“I don’t know Angel…really I can afford a motel for a few days.”

“Here? Rusted-through pipes will be the last thing your landlord is worried about when you bring back bedbugs and shit.”

Your eyes had widened at that, but still you brought up the thing that had been chained to your hesitation. “I mean….do you think it’s ok to do this? After we…Nails..Ang-“

He remembered a flash of irritation, more so at himself than you, when you said that. “Yes querida, fuck. If you’re so scared, I most likely won’t even be there the way things are going. Nails is out of town til’ next weekend…”

“Relax Ignacio.” you had cut your eyes at him, and he’d felt his dick jump like it did whenever you gave him attitude. “I’m just not trying to be a problem.”

Your voice calling his name brought him to the present. He caught the last part of your statement, that you didn’t know he’d be back.

“Yeah, we got in earlier than expected.”

“While you’re standing there like a weirdo, let me shame you real quick. How does a man in his thirties still have the kitchen of a frat boy?” You leaned on the sill of the divider. “You’re lucky I already knew you were sad in the kitchen. I had to bring my own tagine.”

He stepped into the kitchen, his stomach coming alive with interest. “One, I don’t know what that is, two, I can’t help it if the kitchen isn’t my preferred room of work.”

He peeked over your shoulder, but the unique pot kept him from seeing what you were making.

“Neither is the bedroom, unless that work is piling up dirty laundry.” you stuck your tongue out at him and turned back to your simmering dish.

“Ha ha. Dinner and a show, she does it all folks!” he collapsed at the table, the day catching back up with him. “Should put your ass on the club’s payroll. End the cashflow problem real quick.”

You turned to him, concern etched on your face. “I heard from Hank about that…sorry. I know now isn’t a great time for that at all.”

Things got awkward like they always did when you referenced the recent changes of his life. He wasn’t sad about getting another chance at fatherhood, this one more tangible than the last. However, he wasn’t entirely sold on everything he’d accepted along with it, and he was pretty sure you at least suspected that. It threw the previously comfortable confusion that was your relationship off track when it was touched on.

“No, it’s not.” was all he could manage.

It was quiet for a beat, the simmering of the food and quiet Neo Soul the only sounds.

“Well,” you started, turning off the burner. “At least you don’t have to eat like a ‘we got food at the house’ meme for once.”

He laughed, a genuine and needed laugh. “Ok, you know what? Keep talking about my pantry stocking skills, and I might take it personally.”

The rest of his night went that way. Anytime you and Angel got together, things were just…easy…better. You spent the evening eating in front of the TV (Angel getting all the way to thirds for what turned out to be olive chicken and roasted potatoes), trading jokes, and going over the finer points of Golden Girls. Angel learned you took it very seriously, and mocked you for being “old”.

It wasn’t until you were nodding off, and he was left with his own thoughts, that he realized he hadn’t enjoyed coming home this much since he moved in.

Tues:

Angel had dreamed he’d been back in his childhood home, but as a grown man. There was music coming from his parent’s room, and when he got to the doorway, his mom was at her dressing table. She hummed along to the soulful seventies music and smiled at him from the mirror. She said something, but he couldn’t make it out, and woke up in the frustration.

He jerked up from his position on his stomach, and slowly came to. With a grunt he wiped his hand down his face, glancing at his phone to find it was six in the afternoon.

It then occurred to him the music wasn’t just in his dream, it was coming from his bathroom. He got off the couch and followed the sound.

“Hey coma head.” you grinned at him from where you were doing your makeup.

He shook his head, trying to let go of the last vestiges of the dream, and how eerie the scene before him was.

He focused instead on the nightmare of products and alien looking tools surrounding you.

He kind of liked the mess, even if he couldn’t see the counter anymore.

“Hey hurricane Ulta.”

You made a face that was a cross between being amused and suspicious. “You sleep in your jeans and buy your shirts in pack form. Don’t act like you know what that is.”

He made a face of mock offense. “That’s so classist.”

This time you paused completely in you what you were doing and twisted your body to meet him. “Uh oh…let me find out you’re actually learning something from EZ.”

“Angel Reyes can know something about something, damn.”

You laughed, lowering your hands from where you’d been lining your eyes to avoid a mistake. “I’m only teasing you Angel Reyes.”

“Looks like you plan on teasing more than me. Some clown is gonna get his hopes and tiny dick up for nothing.”

“There’s this new club in the city that Belinda’s getting us into. It’s bad luck to buy your own drinks on the first night at a new place.” you adjusted the bodycon mini-dress for emphasis. “You doing anything?”

“Club shit.” he started picking through the products, sniffing them every so often. “Then I think I’ve got a call with Nails at some point.”

“You think?” you popped his hands when he got too close to the good stuff, or the things you were using currently.

“Yeah..I think.” he shrugged, only realizing how short he sounded when you winced.

He didn’t know why he got so annoyed when she was brought up around you. He wasn’t like that with anyone else, and he knew you were only trying to support his incoming changes.

“Ok..”

Awkward silence settled in before he found the words to break it.

“Why do you wanna know? You want me to be that clown?”

“Never.” you pinched his cheek, tone pure saccharine jest.

He muttered in Spanish, stepping around you to the toilet.

“Angel!” you exclaimed.

“What?! It’s my bathroom, I have to piss.”

“You better never make me angry Reyes, I could end your whole Casanova game with ease."

Wed:

“You holding on a little tight there mami!” Angel called over his shoulder with a laugh. “You said go fast."

“Shut up!” you giggled, but he wasn’t lying.

You’d asked Angel to take you to work on his bike since even though you spent so much time with bikers, you hardly got to ride one. You were going to the same place anyways. He had been all too happy to shake up his commute, but your speed challenge took it over the top.

He didn’t know how you were up so early, he personally felt like the bags under his eyes were like a PEZ dispenser. You’d gotten in at two am, and still got up with him at eight.

He loved watching you in the morning, you managed to be cheerful without being obnoxious, and it worked better than coffee for him.

He loved how much he was learning about you.

As he pulled onto the street beside the cafe you’d asked him to stop at, he felt your arms uncoil from around him. He may have pretended to shift just to make you pause and hold him a few seconds longer, but he wasn’t going to acknowledge that.

“I didn’t scream, and I’m not shaking, so you still have to buy my breakfast.” You unclipped your helmet, grinning the whole time.

You looked so pretty to him, with the sun hitting your eyes and hair just right. He could catch you at just the right moment, and you’d look so gorgeous, he struggled to believe you were real.

He cleared his throat, afraid his voice would crack if he didn’t. “Fair enough, come break my pockets then.”

You laughed, squeezing his chin and pointing out his pout. “You don’t even have to tell me once sir, I know my worth.”

Once inside, he trailed after you to the counter, using your head like an arm rest when you reached it. “That’s good.”

“Boy!” You swatted his hand away, and it was his turn to laugh at your adorable pout.

“New bet,” he stepped around you while the customer ahead of you wrapped up. “If I get your entire order just right, you buy lunch.”

“Deal.” you leaned on the counter, eyebrow raised at him in challenge.

Angel knew the best part of his day would be watching your expression go from smug to shocked out of the corner of his eye. He nailed every pastry, the iced coffee, and their preparation with ease.

The simultaneously impressed and amused barista looked to you for confirmation. She got a shocked nod in response.

“I know my worth too mama, so don’t skimp on lunch.”

“Fair enough.” You shook off your shock as you repeated his earlier words and shrugged. “Can’t complain I guess. I trained my work husband too well.”

He scoffed loudly, and the two of you went back to swapping smart ass barbs while he tried to ignore the lingering dip his stomach did when referred to him as “husband”.

Thurs:

Angel was a grown man, with years of grown man experience, yet he was sitting on the edge of his bed feeling like a teenager again.

The end of your stay was nearing, and every time he thought about you going back home, he felt weird. He was pretty sure that’s why he’d been a little snappy and annoyed easily at the club the past couple days. He just wasn’t ready to delve into that too much.

Regardless, he had to admit you had some growing effect over him. All morning, while he should’ve been resting and preparing for a charter visit, he was fighting off hard-ons thanks to you.

“Can I borrow your kitchen for the day Angel?” He mimicked your voice in a nasally mocking tone. “I’ll save you some when I’m done baking.”

He’d thought nothing of it when you asked the night before. Really didn’t even feel like you had to at that point.

He realized why when he saw that the desserts you were making for your friend’s brunch were elaborate as hell. The effort took all your attention, and unfortunately for him, his too.

You were baking a lot more than dessert and didn’t even know it.

Now he was hiding in his room, fighting off arousal he knew wasn’t appropriate. You weren’t his and he wasn’t yours.

That didn’t change the fact that you in a short silk lounge set, singing in French (how the hell did you know French?), doing domestic things in his home, did it for him.

He ran a hand over his hair, still damp from his cold shower, and forced himself to finish getting dressed. He had to be ready to face a room of dangerous bikers and prove his patched in worth. He couldn’t be thinking of weird little fantasies and parallels to his parent’s marriage.

He must’ve zoned out again, because you startled him enough to almost make him hit his wardrobe.

“Oh my god Angel try this! I think I did magic.” You excitedly thrust a red cookie his way.

Angel took the offered treat, and found it was a red velvet cookie. “It’s fucking good mi dulce.”

“Really?” You looked so hopeful, so beautiful, that he would’ve lied if the situation called for it.

“Yes, but you know you kill it in the kitchen.” He turned away to put on the flannel he’d fished out.

Now you were in his personal space, smelling amazing, and all his senses were under attack. He couldn’t trust Angel jr. at the moment.

“Baking is different. It’s a whole thing for me...I go all in.”

“I noticed your little Broadway production in my kitchen.” He kneeled down, pretending to look for his shoes as something to do while you were there.

“Don’t shame me.” You pressed your foot into his back, gently pushing him. “It makes for better results.”

‘shit.’ He cursed mentally at the contact.

Luckily, he heard you turn to leave the room. “Oh, EZ said to tell you to hurry up or pick up your phone.”

He rose up once you were gone and checked his phone. Sure enough, he had several missed calls and texts from Gilly, Coco, and EZ. He cursed aloud this time and finished getting ready, determined not to get distracted again.

Of course, his boys having to physically come in and get him when he did just that destroyed that promise.

Fri:

It had come down to the last night of your stay with him, and what he thought was a favor to a good friend, turned out to be more for his benefit.

The hell with the club seemed so far away when he was home now, and he’d laughed more times that week than he had the previous few months total.

Tonight though… Tonight had him so in his head he didn’t know if he was coming or going.

You, sensing something was going on with him, had invited EZ and Felipe to dinner. He didn’t know how you got the latter to agree, his dad had never even been in his home before, but you did it. It went over a hell of a lot better than the last time they tried it too.

The missteps that reared their head when his family tried to talk to each other at length were mitigated by you. You were the perfect buffer, able to get them to engage with you and then each other.

He saw his family in an unfamiliar, but favorable light. His father was actually enjoying his time with him in his house. He knew that night wouldn’t have happened if not for you.

Now, as he distractedly dried the dishes you’d washed, listening to you hit all of the high notes in Loving You, it hit him.

‘She should be my wife’ the thought came so quick, and was so loud he almost jumped, confused if it came from him or someone else.

“Hey dishwasher-less!” you nudged him with your hip. “Move those hands.”

“Why can’t we be a thing?” he blurted.

You dropped the silverware you’d been washing, eyes wide and focused on him. “Um..excuse m-…what?”

He knew that wasn’t the most tactful way to introduce his thoughts to you, but it was his way. Fuck…he didn’t even understand them fully himself.

“You heard me querida,” he put the dish down on the counter, turning to you. “When I stayed with you that weekend that my head was all fucked up-“

“Angel.” your tone made it a warning, but he kept going. He was never afraid of a challenge.

“I was inside you so much that weekend I forgot that’s not how I came in this world. I can’t believe I’m saying it out loud, but I felt home cause I was with you-”

“Stop it!” you hit the sink, rattling the contents.

“Fuck that!” he shouted back, startling you both. He stayed silent for a moment before speaking in a calmer tone. “Fuck that. Why can’t we talk about it? Why couldn’t we talk about it then?”

You didn’t say anything, but he saw your chest heaving with adrenaline, and realized you were just as affected by the conversation as he was.

“You just decided it didn’t matter and put it in this space we can’t touch now. It’s all fucked up!”

“Because,” you hissed. “If you remember, it was all over that Adelita chick, and I don’t know what kind of hold she has or had over you, but it was deep.”

He cringed at that, and turned his attention to the light fixture over your head, unable to meet your heated gaze.

“Whatever feelings I have for you Angel, I put them away in a place where I can still be your friend and keep things in perspective.”

“Feelings you have for me?” he latched on to the lack of past tense, hopeful.

You inhaled sharply. “You are having a baby and just got engaged. What is wrong with you?”

“Nothing..I mean a lot, but nothing to do with this. I know-“

“I know,” you pushed away from the sink and reached up to cup his cheeks. “That you’re scared Angel. You’re scared, because you’re gonna take two steps you’ve never taken before at once, and you’re trying to sabotage it.”

He shook his head, taking your hands from his face and holding them tightly in his own. “No..mi dulce, no. I’ve been struggling with this all week, longer if I’m being honest. Tonight sealed it.”

You snorted humorlessly, looking around the kitchen as if something in the room would help you get through to him. “I cook you some big boy meals, and treat your speakers to some musical taste, and you’re ready for vows?”

“Don’t put this all on me. Tell me you don’t feel it. Right here and now, to my face.”

He watched your expression soften, and let you put one hand back on his face, your thumb gently stroking his cheek. “Ok, I can’t do that, but I also can’t just fall into a situation with you either.”

He scoffed and shook his head. “We both know we didn’t just fall into anything. We sat here and let it build and didn’t say shit, and now I have to. This week just made it too real not to.”

He placed his forehead to yours, his own hands cupping your face. “Please…”

He watched you have an internal battle by your changing features before you finally leaned into him. The moment you did, his lips were on yours.

He knew it was more than just a kiss a few seconds in. Everything he’d felt that the previous week was alive and confirmed between you too. He could feel you telling him you had moments like his own.

He palmed your thighs under your sundress before grasping them tightly and lifting you up. He placed you on the counter while you two separated for air. Your chests heaved in unison, and neither of you had to say you wanted the other touching you again before it happened.

He gripped your hair, tilting your head back for access to your neck. The smell of vanilla and cocoa butter surrounded him as he worked his mark all over your skin.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, and you pressed yourself against his jeans.

He hated he couldn’t feel the heat he knew was emitting from your core through the thick material of his jeans, and slid his other hand up your thigh to your panties.

Your entire body twitched when he ran his fingers over you through the thin cloth. It wasn’t just hot it was soaked.

“You need me that bad mami?” he pulled away from your neck, satisfied with his work, and beginning to work at his jeans.

“And quick.” you breathed into his ear, your tone and the sensation making him shudder.

The ache against his jeans didn’t need to be told twice to find its way into your heat. He slid your panties to side and pressed his thumb against you. You jumped, whimpering your need again, and he pulled your panties way from you.

You’d gotten them around one ankle before he was inside of you, and they were no longer your focus.

You clung to each other so tightly there’d be evidence on both of you.

In the quiet, he wondered if your mind was racing with the same thoughts that his was. What now? How do we get this again?

He pressed kisses to your cheek just as he started to move. You inhaled, your nails sliding down his back. Not quite catching the skin, but enough to set him on fire all the same.

He mapped out a rhythm by your whimpers and how you grasped at him until he crafted the right one.

This was the conversation he’d needed. Every thrust from him, every cry from you, every bit of give and take to heighten the other’s pleasure. The two of you were admitting that everything that was between you was deeper, realer than you’d wanted to admit. He loved you, and you loved him, and you were engraving that on one another.

The flirtation, the way you could be yourselves around each other, the heatless jabs. Good friends was always a ruse.

Your face was buried in his neck, and when he felt dampness he knew came from your tears, he hiked your legs higher, moving deeper.

You cried out so loudly it echoed in the kitchen, drowning out the soft crooning of an eighties songstress.

“I know baby, I feel it too.” his voice was choked by the threat of tears of his own.

He’d never been here before. Not with Adelita, not even close with Nails. He was terrified. Terrified for it to end because he never felt so good. Terrified for it to end because it might never happen again.

“Angel..” your voice sounded so small, but it was strong enough to anchor him back with you. “I’m close, I’m so close.”

“Let go,” he encouraged. “Let me have it querida.”

Your body seized up with your release, his name the only thing he caught in your unintelligible babble.

You clenched up repeatedly in the aftershocks, and that drug him over the edge with you, biting your shoulder.

His vision tunneled, pinpricks of pleasure traveling up and down his spine. Your hands smoothed up and down the area, and he realized it was because he was shuddering.

He gripped the counter for support, pulling back slowly. He was searching for a way to ask if he’d changed your mind, but the act hadn’t made words for his thoughts any easier to find.

It didn’t matter, before he could even speak you stopped him. Your eyes were glazed over with tears that had nothing to do with pleasure this time.

“That was all that I can give you Angel. It’s not right, none of this is, but it’s all I can give you.”

AN:

Am I the only one who wishes she had reference photos for their home/club layouts? Lol, it’s such a weird non-factor thing, but still. From memory, I’m pretty sure Angel only has one bedroom though.

No shade, no hate but this was partially inspired by how over Nails Angel looked when she was putting her back into it….🥴

I played with a few canon-timeline things + knocked the dust off my smut writing ability (I’m going under my humiliation rock now, no calls plz)

[beautifulsnake2162020]

Ikevamp headcanons after watching Hamilton

Quick disclaimer: Yes I know this is a show about people who had owned slaves and slavery is bad. Having said that there's a reason why we suspend disbelief for a couple of hours and just allow ourselves to be swept into the story. I also love Phantom of the Opera but I also am aware that this is a story that involves an abusive and toxic relationship. The point is that I am aware that there are problems that needs to be discussed, but I still love the music, the story and the shows okay. This is just fan content not meant to be taken seriously and is just for fun. Okay? Now let's proceed.

I'll be doing Will and Arthur first since I'm currently doing Shakespeare's route and was inspired to do this after MC watches Romeo and Juliet with Vincent and I was wondering how Will would react to watching Hamilton. And Arthur is here because he is my husband/main lover. I might do Mozart and Napoleon next.

SPOILER ALERT: For anyone who hasn't seen the Disney Plus version of Hamilton, there might be some spoilers here (unless you already saw the show or know the story that is).

General Scenario:

You don't know how but Le Comte was able to get the filmed version of Hamilton, a musical which you've told Sebastian that you've been dying to see but was never able to because tickets were always sold out and entering the lottery was going to be a little too expensive for someone who lives in Japan and who doesn't exactly have the money or the time to simply fly to New York if in case she won. You were also excited because apparently Le Comte was able to modify the 21st century tech room that you use for your online classes and was able to get a wide screen and high quality surround sound which made you appreciate his efforts. A part of you was also curious as to how the other residents would react. You were scared that some of them might take offense, especially Napoleon who knew one of the characters in the show in real life. Would they react weirdly for seeing people different from them portray people that they knew? You were also wondering if they might even appreciate some of the 21st century slang that you and Sebastian would sometimes slip back into whenever it was just the two of you alone. After talking it out with everyone and explaining a few more things (like how its probably going to be different since it is a series of captured pictures-or at least that's your closest analogy- being played super fast with the synchronized sound of the actors- or what you were almost tempted to call "Techno Magic") during a dinner in which Shakespeare had decided to be present in, they were actually interested in what this show is about. Napoleon convinced you that he's fine and actually someone else playing Lafayette might even help with the suspension of disbelief since its been awhile since he has last met him anyway. Will even mentioned that while he has read and heard about stories from America, this is probably going to be the first story or production he's going to see from it. The only one who showed any hesitation - to no one's surprise - was Mozart, since he is attached to the kind of music he is familiar with (aren't we all?). But after prodding from both Jean, Le Comte and you giving him the puppy eyes, he finally relents. The day comes when everyone was once again free and for practicality everyone decided to have a meal first so that they won't be hungry during the show and also for you, Le Comte, and Sebastian to explain a few things everyone else may need to know to truly appreciate the show (like how the Presidential system and elections worked during the setting, what the word "Rewind" means, what is beatboxing, etc). So finally everyone gathered into the tech room after the meal, the lights were dimmed and once everyone was settled, you hit play. And as self-predicted of you, you find yourself crying in the end.

William Shakespeare (I'm still doing his route so please don't hate me if I get him wrong. Also no spoilers please).

- He was a bit shocked at first by how exactly up close you could see the facial expressions of the actors as well as the various ways it would cut to another person. He could now understand why you struggled with trying to explain how its played in a theatre but not exactly like the theatrical experience. But as you saw in your periphery, by the time Philippa Soo sings her first line, Will had already adjusted and allowed himself to be an audience and shut off his director and actor mindset (for the most part at least).

- While he didn't specialize in musicals, he found himself paying attention to the story of "the ten dollar founding father without a father." He knows how music could help both the actors and the audience in succumbing to their emotions in a scene and to suspend disbelief from reality. In his productions the words are not overwhelmed by any score but rather complemented to bring out the emotion he wants to evoke and for actors to show. Since many parts of the show has been influenced by the spoken word style without completely removing it from being sung, he has become enlightened with how powerful a show can be when it is done right.

- He not only enjoyed the story (especially the flow of it) and the production (especially some of the more technical details that the other residents hadn't noticed as far as a stage production is concerned), he loved that even the ensemble members had good acting and some of the onstage humor. One of the meta things he enjoyed was the obvious reference to his most superstitious work.

- Once you've seen how he loves analyzing the technical details of the production, you excitedly tell him about a special member of the ensemble who is known as "The bullet" among fans of the show. You could see him being enlightened as he watches the show with you again (this time with just the two of you) and he now sees "the bullet" and the way she interacts with the characters in a whole different light. He was so impressed with this idea that he may have adapted it into one of his new original plays (its not a copy paste of Hamilton's "bullet" but he definitely adapted assigning a member of the ensemble to have a special role that may not be significant at first, but he heavily notes that this member would have to be unique in interacting with any of the other characters).

- He didn't know what to expect from a 21st Century production but he found himself impressed with the prose and writing of various raps and songs. His favorite from Act 1 in terms of rhyme schemes was "Right Hand Man" and from Act 2 it was Jefferson's rap in "Washington by your side". And after settling down a bit his favorite emotional parts were "History has its eyes on you", "Hurricane", and "It's quiet uptown".

- He was impressed with how the double roles was given and how it actually is true for both of their roles in both acts. Ambiguity is one of his favorite things to have in a work, and he gives props to Lin for all the ambiguity he later realizes was in several parts of the show. If he and Arthur had been a little bit more closer, they probably would have bonded over the ambiguity Hamilton's comma in his letter to Angelica (see kids, grammar matters).

- A part of his brain wonders how the real life Hamilton would react to this and if him and Burr would still be enemies. But after some thinking he decides its not worth his efforts of asking anyone to bring them back since a wonderful production of their life has already been made even if it may not necessarily reflect who they truly are. He of all people knew what it's like to be inspired by great figures, it was fortunate that Lin Manuel Miranda decided to make a show about them before he had the chance to.

- You explain that in America Hamilton is one of the lesser known founding fathers of their nation and how it may be because his political opponents later on became Presidents and therefore was able to form the narrative. He becomes inspired by it and begins to search out people or stories who are hidden gems who may not be historically famous but had much more interesting stories than some of the ones he has heard of.

- Afterwards once you are sure that he has gotten comfortable enough with the genre you show him various videos of people rapping to his works and his reactions range from impressed to amused to "that's not what I mean when I wrote that" and you had to calm him down and explain that they can't hear him anyway after he started giving serious critiques on what the text means.

Arthur Conan Doyle

- While he was knowledgeable about many things, America's founding fathers was not one of them. He along with the other residents have gotten used to any rumors or exaggerated accounts of their lives and you and Sebastian have already warned that this is just a fictionalized production of the real person. As a writer of some historical fiction books he argued that he of all people was aware that any work based on history will speak more about the creators rather than the actual people they are writing about most of the time. He was nevertheless interested as to why you have become fascinated with the treasury secretary (and maybe it was with a twinge of jealousy that you began to expressly show admiration to another man even if he wasn't among the residents in the mansion). After all unlike many other residents of the mansion, on the surface it seemed that Hamilton was similar to Theo who mainly played a supporting but crucial role to his brother. He was thankful that you didn't hold it against him and was comforted that you were in a similar place. You even told him that the only thing you really knew about Hamilton before listening to the soundtrack and watching "Animatics" was that he was in the ten dollar American bill.

- And as someone who has delved into writing historical fictions, this was probably one of the most entertaining productions about a historical figure he has seen. He's going to be honest with you in that at first he was wondering if revealing Burr shot Hamilton in the opening was going to hinder him from enjoying the show; but he was pleasantly surprised that this was not the case at all. As a matter of fact it now made him want to find out who the real Hamilton was (although a part of him doubts if the real Hamilton had any regrets at all). According to him, this is why as a fictionalized historical work, the show is a success because it makes you want to find out more about the events and figures of the story (even if it means looking at darker realities that they did). And while the real Hamilton may be a lot different from what was shown, with all the things he went through and all the things he has done (for better or worse), he now wonders why exactly Le Comte hadn't approached him since he seems to be no better or worse than the average resident ("He and Newt could probably discuss mathematics all day."). You then explained that his political rivals (Jefferson and Madison from the show, and Monroe who wasn't shown in the musical) had later on become Presidents and was able to shape the narrative away from Hamilton. "Ron Chernow made Hamilton's biography because he was the lesser known founding father who was fading into obscurity among Americans and Lin read the book and recognized the story of someone who has risen through his writings. And to Lin that was also the story of hiphop." While he wasn't involved in politics as much as Hamilton was, Arthur had enough experience to know what it feels like to have those kinds of people in power. He also knows just how powerful it is to be in "the room where it happened" and how sometimes the real decisions weren't being made in an office but rather in either a private party or the right bar when people in power had their guard down and were more susceptible to being influenced.

- He could relate a lot with Hamilton on many things that he's only comfortable allowing either you or Theo to see. From being just so much more aware of death's inevitability coming for every living thing to survivor's guilt even though a part of him knows its irrational (but sometimes the emotional nonsense just overtakes our perspectives and actions). It's why he could understand Hamilton's need to write as much as he can before he dies. It's why for a time in his human life he had deviated from writing about Holmes and ventured into other genres. He could also relate to the need to prove what type of person he was, and how to go beyond his tragedies to serve people in their own ways. Hamilton did it as a soldier and the creator of America's financial system. And he is doing it as an informally practicing doctor and as a writer. It's a need that he's trying to mitigate since you've repeatedly told him that he doesn't need to prove anything to you or to anyone and to write whatever he pleases. But he also can't deny that it's still somewhere lodged in the back of his head.

- Just like William Shakespeare, in terms of the wordplay found in rap and the ambiguity present in the show and how those things were executed made him amazed and momentarily speechless. He was especially fanboying about "The comma after dearest" and how this essentially shows how important grammar was. It went to the extent that afterwards whenever he would write to you he would address you either as "My dearest, Y/N" or "My darling, Y/N" with special emphasis on the comma (sometimes you could see how there's more ink in the comma than some of the actual words. That's how much he wants to emphasize that you hold the title of dearest or darling). And you excitedly share with him some of the trivia knowledge of the show (like how in real life it was Angelica who originally made the comma mistake by writing to Hamilton as "My dear, sir" in one of her letters and it was Hamilton who was asking her what the comma means and even replied with "Ma chere, soeur") and how Angelica really did reference the Icarus metaphor in one of her letters to Eliza. And even though he wasn't a major musical nerd (he sang for fun), he would now join you in watching Howard Ho's Hamilton videos musically analyzing Hamilton (and would probably try to find a way to use this knowledge to annoy Mozart in some way).

- Speaking of music: Maybe it's because he's biased in his love for you but aside from Sebastian he's probably the one who has no qualms about the hiphop genre and was immediately into the various wordplays that rapping allowed. And because of this his favorite characters in terms of rapping are the ones played by Daveed Diggs (probably more than Hamilton himself even though you've explained that Lin is the one who wrote the whole thing). He even adapts to how Daveed as Jefferson would say Isaac's third law and incorporated it into his "let's tease Newton" kit. That's when you know he really loves Daveed Diggs ("Every action has an equal opposite -" "WILL YOU PLEASE STOP SAYING IT THAT WAY?! I didn't mind the first few times but this is ridiculous Arthur" "It must be nice, it must be nice to have a Newton on your side"). And his favorite character emotionally was Angelica (her raps in Schuyler Sisters and Satisfied may have helped).

- Speaking of the Schuyler Sisters, after watching it with you another time (this time with just the two of you) one of his favorite things to say is that you've got the best of all three sisters within you (Angelica's wittiness and intelligence, Eliza's cares for the more important things in life, and Peggy's humor) with the sexiness of Maria Reynolds. But because he sees all 4 of them in you he has the benefit of not needing to choose among them. Having said that there will be a period wherein he teases you if he makes you "Helpless" or "Satisfied" (and you respond either by kissing him or singing "That would be enough").

- Whenever you would sing as one of the Schuyler sisters he will join you as any of the male characters the moment he masters the soundtrack and could even sing it without the music. His favorite rap songs are "Guns and Ships", "Washington on your side", and of course "Satisfied". He also really loves "Non-stop", "the 10 duel commandments", and "The room where it happened". But his favorite sequence is from "the Winter's Ball" all the way to "Wait for it". Since it has romance, a shocking revelation, and gives insight to the perspective of the antagonist. He's also one of the first people to attempt to learn the choreography whenever he's in one of his mental blocks in writing. Of course he makes sure not to injure himself.

- He posts song lyrics to keep himself motivated in his times of mental block "There's a million things I haven't done. But just you wait" and "I'm not throwing away my shot" frequently appear around his desk.

-And whenever he's feeling low or insecure, just like Eliza you remind him to "Look around, Look around, how lucky we are to be alive right now."

[mrsmaybankhere]

Lose yourself

this is the fic i was talking about and i’m quite proud of it, soo i hope you liked it as much as i do!!

i was literally crying the whole time so i’m sorry for any mistakes. it’s also huuge, over 3.5 k words so be ready for it💞

enjoy and let me know what you guys think!! love you a lot xx

Televisions didn't announced any storm coming to OBX, but as you drive your Jeep to The Cut you can clearly see clouds begin to form on the now clear blue sky. The heat was barely supportable in the last few days, but a storm or another hurricane is never a good thing. You bite on your lower lip, thinking at your friends who got lost on the ocean and are now declared dead. Today are three months since then and apparently, today is gonna be another storm. But things changed since that day.

Oh God, how much did they change...

You stop the car engine and after you jump out from the car, you take with you the few food purchases you made on your way there. You already know that the boys are out of beer and anything edible. Beside these stupid mushrooms they took a few days ago and tripped on them for almost eight hours.

You push the door of the Chateau using one arm, holding the bags with the other one and the door finally open after a few tries. There was some trash blocking it and you gulp, trying to hide your disappointment as Pope welcomes you in.

"Oy, JJ! [Y/N] is here!"He screams at your boyfriend and you nod, handing him the bags as you follow him into the kitchen. JJ murmured something you didn't understand and a few curse words. You decide to take care of this first.

"What's up?" You casually ask him and you take a look around the kitchen as you place the food and the beer into the initially very empty fridge. Damn, how did they live here?

"Not too much. JJ is rolling a blunt if you're asking."

"You look stoned." You say as you rise your eyebrow, Pope shifting uncomfortable on the kitchen old and stained countertop.

"Well maybe because I just smoked, mom?" He makes it seem like a question and you pull your lips in a line, trying to cover your sigh.

You begin to clean the kitchen, throwing every piece of trash into a big plastic bag with Pope's eyes following every step you make. He's walking on eggshells around you, wondering how much time will take you to finally explode. He expected you to do it quite sooner, but you were nothing but calm and soft towards them. Especially J.

"Kie answered." You hear his voice, now quite raspy and you turn around to look at him. He can see the sparkles of hope in your eyes and he hates to broke it for you.

"What did she said?"

"That she can't see us like she used to. And that her parents are right with whatever shits they said to her about us. That she w-..."

"I think I get it." You feel a pain in your chest at the memories of Kie being here. Of John B and Sarah being alive and you laughing and partying together. Actually being a family. Pope just nods his head, his pain bigger than yours. He didn't just lost three friends, he also lost his girlfriend. Probably his parents too.

"When was the last time you went home? Your mother is worried sick."

Pope's mother called you last night, crying and imploring you to try and talk with him. JJ moved his ass here, leaving his abusive old man and it was for the better, but Pope's parents are good people and they don't deserve all this pain. None of you did deserve it, but you all have it on your shoulders anyway.

"Can't remember." He mutters, avoiding your glare. "Last weekend I think."

"Eight days, Pope? Really?" You rising your voice a little bit, feeling like a mother and that's what exactly you were for them these three horrible months. And that's what Pope wanted so bad to avoid: your disappointed face. "Go home right now or I will kick your ass out. You have ten minutes." You demand with a stern voice and face as you walk out of the kitchen, cleaning the living room and the porch as well. John B's room remained untouched and JJ locked it with a key that he hide it God knows where. "For when he gets back" he said that day and you had a horrible feeling of deja vu.

Now you are sure that a storm is coming as full grey clouds are covering the sky and you even catched a few lightnings. By the time you were down with the cleaning, Pope walks on the porch with a backpack on his shoulder and JJ following right behind him. He's only wearing jeans, his hair a mess and his shark necklace always at his neck.

"What do you mean you leaving? I just rolled the perfect...Trust me, the perfect blunt."

You thought that you get used to something after seeing it for a thousand times, but you didn't get used to the new JJ. The heartbroken and devastated, always wasted JJ. The past three months were a hell for him and he made it even worse for you. You had to adjust to your own grief and you also had his pain on your back, carrying it with you every moment of the day and night. In the first month you couldn't sleep or eat at all as your only concern was JJ. You were scared that he may be doing something stupid or reckless and for most of the times he was. Starting fights for nothing and beating the shit out of everyone who dared to bother him. At first you also thought that Pope was gonna help you, but you were so naive. You were so blind that you didn't saw how Pope changed too, copying JJ's mechanism to numb out the pain: drugs and alcohol. But beside JJ, Pope isn't lying himself that everything is alright. Or that they will come back eventually.

"Baby! Didn't see you there. What are you doin'?" He knews that you were there, but he was too drunk and high to remember it. His arm loosely grabs your shoulders, pulling you to his side for a sloppy kiss. You can't hide your little smile because when you two kiss, you feel like your JJ is still there and times are happy again. And then when he pulls from your kiss, you have to face the cruel reality again.

"I was cleaning. The Chateau never looked this dirty before." You didn't realize it, but JJ's face fell at your words. You watch him walking away from you barefoot on the porch's floor, leaning against the supporting pillars. He turns with his back at you and Pope, lighting up the blunt and also speaking. You can see how tense his back is.

"We don't mind. We are living here..." He points a finger to Pope and himself. "Not you, [Y/N]. So you can't have a opinion."

"Pope is not living here."

"I have to head home, JJ. A storm is coming..." Pope pleads, trying to get a approbation from the blond guy.

"Yea, sure. Just go home before the rain star-..."

"Shut up, JJ." You snap at him, giving a hug to Pope before he slowly nods towards JJ who just ignored it. His bloodshot piercing blue eyes are on you, angry at you. You kept your calm for so long and for two months you were nothing but a sweet loving girlfriend to him, always down for sex, parties and even robbery. But your patience reached her limit and since then, you and JJ fight every night. And tonight isn't different.

"What's your problem?" He asks as quickly as you two remained alone.

"I think you know very well since I've told you many times now, but I'm gonna repeat myself: you are my problem, JJ. I'm tired."

You don't think that he's listening to you. He is puffing the blunt, watching outside from the door. The rain finally starts and the weather also get a little cold because of the wind.

"Come on, let's get inside." You speak and you open the door, entering into the living room, JJ following you with a growl and still smoking.

"Can't you just leave me alone for once?"

For three months he had talked to you like this. He was the old JJ only when he was inside of you or you were giving him head. You still be crying yourself to sleep every night because of this, of how powerless you are in this situation. All you can do is sit there and watch him falling apart.

But you had enough of it.

"JJ." You call his name and he turns around to look at you, you quickly grab the blunt from his hand and you throw it on the window. At least you have his attention now. But he's furious.

"What the fuck are you doing? Aren't you tired of all this fighting every damn night? Cause I am." His voice his loud and harsh, sending daggers right into your already broken heart. "You know, I left my father for a reason, [Y/N]."

"Don't...Don't you fucking say that to me! I actually give a fuck about your wasted ass!"

Well, this turned out good. Wonderful.

"Oh yeah? Then why are you acting like you are better than me? Like you are my damn mom or something."

You just wanted a calm conversation, but this is quickly turning into the same screaming match you always have. Both of you throwing the same heavy words, ending up with you crying, but still staying the night in the couch just to make sure he's okay during the night. That's how much of a pathetic you are.

"JJ, please hear me out. Let me talk. I don't wanna fight anymo-..."

"I can see that." He speaks sarcastically and you groan, still trying to keep your calm.

"JJ, look at me..." You cup his face to force him into looking right into your tired but still loving eyes. Even right now you are heartbroken for him, not for you. You gasp with tears already falling on your cheeks, knowing that what you're about to say will broke him down but you're hoping that he will wake up and finally see it for himself. "It's been three months, baby. John B is not coming back."

You can't describe what you saw inside of his eyes; something you never saw before, not in this way. The rage that's fulling his eyes is overwhelming for you and for your thin body as he grabs your shoulders, his fingers dagging into your skin as he's shacking you.

"Watch your mouth, [Y/N]. I'll say this once...And you better get it in your damn little head. Behave or leave for good."

You gulp down the words you had in your mouth, just letting him talk shit to you when you don't deserve any of it. You became his punching bag.

"You know what? Leave. I wanna be alone."

"I-I don't..." You can't talk as you feel anxiety taking control over your mind and body. Yeah, you are tired of this situation, but leaving him for good never was an option for you.

"Leave. I don't want you here. Can't you see that?"

You bite on your lower lip as you can feel how your stupid heart is ripped right from your chest, parts of it shattering your insides. You are still standing on your legs, but inside you feel like you are on your knees, screaming to make this stop. The pain is unbounded.

He turns with his back at you to grab a beer from the fridge; his hands are shacking while he tries to open it and he mutters a "fuck" under his heavy breath. When you finally find your voice again, you speak with a lower voice than what you expected.

"No. I'm sorry, but I'm not leaving you."

His back is tensed and jawline and fists clenched at the sound of your weak voice. You watch his back, not knowing what to expect from him, but you decide to keep talking. You can't make it worse than this.

Or...?

"You are the one who's always there for the ones he care about. I don't know about the others, but for me, JJ...You are my shoulder to cry on, my-...My lifebuoy. I wouldn't be here today if you weren't."

Your crying is uncontrollably at this point, making it really hard to breath properly as you feel like you're drowning in your words. You cover your mouth with your hand, a scream wanting so bad to leave your sore throat.

"So if you want to treat me like shit...If you want to get it all out on me, do it. I will let you, if that makes you feel better. If hurting me makes you feel better...I will let you, Jay. But-...But that won't bring John B and Sarah back. Nothing will bring them back, baby..."

Your voice just crack while speaking and you gulp down, biting your tongue so hard that you can feel the taste of blood in your mouth. JJ slowly turns around to look at you and your heart takes another punch as the sigh of him crying, sobbing uncontrollably with a painful smile on his lips.

"You think I don't know that, [Y/N]? Fuck...I know it, but-...But it hurts so bad. I can't help it."

"Baby..." You slowly whimper and you spreads your arms around his shacking body. His head quickly finds comfort in your neck, his tears wetting your skin as yours are wetting his hair. You let your face in his hair as you slowly fall down at the floor with his arms tight around your waist.

"I-I just can't really believe it...I'm still waiting for him to come back. But I know he won't-...They will never come back."

Fighting with JJ was horrible, but him crying like this and falling apart in your arms is something else. This is your nightmare coming out alive, destroying you bad and permanently. You didn't say anything else, you can't find words that are enough in this situation, so you stand there on the floor, his body all over yours as you run your fingers through his now damp hair, over his back, arms and face, wipping the tears away. He keep muttering things, pouring his whole heart out, but you feel like he is more talking to himself and not really to you.

"I just wanna do the right thing, [Y/N]..."

"I know. I will help you with that."

He raises his head from your chest, his beautiful eyes are now very red and puffy. You softly kiss them and the dark circles around them.

"Why are you still here? I was-...I was an asshole to you. I wanted you to leave me, so I can destroy myself without-....Without pulling you with me."

All this time you thought he didn't noticed things around him, but he did way too much. He was hurt when he saw Kie hanging with Kooks again, he was hurt to see Pope changing for bad, but he was totally broken to see you not giving a fuck about you, instead giving your entire everything for him. He thought you will leave sooner or later; he actually hoped you will. But you didn't. You stood there, losing weight and hair because of all the stress and sadness, spending nights crying and worrying for him when he was totally shitfaced and the next day you still managed to smile at him. You still had in you the power to smile.

"I won't give up on you, JJ. Never and I mean it." You are so sure of your words as you speak, locking your eyes with him while cupping his face, slowly tracing lines on his cheek. That calms him down a bit and he surprises you when he brings your hands to his lips, slowly kissing your wrists. Another tear left his eye because of how skinny you are, knowing that he is the reason. You always brought food, but he never saw you ate any.

"You're too good. You-...You know that, right? I don't deserve you. I'm so fucking sorry...For doing you like this."

"I don't care what you think. You will-....You have to get out of this black hole. I'm getting you out, baby."

Both of you are still crying, but you managed to calm down. JJ has helped you and you helped him. You two finally had ears to actually listen to each other and that bring a smile on your red damp faces.

"I love you with all I have in me." He speaks with his face hiding in your chest and you smile, kissing the top of his head and his forehead. You keep on placing kisses all over him as a reminder that you are there, still loving him.

"I know, trust me I know. I lo-..."

"You don't have to say it back. You proved it way more than I did." You bite on your lip and you pull his head up to make eye contact with him. He looks so sad and hurt. You wanted so bad to wrap him in your arms and keep him there forever, protecting him from the world and all the pain.

"But I want to say it back." You smile and you gently press a kiss on his lips, butterflies dancing around in your stomach. "I love you, JJ! I love you!"

"Say it again." He whimpers and you smile again, pressing another sweet kiss to his lips. You miss this so much.

"I love you!" This time he's the one kissing you, really soft at the started of it and then he pours his whole heart on your lips, right on that kiss that is meant to take your breath away.

You stood there in silence for another long moments, until you couldn't feel your legs and hands anymore, but you didn't wanted to bother him so you didn't moved at all. When you two finally find the strength to get up and face the world, JJ looks like he's thinking at something.

"I have an idea..."

You managed to sleep for three full hours and it was something beside the other days. You still have a painful migraine and JJ needs focus to keep himself straight on his legs, but when the sun wasn't even out yet, you two and Pope arrived at the docks.

"Kie answered?" J asks and you slowly wrap your arm around his waist and Pope shakes his head, a sad look on his sleepy face.

"I don't think she will." Pope says and you and JJ remain quiet, still hoping.

The three of you sit down on the old wood and nobody said anything. There is nothing to say as you are waiting for the sunrise. The cold wind feels right on your skin, still hot from all the crying before sleeping and the only sounds around are from the insects or birds. The blunt is now at Pope and you take it from his fingers, smoking a little before passing it to your boyfriend. Your anxiety is not as bad as before, but you still can't keep yourself calm.

Soon enough, the sun slowly starts coming out from the ocean, the sky colors quickly changing to a beautiful red and orange combination that you always loved. You look at JJ and Pope, your boy taking out the little braided basket in which you placed a picture of your friends, John B and Sarah. You remember that day; you were with the boat on a throuple date and they are smilling at each other, their eyes locked as they didn't know you were taking pictures.

"They were so in love..." A soft voice speaks from behind you and you all turn around, seeing Kie standing there with tears falling on her pink cheeks.

You bite your lip to keep your tears locked, but looking at the boys they are already crying, so you start crying too. Kie almost run into your arms, wrapping her arms around all of you and hugging you tight.

"I knew-...I knew you will be here." You talk while sobbing and JJ kiss your temple, his tears falling on your face.

"I'm sorry...I-I'm really sorry. I didn't know what to do...But I shouldn't-..."

Pope stops her by kissing her cheek and pulling her in for a hug, Kie hiding her wet face at his chest as JJ looks at all of you, his glare stopping on you as you smile at him and slowly nod your head, encouraging him to do it.

You see his Adam's apple gulping up and down as he slowly places the braided basket above the water, still holding it with his fingers so it wasn't taking away yet. You tap his shoulder to make sure he knows that you are here.

"I will never forget you." JJ speaks to the picture, your head falling on his shoulder as hot tears falls on your cheeks. "And I think I will always wait for you to come back. Maybe you will, but probably you won't. But it's okay...You did it in Pogue's style." His whole body his shacking away, crying and speaking with sobs, muttering curses under his breath because he can't hold it in. "I love you, brother. And sister."

He shows you that he needs you and your touch by how he lets his head on your chest, just like he did the night before and you start speaking, your fingers in his hair and you eyes locked with the picture.

"John B, you were the brother I never had. Fuck, you even were my father if I needed too. Remember when you and JJ took me to prom because you think that no one was good enough for me? You were probably right because-....Because you two are the best matches for me. My best friends. My-...My shoulders to cry on. And Sarah...You were the best Kook ever, sorry Kie." You all laugh a little through your tears. "It was impossible to not love you when you were so-...So supportive and loving. Fuck....I will miss you so bad, guys. Chateau...And we, we will never be the same without you, but we will keep you in our hearts forever. I love you, guys."

It's too much for your weak hearts to handle it, but somehow you managed to go through the little speeches you all gave to them. Sadly, to a photo of them.

You all get up as JJ lights up the photo and let the basket float above the water, the waves quickly taking him away from the dock. Pope pulls you to his side, JJ and Kiara doing the same as the four of you share a big group hug while watching the basket. It's now covered in flames, but still floats away on the ocean.

JJ looks up at the sky and he whispers.

"Come on, man. I know you are somewhere out here...Just come back."

"What?" You whisper back to him, not sure if he really said something or not.

"I didn't say anything." JJ smiles at you and pulls you to his chest. He wraps his arms around you and places his lips on your forehead, keeping them there a little longer. "You are my Angel, [Y/N]. Thank you."

Tag list (lmk if you wanna be added): @afterglowsb-tch13​ @alexandracheers​ @hucklebaefinn​ 

[floorbe]

Rock Lee x Reader “Thorns of a Lotus”

Warning(s): Hanahaki Disease, angst, fluff (at the end), angst with a happy ending, cursing

Summary: Okay, yeah, you have a crush on Rock Lee. But he likes Sakura, so you ignore it. What’s the worst that could happen?

Pairing(s): romantic Rock Lee x Reader

Word count: 5,739

~

It all starts with you feeling congested. It’s not obvious, really, like how nobody pays attention to a slightly stuffed nose. And it doesn’t bother you at first, so you don’t mind it. Except now it’s been weeks and you’ve slowly gotten more congested. You didn’t notice it at first, it had been moving so slowly that it just felt normal, until someone points out how much you’ve been clearing your throat lately. It makes you stop for a moment, but you just convince yourself you’re coming down with a cold. You don’t start to worry until today.

You wake up congested, as you always seem to be lately. You stretch and get out of bed, starting your daily routine. While eating your breakfast, you clear your throat softly and ponder what to do for the day. After contemplating between being lazy or actually training, (being lazy sounded so nice right now... but what would your Sensei think if you lazed around?) you begrudgingly decide to go to the training grounds. You don’t have any missions today, so you figure you’ll get a head start on some training methods you’d recently picked up. 

When you get there, you find Rock Lee. You aren’t surprised, it seemed like Lee was always training, even when he wasn’t at the training grounds. You almost turn around to find a different spot, you don’t want to bother him, but he notices you. He energetically greets you, waving you over, inviting you to join him in his training. You ignore the way your heart jumps, and you clear your throat before walking over to join him, smiling widely. Had you gotten more congested, or was that just you?

“Good morning Y/N! How are you on this beautiful morning?” Lee beams at you, placing his hands on his hips.

“I’m good, Lee! How are you?” You hold back from clearing your throat again, rolling your shoulders back. 

“I am well, thank you for asking!” Lee swings one of his arms in front of him, stretching it out. “Would you like to spar with me?” You nod, raising your arms above your head to stretch before starting. You spend a couple of minutes stretching and warming up before Lee springs up, hopping between feet and asking if you’re ready to start.

“I’m ready! Let’s go!” You exclaim, and almost immediately Lee lunges towards you, leg flying up to kick you in the jaw. You let out a shriek of surprise, throwing your body into a back bend in order to avoid him. You quickly flip over, dragging your feet to flip yourself around before launching yourself at Lee’s still airborne body. He grunts as your fist hits his side, swiveling to jab at you. You duck your head to avoid his fist, jumping away from him. Lee lands easily on his feet, turning to face you with his hand raised. You move into an offensive stance, eyes flickering around him, ready to attack if necessary. 

Your sparring match continues on for a couple of minutes, mostly composed of Lee trying to kick you and you just barely moving out of the way. You’ve landed enough hits on him to see him falter, and him you. You raise your wrist to wipe away the blood oozing from your nose, panting heavily. Lee suddenly sprints towards you, and you can see him begin to form a lunge to spring himself upwards. Preparing yourself for possibly his hurricane attack, he surprises you by suddenly ducking and lunging towards you, punching you straight in the chest. 

The air in your lungs leaves you as you’re hurtled backwards, and in a vain attempt to stabilize yourself your hand shoots out to grab Lee’s wrist, pulling him down with you. You land on your back with a thud, releasing Lee’s wrist and groaning quietly at the spikes of pain throughout your body. You hear Lee let out a small shout and open your eyes just as his hands slam on the ground on either side of your head. Lee’s face stops inches from your own. Your eyes widen as you realize that you’d just forced Lee into pinning you to the ground. Lee is pinning you to the ground. Lee is- wow, okay. It’s suddenly very hard to breathe.

Your face feels like it’s on fire as you stare up into Lee’s eyes, both of you breathing heavily. It feels like minutes go by as Lee stares at you in surprise, eyebrows furrowing slightly as his eyes flick around your face. If you had any coherent thoughts right now, they would be: 1. Lee is pinning you to the ground. 2. Geez, how long has it been since you’ve both been here? It feels like it’s been a long time. 3. Why does Lee look so confused? 4. Man, you’re so flustered it feels like you can’t breathe. Like it actually feels like you can’t b-

Your hand suddenly flies up to cover your mouth as you let loose a spurt of harsh coughs. Lee seems to finally snap out of his thoughts, realizing fully the situation you’re both in. He springs off of you, kneeling next to you as you cough violently into your hand. God, what is in your throat? It feels like something is stuck in there. 

“Are you okay?! Oh my gosh, I am so sorry! I hit you too hard! Please, forgive me!” Lee cries, arms flailing wildly as he tries to think of a way to help you. He settles on rubbing your back as you sit up, shaking you head at him to try and dismiss his apologies. Unfortunately, his hand rubbing your back only sets loose more coughs, and he retracts his hand, biting his lip in fear. 

Your coughs slowly die down, leaving you breathing heavily with the distinct feeling of something in your throat. You clear your throat, trying to dislodge whatever is making you so uncomfortable, but it doesn’t seem to help. Your breathing finally evens, and Lee cautiously moves to sit next to you, “Are you alright?” 

You turn to look at him, giving him a small smile, voice coming out a little hoarse, “Yeah. I’ve been congested lately, so maybe you hitting my chest just set it off or something.” 

Lee furrows his brows once again, “I am not sure, Y/N. Those coughs sounded very painful. I do not think my punch was strong enough to provoke that.” You shakily stand, Lee’s hands hovering near you to catch you if you fall. 

You shrug your shoulders, “It’s probably nothing, Lee. A combination between a cold I’m developing and the sparring.” Lee doesn’t look convinced, but before he can say anything else you cut him off. “I think I’m gonna head back for a little bit of rest, actually. I’m still a little shaky.” 

Lee nods, approving of your choice, “I will walk you back to insure you make it home safely!” 

-

“I think you should see a medical ninja for a check up, at least,” Lee insists, “if it turns out to be something severe, you could be bedridden for months!” You nearly groan. Lee has been pestering you about seeking help the entire walk back. As annoyed as you are, it makes your heart flutter how concerned he seems to be about you. Your hand moves to rub your throat as you clear it again. 

“Really, Lee. I think I just need some water, then I’ll be-” you’re cut off when Lee suddenly snaps his head forward, a pink blush hinting at his cheeks. You look at him confusedly, and follow his gaze to see Sakura. Of course. Where Lee had just been concerned over you, you suddenly cease to exist when Sakura is around. Just like always.

Lee rushes over to Sakura as you stifle another cough. “Sakura! You look positively radiant today!” Lee compliments her. Great. Now you have to listen to him ask her out in his “youthful metaphors” and try to ignore how your heart stings. Just like you always do. 

“Oh, thank you, Lee!” Sakura thanks him, smiling. Lee’s blush darkens, spouting out more compliments to her. A pit forms in your stomach as you listen to him babble praises to her. Your chest constricts with a sudden suppressed cough, and you breathe in deeply trying to hold it in, but it only causes it to harshly force itself from you. Your hand covers your mouth as you feel whatever was in your throat finally come out. You pull your hand away to find... a flower petal? What the hell? 

“Y/N, are you okay?” You hear Sakura ask you, and you quickly crush the petal in your fist, moving it down to your side, turning to them with a smile. You really don’t want to talk to them for much longer, and showing them this petal will only force you to converse with them and painfully endure more of Lee’s blatant pining. (You wish he would pine over you like that, you think, but immediately banish the thought.)

“Yeah,” you say hoarsely, clearing your throat before continuing, “I’m just a bit congested.”

“Ah! Actually, Sakura, you are a medical ninja! Y/N, you sh-”

“It’s fine, Lee,” you cut him off, smile becoming more forced, “Just a cough.” You take a deep breath, holding back another cough, “I’m actually going to head home now, I’ll see you guys later.” You turn and walk away, not waiting for their response. Once you’re far enough away from them, you cautiously open up your hand again. Why the hell did you cough up a flower petal? Maybe you swallowed one during training? You sigh, shaking your head with a small cough before shoving the petal in your pocket and continuing home.

-

Okay, maybe this isn’t just a cough. It’s been a few weeks since the first petal incident. You’d convinced yourself that you had just accidentally swallowed a petal somehow, I mean, what else could it have been? But your coughs only grew worse as days went on. You started coughing up more flower petals. It started getting harder to breathe, too, and your strength was slowly draining from you. While weeks ago you were able to stay active most of the day, you could barely take a twenty minutes of training before needing to rest. 

Your friends were getting concerned. You had stopped showing up to most hang outs with them, and when you did you either left soon or looked sick the whole time. You couldn’t train with them without needing to stop soon after. The most concerned, you think, is Lee, who’s seen your coughing fits first hand the most. You’ve realized that they seem to trigger whenever Lee is around. You doubt it’s Lee himself, you have no clue what type of illness would cause you to get sick around one specific person (unless you’re allergic to Lee?). Plus, he’s been hanging around you a lot more lately, now that you think of it. It’s likely just coincidence; obviously if he’s hanging out with you the most he’ll see them the most.

He continuously pesters you about going to see a medical ninja, get a check up, anything, please, he will even come with you if you’re scared, and you know you should at this point. It’s only getting worse, and you assume it’s only going to get worse as time goes on. While you’ve managed to keep the petals a secret from everyone by coughing into tissues or into your hand, there’s only so much you can hide. If you keep coughing up more and more (the amount seems to be increasing, which is really scaring you) eventually you won’t be able to hide it, no matter how many tissues you have with you. 

The final crack in your decision to go to the hospital is when you’re sitting at home, and suddenly you can’t breathe, more than usual. You choke, pounding on your chest to try and force the petals blocking your airway. You manage to dislodge them rather easily, thankfully, and cough up nine (yes, nine) bloody petals. You freak out, the petals have never been bloody before, and you’ve never coughed up so many. You struggle to stand up, stumbling to the door, still panting lightly. You quickly make your way to the hospital, ignoring the worried looks from the people around you. 

In a stroke of luck, the only friend you run into on the way is Hinata, who gladly helps you to the hospital after seeing how panicked you look. As you walk in and Hinata quietly explains that she thinks you need help right away, (you tried to tell them but ended up coughing again. You try and thank Hinata with your eyes, and she seems to get it, because she smiles at you) and the nurse quickly ushers you to a nearby room. Hinata seems to read your mind again, as she promises not to tell anyone about this, but asks softly to please tell everyone if it’s a huge problem. You don’t get to respond as you’re pushed further down the hallway, her face vanishing from view as you enter the hospital room and are helped onto the bed. 

A doctor comes in rather quickly, asking you what the problem is. You go to answer her but end up hacking, clutching your chest as a few bloody petals flutter onto the bedsheets. You hear the doctor gasp, rushing over to inspect the petals. “What-? Did you accidentally swallow a flower?” You shake your head, explaining how you’ve been coughing these up for weeks, now. You’re sure you haven’t swallowed any flowers. She picks up the petals and places them in a bag, placing them on the table before grabbing her stethoscope to hear your breathing.

“It sounds like something is blocking your airway,” she murmurs, moving the cold metal along your chest, “Are there still more petals in there?” She seems to be asking herself more than you. “I’ve never seen something like this before... Excuse me for a moment, I’m going to go get a second opinion.” She leaves the room and you’re left sitting there in silence. She had never seen this before. What is this? Are you going to die? As you’re starting to panic, the doctor comes back with another doctor. 

The new doctor comes over to inspect you, looking at the plastic bag on the table. She, too, feels around your chest and makes the same comments. “I’ve- I’ve never even heard of something like this!” And off they go, to find yet another doctor. And then he comes in, and rinse repeat, off to find another doctor. Your panic is slowly rising with each new doctor and nurse that enters the room, each one just as bewildered as the last. Has no one really ever heard of something like this? Are you the first one? Oh, God, are they going to name this disease after you?! 

“Maybe we should get Lady Hokage,” one finally suggests, “if anyone in the village knows what this is, it would be her.” They all murmur in agreement, and one rushes off to go find her. You sigh as they all slowly file out of the room, giving you sympathetic smiles in hopes of comforting you in some way. You’re, again, left alone in this cold hospital room with nothing but your thoughts. A lone petal flutters out of your mouth, and you nearly start crying. You hadn’t even felt that one come up, that’s how normal this had become to you. How much longer were you going to have to go through this? Are you going to suffocate because of these stupid little-

“Y/N,” Tsunade calls out, entering the room, “How are you feeling?”

“Not good,” you mumble, unshed tears still in your eyes. One drips down your face as Tsunade holds up the bag with the collected pieces, murmuring to herself, “These look like lotus petals...” Her eyes widen slightly, moving towards you to feel your chest with her hands. “It feels like there are flowers all throughout your lungs...” 

“C-can you get them out?” you ask shakily.

“If you have what I think you have, then yes. There are two ways you can get these flowers out,” Tsunade says, leaning back and crossing her arms. “First, let me explain what I think.” 

“O-okay.” 

“What you have is called Hanahaki Disease. It’s written in old medical ninja practice books, but since there’s been no cases within the last few hundred years, it was written off as a myth. It’s the only disease I’ve ever heard of that involves flowers in this way.” 

“W-what does that mean? I grow flowers in my lungs?”

“Yes, the patient grows flowers in their lungs in response to unrequited romantic feelings.”

Unrequited romantic feelings? A picture of Lee flashes in your mind and you frown.

“It starts with a few petals, but slowly grows more and suffocates the patient more over the course of months, sometimes years. Eventually the patient is coughing up full flowers, and if not treated, it’s fatal.”

Your heart jumps at the word fatal. 

“The flowers often relate to the patients love interest in some way, causing the disease to kill the patient quicker if the flowers have dangerous elements, such as thorns. Lucky for you, you seem to be coughing up lotuses, which don’t have anything.”

The lotus of Konoha blooms twice! Of course. What a sick irony. Lee, one of the people you couldn’t imagine ever intentionally hurting you, is now indirectly killing you. With the thought of Lee, you start up coughing once again, and suddenly the reason why you seemed to have fits around him the most is clear. Obviously being around Lee would make it worse.

Tsunade rubs your back soothingly as your hacking dies down, “H-how do I get rid of them?” 

“Well, you confess to whoever your unrequited feelings are for-” okay, that seems painful but bearable in the long run, “-and if they return the feelings, the flowers will disappear.” You take a moment, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath as tears fill your eyes again. Of course. It was never easy, was it? Tsunade rubs your back again as sobs shake your form. Lee likes Sakura, not you, and that’s pretty damn clear from every single interaction they’ve had compared to how Lee acts when he’s talking to you. 

“Hey, hold on. There’s a second option,” she reminds you, and you wipe your tears away as you turn to look at her hopefully. “The second option is a surgery, I would have to open up your lungs and remove the flowers directly. The only permanent consequence of this option is losing feelings for whoever the cause of the disease is forever, and possibly problems with your lungs.” So you’d lose feelings for Lee forever? A pang of sorrow shoots through you, but you shove it down. Losing feelings for Lee is better than death, you harshly remind yourself. You could handle that, and you could handle lung problems if it meant living. 

“I-I’ll do the surgery.” 

“Are you sure? You don’t want to try confessing before-?”

“I already know they don’t feel the same.” Tsunade pauses, blinking in surprise before a solemn look crosses her face. She nods.

“I understand. It’ll take me at least a day to research the disease again to safely perform the procedure with the least physical repercussions; since I thought it was a myth, I didn’t look much into it...” You nod. “Are you able to stand? Since you’re not coughing up full flowers yet, you should be okay to go home, however...” 

You somewhat shakily stand taking a moment to regain your balance. “I’ll be fine going home. I can still walk, and I’m alright when they aren’t around. As long as I avoid them until you’re ready I should be fine.” 

Tsunade nods warily, “Alright. But if you start throwing up full flowers, come to me immediately. We’ll need to start the procedure as soon as possible.” You nod and make your way out of the hospital room. 

Just as you’re exiting the hospital, you run into Naruto. “Huh? Y/N? What are you doing coming out of the hospital?” he asks, rubbing the back of his head. “Did you finally take our advice and get a check up?” When you nod, Naruto’s face turns more serious, “Is it anything bad?” You hesitate, considering telling him. It would be nice to talk to someone... but if you told him chances are he’d tell everyone else. You decide against it. You’re going to get surgery to fix it soon, anyways, so there’s no need to worry anyone. 

“No, nothing bad. Just a really bad cold,” you weakly chuckle, and his face lights up. “What are you doing here, anyway, Naruto?” 

“Oh, I’m looking for Grandma Tsunade. Shizune told me she would be here,” he shrugs. “I’m glad it’s nothing bad, Y/N! Everyone will be relieved to hear it, y’know!” You smile and nod, bidding him goodbye as you continue your walk home. 

You try to avoid any routes you know your friends are likely to be on, you don’t want to risk running into Lee, even if the chances are low. He’s usually training right now. You clear your throat softly and turn your thoughts away from him. You instead enjoy the bustling scenery of the village, laughing quietly at the kids around you playing ninja. It takes a bit longer than usual, but you finally reach your home. 

Unlocking the door, you quickly enter and shut it, sighing. You’re exhausted. When aren’t you exhausted anymore? You trudge to your bedroom, flopping onto your suddenly overly comfortable bed and drifting off almost immediately.

-

Someone is knocking on your door. No, someone is pounding on your door. You groan, rubbing your eyes as you try to roll out of bed. How long were you out? It’s still bright out, so maybe a couple of hours? You grumble as you make your way to the living room, “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming!” You have no idea who would be knocking on your door. It’s rare anyone ever comes to your home without you expecting them. Yawning, you swing open the door to see... Lee. Fuck. 

“Ah! Hello, Y/N!” You cough. “I apologize for showing up unannounced, however Naruto has told me the good news!” Good news... you don’t remember any good news. Your mind can’t keep up, and it’s not helping that your throat is slowly constricting. He must see the confusion on your face, because he explains, “Your illness is nothing but a bad cold! I am relieved. I was very worried about you!” A few more coughs force their way out. You struggle to keep your eyes on him, and he must take your obviously weakened look as nothing but a part of the supposed cold.

“Once I heard it was nothing but a cold, I-” he pauses, bringing out a thermos from behind his back that you hadn’t noticed he was hiding before. He holds it out to you, a distinct blush forming on his cheeks, “I made soup for you!” Wow. That’s... that’s adorable. The blush on his cheeks (he had never blushed around you before, not without Sakura there), coupled with the fact that he went out of his way to make you soup... your heart flutters. 

Unfortunately, Lee had unknowingly triggered the final stage of your ailment by doing this. You suddenly start violently hacking, collapsing onto your knees. The petals you were holding in your mouth before fall onto the ground. Lee frantically kneels beside you, talking about something you can’t understand. Everything is suddenly blurry, and he sounds distant. You feel like you’re coughing up something huge, something so huge that it’s blocking your airway completely. You can’t breathe at all, desperately pounding on your chest. You’re heaving, tears falling from your eyes as your throat stretches painfully. 

Then, Lee puts his hand on your back to try and soothe your violent heaving, and it causes the most forceful cough you’ve ever had. Whatever is in your throat inches its way into your mouth, allowing you only small amounts of air. You cry harder as your throat is rubbed raw from how painful it is. With one last heave, the object falls onto the floor beneath you. Dripping with blood is a fully bloomed lotus. 

Lee is still talking, the the tone of his voice is noticeably panicked, but you still can’t quite make out his words. “Hospital,” you croak before slumping forward, passing out. 

-

Your throat and chest have never been in more pain. You open your eyes only to immediately shut them, the bright light too much of a contrast to adjust to quickly. You blink a few more times before you begin to make out what’s around you. You’re back in a hospital room. Looking out the window, it’s still light outside. How long had you been out this time? It doesn’t seem like much time has passed. 

Hearing approaching footsteps, you turn to the door to see Lee entering with a cup of what you assume is water. He’s looking at the cup, eyebrows furrowed, and he only looks at you after he’s turned back around from closing the door. Meeting your gaze, he gasps and nearly drops the cup rushing over to you. He places the cup down on the desk beside you, gently grasping your shoulder in relief, “Y/N! You are awake! How are you-”

You interrupt him by coughing yet again, yanking your shoulder away from him harshly. His face contorts into a hurt expression, and guilt fills you. Coughing harder, you turn away. Lee’s gaze turns solemn, but there’s something else in his expression you can’t pick out. “Lady Hokage told me about your condition. And your decision,” he says quietly, handing you the cup of, you were right, water. You take a sip as he tries to find the right words, “Why... Why did you not try confess to your loved one? There is a chance this could have been avoided.” 

“I know they don’t feel that way about me,” you shrug numbly, suppressing a cough, “So it wouldn’t really matter.” 

“But how do you know?” Lee asks, a hint of anger in his voice, “Forgive me, I do not understand. If they do feel the same, you would not be suffering in this hospital room right now! To not even try to save yourself before resorting to a more severe method that could leave physical repercussions is-!” His voice had been slowly gaining volume, tears glossing over his eyes as he became more passionate. 

“They like someone else,” you cut him off, pausing to cough again. “They’ve always had feelings for someone else and they’ve made that quite clear.” 

“But you did not try! There would be no harm in trying, even if they do like someone else!” Lee insists. He really didn’t get it, did he? 

“Lee, please, just drop it-”

“No! I am sorry, but I cannot drop this! I refuse to allow you to put yourself in a more dangerous position where there is a possible solution that is painless-”

“It’s you.” 

Lee cuts off abruptly. You stare down at your lap, clearing your throat softly. You place the cup back on the desk. If he was just going to keep pestering you, you’d rather get it over with. The reason you could go on with the surgery in the first place is because no one knew, no one would pester or judge you for choosing not to confess.

“W-what?” Lee whispers.

“You. It’s you,” you restate. Maybe they would’ve been right, after all, but you figured you could just spare yourself the humiliation. There were other options, so why do it when you knew it wasn’t going to work? It would just waste time you didn’t exactly have. Confessing to Lee could’ve also triggered the next stage in the ailment if he didn’t reciprocate. In your eyes, the surgery was safer in multiple ways. Or maybe that’s just what you’re telling yourself.

“Me? It is-” you look up at him to see something click in his head. “A lotus,” he realizes. You nod weakly. 

“See? It wouldn’t have mattered, you like Sakura. Everyone knows you-” you’re interrupted by Lee throwing himself at you, wrapping his arms around you tightly, laughing. You let out a noise of surprise, feeling a violent cough start to form.

“Y/N, you do not understand! I like you, too!” he pulls away, grinning at you with the darkest blush you’ve ever seen on him. You feel your throat clear a little. 

“Huh? But- Sakura?” 

Lee shakes his head happily. “It is true, I liked Sakura for a long time. However, I realized recently how strongly I feel about you! And how long I have unknowingly felt this way! That is-” he pauses, seemingly bashful, “That is why I brought you that soup. I was going to confess to you after you felt better, and soup would allow you to recover quickly!” 

You feel the weight in your chest lift almost instantly, a grin spreading across your face. You take a deep breath, feeling how light and empty you feel, tears welling in your eyes. You take one of his hands in yours, feeling heat rush to your cheeks. He gives you a flustered smile before remembering the situation, “The flowers! Y/N, are they-?” You nod, letting out a laugh. 

“They’re gone! Everything feels clear!” Lee pulls you in for another tight hug, laughing happily. There are tears falling down both of your faces as you clutch the other. Wiping his tears, Lee leans back from the hug, looking at you bashfully, averting his gaze as he opens his mouth and closes it again. You tilt your head in confusion, “Lee? What’s wrong?”

Lee taps his fingers together, stuttering, “W-would it be alright if I k-kissed you?” Your blush worsens, but you smile and cup his cheek with your hand. He shivers slightly and leans into your palm, looking at you hopefully. You nod, and he grins, letting out a small excited laugh (the cutest laugh you have ever heard from him, honestly). 

His hand comes up to shakily cup your cheek, leaning forward and closing his eyes. You meet him halfway, pressing your lips together and letting your free hand’s fingers run through his hair. Your lips move against each other, a little sloppily, but you couldn’t be happier. Lee tentatively places his hand on your hip, drawing you closer, to which you gladly oblige. His lips are soft against your own, and his hair is just a silky as it looks. You feel a swarm of affection fill you, making you smile into the kiss. Pulling away, you lean your forehead against his, grinning widely. He slowly opens his eyes, a dazed look on his face, and grins dopily at you. Your heart flutters, quickly pecking his lips and laughing as his chase after yours. 

Before he can connect your lips together again, someone clears their throat from the doorway. Lee nearly jumps away from you in surprise, turning to look at the doorway. It’s Tsunade, staring at you two with an amused look on her face and a raised eyebrow. “I’m guessing you don’t need the surgery anymore?” she asks, smiling as she starts to peel off her gloves. You shake your head, embarrassed, apologizing for troubling her. “It’s fine,” she reassures, “Better this than surgery.” Lee takes your hand in his as you agree, and you shoot him a smile, squeezing his hand. “You’re free to leave, with the disease gone you should be back at almost full strength, save for maybe a sore throat.”

You nod, thanking her again, making her wave her hand at you dismissively. As she exits, you swear you see her hand a smug Shizune something? You don’t have time to ponder on it, as you’re suddenly lifted into Lee’s arms, letting out a surprised shout. “I will take you home, my flower!” He seems to realize the connotations behind the nickname, “Er, perhaps not my flower... my sun! My star! My youth! My moon on a lightless street!” 

You laugh as he spins around with you in his arms excitedly. “I think flower is fine,” you smile, tucking your head into the crook of his neck, “It’ll overpower any bad connotations with flowers we have.” Lee tightens his grip on you, beginning to walk out the door. 

“My flower it is, then,” he says quietly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. Your smile widens, nuzzling your nose into his neck and sighing. 

As he walks out of the hospital room, you you still in his arms, you realize something, “Hey, Lee?”

“Yes?”

“You said you recently found out you liked me, right? When did you realize?”

“O-oh, well,” Lee stutters a bit, shifting you around in his arms, “Do you remember a few weeks ago when we were training, and I knocked you down? You pulled me down with you and I ended up pinning you to the ground.”

Oh, geez, right. You could never forget that moment. “Oh, y-yeah, I remember that.” 

“Well, it was right then! My heart suddenly swelled, and I got very embarrassed! I realized that those are not usual feelings one would have for a friend, they are romantic! And then I realized had actually felt this way for a long time! It just took that push to make me understand,” he explains passionately. 

You hum in response, “Good thing I pulled you down, then, huh?” Lee chuckles and nods, continuing to carrying you outside the hospital. You laugh quietly, “Lee, you know I can walk, right? My strength is almost back to normal.” 

You see Lee nod his head, “Yes! However, if it is alright with you, I enjoy carrying you!” 

“More than alright,” you affirm, placing a soft kiss against his neck and laughing when he jumps. The steady rocking of Lee’s walking soothes you into a sleepy state. Closing your eyes, you drift off, content knowing that the path ahead of you is filled to the brim with happiness. 

[northcarolinanative]

𝐏𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐲𝐥𝐞

A/N: I am so sorry that this took like an eternity for me to write, I’ve been in a bit of a slump lately. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it!! I know that the POV’s might get a bit confusing sorry:( Requests/Asks/Messages are open as always:) TW: Drowning, blood, unconsciousness

Request by @sunshine-on-the-coast​: Could you possibly do a request where you surf the surge, or you're on the HMS pogue and you drown and JJ he saves you or something?

“Pogue Style” JJ yelled to you and John B as the three of you headed out onto the water. Kie and Pope stood behind the three of you. JJ and I had been dating for a little while now but had been flirting with each other for ages. Technically I’m a Kook, the kind of girl that was sheltered her whole life by her parents. That was until I met Kie at the Kook Academy. Kie was quick to notice that I was being left out of the kook life, much like she had been. So she took you under her wing and introduced me to the pogues. My parents weren’t too happy, to begin with, but saw the shift in their daughter. I was happier and more confident after hanging out with the pogues. 

As we starting storming through the surf JJ stopped me. “You ready to go full pogue baby?” He laughed, shaking some of the water out of his hair. 

“Hell yeah, I am!” I said laughing and running toward the water. I learned to surf with the pogues only a few months ago. While I pretended to be cool about the situation with my friends, I was freaking out on the inside. I had never even left my house during a hurricane before now, much less been in the ocean. JJ was looking back at my over his shoulder, smiling from ear to ear. He nodded for me to follow him out. So I took off, running into the white-capped waves. 

“I am not resuscitating any of you! It’s double overhead out there you idiots.” Kie called, as she stood in the pouring rain on the beach. 

The water was rough and choppy. Once the water was deep enough I laid over my board, paddling further out in the water, watching as JJ jumped up, riding the first wave that he was able to. The water was rocking my board, making it hard for me to say on top of it, mixed with the rain that was pelting us made it harder to see. JJ wiped out only a few moments later, splashing into the shallow water near the shore. Beside me, John B began to quickly paddle forward as I watched a wave approaching from behind us. John B stood up, teetering from the harsh waves on top of the water, but I could see the way the current underneath was stronger. John B hit the water with his back, cause a chorus of “Ooh” and “ouch” from the beach. JJ paddled back out towards the waves. “Don’t chicken out now princess” JJ teased. 

“Oh don’t worry, I’m not planning on wiping out like you two,” I said pointing at the two as John B had paddled out to meet us. I looked out and saw a large wave headed for us. JJ and I shared a look with JB as we all start paddling forward, trying to get ahead of it. When the time came I stood up slowly trying to steady myself. The rough water was making it harder, but as soon as I stood up, I could feel the smile spread across my face. This was harder than the times I had surfed before the rain and current being harsher. I shifted my weight trying to carve into the wave. 

A mistake. The board fell out from under me as I fell into the water. I tried to resurface ad grab my board, but I was pushed under by another crashing wave. I tried to grab for my bored, but it was knocked back into my head as a third wave crashed over me. 

-- 

“Hell yea!” John B yelled as he pulled himself and his board up the shore towards Pope and Kie, who were still looking out over the stead waves. 

“That was sick bro!” JJ said patting him on the back. Once back on the sand he turned everywhere looking for Y/N, she was nowhere to be seen. “Where is Y/N?” JJ asked throwing his board up towards Kie and Pope. 

Kie and John B followed JJ into the water as he was looking for his girlfriend. His heart dropped when he saw the board surface a wave, but there was no one attached to it. John B threw the board to Kie before swimming out a bit into the rouge water. The storm was definitely starting to set in as the boys waded through the heavy crashing waves. 

JJ felt an immense amount of guilt with each wave the hit his torso. He knew that she was not as an experienced surfer as John B or himself. He saw that Y/N had been hesitant and instead he was trying to push her further into doing it. He felt his breath stop in his throat the longer that time passed where she had yet to resurface. Searching in the ocean for Y/N felt like an eternity to JJ, but it was in actuality only a few seconds. 

John B quickly moved out further as he saw her hair amongst the water’s surface. He flagged JJ down pointing to the figure in front of him.. “J she’s right there!” He made his way over to the girl’s struggling form. He lifted her arm, over his shoulder trying his best to pull her out of the water. JJ’s eyes narrowed as he saw her limp form, coughing up water as John B took her other arm mirror JJ’s actions. The two of them were practically dragging it her out of the water. Her head hanging low, hair falling in front of her face, but what worried him the most was short, struggled coughs that came from her body. JJ was quick to pull her into his arms as they reached the shore. 

He carried her up onto the beach, he pulled her head over his lap. He was trying to move her tangled hair out of her face. Her eyes were barely staying open. JJ could not miss the blood that was slowly coming from the split above her eyebrow, assuming that she was hit by the surfboard. Kie fell to her knees beside JJ, he could hear the pain in her voice. “Hey Y/N. Are you there?” 

-- 

I first felt a hand on my face, pushing wet hair away from my face. The world was covered in a white fog. I hear a few mumbles of girl’s voices, I nodded my head letting them know I was hearing them. I focused on the boy above me, my boyfriend who looked broken. His eyes were full of worry. I tried to speak, to tell him that I was okay, but all that came out was water. I started coughing and quickly felt myself being pushed up by JJ and Kie. JJ sat behind me wrapping his arms around my middle as I coughed up what felt like an entire lung. Kie was to my left trying to comfort me by rubbing up and down my arm. 

I looked up to see Pope and John B kneeled down in front of me, wearing the same concerned look. I focused on my breathing, reaching down, and playing with the sand to begin to calm me from my initial panic. I felt my breathing become normal again and leaned back against JJ, resting my head on his shoulder. 

Kie took a towel from the bag that she had on her bag and began to dab above my eyebrow. I winced as it stung. I saw that the towel was turning red. I reached up to touch my eyebrow when I looked at my hand it was faintly tinted red. I looked up at Kie, wide eyes. “What happened?” I asked, reaching for the bottom of the towel to wipe off my hand. 

“I don’t know. You were the one who decided to listen to John B and JJ was a good idea.” She said causing us all to chuckle a little bit. “It looks like you split your eyebrow, nothing too serious.” 

I felt JJ tighten his grip and place a kiss to my shoulder. “You scared the shit out of my baby.” He breathed out. “We aren’t surfing the surge again.” 

“Oh sure big guy,” I said turning to face him. He kissed me softly, before placing a another to my temple, beside the cut on my eyebrow. 

We were quickly interrupted by the crack of thunder and a flash of lightning from the horizon. On cue, the other’s helped us carry the boards back to the van. JJ refused to let me walk without his help. He lifted me onto his back carrying me back. As we approached the boardwalk, he started talking again. “Seriously Y/N you got lucky. I’m not gonna let my recklessness get you hurt or in trouble. You don’t deserve that, I’ll do better.” 

I pulled myself tighter to him. “JJ, no you wouldn’t be you if you thought things through.” I laughed, causing him to scoff playfully. “Seriously though, it was fun, minus the almost dying part. This isn’t your fault JJ.” 

He stayed quiet as we made our way back to the van. All settling into the van. John B started the drive back to the Chateau. “So Y/N how do you like living Pogue Style?” John B said from the driver’s seat, making the weird surfer hand gesture, causing us all to laugh. 

I looked over at JJ, locking eyes with both of us smiling at one another. “I love it.”

Masterlist 

[redhawtriot]

Baby Boom (Bakugou x Reader)

Sooo... I think It’s the size of my tag list that was fucking this chapter up so much! Every time I have more than my previous chapter had, this chapter deletes itself from my page/drafts! I’ve contacted Tumblr about it, but don’t cross ur finger’s on that one lol. I am sorry if you weren't able to make the list!

(If you beta read for me you could read the chapters up to an entire day ahead of every else tho! If ur interested in that, just inbox me!)

HnM

Tip Jar ☕- Not expected but always appreciated💞

Month 1, Month 2 , Month 3,

--Month 4--

‘SLAM!’

The front door crashed shut like ammunition through cannon fire. The sharp bang clapped and echoed throughout the small, otherwise quiet living space, and soon, three roommates filed out of their respective rooms. One by one, they inched out to get a glimpse of the oncoming storm: Hurricane Katsuki.

Denki warily removed his gaming headpiece as Bakugou whipped past his bedroom door, “Oh hey, Bakugou! You sure disappeared outta nowhere. We coulda used the backup in squads! Where’d ya go, man!?” 

The others listened carefully for the explosive blond’s answer, but got nothing short of an insult in return,

“None of your business, you damn idiots. GO DIE ALREADY!” and with that, Hurricane Katsuki simply slammed the door shut-- somehow even louder than before.

Kaminari, who had gotten the brunt of the explosion, was left wide eyed,

“Woah…”

Sero gave a low whistle as he shook his head at Bakugou’s shut door, “Looks like a wild Teenage Bakugou has entered the chat.”

Denki gave an abrupt, slightly uncomfortable chuckle at the remark, but soon gulped, giving his roommates a concerned gaze, “So… should we…” he trailed off.

Kirishima fervently nodded, stepping fully out into the hallway, “I’ll go check on him, guys.” He flexed before making his way to Bakugou’s room—a nervous habit he had picked up somewhere along the line to reassure himself before he dived headfirst into rough situations.

He looked back to his other two roommates one last time and threw a pleading glance as if to say “Wish me all of the luck” before giving a few slight knocks to the rage-secreting room, “Bakugou,” he called out, “You okay, buddy? I know that there is something up. There’s no point in hiding it…we can talk?”

No answer.

Kirishima gave a long sigh, “Well, when you finally want to talk about it, you know where to find me...” 

The other roommates sighed as well before both retreating to their rooms and shutting their doors. Kiri turned to make his way back to his room as well, but only made it a few feet before Bakugou’s door sharply yanked open a few inches.

“Where are those other idiots?” Bakugou’s eyes were redder than their usual vermilion as he glared out from the cracked doorway. Kirishima gave a thick blink in surprise. Had he… had he been crying?

“They back in their rooms?” Bakugou said very lowly. His voice had an extra hint of raspiness weighing it down, Kirishima noticed.

“Y-Yeah.” Eijirou quickly replied, startled by the unseemly sight of his best friend, “They’re prolly back on the game by now.” Bakugou did not say another word as he threw his door open a few more inches and marched deeper into his room to stiffly throw himself on the edge of his bed. Kirishima cautiously followed him-- this was as good of an invitation as any in ‘Bakugou language.’

Bakugou sat, glaring seriously at the floor in front of him, as if it offended him, and his leg bounced nervously. The red head uncomfortably cleared his throat. ‘Holy shit, what the hell is going on…?’  Kirishima had never seen him do that before, “You.. uh.. you wanna talk about it, buddy?”

No answer.

Kirishima waited a few beats before releasing another sigh and shutting the door behind him so that he could make his way to the bed. He sat down next to his best friend and simply sat deep in the silence with him. The two waited for what seemed like hours before someone finally spoke up,

“I got a girl pregnant,” Bakugou said very flatly, still glaring at the floor and bouncing his leg.

Kirshima had to stifle the choke that erupted out of his throat as his own saliva sneaked into his larynx, “Ack! Achkaka!” His natural bodily functions were completely forgotten as his brain tried to compute the sudden and drastic information that was just thrown at him.

Bakugou?? Pregnant? He never thought he would hear the words in the same room, let alone the same sentence! The guy hardly ever did anything but work, work out and come home to play video games. He didn’t converse with people. He didn’t get girls pregnant. Girls didn’t even look at him!

In his coughing fit, Kirishima’s speech was also forgone, “I-I- uh.. man that.. wow I…” he tripped and tumbled over his words. He was dreaming. He had to be. Well, either that or he had wandered into some strange episode of the Twilight Zone or something.

Bakugou’s glare at the floor intensified, “I thought she might not be so bad… but I didn’t want to be with her like this,” Kirishima’s eyes widened at the underlying tone of hurt buried under his friend's words, and then they widened even further once he realized what he just said.

Had Bakugou fallen for someone for the first time?? And then his eyes widened the furthest as things finally began to click within his confused mind.

He sucked into a sharp gasp, “You mean that model!?”

Bakugou simply scoffed, finally relieving his glare form the ground and focusing his hot gaze on Kirishima, “Yeah, turns out she’s actually a fucking bitch.”

Kirishima’s jaw dropped, “BAKUGOU! That’s the mother of your child! You shouldn’t—”

“She didn’t remember the night at all. I was just another fuck toy for her,”  Bakugou stood up and clenched his fists over and over again as if they itched to be slammed against something—tears welling up in his red-hot eyes, “Now tell me if the roles were reversed, how shitty it’d be then, huh?” Kirishima immediately shut his mouth from speaking up anymore as he allowed his friend to release his feelings. It wasn’t often that Bakugou built up enough to let things out this way.

Bakugou scoffed again as he began pacing the room, but Kirishima swore that it had the hint of a cry layered within it somewhere, “they might not even be mine since she likes that ‘fuck toy shit’ so much. That night meant nothing to her…” he threw his arm against the wall, effectively tearing a hole into it

Kirishima jumped a bit from the action as his mind briefly wandered to the security deposit on their lease. He pushed these thoughts away as Bakugou stiffly returned to the bed, his leg bouncing even more fervently than before.

Kirishima simply watched for a moment to allow his friend to simmer down before he spoke up very softly, “But you think it is yours though…”

Bakugou’s eyes snapped up to Kirishima’s, whose eyebrows were furrowed deeply into each other as he stared back.

In all his years of knowing Katsuki Bakugou, Kirishima would have never described his best friend with anything even resembling ‘gullible.’ His gut feeling and instinct were as sharp as ever and hardly ever wrong,

“Must be for a reason then…” he tried to look past the tears that filled up within his best friends eyes but they still left his heart feeling a little heavier than usual,  “If you think it’s yours then I’ll have your back no matter what buddy. You’re not alone in this.”

“They.”

“What…” Kirishima eyebrows folded toward the center of his expression.

“She’s having fucking twins.”

“Holy Sh…” Kirishima quickly swallowed his words as he took in the forlorn expression plastered onto his friend’s face. There was no room for him to be shocked right now. He had to be Bakuous ‘rock’ so to speak, “I-I mean congratulations!”

Meanwhile you found yourself studying the woman in the reflection of your mirror. Your eyes trailed every detail of her swollen, red eyes. Then to her hair that was fuller than you had remembered—the beauty of bottled color maybe? You danced over the way that loose strands stuck to the slimy mess of tears and mucosa that had accumulated on your cheeks.

Nasty.

A sharp chuckle came out of you, spittle following not too shortly after, but as it reached your ears it resembled more of a cry.

Okay, that’s enough self loathing for one lifetime.

And with that, you moved away from the mirror; however, as you did so, your sight basically smacked the open cabinet of liquor bottles that you were eyeing earlier.

Okay…. Maybe not quite enough self loathing. Your mouth began watering at the delectable sight. It was a desert after a delicious four course meal.  There was always room for more…

With a shake of your head, you brought your hand up to smack these thoughts out of your mind. What was wrong with you? You had been a lot of things in life, but were you really so low to bring yourself to effectively murdering your own children?

That’s what would happen if you drank, right?

You loudly groaned as more tears slipped from your eyes. You really didn’t know shit when it came to this pregnancy thing.

Your mind briefly wondered to Baby Notes Vol 1. You should probably take the time to actually read through it a little. Skimming it wouldn’t kill you.

Physically.

The sudden pounding at your door snapped you almost immediately out of your thoughts.

“Y/N?? Y/N, it’s me!”

With a final pathetic sigh you found yourself gathering up all the alcohol from the cabinets that you could into your arms and placing them in the bathtub before jotting over to the door.

As soon as you opened it Deku barged in and gripped you softly,  “I came as soon as you called! What’s up, what's wrong?! Are you okay??” His eyes frantically danced around your wet eyes and red sockets before he allowed them to roam all over you, checking for injury.

He wouldn’t ever think that Kacchan was the type of guy to put his hands on you, especially with how much he’s grown since high school, but the nagging voice in the back of Izuku’s mind fervently reminded him of all of the bruises and burns and numberless emotional scars he accumulated with he was quirkless from his childhood friend.

And here was a woman he deeply cared about-- quirkless—having to spend time alone with said childhood friend.

“What’s wrong??” Izuku found himself repeating as his hands mindlessly wiped the fluid from your cheeks. As soon as he committed the action, however, his face ran completely red and he quickly released you from his grip, so that he could get a grip of himself.

You didn’t notice his slip up, and if you did you sure as hell didn’t care at the moment. There were more pressing matters at hand. Two to be exact, “Twins,” you simply said to him as tears began flowing down your cheeks more furiously.

“Huh? Oh… Oh.” Izuku’s eyes went wide as your words sunk in. As soon as he threw you an obviously apologetic glance you threw yourself into his chest and sobbed throwing him a bit off guard as he barely caught you in his arms.

Izuku’s eyes nervously roamed around your home as if he were searching for the right thing to say to you, but as he made contact with an open pantry in your kitchen, his jaw dropped-- your alcohol pantry.

It was far less full than it had been the last time that he visited, “Y/N… What’s with the… have you been drinking?” he pulled you away from his chest and looked seriously into your eyes.

The sight honestly kind of scared you a little—like a 15-year-old being caught with their first beer-- that is, until you remembered that you were innocent as fuck, “No,” you gave a slight chuckle through your tears at the sudden surge of intimidation, “I need your help getting rid of it.”

You walked away from Izuku for a moment, leaving him confused and a bit wary of where this was going, until you returned with a hammer—leaving him even more concerned,

You were aiming for bad ass Harley Quinn vibes, but you were sure that with a dried trail of tears on your cheeks and the force smile splitting your face you came across like more of a psycho ass Harley Quinn. Furthermore, the look on Deku’s face screamed that you were correct (also it screamed ‘GET THIS GIRL IN A STRAIGHT JACKET!’).

“What are you gonna do with THAT?” Izuku squealed.

“I need to get my favorite bottles out of the house. Stat. and you're gonna help me.” At your words, Deku gave a gigantic sigh of relief, but still kept his eyes glued on the hammer in your hands. You noticed and shrugged a bit, “Smashing things is also really cathartic. I am sure you of all people can agree with that.”

“Heh… Yeah. But are you sure this is okay? I mean, I don't want to raise your blood pressure or anything because--”

“Deku. Less talk, more smash,” you threw a towel in your tub to make clean up a little easier, and so you didn't knock a chunk of tile on your bathtub. You gave Deku one last glance. He was still looking very uncertain, but you threw him a short smile before bringing the hammer down onto a bottle of tequila. The bottle instantly shattered, sending bits of glass throughout your tub. You looked up to give Deku an excited glance, and surprisingly, he returned one right back.

“See? Not so bad!” 

But you spoke too soon as the scent kicked you in the fucking nose. It was too far to turn back now. You choked down your nausea and handed Deku the Hammer, “You go ahead and get started. I’ll go get another weapon-- I mean… tool,” you corrected yourself after he sent you a terrified stare.

As you made your way back to the after grabbing your second weapon-- I mean tool a sudden thought crossed your mind. Without hesitation, you pulled your phone out and dialed in,

“Hello?”

“Yes. How may I help you today?” Dr. Yamakawa sounded from the other line.

“It’s Y/N…Y/N L/N…” you trailed off, hoping that you wouldn't have to say the ‘p word’ or anything relating to it.

His old ass better take the hint. To your dismay, his old ass did not take the hint, and a long pause of awkward silence filled the air.

You pursed your lips together in annoyance, “Mama Bakugou,” you clarified through gritted teeth, still dancing around the fact that you were a maternity patient of his.

“Ohhhhh!” He exclaimed, causing your face to fall into an expression of disappointment as he continued, “What can I do for you, Mama Bakugou?!”

This mf. You internally ground and fought the urge to facepalm, “Well. I need you to write a doctors note for me.”

“For…?”

“Work?”

“For your pregnancy? Dear, why don’t you just take maternity leave for that?”

“No.” In the moment you shook your head even knowing that he couldn't see you,  “I need a few weeks more before I can tell my job about this… situation. I’m a model. They own me through a contract and I didn't exactly add two roommates to the lease on my body...”

There was a pause on the other line, causing your heart to lurch a bit, but things soon went back to normal when he finally spoke up, “I’ll see what I can do. I’ll email you something.”

You gave one final thanks (and an internal ‘yessss’) before making your way back to the bathroom, “Hey Deku, sorry it took me so long I was just--” you froze at the sight in front of you. The shirt that Izuku wore was completely drenched in liquid and your tub had a gigantic hole on the side.

Your lips fumbled over themselves as you gawked at the spectacle. Deku could only send you a nervous laugh,

“Uh, hahaaa… Can we be done now? This… this burns,” he rapidly blinked the liquid from his eyes as he glances back down to the lot of broken bottles in your tub before throwing your one more pleading glance.

You choked down a laugh, causing it to flee from you in the form of a snort, “Someone had some pent up aggression, huh?”

In response, his face delved into a deep shade of red, “I.. uh..” he had no idea how to answer you when you looked at him like that-- your lips curved into a stunning smirk of a smile. Izuku promptly cleared his throat, “C-can I take a shower?”

“Obviously not that one-- you're totally fixing that by the way Mr. Big Shot Hero,” with a laugh you swiftly made your way to him and carefully grabbed the hammer from his grasp, looking up to see his face dive even deeper into crismon. You flashed a smile at the display. He really was adorable as hell.

You took in his face bit by bit-- his soft, blushed skin, his freckles cheeks, his round eyes. As you digested his expression you swore you could see an entire forest within his stare. Suddenly your heart pinged.

“Uh, Y/N,” Izuku interrupted your thoughts, causing your heart to throb for a different reason as you suddenly realized the proximity of the two of you. You stepped back so fast that your head spun. At least, you hoped that was why your head was spinning,

“You can use my shower.” you said very abruptly as you turned away from him,gesturing him to follow you to your bedroom.

Your bedroom. Your hear throbbed once more. Deep down, you hoped that you were about to have a heart attack or something; however, something  within you told you that that probably was not the case. You swallowed hard.

What the fuck was happening?

‘KNOCK kNOCK KNOCK’

The next morning you found yourself stirring awake to a loud succession of banging. Your eyes fluttered open for a moment only before they snapped back shut. The magnet drawing them together and you closer to sleep was much stronger than whatever noise was trying to wake you up, “Mhmfmfm…” you muttered as you rolled over on the couch and pulled the blanket over your head.

Izuku, however, was not one to ignore such an obvious noise and he found himself trudging off of the other sofa he slept on to answer whoever was banging on the door.

‘KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!’

“Coming!” the green haired man tiredly called out as he launched himself toward the front door and swung it open.

The astounded face on the other side of the entrance soon mirrored his own.

“Kacchan!” Izuku exclaimed.

Bakugou’s shocked expression very quickly contorted into one of pure rage, “What the hell is going on here?!” He screamed causing you to jolt awake as you threw the blanket over your head. You found yourself fumbling up as Bakugou continued to scream pointed to Deku, “The fuck is he here for??”

You made your way over to the two men- one seemingly terrified, and the other obviously enraged. As your head began lifting from the daze of sleep, you crossed your arms and glared at Bakugou, “He spent the night helping me with something,” you shook your head, trying to free yourself from the oncoming headache, “Hey, better question: why are you here?”

Bakugou seemed to swallow his own tongue as his jaw clenched shut, “I wanted to… uh…” he glared at the ground as he tried to find his next words. Shit. why was this so fucking hard? He should have never listened to that Shitty Hair and come over here. Bakugou scoffed to himself before redirecting his stern gaze back toward you, “Come with me.”

You could only blink.

What kind of caveman talk…You tilted your head as you fleetingly threw a confused glance toward Deku, who only shrugged in response.

Bakugou quickly grew tired of yours and Dekus silent conversation, “You wanna hang out or not??” he growled before throwing another heated finger toward Deku,  “And he can’t come.”

“I was just heading out anyways. It’s no big deal really!” Izuku defensively threw his hands up as if to show Bakugou that he was no threat at all. He went to gather a few of his belongings from the sofa he slept on before throwing Bakugou one more gaze-- this one a lot more astute.

A majority of Midoriya’s mind told him that there was nothing to worry about at all, but there was still a small section of him that couldn't shake the memories of how Bakugou treated him as a quirkless child. Izuku knew that he would never hurt you! But… just in case…

“You take care of her Kacchan,” the tone came off pleadingly but the look in his eyes was a  bit stern. You had never seen this portion of Deku before and it almost instantly caused your chest to thud, harshly reminding you of last night’s sensations. Shit.

“Don't tell me what the fuck to do, Deku. Those are my kids in there. Not yours. You just remember that,” Bakugou scoffed, causing Izuku’s expression to falter ever so slightly before he fixed it again.

Your jaw dropped at the sheer bluntness of his statement, “Kacchan, what the f--”

“I guess you’re right, Kacchan,” Izuku began, “Sorry if  I crossed a boundary,” he smiled at Bakugou-- who only huffed in return-- and quickly turned to you, making the tightness in your chest worse, “Bye, Y/N!” Izuku smiled, almost too innocently, considering the raging war in your gut at the moment.

You smiled back-- a feeble attempt at masking the inner turmoil ravaging your insides. “Peace, bb,” you gave him a weak hug before gesturing him out of your home. You threw him one final smile before shutting the door. You instantly whipped your head back around the the blonde brat behind you, “What. The. Fuck!?”

“I already told you. I want to hang out.”

“Are you fucking allergic to texting or some shit??” you yelled, “You just waltz in like you own the damn place and demand me to ‘Ohhh ahhh wo-man! come with me, wo-man’,” you renacthed his prehistoric behavior. 

Bakugou felt his muscles tighten in response to your taunting. Your loud nature, mixed with the confrontational behavior was reminding him way too much of his own mother. He swore on his life that he would never end up with  a woman like her and yet, here he was standing in front of her fucking carbon copy. The thought made him sick as he groaned in frustration,

“Shitty hair was fucking wrong!” Bakugou spat, causing your eyebrows to furrow in confusion as he continued, “The last thing I want to do is hang out with a bitching hag like you!!”

Your jaw dropped, “Excuse me??” You have heard pretty much every other insult in the book hurdled at you, but ‘hag’ was never one of them. You laughed, “I wasn’t a hag when you fucked me all night, huh?!”

“Yeah? I don't know what was wrong with me then. You are way different when I am not pumped full of alcohol, apparently.”

Your laughter immediately ceased, “Whatever. you came up to me and confessed your love like a raging SIMP, and now all of a sudden I’m a bitch?

“Fuck! Well, I got to know you past a pretty, stupid, fucking face!”

You blinked in shock. The unfamiliar feeling of your heart sinking into the pit of your stomach overwhelmed you as hurt surrounded your face. Practically your entire life, being beautiful has been a mask of sorts for your overwhelming failures. Still, here this man was-- practically a stranger-- seeing past your facade, looking directly into the steaming pile of shit that you truly were. Your eyes suddenly became warm as tears filled them,

“Then why the fuck are you even here, asshole?? TO PISS ME OFF?” you shouted, throwing your hands by your side and clenching them so tightly that your nails dug into your skin.

“BECAUSE  I WANTED TO KNOW ALL OF YOU!” he screamed back. The shocking words fled out from under his harsh tone and stunned you as your brain processed them. You felt your fist unfurl a bit as he continued, “I wanted to know you. Good and bad. Bitchy and not. You're carrying my children… I want to know them,” he finished, almost defeated. This tell of emotion was obviously the last thing he wanted to be doing, you could tell.

Still, it meant a  lot for some reason that he felt that he could do this with you “Oh,” you breath out, unable to articulate much else.

“Oh?!” he angrily repeated. Bakugou felt his face shrivel in disgust. He just poured out his being to you once more for you to trample on it like a fucking gymnast mat. However, as Bakugou formed his mouth to say something else, you halted him,

“Go… have a seat,” you gestured to the couch, blinking the accumulating liquid in your eyes away. The blond could only shoot a lone eyebrow up in response, causing you to sigh in exasperation,  “Well, Are you just gonna stand there looking like that, or what?” he gave you one final scoff before making his way to one of your couches and seating himself comfortably, propping one of his feet on your coffee table as he glared at the non functioning television.

“Welcome, I guess. I am sure you’ll have no issue making yourself comfortable,” you deadpanned, eyeing his propped up legs,  “I’ll go make us some… tea?” you suggested , but no answer came from him, “Tea it is.”

You rolled your eyes before trudging away. You always loved green tea, but for some reason the smell had been killing you lately, so you opted for peppermint tea instead. It was inferior by, far, but it matched the inferior, pathetic life that you had adopted recently.

Jeez. How much self deprecation can you fit into one week? Would this have any effect on the babies? If so, they’d probably come out singing RnB or some shit in the maternity ward. They’d have already stressed dyed hair and an entire Tumblr dedicated to sad aesthetics before they reached their first birthday, for god's sake.  

You vehemently shook your head to once again get rid of the oncoming headache that snuck in with these disgusting thoughts, “So Kacchan!” you called out as you walked back to the living room, “What do you wanna know?”

“Don’t call me that,” he simply barked.

“What?”

“Don’t call me that name. I fucking hate it.”

You snorted and took a seat next to his glaring figure. You tried not to notice how he shifted further away from you as you sat down, “I am sure Deku disliked being called worthless his whole life too,” you smirked up at him, “I bet he fucking hated it.”

The atmosphere seemed to once more shift into a much heavier tone after your statement and the room fell quiet for a few beats. Bakugou’s small glare morphed into a much more forced one. It was as if he was trying to use the glare to hide another feeling, you noticed.

Finally, he spoke, “How much do you know.”

You tilted your head into another shrug, “Enough to know that you probably hate the fact that I am quirkless.”

His face contorted into one of pure disgust as the glareful mask he wore faded away like yesterday’s lunch.  “I don’t give a fuck,” he argued, but the look you sent him showed no sign of believing it. Bakugou’s disgust deepened, but he made sure to control it enough to where you didn't know that it was directed towards himself.

“Oh really? Let’s see if you can keep that same energy when one of your kids pops out without that flashy quirk of yours,” Of course his face fell, just as you suspected it would. Just like it had for multiple other men you had told.

Most men’s pride utterly shrivels into dust as soon as the pretty girl in front of them-- the one that they fantasize about having a dream life with-- ends up telling them that they are quirkless. As soon as the words fall out of your mouth, the men's dreamy gaze effectively shatters alongside their hopes and dreams concerning you.

Nobody wants to pass weakness onto their children.

“You know what? I think I’ll go first,” you snapped him out of the uncomfortable, uncharacteristic silence, and he gave you an irritated, questioning glance, “You wanted to play 20 questions with me, or whatever. No limitations, okay? And I have the first question for you,” you explained before sending him a challenging gaze, “How could someone so full of hate truly aspire to be a hero?”

You expected him to blow up at you-- to scream, and yell and argue that you were wrong.

Yet.

The slightly apologetic, yet stern look on his face threw you for an absolute loop, “I wanted to win.” he simply answered. Somehow his matter of a factness was worse for you than any furious defensive scenario you had conjured in your mind, but as you went to open your mouth with a roll of your eyes, he halted you,

“That was when I was younger, “ he sharply clarified, “I wanted to win more than anything. To be better than everyone else—and that hasn’t changed but there's more to it now. I have to protect the people I care about—like my idiot roommates—I want to make sure we all come home safe by the end of the night.”

Once again he had thrown you off with a surprisingly normal non-caveman response, “That was actually…”

“My turn,” Bakugou abruptly cut you off, “How many men the you fuck this past few months?”

Your jaw dropped. 

And back to Neanderthal you mother fucking guess! “Are you fucking kiddin—”

“You said no limitations,” he gruffly stated.

You bit your tongue and shot him a glare that could match his own before giving a sharp sigh, “Four during the last year. You were the last and the only one during the month I… conceived,” you swallowed as the word left a bitter taste in your mouth, “My turn. What about you?”

“What.”

“How many women the past year?”

“Why the hell does it matter?” Bakugou argued. Your eyes shot down to his body as it shifted around even further from you. From his body language you could tell that his answer was sure to be outrageously high.

He was an extremely attractive guy after all. Those rippling arms were nothing to fuck around with. His red hot eyes could melt steel beams with a passing glance. The chisel of his permanently hardened expression could slice through even the most secured of panties. 

Yes. and there was no denying that he was a sex god in his own right.

It also didn't help that his temperament sucked, so you doubted he had had many long term relationships. He had all of the ingredients of a man whore stirring within him.

“I’m just curious,” you shrugged.

Bakugou threw his glare away from you for a moment as he contemplated on whether or not to answer your stupid question. He had his own questions to ask you still so he guessed that he didn't really have a choice if he wanted his answers,“...One.”

Your jaw dropped, “Seriously?” as his face fell into a furious shade of red you were smacked with a sudden realization,

“Kacchan, did you... lose your virginity to m...?” He glared even further away from you, but you could still see his ears falling even deeper into red-- effectively giving you your answer, “Oh my…” he trailed off. No wonder he was so fucking head over heels for you! Through your discomfort a horribly timed joke flew past your lips, 

“You knocked her up on the first try huh? You’ve got some super swimmers,” you half laughed, but Bakugou obviously didn't find anything funny about it as he snarled angrily as you,

“Shut up!” he barked, throwing a pillow at you, “My turn. What’s up with you and that shitty Deku?”

The pillow hit you, but it was really his question that had smacked you in the face. Your chest thudded, and you prayed to whoever was listening that he couldn't see the racing of your heart, “He’s just a friend! A really good friend to me. Probably my first actual friend ever,” you said this as a joke, but obviously forgot who you were talking to.

“You didn’t make any in high school?” Bakugou’s face twisted up disbelievingly.

“Never went. Couldn’t afford the tuition...” now it was you who was uncomfortably shifting from him. 

“Your parents didn’t help you out?”

“Slow down there, buckaroo,” you laughed, but his face remained as stern as ever as you continued, “That’s like three questions In a row for you. My turn.”

Luckily he caught the hint and didn't press upon the subject any further.

Through the night, you found out a lot of things about him. He was actually younger than you by a few years at twenty years old. His parents were both fashion designers (probably the biggest fucking shock to you considering his choice of black shirts and flannels) and that he was working on making his own hero agency since he had already climbed up the ranks in Japan.

Your game, however, was cut short by the growling of your stomach.

Bakugou almost immediately stood up, surprising you as he walked to your kitchen. Well, you did say ‘make yourself at home’ but this was a little upfront wasn't it? He soon yelled to you from the kitchen as you sat in shock still, “What do you have to eat in this shit hole?!”

Shit hole? You glance around at the decorations and clean atmosphere that you pride yourself on. That jerk. Your house was not a shit hole! “You can eat shit if you want. I’m not hungry.”

“The hell are you talking about? I just heard your stomach growling.”

You shrugged, “Just indigestion. I get a lot of stomach issues with these things inside of me,” the sudden clanging of pots and pan in your kitchen startled you,  “What the hell are you doing??” you called out before marching to your kitchen.

You found him rummaging through your cabinets, stopping momentarily to judgmentally eye your still plentiful liquor cabinet for a moment before moving on, “You can starve yourself all you fucking want, but you're not fucking starving my kids.”

Your breath hitched in your throat at his accusation, “I’m not starving.”

“You think I’m fucking blind?”

“I have to stay in shape for work. Just like you I am sure,” you walked up to him and grabbed a bicep for demonstration, but he quickly threw your hand away from him as his face fell into a bout of shock. He quickly regained himself,

“Whatever,” he grunted before swinging open your refrigerator.

“What are y—Hey!” you yelped as he began haphazardly throwing food onto one of your counters.

“Is all you have in here rabbit food? Jesus fucking Christ,” he ignored your cries and began throwing certain items together and heating up a pot of water.

You couldn't help but blink at the display. He seemed pretty natural in the kitchen and that in itself was unnatural considering his caveman persona, “You... cook?” you felt uneasy.

“You don’t?”

Honestly, your diet consisted of salads and ramen since you were 15, so cooking wasn't a necessity. You reluctantly shook your head at him.

He looked completely disappointed and disgusted with you but, hey, what else is new? Bakugou scoffed, “Well you’re gonna have to learn how now. Pay attention.”

You rolled your eyes at him. If you wanted fucking Gordon Ramsey bitching you around in the kitchen you would have clicked on that stupid ad that always popped up on your Youtube. Then again, Bakugou was more of a Guy Fieri with that spiky hair of his.

Whatever.

You guessed learning how to cook one meal wouldn't be too terrible,  

“What are you stirring the water for if you didn’t put anything in it yet?”

“It helps it heat up faster, idiot.”

“Do you actually throw the noodles on the wall to see if they’re finished?”

Bakugou threw you a frown, “If you’re a fucking dumbass,” he said, moving you aside as he began stirring a saucer filled with vegetables. He completely disregarded your yelp as he moved you as a parade of thoughts bombarded his mind.

He would have to come over more and keep you and his kids fed if you truly didn’t know how to cook. He scoffed and his stirring hand more slightly more erratically with frustration. What kind of grown woman didn't know how to cook pasta?

His thoughts were halted by a loud squelch that sounded through the air. He immediately threw his gaze up to the wall in front of his face and his expression fell at the sight. He growled, snapping his gaze back toward you by the pot of pasta, “WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!” his furious glare danced between you and the wet noodle that stuck to the wall.

“I wanted to see if it would actually stick! Don’t get your balls in a twist, it was one noodle!”

“So damn wasteful,” Bakugou ground his teeth as he frustratedly scrapped the starchy pasta off of your wall. He opened his mouth to tell you just this, but immediately snapped it back shut as he felt something being thrown at his head, “that better not be what I think it is…” he snarled through his teeth as he eyed food dangling from one of the spines of his hair.

“Don’t worry, Kacchan. It’s not a worm,” you laughed, but your giddiness was soon cut off as a hot noodle was thrown back in your direction. You could only blink as it stuck itself on your nose.

“Hmph,” the corners of Bakugou’s lips slowly curled into a smirk, “It’s a good look on you, noodle face,” You laughed but once again was cut off. The brief sound of his laugh coinciding with your own shocked you.

His smile slowly died down as he caught wind of you gawking at him. He cleared his throat, “Are you done being a child? I’m ready to enjoy my good ass cooking.”

However, you didn't answer him as you once again found a smile creeping onto your face. He rolled his eyes and began making himself a plate of food, but he quickly grew tired of you smiling at him like some bimbo,

“What?!” He snapped, “You want another noodle to the face.”

You shook your head as you shuffled past him to serve yourself a plate, “No.. just you have a nice laugh.”

He scoffed, “That all you're eating?” he completely disregarded your comment but you decided to let it die too,

“I don’t see you with any food on your plate,” you shrugged, “I’d be more worried about yourself if I were you,” you winked at him before setting down at the table.

The night went pretty well after that. So well, in fact, that the two of you decided to have “parental meetings” every few days so that Bakugou could teach you how to cook. You ended up learning how to make 10 more dishes within the next three weeks.

Bakugou and you didn't exactly become close, but there were far less screaming matches than there had been in your first few meetings. You still didn't know him very well, but he wasn't necessarily a stranger anymore.

It was… nice.

The next check up came very quickly because of your lack of employment and your dates-- err um… “parental meetings” with Bakugou.

“Your twins should be about the size of avocados now! We’ll check again with a routine ultrasound. We do have the DNA tests in for you all so I’ll just go and run for those real quick.. well walk briskly. You don’t do an awful lot of running at my age.”

“I don’t do an awful lot of running now,” you joked, and Bakugou sent you a stern glare that screamed, ‘don’t encourage him.’ you shrugged as the doctor walked out of the room.

It was silent for what seemed like forever. You and Bakugou still weren't very good at sparking conversations, but eventually he spoke up as you laid back on the exam table, “You're really fucking showing now.”

You brows instantly came together, high fiving each other in your state of being roasted, “Thanks...” you deadpanned.

The look on your face sent a wave of hurt through the blond’s heart.

What the hell. It was like he felt your hurt. For the first time in a long time, Bakugou actually regretted his choice of words. He glared at the ground as he attempted to change the subject, “You’ve been eating, right?”

“How else Would I be sitting here, looking fat and talking to you, Kacchan.”

“I told you don’t call me that,” he paused, as if he were really considering his next statement, “Call me Katsuki,” he finally dragged out.

You rolled your eyes, “Okay, Kacchan.”

Just as Bakugou open his mouth the no doubt scream at you, Dr. Yamakawa entered the room, 

“Mama Bakugou! We have some really good news. Everything seems fine with the twins according to the DNA testing. One is a little small right now, but it’s completely normal for there to be a dominant twin so to speak. No genetic abnormalities or health concerns,” you saw Bakgou visibly stiffen at this before relaxing as the doctor continued, “’Cept for you.”

You shook your head, blinking heavily as if you’d just been punched in the brow, “Me?”

“You do have a concerning BMI—you tend to lean a little towards underweight. I understand you are in the profession of modeling correct,” he said very, curtly, “You need to add more calories to your daily intake. You wont need to ‘eat for three” as they say, but you do need to put on some substantial pounds or you will risk a premature birth..”

You had no fucking idea what to say to that. ‘Nice?’ ‘Cool beans.’ ‘fucking just give me the mother of the year award already!’ You felt your chest tighten and suddenly you realized you hadn't been breathing. You sucked in abruptly, causing the doctor to take a step towards you,

“You're looking a little flushed there, Mama Bakugou.”

“Well how else is she supposed to respond when you tell her like that, old man?!” Bakugou snapped, causing both you and the doctor to gawk at him. 

“Kacchan! What the fuck don’t talk to him like that, jerk!”

Bakugou scoffed, throwing his glare, much more pouty this time-- to the jar of cotton balls on the counter of the office.

“It wouldn't help either of you to sugar coat this, son,” the doctor sighed, “You have made it this far along in her pregnancy. Miscarriage is substantially less likely but if you want to give these babies a better chance, I’d suggest higher caloric intake.”

Needless to say, Bakugou did not leave the doctor's office that day a very pleasant man. He would angrily stalk ahead of you a for a few moments before pausing and grumbling about how ‘fucking slow’ you were as you caught up before the cycle would start all over again. You could only take this for so long, however,

“What!?” you yelled suddenly as the grumbling phase of his cycle began once more, “Will you stop fucking brooding already and speak your mind—”

He instantly snapped his face towards your own to stare into your eyes. You fumbled back a bit as the intense vermilion bore into you. You opened your mouth to speak but his serious expression exclaimed something before yours could,

“I wanna move in with you.”

You paused. You couldn't have fucking heard that right.

He… wants to...

“What…?” you mouthed.

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[cela-astral-projection]

"You sent for me, My Lord?" Aedan asked as he stood just inside the bedroom vestibule. He fought to keep his face impassive as the smell of stale perspiration struck him. The gauzy, white curtains obscured Lucio from view. The room was dimly lit and eerie as whisps of smoke crept through.

"Yes, Captain," Lucio croaked as he sat up. No small effort in his weakened state. Aedan saw the silhouette of him as Lucio pushed himself up and rushed to his side. Aedan fought to keep his face impassive as his gaze fell on Lucio. This was a man at death's door. But, even as vain as Aedan knew Lucio to be, he was pliant enough to allow Aedan to assist him.

After a few minutes of adjusting pillows to keep Lucio propped upright, Aedan sat at the bedside, allowing Lucio to catch his breath from the seemingly minimal exertion. Lucio's shirt hung open, and Aedan could see how badly he had atrophied. Aedan saw a growing spot of red at his shoulder, where the prosthesis that he still insisted on wearing had torn the tissue paper-like flesh.

When Lucio got his bearings, he opened his bloodshot eyes to stare at Aedan, and managed a weak smile, and tilted his head toward the bottle on the bedside table. "Old times sake?"

Aedan followed his gaze and pulled a face immediately. He knew that alcohol -- hideously bitter and wormwood infused -- absinthe sans Green Fairy. It had always given Lucio great pleasure to watch his men wither and writhe around the campfire. Aedan swore under his breath and turned back to Lucio.

"Come on, don't deny a dying man one of his last wishes," Lucio said. His rasping tone was pitiable, but the smug, shit-eating grin was dazzling as ever.

"Lucio, that's the thing that's gonna put you in the grave once and for all." Aedan countered with dark humor. Lucio barked a laugh.

"Alright, then let's put me out of my misery." Lucio teased in challenge. "Pour a round for both of us."

Aedan sighed, shaking his head reluctantly as he picked up the bottle.

"Oh, swirl it a bit. This is...a special brew. Just for you." Lucio interrupted as Aedan's fingers struck the glass. Aedan looked back at him with an incredulous stare, eyebrow raised.

"Special, how?" he questioned, picking up the bottle and swirling the amber liquid as requested. Glittering, red sediment whirled up in a hurricane, then dispersed out unnaturally. Aedan's brow pinched in concern.

"It's going to suck a lot more than it usually does," Lucio replied, though there was less mirth in it when he, too, saw the strange, sparkling cloud. He audibly swallowed, as if reconsidering, then steeled himself.

Aedan grudgingly poured the drinks and doled them out. Both men sat staring at the odd, strangely shimmering crimson fluid, then between one another. Lucio's bravado seemed to have gone out of him.

"I think...the longer we think about it, the harder it's going to be," Aedan said finally, and Lucio nodded. "Count of three?"

They simultaneously ticked off the numbers, then knocked back the noxious concoction. The effect took a moment to settle in, sending both men spluttering and coughing viciously. It was intensely astringent and herbaceous in the cruelest of ways, with a burn that lingered on the tongue long after the liquid passed down the gullet.

When they were both recovered, Aedan stood and went to the small bar tray that sat, dusty and abandoned in the corner, pouring a snifter of brandy for both of them.

"That was fucking vile," Aedan croaked before taking a swallow of the comparatively sweet liquid, letting it linger on his tongue before swallowing. "Hope it was worth it."

Lucio gave a weak half-shrug before imbibing. "We'll see, I suppose."

Aedan didn't give his words much thought, still caught up in the unpleasantness of the sensation. They sat in companionable silence, but after a while, he felt the weight of an almost expectant gaze. Silver eyes met silver.

"Did you just bring me here to torture me, or was there something else, Lu?" Aedan implored gently. This man who had been his friend. Their relationship had been strained -- Lucio, locked away here, embroiled in death for so long, but never succumbing, while so many others fell in the city and palace below. As the Captain of the Guard, his heart had been with the people. It had been easy to dismiss Lucio -- his mishandling and callousness, and then the absence of him. It was easier to forget him.

It was difficult seeing Lucio now. How small he was. How empty. And even now...he just wanted to play like a child. While the world burned around them, he wanted to do shots.

"Jules says that it's close," Lucio said with a somber nod. "Need to say my goodbyes."

"Julian has been saying as much for months," Aedan countered. "And you just keep kicking. So, forgive me if I'm reluctant to throw you on the funeral pyre just yet."

Lucio gave a breathy snort of a laugh. "At least you have a blaze of glory planned for me," he shrugged. "Not exactly pretty enough for a glass coffin, lying in state anymore."

"Your narcissism is failing. Maybe it is the end." Aedan teased, though there was no malice in it. He couldn’t manage to be cruel--it was all that he could do to maintain their playful banter. 

Lucio drew a long breath, then nodded. "I really am just...tying up loose ends. I have one more big party, then I can go in peace."

Aedan hadn't thought of a masquerade. It seemed like such an impossibility, given the current state of things. "You're joking," he said flatly, disbelieving.

"No," Lucio countered, then tilted his head back and forth, relenting. "I mean, Nadia won't let me go to the big party. Even though it is my birthday...she won't give in to my begging. But, I've got something else planned. Just a...family dinner, of sorts."

"Well, I suppose that's an exercise in restraint, knowing you." He said. "Was anyone planning on telling me we were having a full-blown masquerade this year?"

Lucio waved his hand dismissively. "You have enough on your plate. Vulgora will handle the security--"

Aedan hissed his disappointment, "Yeah, that's even more worrying. I hate playing clean up for the Pontifex,"

Lucio lifted his hand to stop him. "Let's not talk business," he said. "I'm just about drunk, and I'm fading fast. I just...I wanted to see my friend. Just the two of us."

His tone struck Aedan's heart, and he softened, falling quiet for a moment. He finished his drink and set the glass down. He rested his hands in his lap, watching Lucio.

"Does it scare you?" Aedan asked quietly, not quite able to meet his gaze.

Lucio inhaled sharply, taking a moment to consider. "Not anymore," he said earnestly. "It did...but you get tired of being scared all the time. Get bored of waiting for it. And everyone else gets bored, too." Lucio shook his head. "I hate being bored. And I hate being boring."

"I don't think you're boring," Aedan said. "You're the furthest thing from it. When you're around, I know...the day is going to be interesting, if nothing else."

Lucio narrowed his eyes at him. "I had to make an appointment with you for you to make time for me," he countered, then shrugged. "It's fine. I get it. I wouldn't wanna hang out here long, either."

Aedan looked stricken, though he could hardly argue. "Maybe I should have come more often, and I'm sorry about that. But...I'm taking up the office you gave me. And I'm doing the best I can. Things are...difficult, now."

"I know," Lucio said. "I couldn't have asked for a better Captain. You are..." He stopped himself, considering his words. "You're kind of perfect. In an obnoxious way."

Aedan laughed loudly, caught off guard by the underhanded compliment. One of the very few Lucio had afforded him in their time. "I'll take the praise," he said with a grin when he recovered from the shock. "And you were like...a peculiar, egotistic older brother. And I love you for it."

Lucio smiled in return. "Exactly that. Brothers. We don't always see eye to eye, but...we're family. And family looks out for one another."

Aedan knew Lucio's track record with family, but the sentiment still struck him as sincere. "And what can I do to look out for you?" He asked.

Lucio's face fell just a bit, and he shook his head in the negative. "No...you've done more for me than you know," he said with finality. "I can't ask for anything more."

Aedan reached out across the bed and touched the cold, metal arm affectionately. "I'm still going to be here, you know? Until the end."

Lucio couldn't quite meet his gaze and swallowed hard. Aedan saw an uncharacteristic glitter of tears forming in his already glassy stare. "Yeah, I know. I know. You're the best brother a guy could ask for."

They remained like that for a while—a simple, familial touch of comfort and peaceful quiet. Lucio broke the silence, reaching over his cold, bony fingers to pat Aedan's much warmer, firmer hand. "I think I need to rest,"

Aedan helped Lucio back into a prone state and sorted his pillows and blankets to Lucio's exacting specifications. He waited patiently until Lucio was settled. It hurt him to go, and from the door, he turned back.

"Hey," he said, "I'm going to miss you."

Lucio scoffed. "Well, you know what they say. The ones we love live on inside us, or some shit."

Aedan lifted an eyebrow and smirked. "You believe that?"

"It's the only hope I'm clinging to at this point," Lucio said soberly, then sighed. "I guess we'll find out soon enough."

Aedan sighed, looking over his shoulder. "Lucio, miracles happen every day. Fuck, you might outlive us all."

"Your lips to the Devil's ears," Lucio said with finality.

When Aedan left, and his footfalls had faded, Lucio searched the candle-lit gloom.

"He took the bait," he said into the darkness, his voice strained with emotion.

"Marvelous," The darkness hissed back—smoke coalescing into a humanoid form. Slight and severe and otherworldly, the Quaestor stepped into the dim candlelight. "You did well, Count."

"Just...tell me that it's going to work," Lucio snapped. "I did everything you asked. The beetle dust...he drank it."

"It will do," Valdemar reassured. "He'll look like every other victim of the plague. He'll feel like every other victim. How delightfully tragic. The young, vibrant Captain of the Guard..."

"Please, stop." Lucio choked. "I know you said it has to be him. I did what you told me I had to do. I just want to know that I didn't kill my best friend for no reason."

Valdemar circled the bed. Long, elegant fingers tented. Amused at his display of emotion. "He is your perfect match. An easy transition..." They crooned spitefully, tilting their head back and forth mockingly. "Such a lovely specimen, the Captain. I do so hate to see him wasted on you."

[thorne93]

The Stars Made Us (Part 24)

Prompt: In this world, you’re one of the “lucky” ones who got a soulmate, but what if the universe gives you more than you bargained for?

(Prompt challenge – You live in a world where your soulmate can write on their skin and you will get the writing on your own and vice versa. Where they can wash away the ink on their own skin, however, the writing is forever scarred onto your skin until you meet face to face)

Word Count: 2142

Warnings: angst and language throughout

Notes: This was supposed to be for @sorryimacrapwriter​​​​​  and their challenge like a year ago, I think? I still loved the prompt though and have been working on this story for quite some time. This aesthetic was made by @quailliamyfears, thank you so much! Beta’d by @like-a-bag-of-potatoes​​​​​, couldn’t have done it without you, as well as @carryonmyswansong​​​​​ and @arrow-guy​​​​​ and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​​​​​

Also, I’ve never really liked the whole soulmate AU thing idea, but this felt so right and it was amazing to write. I hope y’all love it too!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You walked out to the edge of the courtyard. It was the only place you could get a cell phone signal. You called Charles, not looking forward to the conversation you were about to have. 

“Hi, my love. It is so good to hear your voice. Are you coming home?” 

“No, uh, not yet.”

“When? I was thinking of renovating a room or two and I wanted your input--”

“I don’t know, Charles,” you said, your voice riddled with anxiety. 

“What do you mean you don’t know? Y/N, it’s been five months. This is only one of three calls I’ve gotten from you since you left for Nepal. How is it so hard to determine how long you will stay somewhere?”

“Because I can’t leave until he gets better.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m his mate?”

“So am I.”

“I stayed for your full recovery, Charles.” 

“I don’t see why you have to stay with him. I can understand helping him get there and get settled in, but he’s an adult.” 

“Yes, so were you. You even had your best friend, a doctor, living in with you. Creating miracle serums for you. He doesn’t have that. He only has me, and I’m not going to abandon him.”

“It’s been five months,” he reminded again. 

“And I’ve known you for eleven years. As I recall, it took a bit of time for you to get back on your feet as well. I was with you for nearly a year, helping you.” 

“You’re my mate.”

“I thought I wasn’t anyone’s property,” you shot back coolly.

“You’re not, but I do miss you and we did make a commitment to each other.”

“Oh, like the commitment we made when you decided to not notify me you were going off the grid? When I thought you were dead? When I begged you to give me a sign that you were still alive and you couldn’t do it? Where was the commitment then, Charles?” 

He sighed on the other end of the phone. 

“I know this isn’t fun, I never planned for this, and I do miss you, but I can’t and won’t leave him.” 

You could practically hear his jaw setting on the other side of the phone. 

“Do you love him?” 

“What kind of… What the hell does that matter right now?” you asked, thrown off by the random interrogation. 

“Do, you, love, him?” he stressed. 

“Why? Does my answer somehow sway your next actions or words?” 

“No.”

“Then the answer to that  isn’t of any importance, Charles.”

“I miss you, Y/N and I don’t mean in the lighthearted sense. I yearned for you for ten years. I fell in love with you through words on my skin, through words on a screen. I saved myself for you and I didn’t date or look at another soul. We finally have a chance to be together, to start our lives and it’s interrupted by… all of this. I supported you when you left but it’s getting harder every day without you.” 

You threw your hands to the side, exasperated. “It’s hard for me too. I hate not being able to see you. I was over the moon when we met and I never expected any of this. But it’s happened, and we have to deal with it. When you sent me off with your blessing did you just think I’d show up, be his nurse, and come home to you? You’re not that dense, Charles. At some point, it had ot occur to you that he is my mate too, and what we have, what we formed goes beyond the initial stage of meeting. Just as you and I did, Stephen and I will move past the phase of nurse-patient. We already have. He’s moved into the role of a student here, and I’m his friend. Like it or not, this is what’s happening, and I won’t abandon him in his time of need. It's not who I am, or who I’ve ever been. If you don’t understand that about me by now, then perhaps we aren’t as close as I thought.” 

“I don’t think it’s too much to ask for more correspondence. You told me yourself you can make portals. So make a portal to come see me, even if it's for five minutes.” 

“I can’t. I’m not a student here and I don’t feel comfortable using what I’ve picked up on without being an official student of the Ancient One.” 

“Great, so some arbitrary rule stands between you visiting me, when you’re more than capable of doing so. It’s fantastic to know where I stand, really.” 

“I gave up everything for you. I nearly died from grief over you. I left my family, my home, my practice, all to help you and to live with you. I don’t think I ever have to prove my love or loyalty to you, and I don’t appreciate having to do it now. 

In a sorrowful voice, he said, “All I want, is for the love of my life to come home to me. If that makes me a horrible person, then so be it. Sorry for requesting more of your time. I won’t make that mistake again.” 

The call ended, and you looked down at your phone. A flurry of sadness and anger hit you like a hurricane. You gripped the phone hard before two hands were on your shoulders, sending a wave of calm over you.

“I’m taking it didn’t go well,” he commented.

You shook your head, tears rolling down your face.

“Come here,” he coaxed, as you turned and he wrapped his arms around you. You began sobbing and he just rubbed your back, consoling you, kissing your hair. 

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

You explained to Stephen what had Charles upset. Typically you kept them somewhat separate from each other. You updated Charles on What Stephen was doing, how he was mentally or physically, but you didn’t get into details of Stephen’s life or his personality. Almost as if he were a patient you kept an eye on and you were trying to keep to HIPPA policies. 

The same went for Stephen. You never told Stephen that Charles was a mutant or that he was a telepath. You never told Stephen about your conversations with Charles except that you were going to give him an update, or check in with him. But the actual content of the conversations were never discussed. 

Ultimately, both men knew you talked to the other, and kept updates on each other, but that was as far as it went. 

This time though, things needed to be clear. Stephen needed to know why you were crying and Charles had a bit more insight to your situation with Stephen, so you felt it was fair. 

“He just misses me is all, and I think he’s afraid I’ll stay here with you and not go home to him.” 

Stephen nodded. He had an odd look on his face that you couldn’t decipher. “I can understand the concern. You’re his first mate.” 

You bobbed your head. “Right, but right now, I don’t know what I’m going to do. You’re both my mates and right now, we’re taking it one day at a time. To be honest, I don’t want to choose..”

Stephen nodded, his eyes drifting down to the floor. “Well, you may not have to. What if you visited him every other day? You know how to open gateways. You aren’t a student here, so technically you don't have to abide by any rules.”

“You’d be okay with that?” you asked, a bit surprised. 

“I’m okay with the idea that I’m not ruining a decade long relationship. If you need to go see him, I’m fine with that. I’m sure the Ancient One wouldn’t care if you used your sorcery for hopping back and forth between here and New York. You’re not doing anything devious or conniving. You’re visiting a loved one.” 

You nodded. “I suppose you’re right.” 

You were going to ask the Ancient One in a few days, when Charles had cooled down and so had you. But the training picked up as Mordo introduced mystical artifacts  and relics into the fighting, so you became focused on learning all of them and learning how to fight and use them. 

One afternoon, after a sorcery session with Mordo, and class had been dismissed, you walked out, armed with two wooden batons. 

“Ah, again? Y/N,” he said, leaning over trying to catch his breath. “I already trained today and then I just went through an hour of sorcery practice.” 

“Yes, and you will continue to practice.” 

“Easy for you to say, you haven’t been doing anything all day,” he shot at you with a half-smirk. 

“Alright, smartass, take a baton.” You tossed it to him. “Let’s see if you can fight as well as you talk shit.”

“Oh, I assure you, I can talk way more shit,” he said with a wide grin. 

You laughed before charging at him. He held up his stick in both hands, blocking the blow, before you pulled it down and whacked him in the side of the waist. He leaned over in pain, but then he quickly hit the baton to the back of your leg, making you go to your knees. He put his elbow in your pressure point but you lowered your shoulder down away from his touch before spinning on your knee to get behind him and put him in a headlock. He reeled his arm back and slammed it into your ribs. You let him go instantly, wheezing in pain. 

You turned your head towards him before running at him and holding your baton behind your head before trying to swing it down at his face. He blocked the attack,  with both arms holding out to the left of him, keeping your baton at bay. The two of you were nearly nose to nose as you stared at each other. 

A sudden racing feeling occurred in your veins. He was so close. You could kiss him, just like you always wanted to do, but you needed to keep focus, needed to be sure you were training him. He started to push your baton down, and it didn’t take too much force as you were mesmerized by the look in his yes, the scent that came off of him. His lips looked more inviting than ever. 

Just as he was about to deliver the next blow to you, to keep up with training, a sudden rainstorm hit. Raindrops didn’t drop sporadically, the sky opened up as if a semi-truck filled with water poured down on you. The rushing of the rain surprised both you and Stephen as you straightened up before laughing. 

“Should we get inside?” Stephen yelled over the rain. 

“Yes, I think that’s wise,” you responded before the two of you took each other’s hands and ran to your bedroom. You stood at the end of the bed, turning to face Stephen. He was suddenly very close to you. His hands slowly crept their way up to your hair, his fingers sending shivers down your spine. 

“I love you,” he breathed, as if he wasn’t sure he wanted to say it or he wasn’t sure he was ready for your response. 

“‘I love you too,” you returned. 

He smiled before he tilted his head slightly and slowly lowered his lips to yours. 

A bomb exploded inside the two of you. What started out soft and tender suddenly became ravenous. Your hands went to his hair, his back, anything you could get your hands on. He pulled at the hem of your shirt and you tore at his robes. His mouth was frenzied on yours, and yours on his. You couldn’t get him close enough to you, fast enough. Nothing else mattered except getting him as close as humanly possible. 

You pulled away for a split second so he could pull your shirt off and you could work his off of him. He kissed down your neck, down between your cleavage. Your breathy pants couldn’t be heard over the rush of the rain outside.  

His hands scoured your back, unhooking your bra quickly before he pushed your pants down quickly, leaving you standing there in nothing but your panties. He pushed you down on the bed before nestling between your legs, continually kissing all over you. 

You slipped blissfully into euphoria with him as you weren’t sure where you ended and he began.  For the next several hours, you spent exploring, kissing, and melding your bodies and minds and you felt as if you were in total bliss. 

When you were lying in each other's arms, you felt the world melt away. Nothing mattered. No one else mattered. It was just the two of you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[horrible-writer-rain]

Away From the Edge Part 2

Summary: Luca admonishes the 118 and part of Buck's past is revealed.

Trigger Warning: Attempted Suicide Mention, Mentioned child and human trafficking, and mentioned child death. Homophobic bullying mentioned but not towards Buck, Luca, or Carlos.

A/N: This is where the Rizzoli & Isles characters come in but only through text and a phone call.

Luca paced in the ER waiting room waiting for any news on his husband. His mind a mess of Why’s and What if’s. Why hadn’t he come to him about feeling this way? What was the cause? Why did know one notice or if they had why hadn’t they helped? What if he hadn’t been there to talk his husband down? What if he had been too late and Buck jumped anyway? He’s brought out of his thoughts and halts in pacing when his phone rings. He curses softly at the caller ID before answering. “Hey, Ma.” He says resuming his pacing. “I heard you were surprising Evan. How’d it go?” He can hear the happiness in her voice despite her calling his husband by his first name. It was something she did with all her children’s significant others. He takes a breath before coming mostly clean. He never lied to his family just sometimes omitted things if he thought it would make his ma worry more than necessary.

“I didn’t get the chance to surprise him. At least not how I wanted to. I’m in the ER waiting room.” He says wincing at the sharp intake of breath. “What happened? Is anyone hurt? I’m-”He cuts off her rambling knowing that she was about to say that she was catching the first available flight out of Boston that she could. “No, Ma. You don’t need to come all the way out here. I’ll tell you when I know anything.” He leaves out the fact that Buck had tried to kill himself. “Alright, call me when you know something.” She demands before they end the call. He then pulls up the group chat for his siblings besides the ones in Austin. He debates on just messaging his siblings individually leaving his twin sister out of it. She didn’t need any more stress especially if the IVF treatments worked and she was carrying either Buck’s baby with her or his sister Sofia’s egg or his baby with Buck’s sister Maddie’s egg. He decides against leaving her out of the loop knowing that she’d find out somehow.

Luca: Buck tried to kill himself. At hospital waiting to see him. Think he’s only suffering from exhaustion and dehydration. Let you know more when I do.

The responses are almost instantaneous.

Frankie: What happened?

Jane: Is this why Ma called me worried?

Tommy: Is he alright?

He doesn’t get a reply from his twin though.

Luca: He was going to jump from a bridge. Not sure why yet. Might be because of how his team was treating him after the lawsuit. Yes, don’t tell Ma, Jane. Please.

Jane: I won’t little brother. Me and Frankie are working a case or we’d be hopping on a plane.

Tommy: I’d be on a plane but the airport is closed because of the hurricane.

Luca: It’s alright. Good Luck with your case and Tommy for the love of god please be careful.

He finally gets a text from his sister but not in the group chat.

Ilaria: On way. Picking up Carlos. Already told him. See you in a few hours. I’ve got news.

He doesn’t get a chance to reply before he has another incoming call. It’s Carlos. He knows there’s a good chance that he might finally breakdown when he takes the call. “Lu.” The concern in his brother’s voice has him stumbling into one of the waiting room chairs. “I almost lost him ‘los. He was ready to jump.” His voice breaks as tears finally start to trail down his cheeks. “I’ll be there soon, pequeño.” His brother reassures. “You have work and what about TK? He’s still recovering.” He protests even though he wants nothing more than his brother here with him or even Judd. “Luca, I am more than fine recovering by myself.” He hears TK yell and he chuckles a little. “Are you at the station?” He asks spotting Maddie and the 118 is behind her his lip curls a little at the sight of them and he feels his posture change straightening in the chair. “Yeah, here’s Judd.” Carlos says not even having to have him ask and he hears shuffling over the phone. “Hey brother, you doin’ ok? Heard you just got back.” His friend’s voice is uncharacteristically soft. “Yeah, thought I’d surprise him. I’m honestly barely holding it together. They had to sedate him because he wouldn’t let go of me and I’m not allowed in the room with him. He fought the sedative Judd. He looked so afraid to let me out of his sight. Like if he gave in and fell asleep, he’d wake up and I’d be gone. The sound that left him when they finally got him off me was something I don’t ever want to hear again.” He hears Judd let out a harsh breath. They both had seen people fight against sleep whether from exhaustion, medication, or from losing consciousness. In their experience it was for one of three things, sometimes more than one of the three. The first being that they are trying to protect someone or something. Second being fear that if they succumb to that feeling they won’t wake up and the third being nightmares or fear of waking up back inside a trauma. Mostly seen with soldiers but some people on the more traumatic calls did it.

He hears the bell ring for a call. “I gotta go but you better keep me updated.” Judd’s voice is harder now no longer holding its previous softness. “I will.  Maddie’s here and so is his crew.” He says hanging up. He stands pocketing his phone and Maddie throws her arms around him. He holds her awkwardly for a few moments before wrapping his arms around her letting her sob against him. His eyes scan the members of the 118 falling on the Asian man whose eyes held a hint of jealousy. He could see that all of them were tense and displayed various ranges of guilt. “I’m sorry.” She tells him spotting the wet patch on his shirt from her tears. He just shrugs her concern off. It wasn’t the worst bodily fluid he’d had staining his shirts. “It’s fine, Maddie.” He tells her and she nods. “Any news?” He shakes his head. “No, probably won’t be for a while. They had to sedate him, and he fought it so they ended up giving him another dose. He’ll be out for a while and then they’ll want to do a psych eval. We might not even get to see him depending on how long they want to hold him.” He tells her truthfully. “Why did they have to sedate him.” He eyes the brown eyed man taking in his posture. Clearly military and that makes his blood burn even more. This must be Eddie. The army medic and his husband’s supposed best friend.

“He refused to let go of me and he fought the sedative.” He can see a look of realization cross the man’s features. Eddie probably associated that with the same things that he and Judd did. “Someone better tell me why you all decided to treat my husband like he was no longer a part of your family and like shit to the point that he was afraid to let me out of his sight. Like I would vanish if he closed his eyes.” He tried to keep his voice level but the thought of these people who were in a profession where your coworkers become your family has it rising slightly. Eddie is the one who speaks up clenching his hands and stepping closer. “He sued us.” Is what Eddie snaps out clearly angered by what happened still. “No, he sued the department because his Captain let his personal feelings cloud his judgement and lied to him about who didn’t want him back.” He feels a sense of pride when they turn their gaze to their Captain. “Either way that does not give you the right to abuse and ostracize one of your own. That is an abuse of power on your part Captain.” Captain Nash looks away in shame and guilt. He turns to Henrietta someone who he had heard good things about an knew his next words were going to be a low blow, but she needed the warning in case something did happen. “What happens when this gets out? What’s going to happen to your children. Did you think about them before you acted?” Hen recoils and shakes her head. “No, I didn’t and I’m sorry.” She is sincere with her words and he knows that she hadn’t joined in on the abuse and belittling of his husband, but she didn’t speak up either. He skips over the Asian man letting Maddie deal with her boyfriend and turns back to his husband’s best friend.

“You were his best friend. The one who promised to have his back. Something I appreciated since, God knows, my husband gets himself into all kinds of trouble. You took Christopher away from him and told him he had abandoned him. Like he wasn’t trying to see him or help him out. That man loves your son like he was his own and you took that away.” He doesn’t realize he had started to yell until Maddie places her hand on his shoulder and he sees that his outburst had drawn a few gazes of other occupants in the waiting room. He decides to give his husband’s team a little bit of his and his husband’s background. Buck could yell at him later, but he needed to get his point across. “Want to know why Buck’s so attached to your son? A mission overseas in Kandahar dealing with a human trafficking ring. Anywhere Buck went he befriended the local children. Would give them treats, tell them one of his endless facts, or showed them a game. We had liberated one compound finding it mostly empty but a few sick captives. One of the ones left behind was a deaf boy. He took an immediate liking to Buck despite his lack of ASL or BSL knowledge that I have. We had only been married for a year and a half but we wanted to adopt the boy. His name was Noah.” He tells them trying not to get lost in the memories of that mission. Not with how it ended.

“You said was.” Eddie says and he gives him a confused look. “You said his name was Noah not is. What happened? Did you decide not to adopt him, or did you find his parents?” Eddie continues and he can see the look of hope in his eyes. He clears his throat of the lump that had formed. He had only told Carlos, Judd, and Ilaria what had happened. “We had gotten the group back to base. We didn’t know it at the time but some of the traffickers had been soldiers at the base. When it came time to transport the group for better care a few days later they made themselves known. Buck had been carrying Noah who was no older than 7 when a sniper took a shot. Buck saw it at the last second and turned his body to shield Noah. The sniper was using HVAP rounds. The bullet went through Buck’s body and into Noah. It had pierced his heart and he bled out in Buck’s arms despite suffering a comminuted fracture of his collar bone he was the one who dug Noah’s grave. Noah would have been your son’s age.” He clears his throat again and Maddie wipes the tears from her face before handing him a bag. “It’s a change of clothes and I brought a charger.” He nods and heads to a bathroom to change. He changes quickly into the maroon sweatpants, grey t-shirt and sneakers before spotting the hoodie Maddie had packed. It was well worn and the rainbowed “Sorry, Girls I’m Gay.” had faded slightly. It was a gift he had gotten for Buck when they had first started dating as a joke. It was Buck’s favorite thing to wear when they lounged around.

He slips the hoodie on before packing his fatigues and boots into the bag. The hoodie was a little longer and wider in the shoulders since his husband was taller and a little broader than him. He steps out of the bathroom and heads back over to Maddie who was sitting away from the others. “Ilaria and Carlos are coming.” He tells her and she nods patting the seat beside her. They lean against each other as they wait.

He hadn’t realized he had fallen asleep until someone is shaking him awake. “Wake up little brother.” He groans green-grey eyes looking into an identical pair. “Ilaria?” He questions before the previous events flash through his mind and he’s sitting up. “Yeah, little brother.” She says and he looks around spotting his brother who’s talking with a doctor and pointing to him. “We’re the same age.” He says pulling a laugh out of his sister. “I’m older.” She says and he shakes his head. “By like 15 minutes.” He says standing and walking over to Carlos and the doctor while Ilaria takes his spot next to Maddie. “Hey.” He hates how his voice comes out soft. “Hey, pequeño.” He watches the doctor leave and gives his brother a questioning look. Carlos motions for him to follow him down a hall. “They’re keeping him for the full 72 hours but he should be able to go home after. You can stay with him. The doctor said it’s probably for the best when I explained what Judd explained to me.” Carlos hasn’t pulled him in for a hug knowing his boundaries with touching. “How he…How he was..” He can’t even get the words out before tears are failing down his face and he’s burrowing his head into his brother’s chest. He feels Carlos wrap his arms around him whispering soothing words in Spanish.

After a few minutes his breathing returns to normal and his tears stop. He pulls back and drags his hands across his face to wipe away the tears. “Room 1236. I’ll go inform the others and attempt damage control with your twin.” Carlos tells him pulling a small laugh from him. His twin was most likely already on the war path. She could be vengeful and petty when it came to those she loved being wronged. He nods and heads to the room knocking on the door frame to alert the person watching over his husband that he was there. The older man motions for him to come in.

“They said he’d be out for a few more hours. I’m Egil.” The man has a slight accent to his voice. It was one that he couldn’t place but was familiar. “I’m Luca.” He says sitting in the chair next to Buck’s bed and grab his hand. “He’s my husband. I’ve been overseas for the past few months.” He explains and the man nods. “You don’t mind that I’m in here do you?” Egil asks him and he shakes his head. “No, I don’t mind.” He says running his free hand through Buck’s hair. “I remember sitting where you were but instead of my husband it was my son.” Egil speaks up after a few moments and he turns his head to face him. “He was about 18 and close to graduating high school. He had a crush on one of the jocks. He had told his best friend who in turn told her boyfriend. The boyfriend was the jock’s best friend and so he wrote my son a note telling him to meet him behind the old movie theater by the school. I remember my son was so happy even though he was nervous as hell.” Egil has a sad but fond smile on his face. He could figure how this went. It was something that had happened to him but had ended with more than just teasing.

“His crush wasn’t there but the rest of the baseball and football teams were. The had thrown slurs at him and shoved him around before dumping him into the dumpster. He had smiled when he came home like nothing happened despite being covered in movie theater trash. He said he loved us like normal and headed up to bed.” Egil lets out a humorless laugh. “I figured something wasn’t right, but I figured he’d come to me. About half an hour or so later his best friend was calling and explained what happened. I went up to his room and he had hung himself. He wasn’t up there long and was revived in the ambulance.” He tightens his hold on Buck’s hand. Why was he telling him this? “In the hospital I sat with him like you. Then about 3 days after his attempt the jock comes in when I’m gone and sits with him.” He can’t help but ask “What did you do?” Now Egil has a full-on smile. “I watched them and saw how much that boy was in love with my son. He talked to him. Told him how sorry he was for what had happened. How when he woke up if he wanted, they could go out on a date.”

“Did he wake up?” He was slightly afraid to ask not sure if he truly wanted the answer. “Yes, and they went on that date. The baseball and football teams lost their most valuable player, and my son lost his best friend.” He was glad the story had a somewhat happy ending. “They got married about 6 years ago and are expecting their first child by surrogate.” Egil’s words make him think back to his sister. “My twin is helping us. She said she had news. Does it make me a bad person that a small part of me wants her not to be pregnant right now?” He asks and Egil shakes his head. “No, it’s understandable. You want to focus on your husband getting better but, I have a feeling that if your sister is pregnant, you would step-up despite the less-than-ideal circumstances. I’ll let you have a few hours of alone time with him. When you want to leave have the nurses at the nurses station call me.” Egil says before leaving shutting the door behind him. He lays his head down on the bed with a sigh. He was exhausted the 15 or so hour flight catching up to him. He promises himself just a few moments with his eyes closed.

[meegeemee26]

Going Home...?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

DISCLAIMER : I wrote this story, forgetting that the Prefect/MC doesn’t wield magic. But after seeing the other characters overblot, I wonder what if the prefect themselves overblot? Just... take this HC as if the MC had magic, just that they unlocked this “magic” based of the stress they have been holding in because of a decision that have to make. Cliche, I guess, but I wanna write this for a bit of angst and writing this idea before I go cram homework and revision for the rest of the day. 

Also, I have not seen the EN translations after Chapter 4, so I’m not too sure about how MC would interact with them, but I’ll try my best! 

Hope you enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Screams of horror and panic filled Night Raven College as students of the many dorms ran around, scatter-brained. There were trees set ablaze, buildings collapsing at every corner students turned , and a storm swirling in once a clear blue sky. The staff members were trying to calm students in the chaos, evacuating as many as they could. However, a red-head managed to slip past, running around in a frenzy, heading straight to the courtyard.

“OI! Where’s the Prefect?! I can’t find them!” Ace panted under his breath as he saw Deuce and Jack looking around, lost and confused as well. They did not know either, till the other dorm leaders and members gathered. “Have you seen the prefect?! Someone just went into Overblot!” Kalim exclaimed.“Where could they be? They should have rushed in by now to help us out...” Trey questioned as well. 

Before the group of students waved their magic pens to attack the overblotted student, a certain cat crawled in. But... he was crawling, panting and exhausted. Not panicking, not screaming, not jumping... he just needed some aid. 

“The prefect... is who you’re looking at right now...” Grim muttered before passing out. 

“Looking at right now...,” Riddle, confused by the statement, furrowed his eyebrows in frustration at Grim before a ball of fire came, dispersing the group in multiple directions. Followed by a mini hurricane and a large wave of water, Leona was groaning about how much his clothes were soiled before Floyd gasped in shock, 

“Ebi-chan?” 

Everyone just stood where there were for a good while, trying to comprehend what and how the ever friendly, witty and kind Ramshackle Head would be able to break out like this.  Stress? Anxiety? What could be ? 

“ I DON’T WANT TO LEAVE!” A distressed scream rang through the thunder as another lighting blot came shooting down.  

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

“Prefect, please take a sit. A year has passed since you arrived... How did you like it here?” Headmaster Crowley asked as he poured a glass of water in front of me.

“It has been great!” 

Great? Great alone could not define what I have experienced in here. In Twisted Wonderland, in Night Raven College. Learning magic? A school based off movie villians? I won’t say this was what I dreamt off, but spending a year here has been so much better than what I have on the other side. 

“You and your stupid fantasies! What are you, a child?” 

Back at the other universe, I was bullied and mocked, for being a “child” - Liking Disney animated Movies, singing Love is an Open Door”by myself like a mad person, and to top it off, carrying Disney-themed merchandise anytime I could. Living in any animated movie would be a dream for me. People would laugh and give me the funny stares whenever I walked down the corridor. People would shove me into the toilets for being immature, looking down on me, thinking that “I won’t change from this immature, childish, naive state.”.... It definitely hurt, no joke there... So I usually head home, head lowered as my body sinks into the mattress of my bed. 

As the bullying got worse, and my father started to work overtime, while my mother was working overseas, I have hit the bottom of bottom, probably deeper than the deep blue sea itself. I sometimes stare at the ceiling, wondering where I could find an Ursala - sign a contract in exchange to get away from this shit hole. Maybe a genie too - One : No more mockery, no more being shoved into a corner. Two : Just, living the perfect life of singing happily and conquering lands. and keep the last wish when I need it most. Letting my pillow soak up my tears, I whispered...

“I wish I could leave this behind...” before going back to wailing and drifting off into a slumber. 

Little did I know that I woke up in a coffin, to be brought into Twisted Wonderland and its Night Raven college, a place inspired by Disney Villians. Even if Ace and Grim were a handful at the beginning, the rest of the year in the school has truly been a chaotic, memorable one. The friends I have made, the dorm leaders I have helped overcome their overblot, and the chaos I get tossed into, I would not trade them for the world. Who knew being a little twisted would be so good? 

“Sorry if I’m being rude, but... why did you ask me to come up here to your office alone?”

“Yes, about that. I thought this piece of news would be more personal to you. It’s not bad news, I assure you. In fact, it is splendid news!” 

“What could it be?” I asked, trying to figure out what he was going to ask. 

“I found a way for you to get home! Back to your universe! Oh, the ever-kindhearted professor has spent countless hours building this mirror.” He stood up as he pulled a piece of red cloth to reveal a mirror. It was like the one at the dorm-sorting ceremony, but it showed my room, my school, my neighbourhood. 

“Pretty neat, isn’t it-” 

“No... No... I can’t...,” My gaze met the floor and my hands balled into fits. As my fingernails sunk into my skin, I could feel my heart pounding. That SAME feeling of fear and anger rose, and as I brought my knees up to my chest, I felt panic, wondering life back there. 

I can’t bring my friends there, I can’t help in battles that don’t involve magic, I can’t think of another day spending in that hell hole ! I...I- I’m just nothing over there! Nothing but a walking target, anticipating another attack that I know I can’t avoid!

“Prefect... Do you want some time to think it over?” Ah crap, the Headmaster noticed. This should not concern him at all. It’s mine to deal with ,right? After all, he was the one to build this for me out of his good will...

“Yes, please. I’ll take my leave now. Thank you for your present...” I got up, and left. Grim pounced onto me the moment my foot stepped out of the office. “So? So? What was it about?” He demanded an answer before I replied with a small, bitter smile, “Oh, it’s nothing. Come on... I’m tired. Let’s head back to the dorm...”

I can’t let anyone know, until I feel it is right. I still have time to think about it, anyway... 

“Hey! Wanna eat lunch later?”

“Sorry, I have extra revision to do...”

“Wanna go for a carpet ride later?”

“Ah, sorry. Not feeling it...” 

Offer after offer, I had to turn them down. Grim would go instead as I needed more time to decide. Later on, Headmaster came in to tell me that the mirror could not hold for long. In a week or so, the portal may close. 

Stay... or leave? 

Stay in this wonderful world... or leave it behind? 

Stay... or leave? 

Stay in this wonderful world... or leave and go back and start anew? 

Little did I know the last thing I saw before passing out was Grim backing away from me and the sound of a shattered mirror behind me. 

.... “I don’t want to leave...” 

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

“.... They’re breathing... Get... Ramsha...dorm!”

“..I thought they could not... magic...” 

“Magic asi... they are...WAIT-”

“Ow... my head..” I woke up, only to be greeted by the familiar sight of their bedroom ceiling, and a vase of flowers beside me.“What happe-”

“GUYS THE PREFECT IS AWAKE!” Three voices shouted, followed by a stampede, and ten people trying to squeeze through the door. Amused, I sat up with the remaining energy they have, and gave the biggest smile they could. After being bombarded by questions like “Are you alright?!” and being fed with heartwarming dishes, the tears of comfort and love came out one by one. I could not bring these back to the other side right? 

“I have been keeping this away from you. But,... I am given the choice to go back to where I came from...” I trailed off before Jade cut me short and that everyone knows about everything. The mirror, my life back at the other side... everything. 

“I’m sorry... I’m sorry that....I’m sorry that I- I hurt all of you! I’m sorry...” Words could not form the remorse, guilt I felt till I felt like I was being assaulted by a ball of familiar fluff, followed by my hands being held in comfort. 

“You know you could have just told us right?” Leona rubbed it in , only to have everyone shoot death glares at him. “IT WAS HARD TO EXPLAIN ALRIGHT?! I CAN’T JUST... JUST ABANDON YOU ALL!” I choked between my words before Grim came off. 

“He’s right. Without you, all of us won’t be here. You’re the one who helped us with our overblot, now let us help you...” Before I could refuse, Grim did not let me speak further. I could only mutter a ‘thank you’ before drowning myself in my tears again. “Well, who knew human emotion could be such a weakness?” “Spare me from your Book of Weaknesses, Azul.” 

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

“Sorry for bothering you Headmaster. But I would like to stay here in Night Raven College, even in Twisted Wonderland. Please!” I bowed, with my face to the ground, closing my eyes, hoping for the best. I just hope that he is not too angry with me, after all of the effort put into making the mirror for me to head home. Please...

“....Alright. After all, if another overblot incident were to take place, who else could we turn to?” He agreed! Thank God... He walked over to the mirror, casted a spell for it to be completely shut down. I am staying here, for now, till I’m ready to go back... 

[sweetwritertanya]

Noble Heart (Part 4)

Summary: The day has finally come and your doubts still persist, despite the good moments you spent with Augustus over the last few days. When you are questioning your decision, he comes over to talk it out with you.

Warnings: there will be SMUT on this one! Also, the reader has a mild anxiety attack, so if that triggers you in any way, either skip the beginning or don’t read at all! So, as for the smut, this part will only include: erotic body touching, fingering and first time (for female/reader).

Word Count: 3378

Pacing back and forth, you had finally the room for yourself. Getting your Mother and sisters out was a feat, your own panic making it harder for them to understand your desperate pleas even as you were screaming and almost crying to be left alone.

Your heart was uncomfortably stuck on your throat, beating rapidly and making it hard to breathe. Somewhere in the depth of your mind you knew you were over ventilating, sweating cold and probably in some sort of anxiety attack, but you couldn’t control it. The tight corset your Mother and maid had helped put on wasn’t helping. This was the biggest decision you had ever made in your life and the doubts and fears that you made the wrong choice hadn’t stopped plaguing you since the day before. You had barely slept at all during the night.

Your hands are fidgeting with each other as your steps grew quicker and your nervous eyes kept going back and forth between the door and the window, two possible ways out if you changed your mind.

The striding feet under you only stopped once you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. It felt too late now, with a big wedding dress already on, long flowy fabric falling to the floor and a short tail following you, white veil covering your carefully styled hair and detailed make-up embellishing your features.

Today was your wedding day. Only about a week ago, a strange man came into your home demanding to marry you. And here you were, about to walk down the aisle with him. No matter how you tried to put it in your mind, it sounded crazy.

Not that there was anything wrong with Augustus. As it turned out, you two got along just fine, at least as far as you could tell in the amount of time spent together. He was a gentleman, surprisingly respectful and curious about you. Oh, and the fact that he was a wonderful kisser didn’t make matters too bad at either.

You thought that the first kiss you two shared was some way for him to tease you, to embarrass you for his own personal entertainment later on and it honestly scared you that you had fallen into such a trap. However, it seemed Augustus had no intentions of making that a one-time event. For the few days after, every time he came to your house for the already agreed-upon afternoon together, he would find a way to steal kisses whenever alone with you. Be it when he would suddenly, in that silent way of his, appear way too close to you, making your chubby cheeks blush profusely and him remarking on it before leaning down to kiss them, slowly making a path to your mouth; or as a goodbye at the end of the day, starting by the ever present peck at your hands only to pull you closer and catch your lips before walking away.

If you were honest with yourself, you didn’t dislike Augustus at all. In fact, and as much as that scared you a bit, you grew to really like him. It was the context of how everything happened that bothered you so much, tainting the wonderful memories with fears that all of it was just so he could become the Duke. That the person you got to know the last week was only a façade to get you to agree to the marriage, that he would change completely once the matrimony was official. That you were being fooled and would end up heart-broken and humiliated in the end.

Which was a big reason as to why you were having such a panic attack right in the last few minutes before the ceremony started. You had already promised not only Augustus, but yourself and your family that you would not change your mind. Yet your mind kept pressing on how this was not right, not the way it was supposed to be.

A knock at your door made you jump a little and your head jerked towards the opening door. You swallowed a sob once you recognized Augustus coming in.

He looked more handsome than you had ever seen him. In a black wedding suit, black vest under the peak lapeled jacket, white-pearl shirt with a tuxedo wing collar poking out behind the perfectly made bow-tie. He had cut his dark chocolate curls somewhere between the day before when you last saw him and today, you noticed. The sides were shorter, losing almost all definition of a curl, but the top was still fluffy enough to retain those enticing swirls, some covering just the edge of his forehead. With bushy dark eyebrows pulled together, his hooded honey eyes searched for you with worry, the bottom fuller lip hanging just a bit open from his thinner upper one.

“Adela? Your Mother informed me you weren’t feeling well…”

Once finding you, Augustus’ next words died in his tongue at the sight of his bride. You both loved and hated the relief it brought when you saw his look of appreciation, eyes wide and darkening, slowly taking your form up and down, a glint you had grown to recognize as desirability glowing in the honey colored eyes of your fiancée. It calmed your worries down a bit, only to originate another completely different kind of nervousness.

“You, hum… Well, you look beautiful, Adela.” He complimented with a sweet smile on his lips as his eyes feel back on yours. “The most beautiful bride I had ever seen.”

You smile back but your sight falls to your hands, slowly backing away to the window, turning away from him. Taking a deep breath, you explain to him what was going on before he has the chance to ask again.

“I… I was having second thoughts” you confess, letting the sun bathe your skin as you lean against the windowsill, facing the greenery outside.

“About the wedding.” He specifies, not in a question but a statement, voice eerily neutral.

“It all just… it just feels wrong to me, still” you explain, trying your best to convey your thoughts without hurting his feelings in the process. “Marrying someone for a noble title, someone I barely know for a week and-”

“You have known me better this last week than most of the people in my life had gotten to know me for years” he interrupts in a resolute tone, deep and controlled.

You turn to him at that, allowing your self a second to be surprised by how close he had gotten without you noticing, before setting your gaze back to his in skepticism. He notices it and answers the question you were about to make before you speak.

“It is true. People I grew up with back in my town know nothing about my grandfather or the inheritance he left for me. People I know here in Welsham know nothing about my life before I arrived. You are the only one who knows of both.”

“And yet there is still so much more I do not know” you counter back in a soft voice, crossing your arms in front of you.

His stare hardens a bit at that. He knows there were a lot of questions he never gave you an answer about, most precisely about his own family and the environment he grew up with. It seems he was still not ready to talk to you about that.

“Do you wish to call the wedding off?” He opts to inquire, tension palpable in his lower jaw.

“If I said yes, would you allow me to?” You lean your head to the side as you analyze his reaction. His eyes fall to the ground for a split second in disappointment, but quickly rise back up and stare at the window behind you, rather than at you, with resolve.

“Yes.” He assures.

“Even if I already promised I wouldn’t do it?”

“I would allow you to break this one promise.”

You actually chuckle a bit, head hanging low as you close your eyes and breathe deeply through your nose, trying to soothe the hurricane of anxiety swirling inside your chest.

“Here’s a proof we still do not know each other very well after just a week together. You still don’t know I am not a woman who breaks her promises” you point out.

A hand comes up to cradle your left cheek and that makes you look up at the man standing just a foot away from you. Honey eyes were calmer, warmer now, the right corner of his lips tugging up more than the left one as he tried not to break into a grin.

“I had my suspicions” he refutes. His hand descends your face to turn into an index finger prompting your chin to look up at him. “So… Will you marry me, lady Adela?”

Your heart does a flip that lands in your throat and you smile, realizing you had yet to hear him asking you that. It somehow pacified you a bit to hear it.

“If you’ll have me, sir Augustus” you reply.

Not able to conceal his smile any longer, his teeth shine behind his lips as he leans down, eyes focused on your painted lips the same way yours had been focusing on his mismatched ones.

“Good. It would be such a waste.” He declares in almost a whisper, few inches from your face.

“It would. The already paid for venue, the guests, the wedding dress and your suit and-”

“Not that” he murmurs as he leans further down, his lips ending up landing at the side of your neck, just bellow your right ear. You shiver and freeze. “I meant a waste of you in such a beautiful gown.”

He pecks again at the skin of your neck, his hands having somehow attached themselves to your sides before you knew it, and you feel your skin flushing and your heart rate picking up.

“That… T-That should be the least of your concerns” you try to keep a rational mind, but it becomes increasingly difficult as the fire scorching your skin seems to be melting your brain away.

“It’s at the top of my list” he disagrees, this time the kisses forming a path up your soft jawline.

With everything going on and the state you were in just a few moments ago, this should really not be how you make use of your time. And yet, you can’t control yourself as you turn your head towards him when he is pecking at the side of your mouth, making his next kiss to finally land on your burning lips, aching for his sweet caresses.

A satisfied noise resonates from the depths of his throat at your reaction. One of his hands come back cupping your collar, his cold long fingers coiling in the hairs at the nape of your neck. The pressure of his velvet lips on yours enhances, moving slowly at first before a desperate vigor overtakes him.

Augustus takes a step forward to flush his body with yours, your frame leaning backwards into the open window with the strength he pulled himself against you. You had your hands around his arms but give in to the urgency to wrap them around his neck and do your best to pull yourself up, standing on the tip of your toes.

When he tentatively skims your lower lip with his tongue, you gasp and your fingers automatically grasp at the shorter hairs behind his neck. Augustus exploits the parting of your lips to delve deeper, tongue sinking into your mouth to kiss you slow and profound. The strangest noise you didn’t know you could produce escapes you in a muffled cry against his mouth.

The hand at your neck joins his other at your lower back and he pulls you in, away from the window, only to instead have you pressed against the wall next to it, away from any observant eyes from outside. You couldn’t really do anything more than go along, always being on the defenseless side when it came to these intimate encounters since they were completely new to you. You just do your best to mimic the way he kissed you, a mixture of your memories and instinct that seemed to be enough for him, if his reactions were any indication to go by.

However, your brain kicks in again when you realize that his hands were no longer at your back but instead slowly pulling the fabric of your dress up, the palm of his right hand then sliding against the warm skin of your fleshy thigh. Your hands come down to push at his chest, the man’s lips leaving yours only to replace them with the skin of your neck. Panting and still lightly intoxicated by all of him, you try hard to speak with coherence.

“A-Augustus! We are – Ahh…” He kisses a particular sensitive spot at your neck that fries your brain for a solid moment. “W-We are not married yet!” You finally manage to protest, catching his wrist and moving it away.

“But we will be soon.” He rebutted, finally lifting his head in order to level his eyes with yours.

The brown of his eyes was almost completely eaten away from the enlarged pupil, a thin veil of desire glazed over them, his high cheeks slightly colored and his nose almost brushing yours. He was so close you could see that the two beauty marks under his left eye were actually of two different shapes, one oval and one round. He made it incredibly difficult to think at all when this close to you.

“We are already switching the proper order of almost anything with our relationship, Adela. What’s stopping us from switching this as well?” His whispers smell like fresh mint against your skin.

He seemed so sure of what he said, so convinced he was right. And yet he waited, eyes locked with yours as he suspended his breath before you could answer. Truly, you really wished you had even just thought about brushing him off and go out to start the ceremony, get married before you yet again changed your mind. But the tips of his fingers were still stroking your upper thigh, your swollen lips aching to be devoured again, the most uncomfortable hot tightness on your lower belly making it hard to focus. You weren’t the best advocate for religious customs anyway and the logic behind his words was hard to contradict in the state you were in.

So, you didn’t.

“Alright” you agree, hand slowly letting go of the wrist you had caught going up your leg.

He smiles. Not a smirk or those polite fake smiles you saw him throwing around at other people, but a true honest smile that you had the privilege of seeing a few times while you were together. The one that reached the corner of his eyes, that showed off his pearly white teeth. The one that always made you smile back.

Capturing your lips yet again in a passionate kiss, you feel his hand going around your leg, pressing at the back of your thigh where you knew your flesh sunk in small dimples. He squeezes the fluffy skin, not showing any revulsion at all. Your arms go under his to grasp his shoulders from behind tightly, pulling him as close as possible, feeling his hard chest against yours even with the layers of clothes still in between.

Then his fingers play with the hem of your lace white knickers. Your heart feels like it’s hammering against every single cell in your body, so loud in your own ears that you can barely hear the hisses that escaped you. You have half a mind to feel scared of where this was going, being all too new and too sudden, but his middle finger starts stroking your covered center and you lose all rationality.

“Adela…” he murmurs your name when he moves his hungry lips to the juncture of your neck and shoulder, sucking the skin harshly, pulling with his free hand the sleeve of your dress down.

In your mind you are whispering his name back, but in reality you had your eyes closed, head thrown back against the wall and lips parting but with no sound other than needy moans.

When he moves inside your undergarments, the rough pads of his fingers sliding easily against your slick center, dragging against the sensitive silk skin, your legs fail you and you claw at his shoulders so powerfully you certainly left marks even over his clothes. This rush of pleasure spreading from your core to the edges of your body took you completely by surprise.

A single finger finds your drenched entrance and easily penetrates to the bump of his knuckle. You let your head fall against his strong shoulder, muffling your embarrassing sounds against his jacket, your hands fisting the fabric tightly. You felt like a live volcano, heating up to impossible degrees and building up what was certainly a deadly explosion.

Augustus then twists his wrist expertly and cups your mound in his broad hand, jiggling his thumb against a sensitive pearl in small circles. You wail as electric jolts have your body contorting against his, heat rising off of you in cascades. His finger is joined by a second and he begins to stroke them lazily, in and out, in and out. The pressure in your womb builds deep and low in your abdomen, currents of arousal dashing across your veins at every brush against your inner walls.  

His mouth kisses your ear as you keep your head on his shoulder, his hot breath sending shivers when panting against your damp skin there. You turn your face to him and he merged your lips together, plundering your mouth with his tongue at the same pace of his fingers slipping in and out of you, so deep his teeth scrapped your lower lip.

The novelty of all these lustful actions has the tightness in your stomach bursting suddenly as you trip into a shuddering orgasm, the warm thread that kept pulling your insides unspooling and pleasure flooding your entire body as Augustus’ fingers help you ride it out.  

You are panting heavily, cheeks flushed, spine tingling and absentmindedly gasping Augustus’ name when he removes his hand from beneath you and drops pecks all over your face, from your forehead to your nose, your cheeks and chin.

“I must confess… I can’t wait to have you as my wife” he admits, resting his forehead against yours, small smile tugging at his lips.  

“What… What about you?” You ask as soon as you can find your voice.

Even if all of this was a first for you, you were not completely naïve. You knew he did not get to climax like you did, that it was only you who felt such an earth-shattering pleasure by yourself.

“You needed this more than I did, dear” he explains. But a predatory smirk appears when he locks eyes with you. “We’ll continue these endeavors and much more tonight, I assure you.”

You weren’t sure if it was supposed to be a promise or a warning. It made the heart that had beginning to calm down flip again, blood rushing again under your skin.

Augustus pecks your swollen lips before stepping back and crouching down as he helps pulling your wedding dress back in place, straightening the fabric as it fell to the floor as if nothing happened. You see the content smile on his lips as he raises back up, taking one last look over your figure in the dress before focusing back on your face.

“Shall we go and get married, lady Adela?” he questions, straightening his own clothes too.

You release a breath, all the torment from before dissipated completely as you smile at him with your still colored cheeks.

“We shall, sir Augustus.”

He holds an arm out for you, which you gladly take with your hand on the underside of his elbow, and you both make way out of the room, into the venue downstairs where you were about to get married in.

[jinterlude]

❝Shotgun❞ Wedding

↳ Photo ©

» Pairing: Prince!Jungkook x Queen!Reader (female OC; Sowon)

» Genre(s): Weddingplanner!AU, Relationship!AU, Royal!AU, Humor, & Friendship

» Warning(s) & Rating: mentions of alcohol, alcohol consumption, & swearing / PG-13

» Word Count: 1.1K

» Requested by: @softjeon​ -  “It’s six o’clock in the morning, you’re not having vodka.” Wedding Planner AU + Jungkook

» Author’s Note: This is set in the Our Second Chance universe. You don’t have to read both Fight for Me or Our Second Chance to understand the characters nor this drabble. I also changed the dialogue prompt LOL I couldn’t make the original line fit into the idea I had in mind. ;-; 

Purple and white. Rose gold and soft gray. Red and black. How many more color themes are there? Last time you’ve chatted with your best friend, aka Princess Sumin, she locked in her color scheme for the wedding.

Now?

She has changed her mind…

Some asshat apparently told her sapphire blue and snow-colored white was a terrible choice.

You make a mental note to murder the prick if he ever steps foot in your kingdom.

Yup. You are Queen Sowon, who is now a certified wedding planner.

Oh, how quickly you regret that decision…

Looking at rose gold postcards, you recall back to the day you stupidly volunteer yourself to be the wedding planner for Sumin.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do, Sowon!” You quickly cover your precious ears. The high-pitch squeal soon follows that statement. You’ve memorized Sumin’s rant sequence to a “T.”

First, she rambles continuously, leaving no room for breathing.

“Oh, my god. What about Seokjin? What is going to say?!” You watch Sumin press her back against the wall and slowly slide down. Her knees tuck underneath her chin as she buries her face in her legs.

Faintly, you hear, “Seokjin is going to call off the wedding. I just know it. He’s regretting proposing to me right this moment.”

Second, she lets out a frustrated scream.

Plugging your ears, you mentally count backward from ten and as you reach one, you point to Sumin.

“AHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!”

Finally, she calms herself down and goes back to her usual, perky, self.

Propping up your brow, you flash the cute princess a knowing smile.

Sumin responds with a glare, flipping you off.

“I hate it when you do that…” She mumbles, standing up and dusting off her dress.

You chuckle, walking up to her, “But you love me all the same.”

Sumin mocks you before taking a seat on your cushiony bench, the bench that is located right in the middle of your luxurious walk-in closet.

You let out another airy chuckle, shaking your head as you find your closest and dearest friend a bit amusing right now.

“Tell you what, how about I plan for your wedding? I know you like the back of my hand so that I can make those decisions for you. Plus, I get to order people around and make your dream wedding come true!”

“You’d do that for me? Wait. What about your responsibilities to your throne?”

“Eh. This is more fun for me.”

“SOWON!”

You snort, berating your choice of words at that time.

“Fun, my ass…” You mutter, pouring yourself yet another shot of vodka. You grasp your fingers around the clear crystal shot glass and quickly down it. You grimace from the taste, but the feeling soon leaves your body. You fill up the glass with vodka once more and downing the alcoholic content in less than five seconds.

Now filled with liquid courage, you muster enough strength to continue with your duties as the wedding planner.

“Alright…what kind of flowers did Sumin say she wanted?” Your brows knit together. Tiny creases form on your forehead as you try your hardest to remember.

Okay…

Maybe drinking shot after shot this early in the morning is a bad idea.

Oh, well…

Hours later, feeling worried about your wellbeing, Jungkook knocks on your office door. Sumin hasn’t heard a peep from you since last night, so naturally, she asks your arm candy to check up on you.

“Alright. I’m coming in…” Jungkook announces, slowly opening up your door. As soon as he does, he’s instantly greeted with the strong smell of vodka and something else. Is that wine?

Damn…it’s worse than he thinks…

Carefully walking over to you, Jungkook observes the gigantic mess on your desk. Scratch that. Your whole fucking office. It seriously looks like a hurricane passed through.

Shaking his head, silently scolding you for not asking for help when you obviously need it, Jungkook gently places a warm hand on your back. He hears the soft snores escaping your precious lips.

“Hey, babe…” He whispers before pecking your temple sweetly.

You instantly jolt awake, alarm, and ready to murder the person who dares touching you in your vulnerable state.

“Oh, it’s just you.” You wave him off, taking the second vodka bottle and pouring your 40th shot of the day.

Jungkook gawks, and before you can throw it back, he quickly snatches it out of your hand.

“Sowon! How much have you been drinking?”

You simply shrug, “I don’t know. I lost count after the 15th shot.” You smile brightly, practically proud of your accomplishment.

Jungkook’s eyes widen but soon recovers.

“Alright…A better question is, when did you start drowning your stress with vodka?”

You purse your lips, counting on your fingers before telling them that you’ve been drinking for six hours straight.

And with just that phrase, Jungkook went into red alert.

“You’ve been drinking since six o’clock in the morning?!” He swiftly grabs the vodka bottle, noticing you reaching for it, “That’s it! No more vodka!”

You pout cutely, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Please…?” You beg sweetly, batting your eyelashes.

However, that doesn’t sway Jungkook. If it is any other favor, he’d be wrapped around your fingers, but this concerns your health — both mentally and physically.

“Why didn’t you ask for my help? You damn know well that I would help you in a heartbeat!”

His loud voice booms in your ears, startling you just a bit.

This is the second time, throughout your relationship, that he has raised his voice at you.

“You know how stubborn I am…” You tell him, rubbing the sides of your forehead. The throbbing sensation in your head worsens.

“And that’s precisely why Sumin called me up and requested that I check up on your stubborn ass,” Jungkook argued, letting out a long, hard sigh afterward.

You can’t help but wince.

You got a sigh…

Taking a deep breath, ignoring your full-blown migraine, you place your hand on Jungkook’s shoulder. Silently happy that he is still within reach. Usually, whenever the two of you argue, he creates space between your bodies. It’s never fun nor healthy to argue right into each other’s faces.

“Can you help me? You know Seokjin better than I do, and Sumin wants to pick a color scheme that will make him happy as well.”

Jungkook raises his brow as he peers on your desk. Without giving it a second thought, he says,

“The rose gold and soft-gray. I don’t know why, but the handsome fool has a thing for pink. I think it has to with his ancestor and Sumin’s ancestor.” He shrugs.

You smile sweetly and softly at him. You cup his handsome face and plant the most loving kiss on his lips.

Slowly, you pull away, teasing him a bit. You always leave him wanting more.

“You think you can help me with the other tasks on my to-do list?”

“Anything for my queen.”

[n8thegr8]

My Avengers Academy Chapter 3: Parasites

“Peter, honey, you’re not eating your ice cream.”

Peter looked at the delicious treat that was laid out in front of him. He glanced at his Auntie May, who had a face scorned with concern and sorrow.

“I’m… I’m sorry, Auntie.” Peter then slowly started to pick at his treat. It was a gloomy summer day. It was overcast and the man on the tv said it was going to rain that day. He was in an ice cream parlor. It had a certain classic feel to it. Sitting across the booth was his auntie and uncle, which both looked so sad. Peter had his head hung low, but it was up enough for him to bring the spoon to his mouth.

“Hey, kiddo, why don’t we watch Aladdin when we get back home, huh?” Uncle Ben said in an attempt to liven up the mood.

Peter began to play with his treat. “No, it’s okay.” His spoon kept moving the ice cream in circles. An endless loop until he decided to put a stop to it. He’d just been to the doctor. It was his yearly check-up. It was supposed to be a good day. His fifth birthday was only two days ago, and that was a good day. Today was supposed to be a good day. However, something ruined it. Droplets of salty tears started to form in Peter’s eyes. Why was he like this? Was he cursed? Why did it seem like the universe was out to get him? Did he do something wrong? His vision began to blur from the heavy flow of tears and his nose clogged up with mucus.

“Auntie May? Uncle Ben?” he choked. He slowly lifted his head, he couldn’t bear the shame he felt within him. He tried to look them in the eyes but he couldn’t, he just couldn’t. “Why am I quirkless?” he sobbed. “Why am I quirk-“

“-less?” Peter felt a rush of adrenaline shoot through his body and he quickly sat up from his lying position. He found himself in an unfamiliar location. Everything was sterile and white. The bed he was lying in felt rough, but still gave some sense of comfort. His head was throbbing in pain. He put his hand on his forehead. “Am... am I dead?” he muttered.

“If you were, then I’ve been doing a crappy job.”

The voice startled Peter out of his daze. He looked to his left to see a woman he’d never seen before. She was dressed in a white long coat, glasses, and a little badge that read: “Claire Temple, Doctor”. She was writing on her clipboard. “Mornin’ sleepyhead.”

“Umm…”

The doctor looked up from her clipboard. “What?”

“Wh-who are you?” Peter blinked.

“Claire Temple, resident Doctor at the Avengers Academy Hospital Ward,” she stated matter-of-factly.

What, I’m in the hospital?!

“You went into a syncopal episode, fell and hit your head on the ground, no bleeding though, so that’s great. We took a blood test and everything seems norm-“

“Woah woah woah, back up.” Peter waved his hands. “I fainted?!”

The doctor cocked an eyebrow. “I’m surprised you know what syncope means,” she commented, “But yes, you fainted. Specifically from a spider bite.” She gestured to Peter’s right hand. 

Peter gasped as he looked at the back of his right hand. There were two small teeth marks and a giant bump. He almost fainted again.

“I… I’m not…”

“No, miraculously there wasn’t any poison delivered. Your blood came back perfectly normal.”

Oh, thank God… Peter sighed and hung his head. His memory was still covered in a deep dark fog. He held his head and shook it. “Doctor Temple-“

“Just call me Claire.”

Peter was taken aback by this statement. Isn’t the stereotype that doctors want to be called ‘doctor’?

“... Claire. What happened when I was unconscious?”

Claire’s gaze returned to her clipboard. “Your friend screamed for help and got the attention of Dr. Banner. He picked you up and rushed you up here.”

Peter jumped up onto his knees, a sudden burst of energy rushed through him. “I was held by the Hulk?!”

Claire backed up a bit, surprised by the sudden outburst. She readjusted her glasses and gave a light laugh. “You’re quite the hero fanboy aren’t you?”

As it is guaranteed that the sun will rise in the east, Peter’s face turned crimson with embarrassment. “I uh, wanna be one.” He scratched the back of his head.

“So do a lot of kids, but since you're quirkless, it adds more desperation, doesn’t it?”

Peter was taken by surprise by this. She read him so easily. Did she have a quirk? Was her quirk about knowing what a person is like just by looking at them? “That’s so cool! Can I write this down? That’s such a neat concept for a quirk. You could know exactly what’s wrong with a patient and act accordingly! I need to write this do-“

“Oh, by the way, your uncle’s on the way to pick you up.”

Claire’s words were a giant hammer to Peter’s wall of muttering. 

“Also, I don’t have a quirk,” she added.

Peter started to sweat bullets. His heart started to pound like a jackhammer, and his body started to shake faster than Pietro when he tried to convince him that he could phase through solid objects. “Uncle Ben’s coming here?! B-but he’s supposed to be at work!” he sputtered. “J-just let me go home! He doesn’t have to pick me up…”

Claire sighed and rubbed her temples. “Yes, yes he does. Under federal law, a minor, you, cannot be discharged from the hospital, here,” she said as she circled her arm around the room while pointing. “Unless a parent or guardian, your uncle, signs a legally binding paper that states that you have been discharged from said hospital.”

Peter shook his head in desperation. “No no no no you don’t understand. Uncle Ben works a nine-to-five job, it’s really strict over there and even though Uncle Ben’s a veteran, they barely let anybody just drop their shifts even for family and and and-”

Suddenly Peter heard a vibration coming from a corner of the room, where the cabinet for patient belongings was stored. He then got out of his bed. His legs wobbled beneath him. It had been a while since he walked.

“Oh, you can walk, that’s good,” Claire added while writing on her clipboard.

Peter opened up the cabinet and saw all of his clothes folded neatly, and his phone and glasses laid on top of the pile. He snatched them both and turned the phone on immediately.

“I can see your ass, by the way, hospital gowns do a crappy job of covering stuff.”

Peter let out a small, “Yipe!” and covered his full moon. “Y-you coulda told me that earlier!”

“Yeah, I could’ve.”

Peter grunted. So that’s why it felt airy in here. Peter walked back to his cot; this is when Peter finally noticed the heavy bags under Claire’s eyes. She must not get a lot of sleep. He hopped into his cot, making sure that he stayed modest as he did, and turned on his screen. He saw a variety of messages:

Wanda Maximoff :P (2:35 PM, 32 messages): Please please message me, I really hope you’re alright.

Pietro Maximoff (2:36 PM): Sis is kind of a stalker amirite?? Message us when you wake up big guy, worried for ya.

Uncle Ben (2:40 PM): Hey son, I’m 5 minutes away, okay? Stay tight, I love you.

After Peter read the message from his Uncle, he wanted to scream out to the heavens. Uncle Ben needed to work; make money so that he can support the family. This can’t happen, it just can’t. He felt breath on his shoulder. He turned his head to his right to see that Claire’s chin was resting on his shoulder, sneaking looks at his phone. He then jerked his phone away and sat on it. “Hey, no peeking!”

Claire pushed herself from the cot and the rolling chair carried her a bit of a way away from the cot. “Your girlfriend’s pretty clingy, you should watch your back.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “She’s not my girlfriend,” he snapped. “She’s just my friend.”

A sly grin climbed itself onto Claire’s features. “Uh-huh, sure.”

Eventually Uncle Ben arrived at the hospital ward and Peter was discharged, free to go home. Uncle Ben and Peter had to book it to the car since he put only enough money in the parking meter for twenty minutes. Once in the car, Peter stood silent. A mix of emotions swirled within him like a ravaging hurricane. He was sad, frustrated, angry, and depressed all at once. He didn’t want to talk to Uncle Ben. Peter basically demanded him to drop him off at the subway station so he could get back to work as soon as possible.

Uncle Ben took a look at his nephew. Peter sat on an angle where his whole body was facing away from him. His head was tilted and rested on the window. It despaired him so much to see Peter in such a bad mood. He thought back to when Peter was born. He was so excited for his brother, Richard, and his sister-in-law, Mary. They’d been trying for years to have a child, and when Peter was born, he saw this spark in their eyes. He knew Peter was something special, a boy that could lighten up any room he’s in just by talking about what he loves. Uncle Ben kept his eyes on the road, but he couldn’t help but attempt to get Peter in a better mood.

“Hey, Pete, when I get home tonight, why don’t we watch It’s a Mad Mad Mad Mad World? I’ll have May make us some chocolate shakes and you can invite Pietro and Wanda over. We can make a whole thing out of it!”

Peter sighed. “No, it’s okay.”

Uncle Ben eyed Peter. He knew something was up. “Son, are you okay? What’s bothering you? Is it the camera? May and I can get you a new one.”

Peter always hated it when he called him “son”. It meant that he was worried about him, and he was trying to connect with him. Even though Uncle Ben couldn’t possibly understand what Peter was feeling. However, he knew he couldn’t hide things from him for long. He always finds out one way or another.

“N-no! Don’t get me a new one, please. It’s just that I… I didn’t want to pull you away from work. The hospital should’ve let me go home,” Peter said in a low sad voice.

“Peter,” Uncle Ben sighed, “You know that I’d do anything for you, right?”

Peter bumped his head against the window. “I told you to stop that,” Uncle Ben scolded.

“Sorry,” Peter mumbled, “I just… I just don’t like taking you away from your responsibilities, I guess.”

“Responsibilities? Peter... my responsibility is you. Providing for you. Raising you. Teaching you. Taking care of you.”

Peter shook his head. “But I pulled you away from work. Don’t you have a responsibility there too? One that’s a lot more important than me...” Peter trailed off. 

Uncle Ben suddenly pulled over to an open space on the side of the road and put the car in park. He drew in a hefty sigh and turned to look at Peter.

“Peter, look at me,” Uncle Ben said. Peter turned his head to see Uncle Ben looking at him dead in the eye. He knew what this meant. He was going to get a speech. 

“Peter, you are my greatest responsibility okay? When May and I took you in, I knew what that meant. I knew that I had to be the best parent, guardian, whatever there is for you. I had to be. I had to do it for Richard and Mary, but most importantly I had to do it for you. Yeah, I have to go to work and yes, doing well at work, going to work, etc. is my responsibility. But you are my greatest responsibility. Making sure that you grow up into a fine young man. Picking you up from crazy situations like these. Protecting you. Also, supporting whatever you want to be. You still wanna be a hero?”

“Yeah...” Peter blushed in embarrassment.

Uncle Ben let out a small chuckle. “That’s a big responsibility to take on, Peter, but I know you can pull it off. You’re a smart kid. With enough gusto, you can do anything. Now, don’t say you’re not important ever again, okay? You’re already my hero, alright?” 

“O-okay Uncle Ben,” Peter stammered, “I love you.”

Uncle Ben smiled and patted Peter on the shoulder. “I love you too. Now let’s get you to the train station okay?”

Uncle Ben then put the car into drive and looked over to his blind spot to see if any cars were coming. Peter went back and laid his head on the window. He could hear the mumblings of his Uncle as there were no decent spots to pull out into the street. He laughed silently at the nonsensical words that were spoken from his Uncle’s mouth. 

“Jeez, finally,” stated Uncle Ben.

Peter then felt the car start to move. Then out of nowhere, a horrible migraine hit Peter like a truck. Time slowed down as he felt this excruciatingly weird tingly feeling running through his head and his body. He felt extreme paranoia and a sense of immediate danger. 

Look out.

“Uncle Ben!”

“What’s wrong?!” Uncle Ben exclaimed, whipping his head around to face Peter.

Without warning, a speeding pick-up truck came rushing past the car, honking its horn as it passed.

“Woah!” exclaimed Uncle Ben, turning his head back towards the road. “I... I didn’t even see him,” Uncle Ben muttered, “Saved us another doctor’s visit. Good eye, kid.” He gave a hearty laugh.

Peter let out a nervous chuckle, “Y-yeah, r-right...” Peter was sitting stiff as a board at this point. That’s the thing though; Peter never saw the truck coming. He just felt this overwhelming feeling of danger and decided to act on it. What the hell was that? was his thought as Uncle Ben finally pulled onto the street and started to drive again. 

The rest of the car ride was blanketed in a kind silence. The talk had been made, love had been reaffirmed, but Peter was struggling inside yet again. If something seemed off, he couldn’t just let it go. Uncle Ben had this trait too. “The Parker Paranoia” he called it. That migraine wasn’t normal. It felt like I was having an aura. 

Uncle Ben dropped Peter off at the train station. When he boarded his train, he pulled out his phone. He wanted to research the phenomena that he had just experienced. Quickly he realized that he never texted Pietro and Wanda and that there were 30 new messages from her. 

“Oh, shit.”

Peter was bummed to find out that his regular stop, the Queens Station, was closed due to the earlier Villain attack by the Sandman. 

Pretty basic name, if I gotta be honest. 

So he had to get off one stop early and huff it the rest on foot.

It took fourteen minutes of apologizing to Wanda, but eventually, he got through to her. Nobody found out about the fight between Flash and Pietro. Peter internally groaned since he could already imagine the amount of bragging from Pietro about how he was totally going to win that fight. Peter shot a text to Wanda saying that he’d gotten off of the train and that he’d see her when he’d get home. As Peter was walking down the sidewalk, he spotted a beautiful lone flower in the middle of a desecrated lot. Police tape withheld entrance to the lot, thick sheets of glass covered the perimeter, and there were two signs: one had the radiation symbol, and the other read “Area Quarantined by Damage Control.” 

This is where the Radioactive Man was arrested last week, he thought.

Villain attacks have become a common occurrence in society ever since the Quirk Boom in the 1960s. It wouldn’t be too unusual for an entire block to be destroyed. There were government programs and agencies such as Damage Control that helped get common people and communities back onto their feet.

Peter reached into his backpack to grab his camera, only to remember the fate of his most sentimental possession. He hung his head in sadness once again and he continued on his way. He didn’t even want to take a picture with his phone. He just didn’t want to do anything at the moment. He was tired, his head ached, his legs felt wobbly, and he just wanted to go home.

As Peter continued walking, his mind flashbacked to that horrible day. The day he found out he was quirkless. He recalled the doctor’s harsh words to him, the tightness in his chest, the pain in his throat from crying so much; he recalled everything. Today was the anniversary. He wanted to wipe away the horrible memory by making new ones at Avengers Academy. However, as his luck would have it, today might just have been the worst day of his life. 

He came across a small tunnel. He stopped and sighed. He lost all of the pictures he took today; the SD card either was smashed or was lost. Why? Why me? Peter has asked this question many times but has never gotten an answer. He just felt like he was the unluckiest boy alive. Tears started to well up in his eyes as they usually did. Peter was always taught that crying was a healthy thing, but other times Aunt May felt like it was a mistake to tell him that. Peter cried so much that Pietro sometimes joked that crying was Peter’s secret quirk. Usually, when he’d say that, he’d trip and fall on his face courtesy of Wanda’s Hex. 

His chest started to tighten as the intense emotion of sadness filled him like water pouring into a cup. His vision blurred with tears. Then, he put his back against the wall of the entrance to the tunnel, knelt, hugged his knees to his chest, hid his face, and cried. I’m so useless. Memories of Flash’s name-calling ran through his mind. Every day he suffered. Whether it was Flash, life, or even himself, Peter’s days were filled with sadness and depression. Sure, there were days where his family and friends would cheer him up, but that could only do so much, and it was all because of his body. His blood. His DNA. It was all because of him. Because of himself, he could never be who he wanted to be. He could never become a hero. He couldn’t fly, he couldn’t punch through walls, shoot lightning from his fingertips, nothing. All he could do was what everyone else could already do, and that made him feel absolutely horrible.

His breath became irregular and he started to hit himself on the head. “I’m so stupid.” He hit the wall behind him, and pain stung his balled-up fist. “Nothing ever goes right.” He pulled his hair. “I’m a damn failure.” He started to scratch his wrists. “Nobody loves me.” He flung his head and bumped the wall behind him. “I want to die!” he screamed. His head then started to throb with pain, and he kept muttering, “I’m so worthless,” over and over again. He cried harder and small sobs and whines escaped his mouth. Even though nobody was around, he didn’t want his pain to be noticeable. Nobody should know that he’s hurting, not his family, not his friends, not his teachers, not his therapist, not God, not anybody. His head started to hurt more and more. His arm hair stood straight up. 

Why can’t I be normal? Why can’t I have a quirk? Why was I born wrong? Why am I curs-

“Excuse me.”

Peter jolted back to his feet when he heard the voice coming deeper from the tunnel. Peter’s eyesight was still blurry from the crying, but he could see the vague figure of a man standing a few meters from him.

“O-oh,” Peter stammered, “I’m sorry about that.” Peter’s head started to hurt even more now, and his legs started to wobble beneath him. What the hell?

“No, child, it’s okay.” The stranger's voice sounded odd to Peter as if it was a corrupted sound file on a computer. “I was just trying to find my way home. Do you know where I am?”

Peter kept wiping his eyes. “Yeah, actually, you’re in Queens.” A chill ran up and down Peter’s spine. 

What’s happening? 

The stranger let out a small laugh. “Good, good, and what time is it?”

Peter looked down at his phone. “It’s 3:23 PM, sir.” A small voice yelled in Peter’s head. RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN.

“How excellent!” the stranger exclaimed, “Everyone’s still at work now, yes?” 

Peter still couldn’t see the stranger. His eyes were no longer blurry, but he was still shrouded in the darkness of the tunnel. A foul stench caught the attention of Peter’s nose. “Jeez!” He then held his nose. “Um, yeah they still should be.” 

RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN, the voice kept screaming. His eyes widened as he remembered this feeling. This feeling of paranoia. Of imminent danger. The feeling that he was going to die. Peter took a step back and lengthened the distance between him and the stranger. “Well, sir, I hope you find your way home. Have a good day.” 

He turned around and started to walk. RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN DANGER DANGER DANGER DANGER. His leg was snagged by something mid-step and Peter fell to the ground. “What the..?” He looked to his leg and his heart jumped into his throat when he saw it being held by a red tendril. “Oh no.” Peter’s gaze followed the tendril back to the tunnel, and, more horrifyingly, back to the stranger.

The stranger began to speak once more. “Oh, don’t go! We haven’t even learned each other’s names yet!” The voice transformed into something much more demonic with each passing word.

Peter felt himself slowly starting to slide across the old tough concrete ground towards the stranger. RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RU-

“I’ll start!” The stranger’s face became much clearer, however, one would be mistaken if you could even call it a face. It had no eyes, but it had giant white angular white splotches where eyes should be. It did have a mouth. It looked familiar to Peter, and that made him realize who currently had him in its grasp. It was jagged, and the teeth were long and black. It was a symbiote’s mouth. RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN.

“My name is Carnage, and we’re going to be best friends!” The creature cackled a hellish laugh. Peter grasped at the ground around him to try to get away, but it was in vain. More tendrils came from Carnage, wrapped around his throat, arms, and remaining leg, and pulled him into the darkness of the tunnel.

Peter’s screams for help were cut off from another tendril wrapping itself around Peter’s mouth. Carnage put its long finger up to its mouth and gave a chilling hush. “We can’t have you ruining our playdate, human. You gotta help me, best friend.” Peter was brought closer to the monster and his entire body violently shook. Everything in his body told him to run, to get out of there, but he couldn’t break free. “You see, I’m playing Cops and Robbers with another friend! I’m the robber and I need to hide. Best friend, I need to hide in your body.”

No no no no no no no, this can’t be happening.

“I’m also…” Carnage’s tongue escaped its mouth and traced Peter’s face. Its saliva felt hot and slightly stung Peter’s skin. Peter tried to let out a scream, a cry for help, anything, but he couldn't. “Extremely hungry. My friend started to play with me in the middle of my dinner,” the red demon cackled, “And you, best friend, are the perfect replacement for my dinner.” 

A giant tendril shot out of Carnage’s body, forced its way into Peter’s mouth, and slithered its way into his body. Peter’s whole body was on fire, he was in so much pain, and his head wouldn’t stop hurting. 

Am I dying? Is this it?

“Thank you, best friend. You’re a real hero.”

Peter’s life flashed before his eyes, his first memory, his birthdays, meeting Flash and Wanda, watching movies with Uncle Ben and Aunt May, the day he found out he was quirkless, the day that Flash beat him up for the first time, his Aunt and Uncle hugging him and crying because of something he said, every memory started to get sadder and sadder. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I don’t want to die. Not like this. I need to be a hero. Peter looked at his hero notebook which laid upon the ground. It was opened at Iron Man’s page. 

Someone! Please! Save me!

Peter’s vision started to fade. There was no light to go to; there was only the encroaching darkness that consumed everything. During what he thought were his final moments, he heard a loud clanging noise to his right. He heard someone say, “Man, I’m sure glad this suit has filters.” 

He heard another voice screech in terror and say, “No! Not you! Let me have my din-!” Peter felt intense vibrations surround him, and then everything went dark.

Peter’s eyes shot wide open. He looked at his surroundings and realized he was no longer in the tunnel, but he was at the park. He saw Flash standing over a boy he didn’t know, and he was on the ground clutching his stomach. Peter noticed how the boy was in pain and rushed to his side. Peter turned to Flash. He noticed that he had a distinct smile on his face.

Peter called out to him. “Flash, what happened to him?”

Flash only chuckled to himself and shook his head. The boy groaned in pain, and Peter’s attention went back to him.

“Flash, you have to get an adult,” Peter said, “He’s really hurt.” Peter looked at the boy. His skin was pale as a sheet, but his hair was a fiery red. His clothes were expensive-looking, a green vest, a white shirt, and dark pants. His face was bruised and beaten. “It’s okay, we’re gonna get help and-“

“Why are you helping him, Wall-Crawler?”

Peter snapped his head back to Flash, an annoyed look was painted on his face. 

“Look at him. He’s weak.”

Peter’s eyes widened. Why was Flash acting like this? Peter’s gaze was drawn to Flash’s knuckles; they were red. Peter swallowed the lump in his throat. “Flash… did you hurt him?”

Flash only grimaced.

“Flash, answer me. Did you hu-“

“-rt? Hey kid, wake up! You good?”

Peter felt something cold cup his cheek. It felt metallic.

DANGER!

Then, he felt that same cold metallic object smack him across the face.

“Oh shut up, Friday, the Hulk woke me up with an Earth-shattering roar. This kid can handle a love tap to the face.”

F...Friday? Peter could only see darkness since his eyes were still closed. He could hear a voice, but it sounded robotic and static. However, it sounded familiar. He knew that name: Friday. His mind was still clouded by a thick fog. 

“I can’t just leave him here. Just because I purged the Symbiote from him doesn’t mean he’s okay. He’s just a kid.”

I definitely know that voice. Wait… is that-?! Peter interrupted his thought by opening his eyes. However, the light from the afternoon sun blinded him as he threw his hands up to cover his eyes.

“Oh, good, he’s awake.”

Peter heard the sound of heavy footsteps that came from his left. Along with the footsteps, sounds of mechanical whirring and clanging came with it. Peter put down his shielding hands, and his eyes readjusted to the light. On his left stood a man, clad in red and yellow armor. Various blue lights lined the crevices, and a glowing blue triangle adorned the man’s chest. A mask covered the man’s face; the eyes glowed the same blue light as in the crevices and the triangle. Peter’s jaw dropped in utter disbelief. He was in the presence of the most popular hero in the world.

The man clad in red and yellow armor knelt to meet Peter eye to eye. “Hey, you okay, kid?”

Peter’s entire body went numb. His mouth quivered in excitement. The earth stood still, time stopped, and all he could hear was the flow of his blood in his veins. He started spouting incoherent nonsense. “I-I-I-I-“ he stammered. 

The man tilted his helmet in a curious disposition. “You what, kid?”

“Iron Man?!” Peter screamed while pointing at him.

Iron Man then dashed towards Peter and covered his mouth. “Pipe down, kid! Do you know how hard it is to escape rabid fans?!”

Peter's whole body shook as he realized that the real Iron Man was telling him to shut his trap. This is so amazing! Peter slowly nodded his head, and Iron Man then released his grip on his mouth.

This turned out to be a bad idea, however, Peter didn’t start screaming again. Instead, he started to mutter.

“So do you actually have a quirk or not it’s been a debate for years and years and you’ve been really shady when you have to talk about it and that’s fine ‘cuz it’s your own personal life and all but I really really would like to know ‘cuz I have this notebook here see and let me open up to your page and oh wow you actually signed it oh my God oh my God this is amazing I’ll treasure this forever it’ll be hung up in the living room oh wow oh wow you’re so amazing and...“

“Woah, this kid has nothing better to do, does he?” Iron Man mumbled under his breath. Peter’s onslaught of words was getting on Iron Man’s and Friday’s nerves, and Friday didn’t even have nerves to get on. Iron Man needed to stop this before Peter passed out. “Alright, alright, calm down,” he said while waving his hands. “Are you feeling okay? No voices? No sudden urge to consume human flesh?”

Peter flinched when Iron Man suddenly interrupted his airstrike of word vomit. Then, he shook his head. Iron Man then let his arms hang and sighed in relief. “Awesome,” he said as he turned his back on Peter. “Don’t worry about Carnage. He’s secure and sedated in a special compartment in the suit.,” he said lightly tapping his gauntlet on his left hand. Iron Man then turned his head slightly in Peter’s direction. Peter could only see a bit of the mask, specifically the glowing eye and a bit of the face. “You know your way home, kid?” 

Peter only made a small sound in response. 

“Beautiful.”

Peter was at an impasse. There he was, standing behind the most popular hero of all time, and he was told to be quiet. He couldn’t even make a sound anymore. All he could do was look onward. He reached out his hand when Iron Man turned his back. He was leaving him that quick? A signature, a few basic questions, and that was it? No questions about himself? Nothing? Peter didn’t even care that he almost died only minutes ago. He just felt so heavy, as if a rock was tied together by steel and was stuffed in his heart. Was this a hero's life? Was this Iron Man’s true self? Was he wrong about everything?

“Alright, kid.” The distinct sound of exhaust and flames started to emanate from Iron Man. “Go home, okay? Your parents are probably worried sick about ‘ya. Oh, and if you do start feeling particularly cannibal-ly, call the Avengers hotline. We’ll deal with it immediately.” The sound of engines began to intensify and Iron Man was shot into the sky by the rockets built in his boots and palms.

Tony Stark sighed as he began his flight; he didn’t have much time left. He just had to get Carnage to the Raft, charge up there, and get home. He was really taking this one a little too close to the chest by being out so long. Carnage was a crafty bastard and a quick one as well. No wonder why he’d been on the run for more than thirty years. 

“Boss, something’s on your back,” his in-suit AI, Friday, said with the enthusiasm of a secretary on the last thirty minutes of her shift.

This made him panic a bit inside. Was it a villain attack? Now? How did his sensors not pick up this object until it was already on his back?

“Putting up live-feed from the ‘Hulk’s-Hand-in-the-Cookie-Jar’ camera,” Friday stated. 

The live feed showed up on the mask’s UI, and Tony could not believe what he was seeing. It’s that kid! How the hell?! 

“Friday! Get him off my back!” he shouted.

There was a long pause of silence, and even though the suit blocked off all sounds from the outside world, he could faintly hear the screaming of the kid that was clung to his back.

“Are you an idiot, boss? Look where we’re flying over right now.”

Tony’s visor then switched to standby mode, a mode which was used when no action was happening. He then saw that he was high above the streets of Manhattan and realized why dropping a child from this height would be very bad for his public image.

Tony sighed and he looked back at the kid who was still hanging on. He was slightly disturbed by the g-forces at work doing a number on the poor boy’s face and told him specifically to keep his head down. Once he saw the boy follow his order, he held the kid’s head with his left hand and gave it a little pressure to hold it in place. This was a precaution in case the kid was stupid enough to raise his head and let his neck be at the mercy of the laws of physics.

“Boss, power level is currently at 3%. You have to hurry,” Friday stated urgently, “We have to get this kid to safety soon.”

Easier said than done, Tony thought. He couldn’t just drop the kid off at street level. It would take too much power to get back at a respectable altitude and fly the rest of the way. He had to drop him off at a building, but a smaller one though. Suddenly, Tony felt extremely weak. His body started to become extremely stiff, and his breathing started to slow and become labored. 

Shit.

“You know, you didn’t have to do that to him, Flash.”

Flash shot a disapproving glare at his friend, Kenny Kong. He was a bit on the plus side which made him ideal for the school’s football team. He did well enough in school to qualify for sports, but he wasn’t exceptionally bright. He was also born quirkless, which made life a bit difficult for him socially, but he was well respected among his peers for going toe-to-toe with other quirked students in football. He was not a mean person by any means; he didn’t go out of his way to torment or bully people who he deemed below him. However, maybe he didn’t get on anyone’s bad side because he thought he couldn’t stand up to them. Usually, after school Flash and Kenny would go downtown and find a nice alley that they could bunker down in and drink some booze in secret. 

“You could’ve gotten suspended,” he said, putting his hands in his pockets as he leaned against the wall behind him.

Flash exhaled from his nose in annoyance. He took a swift swig of his 40, and his face scrunched up as he felt the alcohol burn his throat and the pungent taste assault his taste buds. He let out a breath of relief and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. That was a lot stronger than I thought. He tossed the bottle to Kenny, who in turn caught it and took a swig himself. “But I didn’t, right? So nothing bad happened.”

“Bro, he fainted…”

“So?”

“He coulda got hurt!”

Flash scoffed at him. “Nah, that round-faced bitch caught him before he hit the ground. And he was just overreacting anyway. It’s just a camera.”

“Uh, no she didn’t! He hit his head!” Kenny exclaimed. 

Flash shrugged in indifference. 

“Come on du-“

“Listen, Ken, the Wall-Crawler’s in over his head.” Flash walked up to Kenny and snagged the bottle from him. “Imagine that Parker is this bottle, okay? What would happen if I chucked it at the wall there?” Flash asked as he pointed behind him.

“It would break…?” Kenny answered, not sure where Flash was going with this metaphor.

“Yup, it would break into a million little pieces and the alcohol inside would spill out. The bottle is gone and it failed its task to hold the booze. It can’t even be recycled.”

“I don’t see how that…”

“But, if I, let’s say…” Suddenly, Flash’s arm became covered with the symbiote, and Flash’s hand grew claws at the end of his fingers. He then took the bottle with his hand and cracked the top of it off. All that was left on the top was the craggy pattern of broken glass. “Did that. Yeah, the top’s broken off, but look, the alcohol is still there. It can also be recycled into something else.”

“That was $30 man!” Kenny shouted, “Do you know how expensive it is to get booze as a minor?!”

Flash put his finger to his mouth. “Irrelevant, and pipe down will ‘ya?! I’m not lookin’ to get an underage drinking mark on my record. I’m aiming for the big shots, y’here?” Flash then sighed. “Look if that idiot somehow gets into a hero school, he’s going to get slaughtered. By a teacher, classmate, or even a villain if he ever gets that far. And apparently, I’m the only one man enough to put him in his place and teach him a lesson.” Flash shook his head and slumped against the wall. “It’s how I learned.”

Flash heard a “‘Tch” come from Kenny. “You got a problem, Kong?”

“Yeah, maybe I do.”

Flash stood up; a blood vessel started to make itself visible on his forehead. “Well, please then, tell me a better idea. If ‘ya have one.”

Kenny stood up too, matching Flash’s deadly gaze with his own. “How about this: leave him alone. It’s his life. If he’s quirkless and wants to be a hero, then let him. You’re not obligated to stop his dream, no matter how unattainable it is. He ain’t your responsibility, and maybe your method of literally crushing his dreams isn’t really all that good.”

“What do you know?” Flash spat. “Isn’t it a hero’s job supposed to be stopping deaths from happening?”

“Yeah, but they don’t usually send their saved civilians home with bruises they caused. You’re making excuses.” Kenny crossed his arms. The two stared down each other; the menace of anger filled the air. More of Flash’s symbiote crawled down his other arm. Kenny noticed this, grunted, and shook his head. “Whatever, man. I’m going home. I expect $30 on my desk tomorrow.”

Flash rolled his eyes. “And where the hell would I find $30?”

Kenny shrugged. “I dunno. Hold Parker upside down and shake the money out of him.”

“Jesus Christ, Ken, I-“

Suddenly, Flash noticed that Kenny’s eyes were wide. His mouth was ajar ever so slightly and his bottom lip was quivering. Normally Flash would just write this behavior off as Kenny being Kenny, but there was something about his eyes. They were dilated, and they weren’t looking at Flash. They were looking above him.

He could feel it. The atmosphere changed radically. Instead of the stench of anger, the smell of fear permeated everywhere. Flash didn’t like this feeling. Not one bit. Something was behind him, and he did not want to turn around. His hands started to shake. He swallowed a lump down his throat. They both needed to get out of there. They both were in serious trouble.

“Ken,” Flash whispered, “Run.” 

Red clouded Flash’s vision and a psychotic laugh pierced Flash’s ears.

Peter had spent the last forty-five seconds coughing his lungs out. A common occurrence because he had never been able to burp his entire life, and he usually resorted to coughing up all of the gas in his stomach due to his horrible hiccups. However, this time it was because he was flying around at speeds that a human was never designed to be traveling at. That was so stupid.

“Kid, that was literally the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen someone do, and I work with Deadpool.”

Peter sighed as he looked back at Iron Man. Again, his back was turned to him. He wasted time. He had this question. This question haunted him for ten whole years. Why didn’t he ask this question earlier when he was ranting? Peter finally got back up on his two feet. 

“Keep banging on the door until someone lets you down. After that, go straigh-“

“Wait a second!”

“No!” Iron Man’s voice became stern, like a master scolding their dog. “I’m extremely busy, and I don’t have time for fanboys an-“

“Can somebody become a hero, even if they don’t have a quirk?!” Peter bellowed. He did it. He tossed the line into the pond.

Iron Man turned his head slightly in Peter’s direction. “Kid, I…”

Peter kept his eyes closed. He couldn’t bear to see the expression on Iron Man’s face. Even though he had a mask on, he knew if he looked he would feel an intense wave of disapproval. He just knew it. When he realized that Iron Man didn’t continue speaking, he stepped back in. “I wasn’t born with a quirk, but I always wanted to be a hero. I’ve been picked on so much because of that. I can’t run really fast or move things with my mind, but, I don’t know. I just really want to save people. I just think … that’s the coolest thing in the world. I want to be able to save the world with brimming confidence. Like you do. I don’t want a reward. I don’t care about money and fame. I just want to be there when someone falls to catch them right in the nick of time or rush in when some criminals rob a bank. I just want to help.” Peter opened his eyes and lifted his head to his hero. “You know what I mean?”

But who Peter saw standing in Iron Man’s place wasn’t him. Who stood in his place was an incredibly anorexic man, with greying hair on his head and on his beard, wearing a graphic t-shirt of two cartoon electrons telling a smart chemistry joke, and baggy green-ish pants. Peter screamed in terror.

“Wh-what?! Who are you?! What happened to Iron Man?! You look like Tony Stark but…! Wait! You’re an imposter! A fake! Some sort of off-brand Life Model Decoy?!” he babbled while pointing at the man.

The man hung his head and gave a deep, depressed, and frustrated sigh. “I am Iron Man, and ‘off-brand Life Model Decoy’? That’s pretty rude to say to someone, kid.”

“No way,” Peter gasped. He couldn’t put his finger on why he knew, but hearing him talk assured him that the unusual-looking man in front of him was indeed Tony Stark: The Invincible Iron Man. “You haven’t shown your face in years. People were wondering if-“

“If I was dead?” Tony sat down and put his back against the short ledge behind him. “No, not yet… Well, technically yes.”

Peter couldn’t process this. Tony Stark wasn’t huge or anything, but he was a six-foot-tall man who exhumed confidence by just standing in the room. Always dressed nice, cleaned up well, and still considered attractive at an age where most models would be let go. The man sitting in front of him was pale, frail, his hair was thin, and his eyes looked sullen and tired. This was a man who looked like he gave up on life a long time ago, not the man who saved the world in a high-tech suit.

“Well, if you’ve seen me like this, I guess I’ll just tell you.” Tony grasped the bottom of his shirt and lifted. Peter flinched when he saw virtually a skeleton with skin wrapped around it. He didn’t even have a belly to speak of. It was sucked in so far into his body. How did he even walk to put the suit on today? What caught Peter’s eye, though, was the arc reactor nestled in his chest. Everyone knew the story of Tony Stark and his invention. However, Peter noticed that the veins around the chest piece itself were glowing multiple colors. A group of colors that seemed oddly familiar to him, but he didn’t know why. “Five years ago, there was a battle, and I did a Hail Mary play to end it. I died. My heart stopped, but I was still conscious. I’m basically running on fumes right now.” Tony then knocked on his chest piece, the famous Arc Reactor. “Because of my quirk, the energy that I absorbed during the battle is what is keeping me alive. If I use it, I die. I charge the arc reactor on my off time, storing new energy so I don’t have to use this special energy that’s inside of me. It‘s built to run on a 1% charge for a day, but when I use the suit, it drains fast.”

Peter’s mind flipped through its imaginary pages to find the event that he was talking about. “Was it the fight against the U-Foes? They really messed you and Cap up…”

“Those D-Lister lowlifes?” Tony said dismissively. “No, it wasn’t them. This battle had very little coverage. I made sure of it.”

The thought of Tony Stark manipulating news coverage on a fight disturbed Peter, but that was a discussion for another day.

“The Invincible Iron Man should always remain, well, invincible. If word got out there that I’m functionally dead, people would lose hope. Sometimes I feel that I’m the only thing that’s holding this world from destruction. I don’t know if that's my ego talking or if it’s true. That’s why I wear the armor, kid. So people won’t see that I’m terrified. That I’m human, just like the rest. Some people say I’m a symbol of peace. A man who rejected his war profiteering ways and decided to fight for the greater good of humanity. In reality, I’m just a scared and jaded old man who shouldn’t even be alive.”

Tony got up and walked towards a door that led to the stairs of the building that they were on. “Oh, and to answer your question.”

Peter’s ears perked up. His chest tightened with anticipation.

“I don’t think a person without a quirk can be a hero, and before you say anything, Cap doesn’t count. You have to be willing to lay yourself down on the barbed wire so your partner can crawl on top of you. Except the barbed wire is laced with poison and you don’t have a healing factor. Also, the field that you’re in is over two-hundred degrees Fahrenheit and you don’t have a heat-resistance quirk. You’d just be killed. I’m sorry.”

Peter’s head hung low, and his eyes darkened with sadness. “Ah, I see,” he whispered.

Tony opened the door and sighed as he could practically feel Peter’s sadness. “Listen, if you wanna be able to help you should be a first responder. It’s a fine profession. New Yorkers love their Firefighters and Paramedics. You’d be doing a good thing. Also, I don’t think I need to tell you this, but don’t post what I said to you online, okay?”

Tony glanced back at Peter. He noticed the small tears running down his face, going down his neck, and seeping into the collar of his shirt. He hated being the bad guy. “But, I can tell that you won’t. You look like a good kid.” After he said this, he walked through the doorway and closed it. Peter could faintly hear Tony ask Friday something about where she put Carnage’s canister, but he honestly didn’t care. He was now alone on a rooftop. Heartbroken.

Before Peter had time to sulk and cry about his situation, he heard a loud explosion. Then, he peered over the edge and saw people running out from an intersection. A villain attack?! Peter ran to the door and grabbed the handle. It’s not far. I should-

The memories of Tony Stark’s words flew through his mind like a wasp circling its victim. Peter’s grip on the handle loosened, and his shoulders hung. “Never mind,” he whispered to himself. He opened the door and slowly walked down the stairs. Right now, he just wanted to go home.

Peter hit the streets and made his trek towards the station. What was he gonna tell Aunt May? If he told her, would he ever be allowed outside the house again? Would they have to start driving him to school so they can make sure he’s safe? What was he gonna tell Wanda and Pietro? “Hey, by the way, on the way home I was attacked by the most infamous and deadly serial killer of the modern era. What game do you guys wanna play?” He could tell that whatever measures Aunt May and Uncle Ben would take to protect Peter; Pietro and Wanda’s measures would be one-hundred times more severe. They’d probably request a class transfer so they could make sure he’s safe, or at least Wanda would. As much as he’d like that, the last thing that he wanted was to burden and worry them. 

Peter made a right at the intersection and was taken out of his trance when he picked up the faint and distinct smell of burning gas. He looked up to see a group of people huddled around an entrance to an alley, as he got closer. He realized where he was. He was at the location of the explosion he heard earlier. Even though he had his hopes and dreams crushed by the most popular hero in the world, there was something in Peter’s instincts that drew him to danger. He sighed. If he was already here, he might as well get the most of it. He pushed his way through the crowd, and he saw that Multiple Man was still on patrol today as he, once again, formed a barrier between the civilians and the action. Peter felt an intense heat as fire engulfed parts of the alley. Past the barrier of men were a couple of heroes that Peter recognized: The Thing and Mr. Fantastic. The last two-thirds of the Future Foundation. By the looks of things, they were having trouble. Peter’s gaze went past them to see the villain. 

A horrible, stomach-churning feeling ravaged Peter’s body like a hurricane. He saw a monstrous indescribable form of red, but it was very familiar to him. It was Carnage, and he was in the process of eating another person. He could faintly overhear the two heroes debating on how to beat the villain. There were sounds of worry in their voices. Were they losing? Were they not prepared? 

This is my fault. Peter remembered that Iron Man said something about storing Carnage in his gauntlet. He specifically remembered him pointing to his left arm. The same arm that he used to hold Peter’s head down when they were flying. How did it fall out? Was it loose? Was it because his power was low? This is my fault and someone is going to die because of me. He covered his mouth in terror. Peter overheard some commotion in the crowd, there was talk about Iron Man. There was talk about how Iron Man was chasing Carnage earlier. People were also asking where Iron Man was. 

This is my fault this is all my fault. Peter saw a glimpse of the victim that Carnage currently had in its grasp. It was a horrifying sight. Carnage’s mouth was wide open, and razor-sharp teeth were everywhere. Its victim was inside its mouth as if it were slowly eating the victim. It was straight out of a horror movie. Peter felt like he was going to throw up. He knew how horrifying it is to be in the grasp of Carnage. He knew exactly what the victim was thinking. He suddenly heard a scream. It was a scream for help. Peter looked up, and his heart stopped.

What he saw in the mouth of Carnage, was the desperate and scared face of Eugene “Flash” Thompson. Half of it was human, and the other half was covered in his symbiote. He was holding out his arm as if he was reaching out for help.

Peter gasped.

Save him.

Peter then found himself eight feet in the air, because he just jumped over Multiple Man’s barricade. Shoes touched down on the concrete earth, and he ran. He ran faster than he ever did.

“You?!” he heard the red demon screech. He saw Flash mutter something but he didn’t hear. 

He swore he could hear the cries of the two heroes that were currently behind him, begging him to stop, but he didn’t listen. He just kept running. His legs kept moving on their own. His head tingled, and his body shivered.

Danger.

He saw Carnage whip a tendril at him, but he knew it was coming. He moved out of the way ever so slightly to the left, and the tendril completely whiffed him. 

Danger.

He heard the blood-curdling scream from the monster as it threw another tendril at him. He swiftly dodged to the right and came out unscathed as the tendril hit the ground.

Danger. Danger. Danger.

Yet another blood-curdling scream filled the air as multiple tendrils shot themselves towards Peter. Peter dove over all of them, rolled when he hit the floor to keep his momentum going, and kept running. 

Peter wasn’t even thinking at this point. He couldn’t even feel anything either. He couldn’t feel the heat of the flames around him or the pain from the scraps on his knees. Someone was in danger and he had to do something. 

He was close to Carnage now. Carnage cried another scream. As he was closing the gap between himself and the symbiote, instinct suddenly took Peter over. He held his arm up high and aimed his palm at Carnage’s eyes. His middle finger and ring finger curled into his palm, and something unexpected happened. A string of fluid shot out from Peter’s wrist and hit Carnage square in the white blotches that it called eyes. Carnage thrashed about as it couldn’t see. The strange fluid seemingly solidified and wrapped around Carnage’s face. Carnage’s grip on Flash loosened as he slid ever so slightly out of the gullet of the demon. Finally, Peter got close, took hold of Flash’s arm, and began to pull.

“Parker?! What are you doing?!” he frantically yelled.

Peter kept pulling and pulling. “I don’t know! I couldn’t stop my legs! I don’t know what’s happening!”

“Why are you here?! Get out of here!”

“Flash I…!” Peter’s face contorted into a determined grimace as tears ran down his face. “I'm not gonna stand there and watch you die!”

Flash’s eyes widened and his symbiote crawled to the edges of his face. The only human thing about Flash was his face at this point; his whole body was covered in the black symbiote. Flash bared his teeth, his eyes became pinpoint with rage, and he screamed. 

“Get the hell ‘offa me!” 

The symbiote within Flash came to life. Its own tendrils battled Carnage’s as it formed itself from Flash with a chilling figure. It looked similar to Carnage. It had white splotches where its eyes should be and it had sharp white teeth. It almost looked like it was grinning. It was black as the midnight sky, but the fires illuminated it with a subtle tinge of blue.

“Kill him! Venom!” Flash bellowed. 

Venom let out a guttural roar that shook the earth beneath them. It then bit into Carnage’s upper face with its sharp monstrous teeth as Carnage screamed in pain. 

“No! No! No!” Carnage yelled. Two large mouths flew out of Carnage’s blob-like biomass and bit hard into Venom’s neck. Venom screamed in agony. As did Flash who recoiled his free arm. Which escaped Peter’s grip, and held his neck in pain. Venom screeched in pain and fell to the side, not moving.

“This is not how playdates are supposed to go! I’m supposed to win! Always!” Carnage ripped off the solid-like fluid of his face and let out yet another roar. 

Danger!

Peter felt danger coming from his left but it was too late, tendril struck him in the stomach and wrapped itself around his torso. Peter yelled in pain. It felt like someone took a bat to his abdomen. He tried moving his arms as he struggled to get out of Carnage’s deadly grasp. He needed to get out! He needed to save Flash!

“This play date is over!” Carnage screamed. “Now go to Hell!” An extra mouth formed from Carnage’s red mass and shot itself towards Peter at a blistering speed. 

Peter’s head tingled and throbbed with pain but he could do nothing. He was trapped. He closed his eyes and braced for the inevitable. 

The roars of engines suddenly filled the air and Peter opened his eyes to see Iron Man blocking the mouth with his arm!

“Iron Man?!” Peter yelled.

Iron Man looked directly at Peter. “I really am a piece of work, huh? Apparently, I wasn’t practicing what I preached!”

“No! Not you, again!”

“Hold on, kids!” Peter felt Iron Man grab his arm and he felt him pull. Peter was no longer in the grasp of Carnage, and he saw that Iron Man had Flash in his other hand. 

He did it! 

Peter saw the light in crevices of the armor glowing multiple colors. The same colors he saw earlier that were surrounding the chest piece. 

“You know, Carnage, technically you aren’t human. You’re just a quirk!” Multi-colored light began shining from the chest piece. “Which means that I don’t have to hold back on you!”

“No!” Carnage screamed in terror. 

Iron Man dropped Peter and Flash behind him as the multi-colored energy whirled within him. He crossed his arms in an “X” formation across his chest. The colors started to flash with more intensity. Iron Man kneeled and aimed upwards with his torso. “Oh yes! Your reign of terror is over!”

“I will not be defeated! I am Carnage! I am the most powerful being on the pla-“

”Yeah?! So what?! I’m Iron Man!” he bellowed. “Take this! Unibeam!”

A giant beam of multi-colored energy exploded out of Iron Man’s chest piece and enveloped itself around Carnage. It let out one last scream as its molecules were ripped asunder, and being vaporized into nothingness. The beam went past the nearby buildings and headed straight right into the stratosphere as it left the Earth.

Peter blinked and saw that Iron Man stopped the Unibeam. It didn’t look like he was moving. Peter started to worry until Iron Man’s hand curled into a thumbs-up. He then stood on his two feet, turned to the crowd, and gave them a thumbs-up as well. The sound of a cheering crowd filled Peter’s ears, and for the first time since this morning, Peter had a genuine smile on his face.

The events of the next hour were a blur to Peter. After Carnage was vaporized by Iron Man, Peter and Flash were pulled aside by on-scene medics to be evaluated. However, during this Peter got scolded heavily by the Thing for being so reckless. Peter felt a bit intimidated by him, but deep down in his heart, he knew he did the right thing. After being let go by medical services, Peter made his trek home once again. He tried to talk to Iron Man but he was hounded by the media. 

As Peter got on the train once again, he opened up his phone once again to see that, once again, he had more messages than he can count. Everyone texted him. Aunt May, Uncle Ben, Pietro, Wanda, and even Mr. and Mrs. Maximoff, and they couldn’t even speak English too well. The texts from them touched Peter’s heart. He knew that he was loved, but it was nice to be reminded of that. He texted them all that he’s fine and he’s on the way home. However, he noticed that none of them read it. He shrugged and put his phone back in his pocket.

As the light of the setting sun filled the train car, Peter started to have questions about what he just saw. How did Iron Man do that? He had no energy left. He used the energy that was keeping him alive to pull that stunt off. Why didn’t he die? Did he not use all of it? Peter sighed and shook his head. He was so tired. He had a really long day.

Peter finally got to the Queens stop. Now it’s fixed? He touched ground and began his walk home. The sun was setting on the horizon with a beautiful orange glow and the sky danced with beautiful evening colors. The leaves were just starting to change. Peter didn’t notice it this morning, but now he realized how truly beautiful the season of Autumn can be. He turned on his street, and he saw blue and red lights in front of his house. Great. They probably think I’m missing. He turned back to the street that he was on beforehand so he wouldn’t be seen by anyone. He had to mentally prepare himself before he walked into the mess that was his front yard. 

Danger. 

“Parker!” a familiar voice barked.

Peter jumped, he knew something was coming, but he still jumped. He turned around to see Flash standing behind him. He looked furious. Peter flinched inwardly, but only for a second. He took a deep breath and exhaled.

“What do you want, Flash?” he asked with a tinge of annoyance in his voice. He was taught by his consular to take his time when he needed to stand up for himself. To take a deep breath and visualize what he was going to say and how he was going to say it. 

“I want to tell you something,” Flash’s eyes narrowed, “I didn’t ask you to save me. I didn’t need your help. I could’ve gotten out of it.” His face was red, and his speech was slurred. “I don’t need your pity! I don’t need anything from you! Not from some quirkless, weak, worthless nobody!” He turned around and began walking in the opposite direction. He stomped angrily as he went. “Don’t cross me, Wall-Crawler!”

Peter tilted his head in confusion as he saw Flash walk away. He winced when he saw him kick an innocent trash can in spite. 

I guess that’s his way of saying thank you?

A rush of concern for Flash washed over Peter. A rare occurrence. Flash stank of booze and looked pretty drunk. For a person with a symbiote to get drunk meant that they had to drink a lot of alcohol to balance out the host and the symbiote. Peter cupped his hands to his mouth.

“Flash!” he called out, “Do you know how to get home?!”

Flash turned around, his face even redder than before. “Of course I do, dumbass!” He pointed further down the road. “Go down three blocks and turn right!” He swiped the air with the hand he was pointing with and pivoted back into the direction he was walking in. “Just get outta my sight!” he yelled.

Peter gave a minuscule smile, sighed, and shook his head. I’m too nice to him… he did destroy my camera, today, though. That smile went directly in a frown. Great. Peter turned back around. He had to prepare himself again. 

Dick. He just had to ruin my focus. 

He took a deep breath, formulated his plan, figured out what he was going to say, and visualized how everything was going to go down. He decided he was ready and almost took his first step before he was interrupted again.

“Hey, kid!” A familiar voice shouted from above Peter. Peter looked up and saw Iron Man flying towards him.

An expression of shock found itself on Peter’s face.

“Iron Ma-?!” Before Peter could finish his shriek, Iron Man firmly planted his palm onto Peter’s mouth. Peter could practically taste the metal of the iron. Which was kind of disgusting.

“Are you going to do that every time?” he asked.

Peter shook his head and Iron Man let go of his mouth. Like last time, Peter had questions. 

“So how did you escape the media they always hound you whenever you do hero work and also speaking of hero work how the hell did you do that and not die you explicitly told me that if you use that energy that’s keeping you alive which I have some theories about by the way you would literally die because your heart isn’t beating and also explain to me how that makes sense because I’m losing my Goddam-“

Suddenly the armor ran out of power again and revealed the zombie-like Tony Stark to which Peter promptly screamed in terror. Once Peter calmed down. Tony sighed and began to speak.

“I’ll answer all that in a bit, but right now, I gotta tell you two things, one’s a statement and one’s a question.”

Peter nodded cautiously. 

“Okay, so, question first.” Tony sharply inhaled. “Why did you lie to me?”

Peter was utterly taken aback. “Wh-what?!”

“Your quirk! You told me you didn’t have a quirk!” he exclaimed.

“I don’t have one! What are you saying?!”

“Kid, I saw it. You jumped ten feet in the air over a human barricade. Ran faster than any kid your age can. Dodged every single attack thrown at you, with style, if I might add. And you shot that stringy stuff out of your wrist!”

Peter was grasping for an explanation. Any explanation. There’s no way he had a quirk. No way. This was all some sort of misunderstanding. 

“Listen, uh, Mister Stark, what I said to you was true. I don’t have a quirk! You can check my medical record, I’m quirkless.” He looked towards the ground, feeling dejected. “All of that earlier must have been a misunderstand-“

Danger.

“-ing.” Peter’s eyes widened. What just happened? Peter looked up and saw that his hand was holding a pen, and from the look of it, the pen was thrown at his head. Peter looked at Tony with disbelief. Tony had a smug look on his face. 

No way. 

“Oh my God. I have a quirk,” Peter muttered with a little chuckle of utter disbelief. 

“Now that we’ve proven that theory. Statement second. Thank you, kid. I mean that. If you didn’t figure it out by now, I was in the crowd. I showed up and felt utterly helpless. I couldn’t do anything. No. It’s that I wouldn’t do anything. I was too scared. Too scared to die.” His face darkened with regret as he said this. Then, he looked up at Peter and smiled. “But, then I saw you. This kid. This stupid, arrogant kid. Whose dreams were just crushed by his idol. Who was told by the most popular hero in the world that he could not be a hero. This kid ran in there with no hope. This kid that thought he had no quirk; ran in as if he had a plan to save the day. Let me guess. Your legs started to move on their own, didn’t they?”

Peter nodded frantically.

Tony chuckled. “Figured as much. It’s a phenomenon. Heroes claim that it happens all the time. When they run headfirst into danger and they don’t stop. They don’t think about their own wellbeing. They only think about saving people. That’s what happened to you. Kid. What I’m about to say is something that I say very rarely. I was wrong. Dead wrong.”

The wind blew through the dying leaves of the Autumn trees. The setting sun looked like it illuminated Tony from behind him. He was both in shadow and light. The Arc Reactor in his chest burned brightly through his clothes. Peter then noticed how beautiful the evening sky was. Vibrant shades of pink, yellow, blue, and orange danced in the atmosphere. Time stopped and nothing mattered at that moment except the words that Peter thought he was going to hear. Breathing became harder for him as his chest started to become extremely heavy. His eyes stung as they began to water, and thus his vision became blurry.

“I’d be saying this even if you didn’t have a quirk. Because even though you apparently have one now, you still believed that you were quirkless when you ran in.”

Don’t say it, Peter thought. Don’t you dare say it. I’ve cried so much today. So much! I don’t think I have enough in me to cry again! Peter clutched his chest and he fell to his knees as tears rolled down his face. His body began to shiver as anticipation took him over. Memories from the past flew through his mind like a bird flying into a house and exiting through an open window. Memories of the day he was told he was quirkless. Memories of him, Uncle Ben, and Aunt May all excitedly watching the latest villain attack on the news. Memories of the day when he tried to save a boy from Flash. Memories of the day when he met Wanda and Pietro. Memories of the day where they all promised to attend Avengers Academy and become heroes together. Memories of every beating from Flash, of every hug from Aunt May and Uncle Ben, of every time somebody told him that he couldn’t be a hero, and of every time either Wanda, Pietro, Uncle Ben, or Aunt May told him that he most certainly could become a hero and a damn good one at that.

“Kid, you can become a hero,” Tony Stark stated with a genuine and sincere tone.

The floodgates opened. Peter Parker officially broke. His question was finally answered. He had a quirk. He could start his dream. He could finally start his journey to becoming an Avenger.

“Hey, so, uh, I’m gonna need that pen back.”

Me (11:00 PM): hey u up?

Harry Osborn (11:01 PM): DUDE HELL YEAH IM UP I JUST SAW YOU ON THE NEWS

Me (11:05 PM): YEAH I KNOW THAT WAS WILD

Harry Osborn (11:06 PM): So do you like have a quirk now????

Me (11:10 PM): Yeah I think?? I didn’t have the chance to play around with it cuz of all the police that were at my house. And May and Wanda scolded me for hours

Harry Osborn (11:11 PM): Wanda’s probably training so she can whip you into submission when she ties the knot with you ;D

Me (11:16 PM): >:-[ shut up!

Harry Osborn (11:17 PM): I can hear it now, the screams of agony as she literally ping pongs you across the room over and over again for working too much as a hero >:)

Me (11:24 PM): You enjoy this don’t you?

Harry Osborn (11:24 PM): You love it you know you do

Me (11:30 PM): No. I don’t. Anyway, you free to have a video call soon? I was at Avengers Tower, and they mentioned that your dad’s company is doing quirk research with Stark Industries.

Harry Osborn (11:31 PM): oh you found out about that? Lol yeah it’s a thing that dads investing in to like you know Cure me lol but yeah dude! I’m free this Friday or Saturday

Me (11:33 PM): Saturday please lol Wanda has Pietro and I tied down to go see some movie that day

Harry Osborn (11:34 PM): Pietro gonna sit between you two lovebirds? ;)

Me (11:45 PM): oh shut up. We’re just friends!! Just friends, I don’t know why people think that there’s something more!

Harry Osborn (11:46 PM): lolll! just busting your balls bud

Me (11:55 PM): well stop! They hurt! lol but anyway, believe it or not I’m still going to school tomorrow lol so I gotta get to sleep. Night dude!

Harry Osborn (11:56 PM): Good night man!! Welcome to the “wonderful” world of quirks! Good thing your’s doesn’t kill you like mine does. 

Me (12:00 AM): Oh shush lol we’ll find a cure for you! I promise! Good night :)

To be continued...

[sixqueendom]

New Fanfic: If Only You Would Listen, Chapter 2

So, after having a few requests to, I’ve decided to post my new fic on here as well as AO3. If you would prefer to read on AO3, I have included the link below! No real warnings for this one. Just the usual angst I'm sure you've grown accustomed to with my fics if you’ve read any of my previous work!

A huge thank you to Phoebe (@theatergirl06), Lilac (@timetoriseabove) and  Blue (@pen-and-a-microphone) for beta-reading this fic! You  guys are the best!

AO3 Link -----------------

When Catherine slowly entered Jane’s bedroom, she found her curled up in a ball on her bed, knees drawn up to her chest, sobs racking her whole body. It was clear that Kitty’s cruel words had crushed her, broken her heart. Kitty had, in her moment of turmoil, struck the older woman’s weakest point and brought her tumbling down. Now, hearing her cry, Catherine felt a desperate need to console her. She perched herself on the edge of the bed, placing a gentle hand on Jane’s arm. This prompted Jane to prop herself up, making a futile attempt to wipe her tears, before Catherine enveloped her in a warm hug.

“You know she doesn’t mean what she said,” she soothed, stroking her hair comfortingly as Jane continued to sob into her shoulder. “She’s just taking her frustration out on you.”

Catherine was furious with the younger girl for her sudden outburst and, in particular, the unnecessary tirade fired at Jane. Yes, she had to admit that there were occasions when even she thought Jane was being a little overbearing on the youngest Queen, but she knew Jane had always been full of good intentions. Jane simply doted on Kitty. The motherly woman looked out for them all, but it was Kitty she had formed a particularly strong bond with. Catherine assumed it served as a coping mechanism for Jane, like a substitute for the loss in her past life. It was undeniable that anyone could ever replace her beloved son, but she’d seen Kitty, the young, sweet girl who had been so unloved in her past life, as an opportunity to be some kind of a mother and fulfil a desire she’d yearned for for years. To help nurture and care. She was so thoughtful: she always baked them their favourite cakes for their birthdays. She was patient, always willing to listen and offer sound and sensible advice. And, on the rare occasions where disputes and minor altercations broke out, she was the referee, always finding a fair solution or compromise and ensuring a reconciliation. Jane was undoubtedly the glue that held them all together. Without her, they would all simply fall apart. So, when it was Jane who was in pieces, none of the Queens knew how to pick up the broken parts.

After a few minutes, Jane’s tears began to subside. 

“Am I really that overbearing?”

Catherine drew back so she could face her properly. 

“There’s no excuse for what she said back there. None at all, and I don’t condone it. But the trouble with Kitty is that she’s never really experienced the unconditional love and care that you provide. Let’s face it, the poor girl was pretty much on her own, left completely to her own devices. I mean, she really did have a terrible upbringing. She was shunned by her parents, who showed little interest in her, then passed on to a neglectful stepmother who was responsible for the sorry mess that damaged her in the first place. She’s never had any guidance on how to navigate life, or been shown any affection. So, perhaps her idea of love is a bit skewed...a bit different from what say, you and I, would consider love to be. So to her, maybe it seems a bit much.”

Jane kept her head bowed. When she didn’t speak, Catherine continued. 

“Oh, Jane.” She gave the woman’s hand a squeeze. “We all know you only want what’s best for her. She’s very lucky to have you.”

Jane gave a small smile. At least Catherine understood her. But there was another issue that was also gnawing away at her.

“We should never have shut her out of our conversations like that,” Jane shook her head despondently. “We assumed what we were doing was the right thing, but…” She trailed off, shrugging her shoulders. Their attempt at keeping Kitty from getting upset had been futile.

Catherine sighed in resignation. “Maybe we should have included her more. But again, we were just doing what we all thought was for the best. We were trying to protect her.”

The group had collectively made the decision the morning after one of Kitty’s particularly bad nightmares. It was clear that the girl suffered enough in her sleep, so they decided to try and avoid certain topics when she was around, not wanting to add to her distress or further exacerbate her already horrible nightmares. It had been Anne who had prompted them, voicing her concern and wishing that she didn’t have to console her distraught cousin most nights. They had all agreed, some more enthusiastically than others, hoping their decision would shield Kitty. How wrong they had been. Instead of keeping her at a safe distance, they had inadvertently pushed her away. 

“I know you don’t like to leave things unresolved, but I think on this occasion it’d be best to sleep on it…let everyone have the chance to calm down. We’ll see how we all are in the morning.” Catherine had to admit she was tired, longing for the comfort of her bed. She got up to leave, but not before giving Jane another quick hug.

“What about Anna?”

Jane hadn’t missed the slamming of the door, followed by Kitty’s soft cries as she hurried upstairs. She’d assumed it had been Anna who had left, knowing the German had little patience with arguments and often knew when to walk away. 

“I’ll have Cathy listen out for her coming home. She won’t have gone far,” Catherine assured, pausing at the door. “Try and get some sleep.”

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

Anna had decided to escape the chaos and clear her head with a walk. Whenever she was upset or angry, she always knew fresh air would help calm her down, rearrange her jumbled thoughts and make sense of what had happened. It helped ground her again. 

She’d been appalled at Kitty’s eruption, but the final straw had been targeting Jane. Yet, she hadn’t exactly set a good example herself. She too was guilty of firing words that she hadn’t meant. Now, she was beating herself up for uttering those harsh words. So, really, was she any better than Kitty?

Unbeknownst to the youngest Queen, it had been her and Jane who had been most opposed to the suggestion of cutting Kitty out of conversations concerning their past lives. They had, after some convincing, agreed, but reluctantly. Anna had felt the urge to defend her loyal friend in her absence, to make her case heard. She knew that the rest of them underestimated Kitty. Anna knew from their friendship in their past lives that behind that seemingly quiet, reserved facade was an intelligent and strong girl, with more resilience than anyone could ever know.

How long had this been brewing? How long had Kitty been dismissing her true feelings, pushing them to the side, tolerating their behaviour towards her and making her feel...worthless? How long had this hurricane been building before it finally reared its ugly head? What’s more, how had she missed the signs? 

As a friend, Anna felt like she’d let Kitty down in that respect. She should have checked in on her more, sought her out during quiet times of the day to see if she wanted to talk. Instead, she had continued as normal, not taking into consideration the impact their decision as a group could have on the younger girl. Of course she was eventually going to wake up and realise something was amiss. They had been foolish to think otherwise. 

She would talk to Kitty as soon as she got home, Anna vowed there and then. She would apologise for her hurtful comment, try to make amends, prove how much she meant to her as a friend. 

Anna owed her that much.

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

Anne lay in the darkness, filled with guilt. It had been her idea, hadn’t it? She thought she’d been suggesting the best thing to help her cousin. Clearly traumatised from her past, Anne just assumed it was for the better if the Queens didn’t discuss any topic she’d find triggering in her presence. Whether it be interview preparations or just casual conversation, Kitty was not to hear any details or reminders of her past life. Instead of helping, it had only frustrated the younger girl, making her feel excluded from the group. That, alongside Jane’s maternal fussing, had left her feeling like a child. 

She decided to text Kitty, hesitating on the “Send” button. When she gained her resolve and sent the message, she heard the reassuring “ping” through the wall. She waited in anticipation, hoping her cousin would be willing to respond. The response never came. After fifteen minutes, Anne sent another message. Half an hour later, Anne, growing concerned, finally knocked on Kitty’s door. No response. Anne tentatively opened the door a crack. Still nothing. When the door fully opened, she gasped. The room was empty. In her confusion, Anne didn’t hesitate to press the call button. Her face paled as she heard the familiar ringtone, her eyes drawn to the lit up screen of Kitty’s phone on the bedside table. 

Anne fell to her knees.

Kitty was gone.

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As soon as Kitty left the house, she had withdrawn as much cash as she could out of the nearest ATM  before purchasing a new Oyster card at the Tube station and riding to Leicester Square, where she hoped to blend into the crowds. It was one of the benefits of London being so busy; it was easier to hide in amongst the throngs of tourists and commuters. Sitting on the Tube alone, though, surrounded by complete strangers, she could feel herself getting anxious. Her determination began to falter; the cracks beginning to show. She forced herself to take some deep breaths, counting the stops until she could make her escape. 

She walked the streets aimlessly for an hour, just allowing her feet to take her anywhere. She wandered amongst couples, families, businessmen...people from all walks of life. All with a purpose. Everyone around her went about their evenings, and Kitty began to imagine their stories. That man in the smart blue suit was heading home to a loving family, a wife and two kids who would wrap their arms around him as soon as he got through the door. The young love-struck couple, walking hand in hand, were out on their first date, probably heading to the cinema to see a comedy and kiss in the back row. Then there was her, with nowhere to go. No destination in mind, no family or loved ones to go home to. As she grew more and more tired, she realised she had no real plan. She decided to check-in to a nearby hotel using a false name, figuring she could think straight in the morning after some rest.

But once she was settled into her room, it didn’t take long for loneliness to creep in. Realising it was later than she initially thought, she decided she should at least attempt to sleep. Crawling under the covers, wrapping herself up like a cocoon, Kitty prayed for sleep. But, in this unfamiliar place, with the constant hum of a city still alive even this late outside her window, it was useless. Instead, she found herself taking out the photo again. She gazed at each of their faces, tears pricking in her eyes as she realised the familiar ache in her heart. She missed them. 

Cathy, who was the only one guaranteed to still be awake at 2am, diligently writing, who she often sought out for comfort when, like now, she could not sleep. They had spent many an hour in her bedroom, just talking over mugs of hot chocolate and marshmallows, gazing out the window thoughtfully at the stars.

Anna, her close friend even in her past life, who always cheered her up when she was down, cracking jokes and playing silly antics in their dressing rooms backstage; the class clown. Between shows, Anna always dropped into her dressing room to hang out with her and Anne. They’d shared so many fun times together: spontaneous dancing, lip-synching songs...just being, well, them. If there was one thing about Anna, she always brought out her wild, fun side. 

Catherine, older and wiser, offered good advice and a calm demeanor. She preferred to enjoy her mornings in solitude, engrossed in her magazine with a mug of tea. The rest of the group knew better than to disturb her. Yet, she made an exception for Kitty, who she occasionally invited to join her, letting her flick through the colourful pages of beautiful dresses and shoes she could only dream of wearing. Catherine would indulge her curiosity and fascination, each of them marking their favourites from the pages before giving their opinions and critiques on each. 

Jane...at the thought, Kitty felt her heart wrench. She was the motherly figure of the group, the shoulder to cry on. The one everyone could depend on for her patience, sensibility and empathy. She’d taken Kitty under her wing and treated her like she was her own. Whenever Kitty was having a rough day, she could guarantee Jane would bake her cupcakes or cookies to cheer her up, or get her out of the house with a visit to the city or just a simple walk. Jane always knew how to make her smile again. And she’d thrown it all back in her face. A solitary tear fell down Kitty’s cheek. 

Lastly, there was Anne. Her partner in crime; her beloved cousin. She was responsible for helping bring Kitty out of her shell, with her mischievous and loud personality. If there was chaos in the house, chances are Anne was the culprit. But usually, Kitty wasn’t too far behind. She had always felt she could be herself around her cousin; she felt more confident in her presence. It was Anne she often crept into bed with after a bad nightmare, the one she trusted with all her secrets.

As Kitty closed her eyes, she recalled their first show. How thrilling it had been taking their bows together, hearing the audience cheer and applaud so loudly. She remembered looking at each of the Queens and smiling, thinking this is my family. She had been so proud to call them that, so thankful. They’d been united by their past, awful events that they had revived and reclaimed. Proof that good could rise from bad. After all, it would have been easy to think six Tudor Queens reincarnated together, with past tensions, would have been a recipe for disaster. At first, it had admittedly been a challenge. Definitely not plain sailing. Yet, they’d put their differences aside and called a truce. They had become a family. 

Without them, Kitty felt lost. What’d she’d give right now to have Anne snuggled close beside her, whispering into her ear. To have Jane fuss over her, to call her just to check in and make sure she was safe. Suddenly, she regretted her outburst. She’d made a huge mistake. She just wanted things to go back to normal. She wouldn’t take anything for granted anymore. 

But it was too late. The damage was done. She couldn’t turn back now.

Instead, Kitty clutched the photo close to her chest, a pitiful imitation of the people she wished were there. Curling up, she allowed the tears to fall.