#did i get honked at by the car behind because the light turned green and i was too busy trying to get a picture of this? of course

[stewykablooey]

everywhere i go i see his face

[roosterforme]

Covering the Classics Part 6 | Bob Floyd x OC

Summary: In the aftermath of the kiss, Bob and Anna try to process their feelings. Bob works on more of his poetry while Anna hides from her friends, but neither of them can get past their attraction. When another man arrives during a night out, all Bob feels is jealousy.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, adult language, masturbation, eventually 18+

Length: 5100 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC (this story is part of the Beer Boy/Sugar and Jake/Jessica universe)

Covering the Classics masterlist. Check my masterlist for more! Thank you to @mak-32 for the beautiful banner!

Taking Anna to Chippy's was a mistake, because Bob was falling harder by the minute. She was cute and smart. Witty and reserved. And the fact that she was a little tipsy after one drink just made her more endearing. Jessica could drink more Sam Adams than anyone he'd ever seen before, and Bradshaw's wife could probably play beer pong professionally, but not Anna. She was giggling and demanding he not download a dating app. She was smiling nonstop and touching him. And he wasn't even allowed to have a chance with her.

She only lived a mile or so from campus, which was a shame, because Bob would have liked to spend more time with her. He played with the radio dials in his old truck as he drove, trying to keep his hands busy. And that's when he swore he heard Anna whisper a line from his poem.

"What did you just say?" he asked, eyeing her closely.

"Nothing," she told him as the car behind his truck honked, and Bob tapped the accelerator when he realized the light was green. He must have been mistaken. There was no way anyone actually read the stuff he posted online, let alone Anna. He just did it for a way to help him release his emotions and thoughts.

But he wanted to make sure. When he parked at the curb in front of her building, he turned toward her with curious eyes and whispered, "I thought you said-"

He was instantly distracted by the way she kept her eyes on his as her chest rose and fell a little faster. She unbuckled her seatbelt and scooted closer to him along the seat, and he froze as she leaned in and kissed him. Her lips found his like it was the most natural thing in the world. When she made a soft sound, he raised his hand up to touch her cheek, something he'd been dying to do for weeks and weeks. Her skin felt silky soft as she nibbled gently on his lip, and then he remembered everything that she'd said to him. He couldn't start down this path just to have her put up another roadblock. 

He forced himself away from her. "Anna. I don't think this is something friends do," he croaked, praying that by some twist of face, she'd end up in his arms. 

"I'm so sorry," she gasped, hauling herself back across the seat and throwing the door open. "I'm so sorry, Bob." He watched her climb down and grab her tote bag, barely glancing back at him as she slammed the door and ran inside the building. 

He was going to offer to walk her to her door. He wanted to make sure she got inside safely. He wanted to do a lot of things that would hopefully come across in a friendly way. This was decidedly not how he imagined his night would end, staring at the spot where she disappeared inside and wondering if she regretted kissing him. She really ran away from him at top speed without any clarification.

"Damn it, Bob," he whispered as he put his truck in gear. But he didn't know what he could have done differently. He just wished he didn't know how fucking good it felt to have Anna's lips on his, because it would probably never happen again. He wanted to ask her why she kissed him in the first place. Then an even more devastating thought occurred to him. What if she didn't want to be his friend after this?

He really needed Nat to come home from her deployment, because he knew he couldn't mention this to Jessica at D&D. What would he even tell her? That Anna kissed him exactly once and then ran away faster than an olympic sprinter?

Then he parked in front of his house and saw the text that made him shove his phone into his pocket and not look at it again until morning. 

Anna Webber: I'm sorry. That was a mistake. Please forgive me.

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

Anna was curled up in her sad bed trying not to cry. Bob would probably never want to talk to her again now. What kind of person told a man they just wanted to be friends and then kissed him like the words meant nothing? Anna, apparently. But it felt so nice. No. Better than that. Kissing Bob felt necessary.

Before she could change her mind, she texted him and then turned off her phone. I'm sorry. That was a mistake. Please forgive me.

She rolled onto her back and started to cry. Not for the first time, she thought about calling Kevin and screaming at him for ruining everything. She should feel a sense of freedom by now after finally leaving him in New Jersey with Alyssa, but she just didn't. It wasn't fair that Anna had no control over what Kevin did when he still seemed to dictate what she was allowed to do. But she knew she had to be a better person than him.

When she reached down to the floor, her fingers found the stack of books she was currently reading for work and for entertainment. She picked up the Vonnegut from Bob, because it wasn't even really that late, and she was in a mood now anyway. Then she took the time to find the note from him. Her new bookmark. She read through her tears until they stopped. She didn't dog ear a single page. She used his note to save her spot, and then she fell asleep with the book pressed to her chest. 

She felt awful on Friday at work. When she gave her first lecture, it felt forced instead of insightful, and her notes seemed to blur on the pages in front of her. She didn't have an appetite, which was fine since she had no money for food and forgot to pack a lunch. Instead of going to the weird tree and the nicest women she'd ever met, she sat in her office and cried with her head resting on her folded arms. 

Bob didn't text her back, but she figured he wouldn't. There was really nothing else to say. She already decided she wasn't going to mention the kiss to Advanced Calculus or Advanced Physics, but perhaps she should tell them it would be a good thing after all if Bob went on a dating app. He deserved to be happy. Someone else would make him happy. 

As Anna was packing up everything she would need for the weekend, there was a knock on her office door. It was late, and her stomach was growling loudly, but she called out, "Come in!"

The room was so small, Bradley Bradshaw and his wife barely fit on the opposite side of her desk when standing side by side, and Anna watched him shuffle around so he was standing partially behind her. "What's up, Anna?" he rasped with a grin, and she had no difficulty imagining him ten years younger in a loud fraternity house. 

"Hi," she replied, clasping her hands together. "What are you both doing here? I was just about to catch the bus and go home."

"You never came to lunch today!" her friend complained. "And you didn't text me back. I was starting to get nervous that the creeper from the sociology department got to you or something."

"No," Anna replied with a soft laugh. "I'm fine."

Two pairs of eyes bored into her, and then Bradley and his wife both blurted out, "How was Chippy's?"

"Did Bob make a move?" Bradley asked, his hands caressing his wife through her tweed blazer. 

Anna swallowed a huge lump of guilt. "We're just friends," she managed to say.

"Yeah, yeah," he said with an eye roll. "Sure. But did he? Because I've been being a dick all week about getting him on a dating app even though I know he's not into the idea. Jake and I thought it might help."

"Are you serious right now?" his wife gasped, smacking at his hands while Anna rubbed her temples with her fingertips. "I told you not to interfere," she hissed.

"We're just friends," Anna repeated a little louder over the two of them arguing. "Chippy's was great. Amazing peanuts. Sticky floors. Grouchy bartender. It was like being back in undergrad."

Just as Bradley was raising his hand, about to speak again, he took an elbow to the side that seemed to make him think better of it as his wife asked, "Then you won't mind going back on Wednesday? To surprise Jessica for her birthday?"

"It's her birthday?" Anna asked, excited by the idea of being invited to a celebration even though Bob would definitely be there as well.

"Yes. I texted you about it when you skipped out on us at lunchtime."

"Right," she replied, knowing she'd only been checking her phone occasionally on purpose. "I'll be there on Wednesday. Of course I will." She was going to have to suck up her embarrassment over everyone trying to push her and Bob together, but at least they didn't know about the kiss she ran away from. "Anything for Jess."

"And are you coming to the Hard Deck tonight?" her friend asked as her husband's hands crept back into place on her body. 

"I have a lot of work to do. Midterms are just around the corner," she replied lamely. "So, probably not."

With a sigh, her friend nodded once and said, "Please don't skip lunch next week. We missed you."

Bradley said, "I'll make extra hummus," before his wife started pushing him to the door.

The confirmation that the hummus was in fact homemade left Anna feeling slightly jealous. That feeling only grew as she watched her friend take Bradley's chin in her hand and softly say, "Oh, Beer Boy. I don't even want to know what kind of a monstrosity of a dating profile you'd make for Bob."

He smiled and waved at Anna before he looked at his wife and said, "I just want all of my friends to be as happy as I am."

She grabbed him by his khaki belt and said, "Let's stop by the library."

Anna desperately wanted to be that happy, too.

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

"What's your problem, man?" Mickey asked as he drove Bob home from Dungeons & Dragons. "You were weird all night."

"Just tired," Bob replied, and he was being at least partially honest. He'd been staying up later than usual, working on some poetry and reading the books Anna recommended. He enjoyed all of them; she seemed to know exactly how to reach his innermost hidden thoughts and ideas. She somehow understood him, and that was more exciting than he wanted it to be right now. But when he and Anna had to be together in person again, he knew it was going to be a different story. He was almost relieved she didn't show up at the Hard Deck earlier, because he had no idea how to act around her now. 

She knew he had feelings for her, and that kiss had roughed him up a bit. Even a couple days afterwards, he thought he could still feel the pressure of her lips on his and smell her shampoo. 

"Are you still hung up on Anna?"

Mickey's words made Bob laugh. "More than ever before."

"You know what I think you should do?" his friend asked as he zipped along in his sports car.

Bob cradled his forehead and said, "I'd love to hear it," even though he was pretty sure it would annoy him.

"You should tell her that you don't want to be just friends. And then kiss her."

Bob turned and looked at Mickey as the passing street lights illuminated him and then left him in darkness over and over again. "I'm not going to do that. All I can do is hope she changes her mind." He didn't mention the fact that they had already kissed; he was sure she was too embarrassed by it to want it to become public knowledge. 

As Mickey pulled up to Bob's house, he said, "Well whatever you're doing right now, it's not working."

Bob sighed and said, "Thanks. That's really helpful. See you on Monday. Oh, and don't forget about the surprise party thing on Wednesday."

"Yeah, I won't forget. Hard Deck at seven o'clock."

"Chippy's!" Bob called out as he pulled away. Sometimes he felt like the most organized one out of all of his friends, and it was honestly amazing that Mickey even managed to get to work on time. At least Suzanne's lights were off as Bob walked up to his porch and let himself inside. He didn't have the energy to deal with anyone else tonight. 

He stripped down to his underwear and got ready for bed, but he took his computer with him. He was ridiculous for doing it, but he looked at the notes he'd typed up last night and started writing. It was never as beautiful or eloquent as the things he read from others, but posting his poetry online felt like he was at least taking ownership of something he created. This poem, however, he didn't know if he'd be able to post it at all. He found himself writing about red hair when he realized it would warrant a mature rating label if he ever did decide to post it. Then he started to think about all the things he wanted to do with Anna and her red hair. 

Bob grunted and set his computer aside. She was giving him mixed signals, and he wasn't sure she'd ever change her mind about being with him, but that didn't stop his body from responding as he imagined her beautiful hair spread out on his pillow. He'd take fistfuls of it and press his nose to it. He'd tug gently on it and tell her that she was beautiful. He would press kisses to the coppery strands and then guide her lower on his body as he grasped a little harder.

"Shit," Bob panted, kicking off his covers and pulling himself free from his gray boxer briefs. He jerked off to the idea of Anna and him together. She'd kiss his hips and thighs and laugh softly before licking along his length. His name would sound like the most beautiful poetry on her lips. Her freckles would stand out in the soft lamplight. He'd guide her along with his fingers wrapped around her hair as she teased him.

He stroked himself with his eyes closed, panting softly and whispering some of his own poetry, and he wasn't even surprised when he came all over his flat abs. When he adjusted his glasses with his clean hand, he thought he'd much prefer to see Anna in his bed with him.

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

Anna was starved for conversation with another human being by the time Monday morning arrived. Forcing herself to be a recluse as a means to distract herself from her plethora of issues was clearly not the answer. Not when she'd actually managed to make some friends in San Diego. She arrived on campus early and stopped in the lounge for a donut only to find nobody else from her department was really around. Then when she gave her first lecture, half of her students looked like they were still asleep. She tucked her new bookmark of sorts into Frankenstein by Mary Shelley and counted down the hours until she could meet her friends for lunch.

Jessica seemed none the wiser about her upcoming surprise party, but that was the whole point of the thing. Anna started bracing herself to spend some more time around Bob, hoping her kiss was so forgettable that he'd already moved on. Honestly, that was a pretty good possibility. She hadn't really considered that before, but it made a lot of sense. She was boring. After another day or two, he'd have probably forgotten all about it.

This helped Anna push herself through the week. On Wednesday, she took the bus home to change, and she knew she'd never make it to Chippy's on time in her sundress and denim jacket unless she took an Uber to the bar. So she gritted her teeth and paid for the ride, wishing for so many reasons that she hadn't kissed Bob so that she could have asked him to pick her up. But when she got to Chippy's, Bob wasn't even there. And Anna was met with a different issue in the form of a very attractive man with dark hair and dark eyes.

She felt his gaze on her as soon as she arrived, surprised he was looking at her of all people. But in her rush to get to Chippy's on time, all she really got to do was say hi to Jake and Bradley before they got her into position for the surprise. It looked like the bar had been reserved just for Jessica tonight, and that made Anna inexplicably happy and sad at the same time. Even that old bartender looked excited to celebrate. Even Dr. Rosenthal showed up. 

Then Bob rushed in wearing jeans, a snug fitting tee shirt and a worried expression. His hair looked damp, and he was straightening out his glasses as he glanced around and asked, "Did I make it in time?" Anna felt like someone knocked the wind out of her as he got closer.

"Barely," Bradley replied, checking his watch. "Sugar and Jess should be here any minute. Where the fuck were you?"

Bob's cheeks turned a little pink as he muttered, "I had to help Suzanne with her car. She had a flat tire. And then she insisted I come inside for a few minutes so she could thank me properly. I lost track of time."

Anna crossed her arms and pressed her lips together as Bob came to stand right next to her. When he softly said hello, she just nodded and tried to give him a smile, but she was too overwhelmed with too many different feelings. He smelled like soap, and she knew his body was warm without him even touching her. She didn't know who Suzanne was, but she was automatically a little jealous, which was ridiculous. But now she felt like that kiss last week was as forgettable as she both hoped and feared. 

Anna wanted to cry, but even her tears had to take a backseat at the moment as the door to Chippy's opened up and both of her friends walked inside. "Happy birthday!" everyone shouted, and Anna tried her best to look enthusiastic for the occasion. 

"No!" Jessica called out, shoving at the other woman's arm as she realized it was her birthday party. "You're sneaky! You lied to me about getting just one birthday beer!" Then she rushed forward in her adorable suit and high heels, heading straight for Jake's arms. But the second person she reached out to hug was Anna.

"Happy birthday, Advanced Physics," she said with a stifled laugh.

"I'm so happy you're here," Jessica gushed, and Anna felt a lot better as she returned the hug.

But all too soon, she was left on her own. At least all of the tables were covered in dishes of peanuts. Jake was paying for Sam Adams for everyone, but Anna knew she shouldn't drink. Not again. Not after she got tipsy with Bob. 

She could still feel those dark eyes on her as she broke open a peanut and enjoyed the perfectly salty taste. Who was that guy? His arms were wrapped around Jessica's waist, and Jake looked like he was about to go through the roof as his girlfriend laughed. Then he made his way over to Bradshaw's wife and gave her the same treatment. But Bradley looked completely unfazed when she kissed the other man on the cheek and smiled. They whispered something back and forth, and he met Anna's eyes with a wink. She quickly looked away, hoping to avoid a conversation. Bob was sipping a beer and smashing open his own peanuts, and she knew if she couldn't be with him, she didn't want to be with anyone else either. 

Too late. "Hi, are you Anna?" came an unfamiliar voice followed by the spicy scent of too much cologne.

"I am," she answered, looking down at the extended hand of this handsome stranger. "Are you a friend of Jessica's?"

He laughed as their hands met. "Sure," he replied smoothly. "But it's really Bradshaw and I that go way back. I'm Dev. Dev Borah."

"Oh," she said, still shaking his hand and trying to make sense of things. Why was she so awkward? She finally released him and said, "It's... nice to meet you. Um, how do you know Bradley?"

"Virginia. Undergrad. I graduated with the two of them, actually. Nearly died of shock last year when I heard they were both out in San Diego and getting married. Can I get you a drink, Beautiful? Something other than Sam Adams?"

"Oh," Anna gasped as she looked up at him in surprise. "Um... I don't really drink much."

Dev moaned and gripped at his chest dramatically. "You're killing me. I own a brewery!"

Anna could barely tell one type of beer from another, but she wasn't about to tell him that. And quite honestly, talking about making beer sounded interesting enough; she loved learning about new things. But he just called her beautiful. She was flustered and too hot, and then she saw Bob standing off to the side with Mickey, and his expression was one of great displeasure. 

"A brewery?" she asked, trying to force her attention back to Dev.

"Beta Brewing," he said proudly. "We're currently working on a two million dollar expansion project. It's kind of a construction zone, but if you ever want to come up to sample the goods, I'd love to have you."

Anna's eyes went wide. That sounded like an innuendo, but Dev's face was calm as he sipped his pint. Anna figured he must be okay if he was friends with all of these people, but she was never going to go there without the girls. "Maybe if everyone else wanted to go, I could tag along?"

Dev laughed and said, "Bradshaw makes the drive frequently enough. I'm sure we'll see each other again. But just to be sure... I could give you my personal number."

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

Bob was seething. He'd met Dev Borah exactly one time before, and while he'd had pretty neutral feelings about him prior to tonight, now he hated the sight of him. He'd persuaded Anna to have a beer even though Bob heard her say she didn't really want one, and now he was typing something into Anna's phone. He was giving her his number, just like Bob had done so many weeks ago.

"Stop torturing yourself, man," Mickey said, handing Bob some more peanuts.

"You think she likes him?" Bob asked, voice tight as he grabbed the bowl in his shaky hand.

Mickey shrugged next to him. "What's not to like?"

Bob tossed the bowl onto one of the tables. "You're not helping." He walked away to find someone else, anyone else, to talk to. He should have kissed Anna for as long as he could when he had the chance, because it was all he could think about now. It was all he wanted. She kept looking at him; if she was going to talk to Dev all night and say that kissing Bob was a mistake, then why was she looking at him?

He needed to get out of here and go home, but he knew his friends would be disappointed. Even Suzanne would shake her head. Honestly, he'd be annoyed with himself, too. But his mood was something so unfamiliar, he was ready to force himself to talk to the woman standing next to Anna who he thought was from the science department just so he wouldn't feel like a joke. 

"You know," Bradley said as he slung his arm around Bob's shoulders, "I had no idea Dev liked redheads so much. But then again, he never was too discerning back in the day."

"What do you want, Rooster?" he asked with a grunt.

"I just wanted to make sure you're having fun at Jess's little shindig."

Bob let Bradley slap him obnoxiously on the back as he asked, "Did you invite Dev? Is he going to give Anna a hard time or anything?" His eyes trailed back over to where Dev was still talking her ear off.

Bradley chuckled. "I invited him to get Jake riled up, but I had no idea you'd be collateral damage." He finally released Bob as he said, "And nah, Dev's harmless."

What Bob wouldn't give to have Natasha back. He missed her terribly, and all the guys seemed to be better behaved when she was around. But she'd take one look at Anna and probably embarrass him in front of her even more.

"I think I'm actually going to head home," came Anna's voice filtering over to Bob as she finally cut Dev off. "It was nice to meet you."

"Let me drive you," he replied immediately, and Bob could already picture him getting Anna settled into his Mercedes-Benz, his fingers grazing her bare thigh.

"No, that's okay," she told Dev as she backed away from him. "I'm just going to say goodbye to Jessica, and then I'll get an Uber."

She made her escape to the table next to where Bob stood, and Jessica gave her a big hug. "Happy birthday," Anna told her once again, followed softly by, "I'm glad we're friends."

Jessica squealed and hugged her tighter. "Me too."

"I'm going to call an Uber and head out," Anna was saying, but Jessica was already looking around. 

"No way. It's dark out, and someone here can drive you home. Hey, Bob? Can you drive Anna home?"

He knew he was going to say yes even though part of him didn't want to. And there was another part of him that assumed she'd just say Dev offered to take her. But when Anna looked up at him, he nodded and immediately said, "Of course."

To his surprise, Anna looked a little relieved as she took a step closer. "Are you sure you don't mind?" she asked him with a little wince.

"Not one bit. I was planning on heading home, and it's on the way."

Bob accepted a sloppy kiss on the cheek from Jessica who was well on her way to being drunk. Then he dug his keys from his pocket and nodded toward the door. Anna followed closely next to him, but unlike the last time they were at Chippy's, he didn't touch her. When Bob held the door open, he looked back over his shoulder at Dev who raised his pint glass with a smile of defeat, but he didn't really care about anyone except Anna.

"Thanks," she muttered, walking out into the cool, night air.

"Did you have a good time?" Bob asked, putting a little more space between them as he pointed up the block toward his truck.

Anna laughed, but the sound was tight and forced. "It was okay. I think Jessica was having fun, which is the most important thing, you know?"

"Yeah," he agreed, squeezing his key in his hand as all of the images of their kisses returned. Everything he thought about when he wrote new poetry and touched himself to completion. He swallowed hard; even being around Anna was a lot for his senses. He couldn't blame Dev for trying, but their interactions made him jealous. "Did you get Dev's number?"

Anna stumbled a bit on the sidewalk as she looked up at him, but he kept his eyes focused straight ahead. "I didn't ask for it. He just kind of gave it to me," she said softly. "He invited me up to his brewery to try some beers. When I told him I'm not much of a beer drinker, he said he'd really enjoy teaching me about the process."

"I'm sure he would," Bob muttered, running his fingers through his hair in frustration. 

When he reached his truck, he wrenched the passenger door open for Anna, and she glowed softly in the dim, orange interior lighting. "He's a bit much," she said, looking up at him.

Bob nodded once, but she didn't make a move to climb in. "I don't know him very well, but I know he likes to hear himself talk." When she still didn't move, Bob asked, "Are you going to call him? Give him the opportunity?"

"I already told you..." she said firmly. "I can't be in a relationship right now, so I wouldn't want to encourage Dev. And I'm really, really sorry about last week, Bob." She fidgeted with her hands and added, "But if I were in a place where I wanted to start something, I wouldn't pick him."

"Really?" Bob asked as his heart pounded. The most depraved part of him wanted to hear her say she liked him more than Dev. More than anyone.

"Really," she whispered, placing her hand on the seat. "I like old trucks better than fancy sports cars."

That was enough confirmation for Bob. His skin was tingling with anticipation he knew he couldn't quench, but he didn't mind as much now as he did ten minutes ago. "Yeah... you could do way better than a multi millionaire anyway."

Anna's laughter in response was so genuine, Bob laughed, too. The drive to her place was quiet but not as strained as he was afraid it would be, and when he was about a block away, she took her phone out and started messing around with it. "Thanks, Bob," she said as he pulled up to the curb.

He cleared his throat. "You know how you told me you didn't think I should use the dating app? Because I didn't need it?"

"Yeah?" she asked, reaching for the door handle but looking at him. 

He squeezed the steering wheel tight in both hands and said, "Well, I don't think you need Dev's phone number." He watched her jump down and turn to glance his way, and then she smiled.

"I already deleted it. Thanks again for the ride. Maybe I'll see you this weekend?"

He nodded once before she closed the door. As she walked inside, he said, "I hope so."

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

Oh. Oh, okay. She prefers you, Bob! Now get ready for action. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls. And thanks @attapullman for all the underwear discussions.

PART 7

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| Biker! James | f!reader |

collection of blurbs abt biker!james, sex outside, fluff

| Late night drives |

you’re on the back of his bike, arms wrapped tightly around his torso as he weaves through traffic, speeding past cars and you can feel him laughing at the honks and yells he’s getting from the other drivers on the road. once the road ahead is clear he speeds up a little more, turning his head and yelling to you “hold tight, darlin’!” as he cranks the gas and the front of the bike pulls up in the air, chuckling at your shriek and slowly hitting the brake to bring you guys back down, taking one hand off the bars and patting your arm. “you’re alright, sweetheart.” he assures, leaning back forward and revving the engine, speeding up and pulling behind some trees, bending you over his bike with his hand over your mouth, thick cock splitting you open deliciously. “fuck, babydoll, takin’ me s’good.”

—————

| Babydoll’s first bike |

he’s crouched down, tightening a bolt on the part he’s just installed on his bike. he’s got music playing softly in the garage, you’re perched on a table near by, watching him rebuild this bike. he stands back up, wiping the sweat on his forehead with a rag and walking to the table you’re sat on and leaning on it with his hands on the surface. “i think i can get her up and runnin’ in a week” he says, turning to lean his back against the table, looking up at you with a small proud smile. “oh fuck yeah. whatcha’ got left to do, jamie?” you ask, hopping down from the table and going to inspect the broken down bike. “well i just got the transmission in, i think all that’s left is replacing the gas tank, changing the filters and then putting the panels back on. and then a buddy of mine’s gonna repaint it for me, i’m thinkin’ of doin a dark blue, maybe dark green.” he explains, pulling you back into him by the hips, peppering kisses along your shoulder and hands sliding over your stomach. you lean back, resting your head on his shoulder as you talk. “ooooo dark green! that would look amazing, especially if you got a matte top coat.” he nods and kisses your cheek, gently squeezing your hips and going back to the table and grabbing more tools. a week later he’s pulling you into the garage, presenting you with a set of keys and pulling the sheet off the bike. the broken and tattered bike now the dark matte green you’d suggested. “jamie. what are you doing?” you say, surprised expression taking over your face. “you did not. no. what the fuck? baby! oh my god!” you laugh, and he just smiles cheekily. shoving the keys in your pocket and pulling you in for a hug by the fabric of your jeans. “you’re welcome, babydoll. your very first bike, built by your one and only.” murmured into your hair, soft kiss planted on your head.

—————

| Leaving |

you’re greeted with his voicemail yet again, throwing your phone down on the bed and walking briskly to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of smirnoff, popping the lid, gulping down a third of the bottle. it’s been 2 weeks of james not coming home until the middle of the night, slowly climbing into the bed as to not wake you, plans failing because you spent most of the night awake waiting for him to get home. you plop onto the bed, taking a few more drinks and clicking the tv on and flipping through channels before landing on some stand-comedian.

it’s about 2am when you hear him pull into the drive, keys jingling as he unlocks the door and shuts it softly behind him. “where have you been?” you ask, throwing the blankets off your legs. you don’t dare look over at him yet, tears already welling in your eyes. “and don’t fucking tell me it’s work. there’s no reasonable way you can cover up whatever it is you’re doing with work.” you spat at him, lighting a cigarette and blowing the smoke out in a cloud. he jumps a bit, not expecting you to be awake and he sighs. “babydoll, it’s not what you’re thinking. it’s frankie. he got in some shit again and he got me roped up in it. i’m takin’ care of it.” his tone is soft, and he walks towards you slowly, setting down his backpack and peeling his jacket off. you scoff, eyes rolling as you throw your hands up. “oh of course, frankie needs his baby brother to save his ass again. jamie, when the hell are you gonna realize you can’t save him.” your eyes meet his, staring daggers into him.

his shoulders drop, frown apparent on his face. “what’d’ya expect me to do, y/n? let him go back to jail? c’mon, baby. i’ll have it figured out by the end of the week. i’ve always taken care of it, you know that.” he wraps his arms around your waist, going to kiss your cheek but you lean back and push his arms off of you. “no. no, you’re not gonna do this. you are not gettin’ out of this that easy. the last time this shit happened you came home with a broken nose, arm and bruised ribs. he’s gonna get you killed one day, jamie!” your voice grows louder, taking another drag of the cigarette and putting it out. “or the one time you ended up in a damn coma for a week. james, you’ve gotta stop trying to save him. i’m sorry, but i can’t keep standing on the sidelines here.” your voice softens, hands swiping at the tears that rolled down your cheeks. his shoulders raise, hands in the air as he scoffs in disbelief. “baby, come on you can expect me to j-“ he’s cut off by the sound of your stomps, you open up the closet, grabbing a bag and shoving clothes into it. “woah, hey, baby no. come on, hey i’m takin care of it! i can’t have it finished by tomorrow, that’s just not possible.” he tries to reason with you, but you meant what you said.

“i’ll stay at a friends tonight. i’ll be back tomorrow to grab my stuff.” you sniffle, pushing past him and slipping your shoes on. he follows closely after you, pleading with you. “no, baby put the bag down and take off your shoes. i’ll sleep on the couch. it’s late, i don’t want you out there. just give me a week. i’ll be done with it in a week i promise you!” he begs, blocking the front door with his body. “move, james. i’m leaving.” you mumble, ducking under his arm quickly and walking out of the door, strapping your bag to the motorcycle and sliding the helmet over your head. “y/n get in the fuckin’ house.” he yells, stopping once he’s reached the bike. you swing a leg over the bike, starting the engine and flipping the plastic shield down on your helmet. he blocks your path with his body, sad eyes looking into your rage filled ones. “y/n, please. come back inside. please” he breathes out, dropping his head between his shoulders momentarily. “please.” he says again, looking back up at you. you shake your head, revving your engine and stepping on the gas just enough to jerk forward. he jumps out of the way, shocked expression on his face as you pull out of the drive, speeding down the road. and all he can do is watch with his hands on his head.

[noturlondonboy]

Me Without You

Katelena Angstshot

Pairing: Kate Bishop x Yelena Belova

Summary: Kate and Yelena get into a horrific car crash the same day that Yelena is planning to propose.

Warnings: major injuries, car crash, blood, talk of/implied adult content, gore, hospital stay, coma, memory loss, angst, mental illness, more angst, me making up medical stuff, swearing, did I mention angst yet

Positive!Content warnings: Wandanat, baby Billy and Tommy, Katelena fluff

A/N: Yes this is super angsty and kinda stupid and doesn't make sense but I swear on my life that no one dies and it has a happy ending so read it anyway :)))

This is NOT edited because my draft didn’t save and I am not about to redo all of it rn so

"Kate Bishop, if you touch that volume button again, I swear to god I will kick your ass so hard it flies out your fucking mouth."

Kate freezes with her hand on the dial, looking guilty as hell. "But it's so quiettttt." She had been blasting Mother Mother for the past ten minutes until Yelena's brain had exploded and she turned it down- she couldn't handle listening to it the entire drive to Clint's place. The morning had already been overstimulating enough.

Yelena pins her with a stare when they reach a red light. "I'm the one driving, which means I'm in control of the volume, if not the music. Hands off."

The archer pouts and slumps back in her seat, folding her arms over her chest. "You had the aux cord when I was driving yesterday," she whines.

"You didn't fight me for it," Yelena points out. She reaches over and cups Kate's chin, pulling her girlfriend's face close to press a soft kiss against her lips. "Cheer up, little hawk. You can have it on the way home."

Kate's demeanor immediately brightens, and she presses forward to kiss Yelena a little harder, holding it for a moment even after the light turns green and the car behind them honks. Yelena breaks off and presses on the gas frantically, her cheeks burning, and Kate laughs softly.

"You're so cute when you blush, baby," she says, leaning her chin in her palm to stare at her girlfriend's side profile as she drives their little Mitsubishi.

Yelena's grin is wide and bright, albeit shy. "Shut the fuck up, Kate Bishop," she says lovingly.

"I love youuuu, Lena."

"I love you too, stupid."

Kate settles back in her seat, rather satisfied with herself as she watches the snowy road go by. It was a little early for them to get snow, but a freak storm had blown in last night and iced the roads over, and Kate wasn't going to complain either way. She thought it was pretty.

"What if I turn your song on? Then can it be louder?" she asks after a couple minutes, the last notes of Hayloft fading out.

Yelena purses her lips in thought. "I suppose so," she concedes. Kate hums and pulls her phone out to find American Pie on Spotify and happily turns the volume back up.

They both sing and dance along once the lyrics start, and Kate's cheeks hurt with how much she's smiling when she replays the song. Yelena always straightens up a bit more to this music specifically, and the way she seems to glow as she dances to it makes butterflies erupt in Kate's stomach.

"You're beautiful- you know?" Kate mutters, watching Yelena with soft eyes. The blonde grins again and turns to her girlfriend at another red light, pulling her close once more to press a searing kiss to her mouth.

"And you, Kate Bishop, are very charming." She reaches a hand up to cup the archer's cheek and kisses her deeper, smoothing her thumb along her strong jawline.

Kate grins into Yelena's lips, and leans back again with a content sigh when the light turns green. They would be at Clint's in about ten minutes. "Thanks, Lena. I try."

A soft chuckle. "You're beautiful too, detka."

Kate blushes despite herself and gives a happy sigh. "God, I am so gay. This is so gay. We're so gay. I love being a lesbian."

Yelena barks a laugh this time. "I would hope so, Kate Bishop! We've been dating for six years." Even as she says it, she's consciously aware of the ring box in her left pocket, heavy and waiting. Her heart glows, and another smile has her dimples popping out.

"What's the grin for?" Kate asks, poking at Yelena's cheek.

"Just excited to see Wanda and Natasha." The two women had twins just a few months ago before they moved back from New York, so neither Yelena or Kate had been able to meet the new baby boys. They were staying with Clint and Laura's family until they found a new house, probably somewhere in Ohio.

Kate coos loudly, squishing her own cheeks. "Oh my goodness, I'm so excited to meet Billy and Tommy. The pictures they sent are so darling- I'm gonna die, Lena."

Her girlfriend reaches a hand over to squeeze her thighs. "Do you think you'd ever want kids, Kate Bishop?" They had talked about their future over and over before, but now with the two of them having a set of new nephews, the option of a family felt more real.

Kate twines their fingers together and lifts Yelena's hand to kiss her scarred knuckles. "As long as they're with you, Yelena."

"God- you really are cheesy." The assassin is still blushing furiously either way, and she marvels at how well Kate is able to turn her all gooey even after crushing on her for years and years.

"I can't help it," Kate says cheekily.

"No, god, you really can't, can you? You'd probably keel over and die if you ever tried to be serious for once in your life."

Kate punches her shoulder lightly and leans over the center console to smack a wet kiss on her girlfriend's cheek. "Shut up, loser."

Yelena just cackles and turns to the archer. "You know I'm right!"

"Yeah, yeah." Kate hums a laugh and settles into her seat, gazing out the window. "I love the snow."

"I know, darling."

"Maybe we can take the twins sledding."

"We can't take four-month-olds into this weather, Kate Bishop. They'll get sick."

"Booooo."

"Dummy."

"Asshole."

"Fucker."

Kate grins. "Damn right I am."

"Kate!" Yelena's jaw drops, and her face is absolutely blazing. Her girlfriend just cackles.

"You sure weren't complaining last night when I used the new str-"

"Kate Bishop! Shut up! I'm trying to drive!" Yelena can feel her stomach pooling with heat, which is rather distracting when she's trying to navigate their car over icy roads.

Kate gives a shit-eating grin and waggles her eyebrows. "I brought it with me in my bag."

Yelena's skin feels like it's being torched, and her jaw drops so hard she swears she can feel it hit the seat under her as she whips her head away from the road to glare dumbly at Kate "You what?!"

Except that there's a patch of black ice right in front of their car, and when she takes her eyes off of the road, the tires choose to go skidding right at that moment.

It happens too fast.

Kate is shouting, reaching over to Yelena. The assassin's hands are wrenching frantically at the wheel, and there's a truck horn blaring from all directions- one second, two, and then a screeching crash erupts around them.

The world goes black.

——

Yelena's head feels like a horse is kicking into it repeatedly, and something hot and sticky is dripping into her eye as she slowly comes to. The pavement is scorching beneath her hands, digging into the flesh of her raw palms that have been scraped open on the road. She groans and blinks fruitlessly, each action slamming lighting into her brain.

What the fuck just happened?

Her legs are twisted uncomfortably underneath her, but as she regains enough consciousness to assess the rest of her body, she concludes that nothing is numb to the point of paralysis, probably due to the adrenaline flooding her system.

Where's Kate?

A spike of strength spears through her, and Yelena shoves herself to her shaking feet, biting back a scream and wrapping an arm around her torso when her ribs wrench with pain. The burning wreckage of the car crash in front of her is horrific- she doubles over her bleeding knees and empties her stomach on the pavement when she sees it.

Their car is completely demolished, with the truck that slammed into them not looking that much better, and Yelena is sick for a second time when she spots the damage done to her driver's side. She should be dead. How is she not dead?

Where is Kate?

Yelena opens her mouth to call for her girlfriend but chokes as blood floods over her tongue, and she realizes with a dull pang of horror that she bit into it in the collision so hard that the flow of sticky red is almost gushing.

A problem for later.

She forces the pain away and frantically stumbles closer to the crash, legs shrieking. "Kate!" she screams out, her mouth on fire as blood continues to sputter from her lips. "Kate!"

The car is in flames, and oil and gasoline are dripping dangerously from the twisted metal. "Kate! Please!"

There.

She spots her girlfriend as fire starts to crawl towards her, and Yelena lets out a wail as she forces her legs to go faster. The archer is sprawled out awkwardly on her belly with her cheek pressed into the pavement, blood pooling underneath her head and legs. Shallow breaths are pushing at her chest, but they're wet and raspy.

Yelena can feel the sobs shaking her own body, but sound has begun to fade from her senses, and all she knows is the heat of Kate's blood on her hands as she scrambles to pick the unconscious woman up. Kate's body is a dead weight over her shoulders. Yelena drags the two of them as far away from the crash as she can, and when they reach a spot of snowy grass on the side of the road, she's distantly aware of frantic voices and the wailing of sirens.

"Kate," she sobs, dropping herself and her girlfriend down into the snow. Red immediately begins to stain it. The archer has not stirred, and when Yelena sees the damage down to her face and head, she's sick for a third time. Her head spins mercilessly.

"Please, no."

But Kate is still breathing, so Yelena curls herself around her girlfriend and moans at the pain throbbing through her body.

"Kate Bishop, please. Please."

The ambulance cannot come fast enough.

——

Natasha is there when Yelena wakes up in the hospital, and she stares at her older sister for a few seconds before the redhead realizes she's awake.

"Oh, Yelena," she murmurs, getting out of her chair and hurrying to the side of Yelena's bed, leaning over her to hug her carefully.

"Tasha," Yelena whimpers, reaching out for her sister. Her entire body is aching mercilessly, but the pain dulls once she's wrapped in the love of her family.

Natasha holds her close and gets onto the hospital cot with her sister, brushing a hand through her tangled hair and kissing a bandage on her forehead. "What happened?" she asks softly.

Yelena's eyes immediately well up with tears, her face twisting painfully. "I got distracted, Tasha. There was a truck. And then I- I woke up on the road, and Kate-" She screws her eyes shut, a sob building painfully in her chest. "Is Kate okay, Tasha? Is my Kate Bishop okay?"

Natasha sucks in a breath, and Yelena's heart stops for a moment. "She still hadn't woken up by the time the ambulance got you guys here, and she's in surgery now. Clint is waiting outside her room for any updates."

Yelena can feel her tongue throbbing when she sucks it in between her teeth, and she remembers the blood she spit out of her mouth. "She was bleeding so much, Tasha," she cries softly, bringing a bandaged hand up to cover her burning eyes. "I thought she was dead when I first found her. Oh my god. I could have lost her. Oh my god."

Natasha hugs her closer and tucks Yelena's head under her chin as her little sister begins to sob and hiccup into her chest, rubbing gentle circles into her shoulder and laying her cheek on golden hair.

"She's gonna be okay, Yelena. She'll be okay."

Yelena clings to her like a lifeline and wills herself to believe it as the tears soak her face.

——

Kate is officially pronounced to be in a coma two days before Yelena is discharged, and she's losing her shit. She hasn't been allowed to see her girlfriend the entire time she was still stuck in the hospital due to her own injuries, but she's able to stand up without getting too dizzy now and she's already used to the crutches needed for her sprained ankle.

The wound that she had bitten into her tongue had apparently looked and felt a lot worse than it actually was, and Yelena was already back to being able to eat soft foods, and the cut above her eye was scabbed over. Now the only real problems were the bruised ribs and burns on her palms- an annoyance more than anything, but still a major hindrance.

"Am I allowed to see her, now?" Yelena asks anxiously, cornering the doctor that had been sent to officially discharge her before he can leave.

The man sighs and scribbles a few more things down on his clipboard before checking his watch. "Once your sister is here to get a rundown of your at-home care, yes, we can take you to see Miss Bishop."

Yelena resists the urge to tear out her own hair and instead nods gratefully, her fingers pressing into her thighs through the soft pants she'd been given to wear. She'd been offered the option of a wheelchair over the crutches, seeing as her palms were still healing and the sticks were even harder to use without perfectly working hands, but that was too much for Yelena. Being in the hospital again at all was enough trauma to keep her away from people for the rest of her life, but she couldn't leave without Kate. Being confined to a chair would not do.

Natasha arrives with Clint a few minutes later, and the best friends both press kisses to Yelena's head before helping her stand up from her chair. The doctor hands Natasha several pill bottles and a thick paper packet of instructions before shaking her hand, bidding Yelena a speedy recovery, and disappearing into the hallway.

A nurse shows up just as quickly, her smile gentle. "I can take you to see your girlfriend, now, Miss Belova."

Yelena nods gratefully and follows after her with Clint and Natasha on either side, her anxiety building mercilessly in her chest with each heavy step closer to Kate's room. According to Clint, the young archer had been through three surgeries since they'd been admitted, one of which had been on her fucking brain, but all had been 100% successful and she was expected to recover without complications as long as her treatments were administered correctly.

If she woke up.

The door to Kate's room opens, and Yelena's heart drops in her chest at the sight of her girlfriend. She hurries in as fast as she can on the crutches, and ultimately just abandons them on the floor once she's close enough to the bedside chair.

"Kate Bishop," she whimpers softly, a shaking hand reaching out to rest on Kate's arm. The woman looks peaceful enough, but the bandages and wires and tubes turn her into a nightmare. Yelena can feel the tears already falling as she tries and fails to keep her eyes off the more grievous injuries.

Kate's legs are completely covered in wrappings and casts from a total knee replacement surgery and several stitches and broken bones, and her arms are littered with angry bruises and cuts that have minor bandages or some kind of ointment on them, but it's her head that has Yelena's stomach roiling.

The most damage had been done to her skull, she had been told. The whiplash from the crash itself and then hitting the pavement had splintered bone and damaged nerve endings, but the surgery on her brain had thankfully been small and didn't stretch to her spine. Either way, the archer was expected to need physical therapy in order to recover properly when it came to mental capabilities and processes, but seeing as she was still unconscious, they had no idea how extensive the psychological damage was.

"My Kate Bishop," Yelena whispers to herself, twining her fingers with Kate's and laying her head on the edge of the cot. How did this happen? How could this happen to them?

She remembers the ring box she had been carrying around with her for months now and feels a chill shoot down her spine. She already knew that all of their things had been recovered safely, including the ring, but the thought that she had been planning to propose the day of the accident was too much. There was no engagement to talk about- only the fear of a life without Kate Bishop.

Yelena's allowed to stay with her girlfriend until visiting hours are over, and her energy is so sapped that she's barely able to put up a fight before she's back in Clint's car with her sister holding her tightly as she cries. The image is burned into her brain, and it repeats over and over. Kate prone on the ground and covered in blood; Kate unconscious in a hospital bed with brain damage and a broken body.

She takes the pain medicine she's been given and passes out as soon as they get to Clint's house, the sleepy fog a welcome distraction from the hell she was in.

——

Natasha refuses to give her more medicine when she wakes up from the induced haze for the third time, which Yelena logically knows is a fair move, but she's pissed about it nonetheless. The drugs kept the nightmares away, and now with Kate Bishop gone to ward them off and in the fucking hospital, Yelena knows they'll be even worse than normal when they finally catch up to her.

Her grumpiness is temporarily dispelled when her new nephews are plopped carefully in her aching arms, however, and she cries over the two beautiful baby boys as she sinks into the couch and holds them close to her chest. Billy is asleep, his puffy baby lips parted as he smiles in his dreams, but Tommy has his wide green eyes on her with a bewildered look on his squishy face. Yelena can't help but to laugh tearfully as he grips her finger and teethes on it before staring at it in confusion.

"They're beautiful, Tasha," she chokes out, smothering both soft baby heads in kisses and cuddling the boys close.

Natasha's smile is wide, her cheeks glowing as she watches the scene adoringly. "Aren't they?"

Wanda appears from the kitchen and wraps her arms around her wife's waist, laying her cheek against Natasha's shoulder as she gazes at her baby boys and the way her sister-in-law is so gentle with them. "You'd be a good mom, Yelena."

The blonde's tears start anew, and she holds the babies closer. "Kate wants kids," she accounts, rocking her body to keep Billy asleep. He coos softly and presses his head closer to her, giving a tiny yawn while his brother continues to stare. "Fuck, Natasha, she wants kids. She wants kids, and I want kids, and I was gonna propose to her and now she's- fuck. Oh my god."

Wanda carefully takes her sons from Yelena's arms so that Natasha can sit and pull her sister into a tight hug, stroking her hair. "I know, Yelena. I know. She'll be alright. She's gonna wake up soon, and she'll get better, and then you two can get married and make babies and give Billy and Tommy some more cousins and it'll be perfect, okay?"

Yelena's laugh is wobbly and quickly turns back into hiccups, but her sister's words help. "I need to see her. Will you take me to see her?"

"Of course, Yelena. Let's get some food in you and then we can go, alright?"

Yelena nods and accepts the help to hobble to the kitchen table, where Laura is humming and making grilled cheese sandwiches. She plates one with a steaming bowl of tomato soup and puts them on the table in front of Yelena before pressing a soft kiss to the crown of her head.

"Eat up, honey. Drink some water. Breathe."

Yelena melts against her and wraps Laura in an awkward side hug, missing her own mother desperately. The food is hot and delicious, but the flavor barely registers because of how anxious she is to get back to Kate.

The drive to the hospital is much too long, and Yelena has to keep her eyes closed for the majority of it due to the unexpected terror that spikes every time she sees the road rushing past them. Was she going to be too scared to drive ever again? Would she ever feel strong enough to get back behind a wheel?

As long as her Kate is okay, honestly, she couldn't care less.

Kate is looking significantly better when they get to her room, and the tears are so familiar to Yelena at this point that she doesn't even notice them streaming down her cheeks until Natasha brushes them away. The doctor gives them both an update on the archer's condition, lining out the progress her stitches and broken bones and burns are making, even saying that the physical aspects of her head injury are already mending beautifully and much faster than expected.

But she is still unconscious. And Yelena feels like she's going to snap.

She situates herself in the chair next to Kate's bed, marveling at the significant lack of certain wires and tubes that already aren't needed anymore. The bruising and swelling have gone down in several places, and Yelena can taste the salt in her mouth when she tries to give a wobbly smile as she kisses Kate's forehead.

"Hi, babydoll," she whispers, letting her lips linger on the warm skin. Kate's even breaths are hot on her cheek, and she shuts her eyes tightly, willing her girlfriend to wake up. "Please be okay. I need you to be okay."

She and Natasha stay there with Kate for several hours, her older sister getting a few energy drinks from a vending machine and taking a nap while Yelena just holds Kate's hand and talks to her softly.

"You're going to love Tommy and Billy, Kate Bishop," she whispers, stroking a thumb over Kate's wrist. "They're so squishy and cuddly. I can't wait for you to meet them."

Yelena eventually dozes off at one point, and she's thrown back awake by Natasha frantically calling for a doctor. She shoots up with a headache building around the cut on her forehead to see Kate's fingers twitching in her bandaged palm, and a rush of different emotions dumps itself into her system as her sister carefully pries her from the chair she's in so that a doctor can get to Kate.

Yelena stumbles and whips her head around in a panic, her mind whirling. "Tasha? Tasha, what-"

"She's waking up, Yelena- we need to get out of the way."

They end up in the hallway in another set of chairs once Natasha is able to retrieve Yelena's crutches from the panic of the hospital room, and she's wringing her hands for a few minutes before Natasha has had enough.

"You're gonna tear your bandages off like that," she mutters, gently taking Yelena's hands in her own and holding them away from each other. "Breathe, Yelena. They're gonna take care of her."

Yelena forces air into her lungs and blinks hard, failing to keep the tears from falling. Natasha holds her into her side, her big sister supporting her up. "I need her to be okay, Tasha," she murmurs softly, lips twisting.  "I need my Kate Bishop."

"I know, Lena. Breathe. Kate's strong. She'll be annoying the shit out of us before you know it."

This gets a wobbly laugh out of the blonde, and she presses her forehead against her sister's in gratitude. "Thank you for being here with me."

"I'm never going anywhere."

"You better not. I'll kick your ass."

They wait about thirty minutes before a doctor opens the door to Kate's room and offers them a relieved smile. "We've got her stabilized and she's lookin' fine," he tells them, offering a clipboard for them to look over with information on her vitals mapped out. "She's a bit disoriented, of course, and her body has been inactive for over a week, so that combined with the beating she took is going to leave her exhausted, but she's currently awake enough to eat and talk. Feel free to go in and see her for a moment while we get some treatment plans worked out."

Natasha thanks him and helps a restless Yelena stand and hobble back into the room, where Kate is propped up against a mound of pillows with a fresh pain medication IV drip in her arm and new vital monitors hooked up to her fingers. She spots the two sisters and gives a weary smile, the bags under her eyes dark.

"Hey, Natasha," she croaks, voice rough from not being used for over a week. The sunlight from the window casts her in a honey golden glow, and Yelena doesn't think she's ever seen anything more beautiful than her Kate Bishop alive and well. (As well as she can be.)

Yelena can feel her eyes flood with tears for the millionth time, but she manages to hold them back as she pushes from her sister and hurries to Kate's bedside, cupping the archer's cheek gently and pressing a desperately soft kiss to her dry lips. "I'm so glad you're okay," she chokes out, pressing her forehead to her girlfriend's, mindful of the bandages and stitches.

Kate lets out a noise of surprise, and when Yelena leans back in confusion, something cold and terrifying slips into her heart at the look in Kate's eyes.

"Oh. Um- wow. Not that I'm gonna complain about being kissed by a beautiful woman as soon as I wake up, because, like, damn. But, uh... hi. Are... you a friend of Natasha's?"

-—

Yelena is completely silent on the drive home, her eyes dazed and unfocused and staring absently out of the window with a slack jaw. They were sent back out of the room almost as soon as the doctors realized the one problem with Kate's condition. The one mental process that had been damaged.

Memory loss.

But why only Yelena?

She doesn't hear Natasha trying to talk to her, doesn't register Laura or the dogs or her parents who arrived while they were at the hospital. She doesn't feel the arms around her shoulders, doesn't feel the scalding shower water on her broken skin, doesn't feel the drug induced fog taking her until she's already gone.

And she is desperate to stay gone.

Natasha lets her stay gone a lot longer this time.

It's a few days until she comes back around, her mother's soothing touch in her hair ringing through to her brain as Melina sits silently at her daughter's bedside. The woman gives her a tearful smile when Yelena's eyes land on her and focus, registering her mother after a moment.

"Mama."

"Hello, malaya medveditsa." Melina presses a kiss to her daughter's forehead. "I am so happy you are here." Yelena knows she doesn't just mean here as in Clint's farm.

"I miss you," Yelena whispers, her lips twisting up as her brain slowly remembers more and more. Alexei appears in the doorway and sits on the other side of the bed, his weight nearly toppling it. He takes her free hand, and Yelena starts to hiccup softly.

"Papa."

Her parents just hold her.

Are you a friend of Natasha's?

——

Yelena turns down every offer to go visit Kate in the hospital, and she can feel her heart wither away more and more each time. But she can't do it. She can't. The way Kate looked at her, that light of unfamiliarity in someone's eyes when a stranger acts like they know them...

God, she kissed her, and Kate doesn't even know who she is.

Why did Kate only forget Yelena?

(Because the author said so. The author can do whatever they want. That is the beauty of fanfiction. It's okay I hate myself too.)

Each new update from Clint and Natasha kills Yelena a little more, and by the time a week has passed since Kate woke up, she's nearly screaming with how restless and lost she feels.

Kate is healing wonderfully and ahead of schedule. They've already got her started on physical and speech therapy. Her stitches can come out soon. Her blood pressure is back to normal. She can eat solid foods without assistance.

She doesn't know who Yelena is.

Her palms are finally healed enough for her to use her hands at 100%, so she starts working out in her room- pull ups on the door frame, mostly. Her ankle still has a boot on it, which means no runs yet.

It makes her want to die.

The day that Kate is scheduled to be discharged, Yelena finds herself stealing Natasha's car and driving so far out into the countryside that her ass is numb and not a single speck of civilization can be found. The boot and nervousness can only stop her so much.

She has several missed calls from her sister, but doesn't bother to return them until she's sure that the location for her phone is turned off.

"Where the hell are you?"

Yelena frowns slightly at the harshness in her sister's tone, but she knows it's deserved. "Out."

"Where, Yelena."

"I don't know, actually. Somewhere. Far."

"Jesus Christ, Yelena. You scared the shit out of us."

Yelena is silent for a moment, but then she forces the words out. "How's Kate?"

It's Natasha's turn to be quiet. "She's good. She's back at the house now. She... she keeps asking about you."

The breath feels like it's been punched from Yelena's body. "She what?"

"Well, it's probably nagging at her that a woman she doesn't recognize kissed her and then never came to see her again."

"That's not fair, Tasha," Yelena whispers.

"No, I know it's not. I'm sorry. It's just... do you know what you want to do about it?"

"What's there to do, Tasha? The love of my life doesn't know who I am. Sounds simple enough."

"You're not gonna try to help her remember?"

"The way I see it, she needs to be able to focus on getting better without some stranger claiming she's her girlfriend and causing her even more problems. She wouldn't-" Yelena stops and sucks in a breath as she leans her head on the car, eyes blurring with tears. "It's my fault, Tasha. It's my fault she almost died."

"Yelena."

"I don't care if that's stupid and childish. I want to stay away from her, okay? Please. I can't do this. I can't stand for her to look at me and not know who I am."

"But what if there's a chance for her to remember?" Natasha says weakly. "What about the ring, Yelena?"

Yelena hangs up, tosses her phone into the car, and slides down into the grass to curl in on herself and let the sobs fall from her mouth.

Fuck the ring.

Fuck everything.

——

Yelena returns to the farm only to drop off Natasha's car and pack her bag, throwing the duffel over her shoulder and heading back down the stairs towards the front door as quietly as she can. She's nearly there when a voice sounds from the couch in the main room, and her blood chills.

"You're Natasha's sister, right?"

Yelena's head turns slowly to see Kate Bishop laid across the couch, her legs and back both propped up on pillows with a blanket over her lap and a compression bandage around her forehead. Her heart is trying to decide between beating an extra million times per minute or just stopping entirely.

"What?" she chokes out, something hot and uncomfortable already building in her chest.

"Are you Natasha's sister?" Kate sits up a little more, the action making her wince. Yelena is moving towards her to help her before she can stop herself, but Kate accepts the offered hand with a look of appreciation. There's a fucking tingle when their skin touches.

"Yes, I am," Yelena says roughly, taking a rushed step back. There must be something concerning in her eyes, because Kate's brow furrows softly.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." Her voice is stiff. The blood is pounding too loudly in her ears, and the backs of her eyes are burning so hot she can barely see. "I'm glad you're alright, Kate." Yelena turns quickly and hurries for the door, but Kate's voice stops her again.

"This is yours, Yelena. Natasha found it in between the couch cushions when she was setting it up for me and asked if I could give it to you when you got back."

Shit.

"Yelena?"

She doesn't have to turn back around to know that Kate is holding the ring box in the very hand that was originally supposed to wear the jewel in the first place.

"Ask Natasha to hold onto it for me, will you?" Yelena says roughly, putting her hand on the doorknob.

"I know you, don't I?"

Yelena slumps forward and leans her head on the door heavily, the sobs already threatening to break loose. I can't do this. "Did Tasha tell you something?"

"Nobody has told me anything. It's driving me fucking crazy." Kate's voice is low and agitated. "They said I have memory loss, but they won't tell me what I've forgotten. Only details from the crash I was in. But you're on my lock screen and there's a Polaroid of us in the back of my phone."

Yelena can feel herself start to hyperventilate, but she clamps down on it and forces her chest to stay still.

"Were you in the crash, too? Is that what happened to your foot?"

She's getting dizzy.

"Who are you to me, Yelena?"

The edges of her vision are going dark.

"Yelena?"

She shoves down on the door handle and lurches forward out of the house, barely managing to get past the threshold before stumbling and crashing down onto the porch as her eyes roll back and her chest screams at her to breathe. But she can't. She can't breathe. Everything is too tight and too hot and she can't breathe she can't breathe she can't breathe she can't-

——

Yelena's head is foggy from the remnants of a nightmare, but a face appears in the blur of her vision and looms over her.

"I can't tell who you are," she croaks, "but if you don't get out of my face, I'm going to punch you."

Natasha's chuckle sounds forced as she leans back. "Fair enough."

"Jesus Christ. What happened this time?"

"You passed out on the porch. Kate said she thinks you were having a panic attack."

Fuck.

"I can't do this, Tasha. I can't do this."

"She wants to see you."

"I can't." Yelena's eyes well up and she presses her fists into them, mouth twisting painfully as a broken wail splits her throat. "I can't do this. I barely made it through her getting to know me the first time, Tasha. I can't do it again. I can't tell her about all the people I've killed again. I can't watch her face when she finds out how much blood I've spilt. I can't do it."

"Yelena-"

"I don't deserve her, Natasha!"

Her sister is quiet, a firm hand resting on her shoulder and squeezing. Yelena's body rocks with hiccups, and the despair in her blood is thick.

"How long have you been having worries about your relationship with Kate, Yelena?" Natasha asks softly, brushing a damp strand of hair from her baby sister's face.

Yelena doesn't respond for a few minutes as she tries to get her breathing back under control, and Natasha helps her sit up before getting her a glass of water and some of her non-drowsy pain medication.

"A while, I guess," she mutters lowly, staring sorrowfully down into the cup as she clasps it between her palms. The cold glass is soothing on her palms, which may be fully healed but are still easily aggravated. "Like I'm not enough for her. She needs more. I can't give her more."

"And you still wanted to propose?"

"I thought that maybe it would fix me."

Natasha pulls Yelena into her chest and holds her tight, kissing her hair.

"I thought that maybe if we got married, I wouldn't be scared anymore. It would be cemented, her and me. She wouldn't say yes if she wasn't sure, right?" Yelena whispers, tears pooling and dripping onto Natasha's sweater.

"But should you propose in the first place if you're not 100% sure about it yourself?" Natasha tucks away another strand of hair, cupping her sister's cheek.

"But I- I am sure, Tasha. I want Kate Bishop forever. Just my Kate Bishop. She's all I need."

"What makes you think she doesn't feel the same way about you, Yelena?"

"Because I-" She stops, bottom lip quivering as her shoulders shake. "I'm a mess. I'm broken, Tasha," she whispers, eyes blurry. "She deserves someone who isn't broken."

Natasha tuts and cups Yelena's face with both hands, leveling their stares. "Yelena. Honey. We're all a little broken." She kisses the healing cut on her forehead. "Kate loves you. Even now. I can see it. Wanda can see it. Clint and Laura and the kids and the twins and the dogs can see it." Yelena hiccups a small laugh. "She may not remember the face, but she sure as hell remembers the feeling. She sees you and instinctively feels love."

"Do you really think so?" Yelena whispers after a moment, sniffing softly.

Natasha's smile is sad but assuring. "I do. She just needs to be given a chance to remember."

"What if she's different? What if she has an out and doesn't want me? What if she hates me, Natasha?"

"Then we learn and adapt- and I don't think that'll happen." Her sister leans their foreheads together, muttering soothingly. "It's gonna be okay. I'll be here no matter what happens, you know that."

They stay that way for a moment until the door opens and Wanda appears with Billy asleep in her arms, smiling softly at the two sisters. Natasha seems to glow when she spots her wife, and she stands to hug the woman and kiss both her and her son. "Hi, detka."

Wanda hums and kisses Nat softly, then takes her spot on the bed next to Yelena. "I thought a good baby cuddle might help you feel better."

"You know me so well," Yelena jokes softly, holding her arms out for the baby. Billy is placed gently into them, and she cradles him close, pressing her lips to his soft head and inhaling his baby smell. "Fresh baby," she whispers with a grin, looking at him adoringly.

Natasha cackles and her wife scowls good-naturedly, slapping her arm. "That's exactly what I said when I saw them for the first time!"

"I was exhausted, and she went straight for the boys first, only to fucking say fresh baby," Wanda gripes, but her eyes are soft and she loops an arm around Natasha's waist.

Yelena smiles and laughs softly, bouncing the baby gently as he shifts and yawns, his eyes fortunately staying closed. "Hello, tiny boy," she whispers to him, stroking a knuckle over his soft hair and squishy cheeks. "You are so precious."

"Kate is holding Tommy right now, if you want to go see her?" Wanda offers carefully, Natasha squeezing her hip.

Yelena pauses and looks up at them, brow furrowed.

"She has a really high chance of gaining all of her memory back if she's able to interact with what she's forgotten, Yelena," Natasha says gently, leaning her cheek against her wife's head.

The blonde sucks at her lip anxiously, glancing back down to the sleeping baby in her arms. He gives another big yawn and stretches his pudgy fingers out, eyes cracking open to look up at her. "What do you think, Billy Boy Baby?" Yelena whispers, tapping his nose softly. "Should we go visit Kate Bishop and your brother?"

He smiles sleepily before yawning again and snuggling back into her arms.

"I guess that's a yes," Yelena murmurs. She looks back up at Wanda and Natasha, eyes stinging. "I don't know if I can do it. I'm scared, Tasha. What if I can't do it?"

Her sister moves back towards her and hugs Yelena's shoulders. "You're one of the strongest people I know, Yelena. Give yourself a chance, okay?"

"...Okay."

Kate is sitting up on the couch with the footrest up and Tommy perched happily in her lap when Yelena appears in the main room, Wanda and Natasha right behind her. She's not allowed to walk and hold Billy at the same time due to her boot, but once she's sat down in a chair next to the couch, they place the baby back in her arms. Kate watches her closely the whole time, absentmindedly patting Tommy's back.

Yelena waits until the two other women have left the room before glancing up and meeting Kate's gaze, heart pounding against her ribs. "Hi, Kate Bishop."

The archer's smile is beaming, recognition shining in her eyes. "Hi, Yelena."

——

By the time Kate's knee is healed up enough for her to use a cane instead of a walker, she and Yelena have gone back to spending almost every waking moment together. More and more pieces of her memory come back every day the more they talk, and everyone else can see Kate falling in love with Yelena all over again.

And she's not shy about it, either. The first thing that she's filled in on is the timeline of their relationship, spanning from when they first met at a surprise party Natasha was throwing for Clint, to when they started dating, their first kiss, their first time together, the adventures they'd been on, all the way up to the car crash.

With all of this in mind, Kate figures there's no reason for her to hold back when she starts regaining memories and therefore feelings. She notices how beautiful Yelena's smile is, so she tells her. She remembers the way her face looks when she comes, and doesn't even hesitate before letting Yelena know that it's one of the hottest things she's ever seen.

"Can I kiss you?" Kate asks one evening, staring up at Yelena from where her head is resting in the blonde's lap. Yelena's hands go still, the tv screen blaring red when her character dies, but she's unbothered.

"What?" She glances down at Kate, whose head bandages are already gone.

"Can I kiss you?" she repeats, smiling wide. She reaches a hand up to cup Yelena's face, which is already red. Another thing she had gotten to learn about her girlfriend again- Yelena appeared so stoic, but when Kate flirted even a little bit, she blushed like a fucking tomato.

"Are you sure?" Yelena frowns and brushes a hand through Kate's hair, and the woman purrs happily, her eyes closing with content. Good lord, she was adorable. "You don't have to. I'm not rushing either of us. We have all the time in the world now, detka."

Kate smiles lazily and looks back up at her girlfriend- god, that word sounded so good- and gives a soft nod. "I'm sure. Yes. Please."

Yelena's breath hitches, and she puts the controller that she's still holding down to stroke a knuckle over Kate's cheek. "You're sure-sure?" she whispers, eyes hooded as they dart to Kate's lips. She would be lying, of course, if she said she hadn't wanted to kiss the archer breathless from the moment she'd come out of her coma, but after kissing Kate before realizing the woman didn't recognize her, she had stayed away from the topic out of shame.

Kate's own breath catches at the look on Yelena's face, and she grabs the hand that Yelena has on her face softly, closing her eyes and pressing her lips against the calloused palm. "I'm sure-sure."

Yelena can feel her heart thudding against her ribs, and she feels like a teenager again, spotting Kate for the first time through a crowd of people she wished she could avoid. "Okay," she whispers, shifting and cupping Kate's face gently.

"Okay?" The archer smiles almost shyly, lashes fluttering.

"Okay." Yelena leans down and presses her lips to Kate's ever so softly, breathing the archer in and feeling herself already getting high on the scent of flannel and pine.

She breaks off, and Kate stares at her, starstruck. "Wow," she mumbles, lips parted.

Yelena laughs softly, her cheeks burning. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Kate leans up and captures Yelena's mouth in hers again, cupping the back of her head and kissing her hard. The blonde groans and wraps her arms around the archer, pressing them both carefully into the couch.

Yelena hisses a sigh and opens her mouth a little wider when Kate bites softly at her bottom lip, and the woman's tongue licks past them heatedly.

Jesus Christ, she had missed this.

Yelena tangles her hand into Kate's dark hair and tugs at it softly, earning a soft gasp from her before the blonde moves down her neck, trailing her lips along the strong jawline and nipping at her pulse.

"I love you, Kate Bishop," she growls softly, sucking a bruise into the soft skin under the archer's ear and soothing over it with her tongue. Kate pants breathlessly into her ear, and holy shit Yelena is turned on.

"Maybe wait to bang it out until Kate is fully healed?"

And just like that, the spell is broken, and Yelena promptly falls off of the couch. Classic.

"Наташа, клянусь Богом, я надеру тебе задницу!" she yells at her sister as she sits up, her cheeks burning furiously. Kate's face is just as red as hers, but there's a mischievous light in her eyes that lights Yelena's stomach on fire.

Natasha cackles so hard that she doubles over with her arms around her stomach, wiping tears from her eyes. Yelena is fuming. Kate is blushing. No one is being productive.

"Sorry, sorry- I had to." Natasha pauses, her grin wicked. "Actually, no, I'm not sorry. You two are both so fucking horny for each other and it's just the funniest thing ever. I can't with y'all."

Yelena can only gape at her sister, who shrugs and heads up the stairs. "Wanda is taking a nap, so keep it quiet, will you?"

She swears colorfully under her breath and huffs, but her blood feels like lightning zaps through it when Kate's hand reaches over and cups her chin, her head twisted to face the archer.

"Don't pout, poor girl. Are you really horny for me?"

Yelena's face goes supernova.

Fuck you, Natasha.

"Fuck you, Kate Bishop," she says out loud.

Her girlfriend's smile is sly. "Literally, I hope?"

"Kate!"

The archer cackles and slumps back on the couch, holding her aching stomach. "You're too cute, baby."

Yelena only grumbles, scowling as she tries to decide if tickling Kate and possibly reopening any injuries would be worth it. Kate sees her face and stops abruptly, pointing.

"Yelena Belova, you are not allowed to tickle me," she warns, raising a brow.

Yelena narrows her eyes and leans into her girlfriend's face, somehow gaining the bravado to smirk in a way she knew always got Kate going. "How about we get married and I show you just how hard I can tickle you, Kate Bishop?"

Kate squints, the tips of her ears red. "I can't tell if you're proposing or threatening me with a good time."

The blonde shrugs. "Why not both?"

Her girlfriend smiles brightly, her eyes wide. "Are you seriously fucking proposing to me right now, Yelena Belova?"

"Maybe?"

Kate hums roughly and leans forward to kiss her hard, pressing her palm to the back of Yelena's head to hold her closer. "You must really like me, Miss Belova," she whispers in between breaths, "to propose- after kissing me only once- since I even remembered who you are."

Yelena smiles into Kate's lips and slowly maneuvers to stand up while still kissing her, moving forward to straddle the archer's lap. Kate lets out a soft noise, and Yelena silences it, tracing her tongue along the archer's soft bottom lip and tugging it between her teeth.

"Are you guys serious right now?"

Yelena just kisses Kate harder and takes a first of dark hair, swallowing every noise and moan her girlfriend makes while flipping Natasha off from where her sister had appeared at the top of the stairs. The redhead just groans and turns right back around, muttering under her breath. "I just wanted a fucking sandwich."

Yelena huffs a laugh and breaks off from Kate for a small moment, both of them breathing hard with flushed cheeks and warm stomachs. "Yes, Kate Bishop. I like you. Quite a bit, actually, I hope you've noticed."

Kate can only nod, her eyes wide and a little unfocused. She is the poster child of freshly kissed.

Yelena grins and kisses her cheek softly, whispering against the soft skin. "Will you marry me, Kate Bishop?"

[zmediaoutlet]

"So how was it?" Dean says.

Sam squints at him. Crazy-bright day, light reflecting off every car, bouncing back from the license plate frame on the Buick in front of them. "How was what?"

He gets a significant look but then there's a honk and Dean waves irritably at the guy behind them, moves forward a half car-length like that means something. Sam said they should've just taken 87 instead of the state highway, but apparently that wouldn't have been as good a drive, so here they are, bumper to bumper. Some accident they can't see up ahead.

"Dean," Sam says, when they're essentially parked again. "How was what?"

Dean stretches back, knees spread wide around the steering wheel. "Uh, let's see," he says, and sucks his lower lip like he's really thinking. "The tonsil hockey? The tongue tango? The vertical v-grab—"

"You're the worst," Sam says, loudly, and Dean grins whitely out at the traffic. Relaxed. Probably more relaxed now that Sam feels blood rising in his cheeks, like he really did something. The dick. They roll forward another few feet and Sam braces his elbow on the open window, looking out at the growing green, the budding trees. Springtime in upstate New York, not the worst it could be.

"Sarah seemed like she'd be good at it," Dean says. Sam rolls his eyes, smacks vaguely to his left, catches leather jacket. Dean swats his hand away. "Hey, that ain't a dig. I admire a chick who'll really go for it. And, buddy, the way she was looking at you."

Sometimes it's like he thinks Sam's blind. Like, the only reason is that he doesn't notice. He sucks the inside of his cheek, squints out at the random field out past the highway. Cows, in the distance. "She was good at it," he says, finally. Soft where it counted, confident in the way that a lot of gorgeous girls are. Curving into his body but not limp or just opening her mouth for it and waiting for him to be done. Her tongue tasted like earl grey tea. He can taste it now, and rubs his fingers over his mouth.

Dean's been quiet, letting off the brake and rolling forward a carlength at a time. "You want to…" he starts, but what goes there? They weren't going to stay. They never were. Even an extra day didn't make sense, because what was going to happen—Sam taking the open invite, letting himself try, knowing that in the motel across town Dean was cooling his heels with motel porn and a takeout pizza, waiting for Sam to shoot his load so they'd be ready to pack up and leave the state? No, that wasn't going to happen. Not fair to Sarah, no matter if Sam explained the score, and it wasn't fair to Sam, and it wasn't fair, either, to…

More honking, somewhere behind them. They check the rearview at the same time, annoyed, and Dean mutters, "Like that helps?"

Sam turns on his side of the bench, putting his back to the window. Dean glances at him and then looks back out at the cars, frowning. "What do you think I'm missing?" Sam says. "With this stuff. Perfume? Long hair?"

"Perfume I can do, but I draw the line at wearing a wig for you," Dean says. Sam huffs and Dean glances over at him again, smiling. Kind of smiling anyway. "Not trying to—to be weird about it, or pick a fight or anything, Sammy. I just know you wanted…" He shakes his head, slouches back on the bench with two fingers hooked low on the steering wheel. "I don't want you to be—missing anything. I know, we got a job, and it's important. I'm not, like, trying to get you to move into a two-bedroom in New Paltz. I just don't want you to hate this any more than you do already."

Traffic judders to a halt again. Sam nods, looks out at the blinding chrome. His eyes smart. He sniffs, and drags his hand over his face, and then leans over the bench seat and gets his hand on Dean's jaw and turns his face and kisses him. Dean's lips startle open and Sam closes his eyes and licks in, pressing deep, Dean's hand gripping his jacket and Dean's breath filling his mouth. Coffee, salt. Sam tips so his forehead's against Dean's, their noses brushing. "Don't worry about what I'm missing," Sam says.

Dean's knuckles against his chest. He breathes in, shaky.

Honking. Dean takes a quick deep breath and pulls back, doesn't look at Sam. Traffic opening maybe, a little, ahead. They slide forward a car-length and then another. "Might make it to Allentown before dark after all," he says. His ear's pink. Sam sits back into the corner of the bench and smiles at the side of his head. "Shut up," Dean says, and Sam smiles out the window instead, the grown-grass verge starting to blur as they pick up speed. He wasn't going to say a thing.

[sadgirlbaby]

A KIDNAPPER FALLING FOR HIS HOSTAGE - kai anderson x fem!reader (smut)

CW: cussing, kidnapping, dirty talk (a bit), explicit sexual speaking, dick riding, p in v penetration, unprotected sex, cumming

SUMMARY: kai kidnapped you and brought you to his car so he could have driven home and have taken you there. you thoght about a smart escape plan and only got one idea that messed up kai’s plan.

"don't speak until I tell you to do that." a male voice ordered while opening the door of his car and pushing you in. you sat on the passenger seat and kept quiet. you didn't even see your kidnapper as he covered your face with a big and heavy bag.

you barely could breathe under that shit but your kidnapper didn't care.

you tried to keep calm as you heard his steps walking around the car. he opened the door and got in the car ready to drive, then he took off his clown mask and threw it in the backseat.

"where are we going..?" your voice trembled.

"I told you to shut up." he firmly said.

you swallowed in fear as he responded to you. you were not watching him but you could feel the bad energy in the car. you knew he didn't have anything good in his mind.

"take your bag off and look where we're going by yourself" he affirmed.

"I can't. my hands are tied" you said to him. he sighed annoyed and leaned over to take the bag off your head.

he looked at you, probably seeing you for the first time as he had kidnapped you from the behind.

you looked at him too noticing that he was pretty young. the bag was covering your ears so you didn't hear his voice clearly and firstly thought he was in his forties of fifties.

he stared at you for about twenty seconds - he gazed at your lips in particular.

he got back to his seat and started the car. as soon as he pressed the accelerator, you jolted in surpise because he definitely started driving too fast. it was night so it was even more dangerous.

you thought that you were going to die so you started praying in your mind for someone to save your life.

"can I speak now?" you asked him right when he stopped at the red traffic light.

"yes, you can" his tone was pretty annoyed.

"who are you?"

"who do you think I am?" he raised his voice a bit and you immediately regretted speaking.

the traffic light turned green and he restarted driving. you looked at the road through the window and started to think about an escape plan. you surely did not have many chances to escape so you had to choose a good plan and it had to work.

"I like your hair" you said.

he pressed the accelerator with further strength and moved his look from the road to your figure. he just stared at you, studying your face and body and rethinking about what you just said.

you looked at him back waiting for some reaction but he laid his eyes on the road again instead.

you sighed as you failed in your intentions but then you got another idea.

as soon as he stopped at the red light, you attempted to get on him despite your tied hands. you surprisingly made it and settled on his lap.

he looked at you confused and mad at the same time, he wanted to yell at you or probably kill you instantly but he couldn’t do anything of these things as you quickly connected your lips to his.

he didn’t kiss you back at first, he just wanted to take you off him but when you asked the permission to get your tongue in his mouth, he allowed you to do that.

so he closed his eyes and placed his hands on your hips making you gasp to his firm grip. the kiss got lustful and rough, making your kidnapper a literal hot mess under you.

you suddenly heard a honk beeping and you immediately stopped kissing. the traffic light was green so he had to move.

you let out a soft laugh and moved aside so that he could see the road to drive. you stayed above him, resting yourself on his chest and you surprisingly didn’t get any complaining from him.

“fuck it” he said and suddenly changed direction. the turn was abrupt so you tried to cling onto your kidnapper attempting not to fall.

“what was that?” you asked.

“I changed my mind. we’re going in an empty parking, preferably abandoned.” he sharply replied.

in about five minutes you got in a parking with just two cars parked in.

“untie my hands” you asked.

he looked at you and hesitated for a second but then he satisfied your request.

you immediately cupped his face and kissed him, then you slowly let your arms slide around his neck.

“what’s your name?”

“mhh… kai” he mumbled against your lips.

“what’s yours, baby?”

“y/n”.

you kept kissing him until you stood up a bit and took your shirt off, showing him your sexy black bra made of fabric and and lace.

he looked at you furiously as this wasn’t his initial plan, he tried to resist and handle the situation but he couldn’t.

you grabbed his leather jacket and took it off, then you took his black shirt off as well. he gazed at you and watched every single movement of yours.

you had a skirt so all you had to do was taking your panties off and that’s what you did. after that, kai lifted his waist a bit so he could pull his pants down. in just one move he took off either his pants both his boxer.

“ride me.” he ordered you.

you grabbed his erection and lined it up with your entrance. you both gasped, then you slowly started bouncing on his cock to get yourself used to his size.

“f-faster, baby…” he panted.

you looked at him leaning his head back and you started to bounce faster. this action got the whole car moving.

“mhh f-fuck…” he groaned and followed your movements with his waist by moving it upwards. he was also guiding you with his hands so he could still have the situation under his control.

your hands were on kai’s shoulders, this position helped you to keep bouncing.

“t-thrust harder baby… I-I know y-you can…”

you listened to him and did what he asked. kai lowered your bra and cupped one of your breasts. he started playing with your nipple, then he put it in his mouth making you moan louder.

his mouth slid up to your chest, then to your neck. he started leaving wet kissing on your skin and this just drove you over the edge.

as you released your juices, kai released his seed too as your orgasm made him orgasm as well.

you slowed down and let yourself fall on kai’s chest, still breathless and with your mouth half-opened.

kai’s hand moved up and got placed on your back. his breath was labored but soon got regular again.

“would you like to come to my house?” he asked gazing at you.

“why not, but first… let me get dressed” you said and got off him. you put your clothes on again and opened the car door.

“what are you doing?” he asked while watching you getting out of his car.

you looked at him for a second but then you started running away. you turned around just a couple of times but kai wasn’t chasing you - he stayed in the car watching you leaving him.

you immediately felt a feeling of freedom and you couldn’t wait to come back home to your family.

a bad sensation gained the upper hand then - the feeling of being guilty even if kai was the kidnapper. you felt guilty for having left him in his car after had had sex with him.

this was your plan but you couldn’t help blaming yourself while running away. maybe he wasn’t that bad? maybe you should’ve stayed with him but it was too late for regrets.

reminder: requests are always open and you can request about whoever you want. currently taking requests for ahs only!

note: bad ending huh? sorry :)

taglist: @demxnicprxncess @kitwalkersgfff @charsdunkie @imdeaddearnotstupid

-> click on the ask/request bottom or just comment if you want to be added in my taglist!

[tennessoui]

Number 19 for the prompt thing. The parents meeting because of their kids. I’m kinda imagining Korkie being like a tutor/school reading buddy for the twins or something but you can just ignore that if it doesn’t match your thoughts on it.

hello!! i thought back as much as i could, and i don't think i actually did this prompt the first time around a couple of years ago, so there's nothing to link to save for the prompt list!

i stuck with korkie as obi-wan's kid and the twins as anakin's, but made the kids the same age and then took...a few more liberties with the prompt haha

(19. parents meeting while taking their kids to class) (sort of)

(2.8k)

“Leia, baby, why do you always decide to get into fights at school when it’s my week with you?” Anakin asks the steering wheel as he buckles himself in and turns over the engine. “They’re going to start thinking I’m raising a truant. Then they’re going to start asking about your home life, then they’re going to bring in experts to ask me more questions, then Padmé’s parents are going to throw their considerable legal weight around and get my partial custody revoked and then where will we be? Is that what you want? To only see me on your birthday and Christmas?”

Anakin pauses and reconsiders. Knowing his daughter, she may very well only want to see him for birthdays and Christmases. It would mean double the presents.

Thankfully the silence of the car doesn’t offer much in the way of constructive critique.

At a red light, he puts his head down on the steering wheel for a long enough moment that the car behind him honks when the light changes to green.

“They’re going to stop letting me leave work to come get you,” Anakin mutters a few minutes later as he turns the car into the school’s parking lot. “I have a partner meeting in thirty minutes that I really can’t miss, baby. Can’t you at least schedule your schoolyard fights around my calendar?”

It’s all rather pointless, but it feels good to grumble and bitch in the time it takes him to leave his office and arrive at the school, before he has to put on his adult face and demeanor to sit through another round of We’re Worried Your Five Year Old Is Too Violent As She Seems To View The Monkey Bars As Sacrificial Zones.

“Maybe she’d like hockey,” he says under his breath as he grabs his jacket from the other seat and swings it over his suit. It’s fucking freezing already, not even December. It’s indecent, that’s what it is. Surely a place as cold as this has a peewee hockey team in need of another angry little girl.

“Thank you,” he says when a woman holds the door open for him on her way out the building.

He’s stil sort of freaked out that the elementary school his children are going to is fancy enough to have an entrance hallway with a chandelier hanging from the ceilingk, but it’s not him that’s paying for their private school education that doesn’t offer discounts for all the collective hours they’ll spend napping on the floors.

To the immediate left of the door is the receptionist’s desk—behind her, the nurse’s room. He’s quite familiar with both. Mrs. Whitsdale even waves when she sees him, which means, unfortunately, she’s just made the shortlist of people Anakin needs to make Christmas cookies for. She joins the ranks of everyone else that’s been made to deal with his son and daughter in the tumultuous year after the divorce.

“Hi, ma’am,” he says dutifully, sticking his head into the receptionist area. “Do I need to sign in or can I just go up?”

She waves him away. “I’ve already got you, sweetheart. You’re late anyway, they’re waiting for you upstairs.”

“You’re a miracle amongst men,” he calls out as he turns instead to the right of the door and up the old staircase that leads to the principal’s office. This is also a route he is incredibly familiar with.

How can he be late? He practically flew here on light feet and broken speed limits. It’s enough to take his mood from bad to worse, which isn’t optimal for a meeting with the principal of the school when it’s his kid who caused the fight. Anakin’s role is to nonconfrontational, contrite to the point of groveling—because he knows his daughter won’t. 

That’s already hard enough when he’s feeling normal. It’s practically impossible when he’s feeling foul.

But Padmé did always say Leia got her stubbornness and temper from Anakin.

Anakin’s always said Leia never really had a chance considering who her parents are. 

After all, someone threw a hairdryer at the hotel mirror before they got divorced and it wasn’t Anakin. But he’s not stupid enough to even think that when Padmé’s around.

The big oak door at the end of the hallway on the second floor is elaborate, looks heavy, and stays closed. He knows that this is the headmaster’s office, but he’s never seen the guy around. He doesn’t even know what the guy does. What’s a headmaster of an elementary school doing every day? 

It’s an elementary school.

But, again. Anakin’s not paying for all this pomp and circumstance.

He takes another right instead, down the corridor in the opposite direction to the principal’s office. The door’s left ajar, and Anakin knocks politely before entering at the call to.

A couple of things bring him up short as soon as he steps into the room. For one thing, it’s not Principal Cinoff behind the desk, but a stranger who has the remnants of a three-piece suit on, jacket hanging neatly on a coat rack in the corner of the room. His vest is a deep red that should do nothing but drain his complexion—all pasty white skin, freckled and sun-starved, paired with his reddish hair and beard. It doesn’t, which is unfair to the point of duplicity. Or–something.

The way he’s sitting at the desk, hands spread wide on the wood and shoulders back, leaves no doubt in Anakin’s mind that the stranger is in a position of power here at the school. And probably in, like. Life. He looks like the kind of guy who gets his groceries on discount even without providing a loyalty card. He also looks like the kind of guy the system bends to accommodate. As a lawyer, Anakin is offended and deeply disturbed. That’s why his stomach does two or three flips in quick succession when they make eye contact.

The stranger’s eyes are cool and focused as they run over Anakin, and he gives him a perfunctory incline of his head. At least his eyes are warmer when they fall to the kids in front of him. 

And that’s the other thing that shocks him.

The amount of children in front of the desk. One pouting ginger kid off to the side, arms crossed and staring down at his light-up sneakers.

And then two very familiar heads of hair on the other side. 

“Luke?” He asks before he can stop himself, surprise dripping from his tone. “What are you doing here?”

At this rate, he’s going to give his daughter a complex, he knows it.

But Luke has never been in trouble before. Sure, they’re only five, and it’s only been three months of school, but in that time, Anakin’s been called down here six times to deal with Leia-related emergencies. He’s always imagined that meanwhile, Luke was in his classroom, chewing on crayons or diligently helping the teacher pass out homework assignments.

The stand-in principal coughs slightly and rises. “Ah, Mr. Skywalker-Amidala. Thank you for being able to join us today.”

Anakin scowls automatically before schooling his face into something far more diplomatic and pleasant when his children whirl around in their seats to look at him. The last thing he needs is for his children to think they can sneer at authority figures, given that he’s one of their main authority figures. 

Luke leaves his chair to hug onto his leg, pressing his small face into the fabric of his pants, presumably seeking comfort and also to wipe his face dry of tears and snot.

Anakin puts a hand on his head and strokes through his hair, darting a curious glance at Leia, who has turned around to glare forward again, arms crossed over her chest.

“It’s just Skywalker, actually,” he tells the stranger. “Amidala is their mother.”

The man’s eyebrow goes up and he picks up a pen to make a note on the papers before him. An actual note. Regarding Anakin’s divorce. “Ah, apologies then,” he says. “Our contact list notes you as the father, Skywalker-Amidala, and their mother as Amidala-Organa.”

Anakin squints, trying to decide if the stranger is just trying to correct a clerical error in the school’s records or fishing for gossip. He gives him the benefit of the doubt. “Amidala is their mother, recently remarried to Organa. Organas. And she’s always been better at remembering to file paperwork than I am.”

The stranger keeps his face admirably placid. “Ah,” he says. “Well, Mr. Skywalker. Should we begin?”

“Uh,” he says. “What about the other parent?”

The stranger blinks at him, both eyebrows raised. “I’m a widower.”

“Uh,” he says. “I meant…” he gestures at the other child, the surly looking ginger kid.

“I’m afraid it will just be us, Mr. Skywalker,” the stranger says. “Please, sit.”

Anakin sits, and Luke is quick to scramble up into his lap with a very plaintative, “I didn’t really mean to.”

“So at recess today, the children were playing on the swings,” the stranger who must be the principal for the day says. “And—”

“Sorry,” Anakin interrupts. “Can I get your name please? I was expecting Principal Cinoff.”

The man pauses. “Sheri has been put on sudden maternity-leave a few months early,” he says. “For the next couple of weeks, I’ll be dual-hatting as both principal and headmaster while we continue to search for a temporary replacement.” He raises an eyebrow at Anakin. Anakin really doesn’t appreciate that. “This was in an email the school sent out to all the parents recently.”

“Yes, well,” Anakin says. “I get a lot of emails.”

The man looks unimpressed. “I encourage you to prioritize the communications from your children’s learning institute.”

Anakin bristles. What a dick. Who the fuck says learning institute?

“I’m sorry, what’s your name?” he asks in his best unimpressed voice.

“Obi-Wan Kenobi,” the man’s unimpressed voice is ten times more chilling than Anakin’s, which is also not fair. “Please, call me Dr. Kenobi.” Anakin scowls. “I appreciate the fact that you feel as though you can cover the extremely busy roles of both headmaster and principal of an elementary school, but I would really rather wait until the other parent gets here so we can most productively discuss the altercation, Mr. Kenobi.”

“Please, Mr. Skywalker,” Kenobi says. “Leave the litigation to the court rooms, we—”

“It’s Esquire, actually.”

Kenobi’s face grows very pinched around the mouth and eyebrows. Anakin feels a vicious thrill course through him even as his stomach flips again.

“I suppose I should have made it clearer at the beginning of this session,” Kenobi says, tone dripping in you idiot. “This is my son, Korkie.”

Anakin’s mouth falls open. His immediate thought is, of course, Korkie Kenobi? And he thought Luke and Leia were too cutesy for twin names.

“Korkie is a family name,” Kenobi adds rather dryly. “My late wife’s grandfather’s.”

Anakin doubts that’s even true. He bets it’s not actually, that Kenobi just plays the dead wife card to get out of judgemental questions about his naming abilities.

But then another, worse thought occurs to Anakin. “Wait a second, you can’t be the parent and the principal!”

“I assure you, I am impartial.”

“Like hel—heck you are!” Anakin straightens in his seat and Luke lets out a grumble, clinging tightly to his front. “I demand a different authority.” “No,” Kenobi says firmly, as if the matter is at rest. This, of course, is absolutely infuriating.

“It’s unfair bias and I will not see either of my children punished in a tyrannical and self-serving institution—”

Kenobi pinches at the bridge of his nose. “Mr. Skywalker, unless you would like to have me call Mrs. Cinoff away from her pre-mature baby, I am the best option this school has. Please. Settle down.”

“Dad,” Leia says, “I don’t want to miss reading time.”

Anakin breathes out in disgust. Shitty, overpriced private school. This sort of thing would never happen at a publicly funded school.

“The fact of the matter is that Luke pushed Korkie off the swings,” Kenobi says with a stern look at both Luke and Anakin. He holds up his hand when Anakin opens his mouth. “An incident that many were witness to. And before you make an accusation, there were many witnesses who were not on the school’s payroll, Mr. Skywalker.”

Anakin closes his mouth sullenly.

“Korkie could have been very hurt, Luke,” Kenobi says, clasping his hands in front of him and looking down at Anakin’s son. “He was swinging pretty fast when you pushed him, and he could have broken his ankle in the fall.”

Luke’s bottom lip trembles. “I didn’t want to hurt him,” he mumbles, turning his face back into Anakin’s sleeve. “He was being mean. I just wanted him to stop.” “I wasn’t!” Korkie cries, sitting straight in his chair for the first time since Anakin’s arrived. “I wasn’t being mean, dad!” “You said Leia’s hair looks like cinnamon buns on her head!” Luke shouts back, pushing away from Anakin’s arms to glare at the other boy. 

Anakin winces. When it’s Padmé’s turn with the kids, Leia always turns up to school with elaborately braided hair, twisted on top of her head in elegant formations that look effortlessly pretty. He knows that’s not Padmé’s work, but he also can’t figure out if Breha or Bail is responsible. It’s not something he wants to ask.

The fanciest Anakin can do, after all, is two buns on either side of Leia’s head. 

That do, truth be told, look rather like cinnamon rolls.

“Ah,” Kenobi says. “I believe I understand the miscommunication here. Korkie, would you like to tell the Skywalkers what you meant when you told Luke that Leia’s hair looked like cinnamon buns?”

If possible, the kid turns even more red, blushing furiously. “I really like cinnamon buns,” he mutters, crossing his arms tighter. “They’re my favorite.”

“He’s started asking for them for breakfast several times a week,” Kenobi tells Anakin with a smile lingering around his lips. “I’ve been wondering why.”

Anakin isn’t sure he likes the explanation. Sure, Korkie can have whatever sort of crush on his daughter that he wants to have, but likening her hair to cinnamon buns isn’t very kind, and he’s pretty sure that if someone else was the judge in this trial, they wouldn’t be so quick to justify the other boy’s words.

Luke seems to agree with him. “Your hair looks like carrots,” he snaps, crossing his arms.

Because Anakin is an intelligent adult who understands that making enemies with the headmaster’s son isn’t the best move, he adds on the Skywalker family’s behalf, “Luke loves carrots.”

Luke, in fact, hates carrots. 

“There is still the matter of Luke pushing Korkie off the swing,” Kenobi says, eyebrows raised like he understands exactly what’s going unsaid here. “We do not encourage physical violence of any sort here, and it was dangerous. Korkie could have been hurt much more badly than a scraped knee.”

The words are very serious and grave, and Luke wilts under the headmaster-principal-father’s disappointed stare. Anakin bristles.

“Well, it’s his first infraction,” he says. “And he was sticking up for his sister. I think that’s fair. He won’t do it again.”

“Hm,” Kenobi says, pushing papers aside and pulling out a glossy leaflet. “Now, I cannot force you to consider this, but I noticed that neither Luke nor Leia are currently enrolled in any of our extracurriculars.”

“They’re five.”

“We have many on offer at Jedi Prepatory School,” Kenobi continues as if Anakin hasn’t said anything. “And I wanted to highlight our peewee hockey league. I think both Leia and Luke would enjoy the rigorous schedule, and they may…benefit from the…structure it offers. And team activity.”

Anakin glowers. He can read between the lines. Kenobi’s just called his parenting style structureless and lazy. It makes him want to grab the pamphlet and rip it to shreds in front of him. “I would have to talk about it with their mother,” he says stiffly instead.

“Of course,” Kenobi says cheerfully. “When you do, please give Bail and Breha my well-wishes as well. It’s been far too long since I’ve had the time to see them, given how exhastingly busy it is to be the headmaster and principal of an elementary school.”

“Right,” Anakin grits out. “Yeah. I’ll let my ex-wife’s new partners know.”

Kenobi’s smile is all teeth. “I look forward to seeing you in the rink, Mr. Skywalker Esquire. My son plays on the team.”

Anakin wonders if there’s another peewee hockey team he can have his kids join. Just so they can beat Jedi Prepatory school and then laugh in Korkie and Dr. Kenobi’s faces.

Yeah. That sounds really nice.

He’ll look when he gets back to work.

This takes priority.

[headhedgehog]

Baby Fever (Pro!Mikage ReoxFemOC)

Reo pushed his sweaty hair out of his eyes and smiled at the fan holding a jersey out for his signature. His team had just won their league's championship cup. The adrenaline of the win was slowly leaving his body, falling into a gentle buzz. Around him, his teammates' families were starting to find them, small, intimate celebrations breaking out along the sidelines.

He turned to look for his fiancee, Ana, wondering how long it would take her to get to the field from the box where she'd watched the game with other players' guests. A few feet away, Kunigami was lifting his baby boy in the air, his older daughters clinging to both his legs. Behind him, Barou hugged his wife and planted a kiss on his young daughter's hair. Isagi's girlfriend, hand on her new baby bump, was gingerly making her way to meet him.

An unexpected feeling bloomed in Reo's chest. He and his fiancee hadn't talked seriously about children, other than agreeing they were both open to the idea, eventually. But watching his teammates with their families hit him hard. He felt like he might cry.

He wanted what they had so badly.

Ana arrived and wrapped her arms around him, cheering and congratulating him. In a fog, he fought to come back to the present and join the celebrations.

_____________________________

The drive home was quiet. Reo stared out the window as Ana drove, his mind racing. He wanted a baby. He actually wanted a baby, wanted to hold a tiny person with Ana's eyes and his hair and be their daddy. He wanted to set up playdates with Kunigami and Isagi's kids and ask Barou's daughter to babysit.

He must've been too quiet, because when Ana reached a stoplight, she turned to face him.

"What's wrong, Reo? You just won a championship and you've barely said a word since we left the stadium."

Reo looked at her, anxiety spiking though him. Was this really the time to spring such a bombshell on her?

Better now than after the wedding, he supposed.

"I was watching the other guys with their families and...I want that. I want to have a baby."

Ana blinked at him. Another wave of anxiety washed over him, but then she smiled.

"Really?"

Before Reo could answer, the car behind them honked. The light had turned green. They laughed, and Ana turned back to the road.

"I was panicking a little because I held Kunigami's baby while Suki went to the bathroom and I was totally smitten. Was honestly spiraling because we hadn't talked about kids since before you proposed and I didn't know how to bring it up."

Reo felt tears welling in his eyes but didn't try to stop them. "Did we just decide to try for a baby?"

Ana pulled into their parking garage and engaged the brake. She threw her arms around his neck. "Yeah, I think we did."

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

They were supposed to join the rest of the team for a post-win celebration, but they never made it. They'd barely closed the front door to their apartment before they were tearing at each other's clothes, leaving a trail to their bed.

Reo kissed Ana and gently guided her to lay on her back, his knee nudging her knees apart. His fingers found her wet core, coaxed deep moans out of her as he fisted his cock. She hooked her legs around his hips, pulled him closer; he laughed and obliged, settling on the bed between her legs and pushing his cock into her folds. He rested on his elbows, torso against hers, mouth on her nipple, hips thrusting slowly.

"That feel good, baby?" he asked, voice low. "Want me to fill you up? Make you a momma?"

Ana responded by kissing him deeply and wrapping her legs around his waist.

When Reo's climax came, he allowed himself to spill into her, reveling in the feeling of his cum filling her. He rolled off her and pulled a pillow under her hips.

"I know it's going to take a while, but might as well build the habit," he said sheepishly as he lay down next to her. Ana laughed and put her head on his chest. Reo kissed her forehead and rested a hand on her stomach.

"I can't wait to see you pregnant," he said. His voice was thick, his exhaustion catching up with him.

"I can't wait to see you holding our baby," Ana said. "You're going to be such a good dad, Reo."

He hummed. Before long he was asleep with a smile on his face.

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

Six months later, Reo was on a flight, headed for an international tournament. Ana never made him feel bad about traveling for work; lately she'd been keeping busy with wedding preparations. Reo's mother, still on shaky ground with her son after spending so much of his childhood trying to dictate his life, had immediately taken to Ana and was planning to take her wedding dress shopping while Reo was away. Reo tried not to worry about it; he was glad his mom was trying to rebuild their relationship, but he was nervous about exposing Ana to his parents' judgement.

Next to him, Kunigami was happily chatting about his son's growth. He showed Reo a video of the little boy taking shaky steps, supported by one of his sisters. Reo melted watching the baby, his throat tight. He'd known Ana wouldn't get pregnant immediately, but it didn't stop his heart from aching a bit when he saw someone else with a little one.

"You okay dude?" Kunigami asked when he caught a glimpse of Reo's shiny eyes.

"Yeah," Reo said, and glanced around to see if anyone else could hear. "Just in my feelings I guess. Ana and I are trying to get pregnant. Can't help getting a little excited thinking about babies."

"That's amazing, congrats Reo!" Kunigami shoved his shoulder playfully.

"It's only been six months but I'm impatient," Reo laughed. "I didn't realize how badly I wanted a family, but now that I know it's like, all I can think about."

"Yeah, crazy isn't it? It's worth it though. Just wait til you've got your kid in your arms, man, it's the best thing in the world," Kunigami put a hand on Reo's shoulder, squeezed it. "You're gonna love it."

Reo smiled and settled into his seat.

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

Back in their apartment, Reo's mother arrived to find Ana in the bathroom staring at a pregnancy test.

"Ana?"

The younger woman turned around, her face wet. "I'm pregnant."

Reo's mother pulled Ana into a tight hug, dress shopping entirely forgotten.

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

Reo returned a week later to find a wrapped gift waiting on the dining table.

"What's this?" he asked. Ana smiled and wrapped her arms around him from behind.

"Birthday present."

"My birthday isn't until next week."

"Your gift came early. Open it."

Reo side-eyed her but unwrapped the box. Inside, he found a tiny jersey with his name and number on the back.

Confused, he turned to see Ana grinning with a hand on her still-flat belly. Reo's eyes widened.

"Are you...?"

She nodded. Before she could say anything, he had her wrapped in his arms, covering her in kisses.

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

Ana's pregnancy went smoothly, but no one on Reo's team would have known that based on his behavior. He refused to leave his phone behind when he practiced, and any message or call from her was answered immediately. He spent his time off researching OBGYNs and pediatricians, shopping for baby supplies, and bothering the other dads on his team for information.

When Ana finally went into labor, Reo was beside himself, anxiety spiking through him with each of her contractions. He held her but hand to be reminded to breathe more than Ana did; he only came to his senses when Ana threatened to have him thrown out if he didn't calm down.

Finally, a strong cry broke through the chaos of the delivery room, and time seemed to stand still. A nurse laid the baby on Ana's chest; someone in the room announced it was a girl.

A daughter, Reo thought, all other ideas silenced. We have a daughter.

Eventually Ana handed him the tiny girl, a tuft of purple hair framing her equally purple eyes. As he sat next to Ana and held his daughter, tears falling freely, Reo knew Kunigami was right. This was the best thing in the entire world.

[kairakeiji]

reckless driver | tartaglia

modern au - they’re driving lol

“you kissed me.”

you only shake your head as childe stares at you, “keep your eyes on the road.”

and he only blinks, “you kissed me.”

so you turn to him. “why aren’t your eyes on the road?” he doesn’t waiver, so you try again, “why are you staring at me?”

his eyes are still on you, absolutely dumbfounded. “at the red light,” he mumbles. “you kissed me, why?”

your eyes leave his the second his lock yours, “you’re going too fast ajax,” you tell him. “please just keep your eyes forward.”

but he doesn’t waiver, “answer my question,”and you can hear a lilt of desparation in his voice. “what did it mean to you?”

“ajax,” you stutter, “what?”

“what do i mean to you?”

and you hesitate, “i don’t know,” before your eyes turn back to the road, “please, just keep your eyes forward. let’s just focus on getting back.”

“you don’t know?”

“i don’t,” you repeat voice becoming more stern before your eyes turn wide. “ajax, the light’s red.”

and his foot slams the breaks, sending you both lunging forward.

“what the hell,” you exclaim. “please, keep your eyes on the road, if you need to talk we can pull over.”

“i know what it mean to me,” ajax cuts in.

and you only sigh, “okay then.”

“ask me.”

“ask you what?”

“what the kiss meant.”

“if i do will you focus on the road?”

and he nods, “yes.”

“okay,” you mumble, stomach beginning to churn. “what did it mean to you?”

“it meant that some part of you feels as i do,” ajax starts as a car honks behind you both, the light unknowingly shifted green. “that some part of you felt spurred enough to do the one thing i’ve always dreamed of,” he continues as he moves forward, eyes now fixed on the road ahead.

“i kissed you,” you mumble to no one in particular.

“yes, you did.”

“do you like me?” you softly question.

he answers not even a beat later, “of course i do.”

you hesitate, “do you love me?”

“yes i do,” he answers before a beat of silence passes. “do you love me?” he asks you.

and all you can do is remain silent.

he turns to you as you continue to avoid his gaze, eyes now fixated on the open road ahead. “do you love me?”

“ajax,” you start. “you said you’d focus on the road.”

he only asks once more, “do you love me?”

“not in the way you want me to.”

now he’s the one who goes silent, breath hitching as he stares into the distance, gaze just barely focused on the still straight ahead on the road. the two of you hit another stop light, neither saying a word before ajax continues on.

you glance at the dashboard as the car’s engine revs louder as he makes a right turn, “you’re speeding up,” you point out.

but he only asks once more, “why did you kiss me?”

“you’re speeding up,” you point once more. “ajax, please slow down.”

he meets your gaze, “because i love you.”

“ajax, you’re going too fast.”

“that kiss meant everything to me.”

you turn to him, meeting his gaze with nothing but desparation in your eyes, “ajax please slow down, please focus we’re going to crash.”

but he only asks you softly, eyes pleading for an answer.

“did it mean nothing to you?”

your eyes turn back to the road, widening when you see what’s ahead. “ajax,” you exclaim, hand urgently hitting the center console. “you gotta stop.”

but his eyes only remain on you, recklessly speeding up as if all he can do is beg you for an answer.

“why did you kiss me? please, just answer”

“ajax st-”

based on reckless driver by lizzy mcalpine :)

thanks for reading! reblogs/interactions are incredibly appreciated <33

[yazzberry]

new chapter of endgame (published here, ao3, and wattpad)!!

So….I'm back! I started college a while ago and it's been a lot, to say the least. I haven't had much time to write, but finishing this chapter brought me immense comfort in maintaining that connection with the things that sustained my happiness through childhood (me saying that as if I'm not still a kid lol).

That being said, I know it took me forever to get this out (and trust me, I've been dying to share this chapter with you all), but it's a really long one—so cozy up and grab a nice snack because you're gonna be here for a while.

Enjoy, mwah <3

Disclaimer: I do not own Total Drama or any of the characters, only the plot of this story. Okay? Okay.

Chapter 1, Strangers in the Night

— ꕥ —

Bridgette, for all her giddiness and excitement in reuniting with her long-distance bestie, was simply too ecstatic to drive herself.

"No seriously!" she exclaimed, "I'll crash my poor car!"

So who other than Geoff, bless his head-over-heels-in-love soul, would drop their Sunday morning plans to drive her over to Courtney's new residence.

Bridgette sighed as she admired his side profile from the passenger's seat. "You're the best boyfriend ever, you know that?"

He scoffed (and blushed), "I bet you tell all your boyfriends that."

"No, just the ones I actually like." She laced her fingers with his free hand.

"Don't I feel special. Anyways, it's nothing—in Wawanakwa, nothing is more than a 10-minute drive." Geoff shrugged as he brought her hand up to his lips and planted a sweet kiss.

Bridgette had to completely hold back her swooning, because yes, even though they had been dating for 6 months going on 7, and even though she'd been crushing on him majorly for about a year before that, the feeling of butterflies in her stomach never left her whenever she was around Geoff.

She really was a hopeless romantic.

"No, but I know you're exhausted after yesterday's party, it took a long time to clean up once everyone left. And! I know you're not an early bird. in. the. slightest."

"Bridge, don't you get it by now?" He chuckled as he shook his head.

Then Geoff, being the responsible driver that he is, waited until they reached the red light to turn and face Bridgette. It was blue on hazel, an electric spark joining the two.

"There is nothing I wouldn't do for you."

Bridgette leans in for a meaningful kiss when suddenly the car behind them honks to no end—sadly, the light turned green.

"My bad, yo!" Geoff yells out the window before continuing on their drive, but Bridgette never removed her hand from his, nor did the feeling of the butterflies wear off at any point the whole ride over.

— ❥ —

It was the distinct honk of Geoff's loud, vintage convertible that signaled to Courtney of her friend's arrival.

Courtney tried to remain cordial about the whole thing—I mean, really, it hasn't been that long since we've last seen each other.

But her heart played an entirely different tune, threatening to burst in excitement at the sight of Bridgette's wavy blonde mane jumping ecstatically out the car and onto her front porch. Watching it all from her room's window, Courtney rushed out and down the stairs to meet her friend out front.

Just at the opening of the front door, Bridgette launched herself onto Courtney in one of her signature bear hugs.

"COURTNEY OH MY GODDD!!! I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU'RE HERE IT'S JUST NOT REAL!!!" Bridgette squealed as she hugged tighter and tighter, as if trying to hold onto the moment lest it all be a cruel dream.

"I can hardly believe it myself," the brunette sighed with resignation in attempting to bottle up her excitement. "I mean one minute I'm biking down Manhattan Beach and the next I'm somewhere in the middle of Canada? Talking to you? Tell me that doesn't sound like some fever dream??"

"AAAAHH, but isn't it great??!!!!" She squealed, jumping up and down.

"Of course it is, I'm so happy you're here," Courtney sighed with gratitude, giving her a heart-wrenching smile.

Suddenly a look of remembrance flashed on Bridgette's face, "Oh my god, and look who else is here!!"

She grabbed Courtney's hand and guided her out to the front porch, where Geoff was already hopping out of his car and making his way towards them.

"MOCHA'S BACKKKK!!!" He chanted as he jogged over with his arms outstretched in a victory pose.

"You and your stupid nicknames," She chuckled as she let herself be scooped up by Geoff's overbearing embrace. "It's great to see you, Geoff!"

"Aw come on, I know you love my nicknames! No one out there better at giving them," Geoff boasted with fake pride as he fixed the backwards baseball cap on his head (a fun alternative to the cowboy hat, which God knows needed a break).

"This makes me so happy—our summer squad is back together!!" Bridgette cheered as she hugged her two favorite people close together.

"Back and better than ever, baby!" Geoff hooted as he gave Bridgette a quick peck on the cheek.

"Honestly, having you guys around makes this all so much better, I don't know what I'd do if I was completely new, I mean, you guys know how bad I can be at socializing."

Geoff winced at the thought, and Bridgette offered her friend a pitiful, sheepish smile. "Well, it may not be your strongest suit," the blonde lamented.

"Calculus? I can do. Writing a thoughtful, well-structured essay on Victorian literature? I can do. But making friends? Sue me, I guess, everyone has their Achilles' heel," Courtney pouted, clutching her hands to her face in frustration.

Why she never got the hang of being a people person like Josie or Bridgette or Geoff was simply beyond Courtney—really, she blamed her parents. I love that I have another thing to blame them for.

"That's not totally true! We're your friends!" Geoff defended.

"Well no offense to you guys, but I'd have to actually be socially inept, or the biggest bitch in the world, for you guys not to befriend me," Courtney chuckled as she crossed her arms.

Bridgette just rolled her eyes and enveloped the brunette in a side hug, "Hey, we like you for who you are, and if we can see how great you are, so will everyone else."

Bridgette always had a special talent for quieting her anxious thoughts, and reassuring Courtney to keep her from spiraling. It wasn't that Courtney was too strung out by her inability to make friends (she really didn't mind the moments spent alone nor the quiet lifestyle), but she'd be lying if she said she didn't care at all about how people perceive her. 

Truly, who doesn't care in the slightest about what others think? The day she met someone like that….

But, sometimes Courtney got a little too self-conscious; not exactly insecure, just entirely aware of the fact that people were constantly building perceptions of her that she couldn't control. And that scared her.

"Bridge is totally right," Geoff pulled her out of her thoughts with a hug on her other side, "You'll have no problems making friends, I already know Gwen, Duncan, and Heather are gonna be stoked to meet you!"

Courtney offered a smile to both of them—it made so much sense to her that they were a couple. She could never imagine them getting into a fight, or having any sort of love troubles.

"Thanks guys, sorry about the mush. I didn't mean to make this into a pity party, your friends sound cool! It'll be nice to meet them," She offered a hopeful smile—a rare sight, since she wasn't usually the hope-filled type.

At that, Geoff grinned with a devious expression, "Y'know Mocha, it's funny you mention that..."

— ❥ —

"No, no, no, and oh, did I forget to mention...no!"

"Oh Courtney, come on, you don't even have to stay the whole time! It'll be so much fun!" Bridgette pleaded to her friend before turning to Josie for support, "Come on, back me up on this!"

Josie laughed as she sauntered over from the kitchen into the living room with a bag of plantain chips and flopped onto the couch (still wrapped in plastic, they hadn't finished furnishing the house) beside her little sister.

"She's right, Courtney. This is the kind of teenage shit you need to experience," she offered as she popped a chip in her mouth.

"Don't be a traitor. I'm just not really in the mood to meet so many people and socialize," Courtney cringed at the thought before stealing a chip from Josie, in a sore attempt to sweeten her mood. "And I'm exhausted! Did I mention we got here at 3:00 AM??"

Josie snorted, knowing her sister's evasive ways of making dumb excuses.

"Court, you said yourself you wanted to meet our friends. And besides, you'll just have to do all that socializing anyway on the first day of school. At least, at Geoff's darty, you can do it at the lake! Way more fun, don't you think!!?" Bridgette clasped her hands before the brunette, standing before her and speaking in an exaggerated manner to convince her much-too-stubborn friend.

"Geoff is the guy that just left, right? Also, what the fuck is a darty?" Josie asked.

"A darty is a day party! Geoff, yes the guy that just left, always throws an end-of-summer bonfire party at his lake house—it's always so much fun and I really think Courtney's missing out if she doesn't come."

Courtney sighed, biting her lip as she looked back and forth from Bridgette's eager and expectant expression to Josie, nonchalantly eating her chips. But then Josie tossed the chips on the coffee table (also still wrapped in plastic) and sat up to meet Courtney eye-to-eye.

"You said you wanted a fresh start here, maybe this is it. Go out, explore a new side of yourself! And I won't have to worry about you because you'll be in good company," Josie said as she passed a knowing smile to Bridgette, who still had her hands tightly interlaced with her chin resting on them.

So, Courtney was done. Really she was done the second both Bridgette and her sister decided to team up on her—the former too earnest and the latter too persuasive for Courtney's personal comfort. Between the two of them, they could probably get the brunette to do anything short of murder.

She threw her head back in acceptance, "Fine! I'll go."

"YESSSS!!! Court, you won't regret it!!! Oh my god! I have to help you find an outfit!!" Bridgette exclaimed, as she excitedly rushed up the stairs into Courtney's room, eager to tear her closet apart.

Josie simply chuckled as she reached for her chips again, "Well I'm probably going to sleep early tonight since I start my shift super early tomorrow...just don't stay out too late? And don't do anything stupid."

Courtney sighed as she sank into the couch, already regretting her choice in anticipation of a stressful night, "Please, like you have to tell me that."

— ❥ —

Of course, if Courtney was actually agreeing to such insanity, she needed to go out on a run and clear her mind the best way she knew how.

Exercise diffused her anxieties, and made her feel good about herself. Others pregamed with alcohol, she pregamed with productivity (though she'd probably still need a drink or two before heading out).

It'd have to be a short run, since Bridgette was coming to pick her up at 4:00 PM, and Courtney would still need to shower and get ready. Nevertheless, a short run was still a run.

It was perfect that their new house had private entry to a hiking trail that led into the sprawling forests and mountainous terrains of Wawanakwa Falls—one of the many perks of living in a small town, where the neighborhoods were integrated with nature.

It was one of the many selling points Josie brought to Courtney when she announced that she was moving to Nowheresville, Canada. It honestly didn't take much convincing on Josie's part, since Courtney's alternative option to moving with her was to go back to their parent's house in Connecticut.

Josie could be moving to Antarctica and Courtney would still opt for that over her parents.

What are you doing, Courtney? This is the opposite of clearing your head, she thought to herself as she mentally rolled her eyes.

Determined to maintain her zen (or whatever was left of it), she let her senses wander to the scenes of nature moving around her: the subtle cracks of crestfallen leaves (one of the many signs that autumn was coming) crunching with every step; the harmonic chirps and chimes of birds above; the crispness of the forest air, a palpable chill filling her lungs with every inhale; the raging sun and clear blue sky; the rich bark of the trees, its linings displaying the carvings of time and of...a skull?

Did she see that right?

The double take she did almost caused her to trip on a fallen branch. Courtney quickly saved herself by grabbing onto a nearby trunk for support, only to find that this tree also had the carvings of the same anonymous artist, except this one had writing on it: "Punk's Not Dead", and another skull symbol.

Courtney crossed her arms in disapproval, letting out a loud exhale of frustration as she shook her head. "What kind of idiot is out here vandalizing trees?" She muttered to herself as she studied it a little more.

Then, in her peripheral vision, she noticed the slight iconography of yet another skull on another tree, this one far more detailed than the last ones—she could tell its author spent quite some time on it. It would've intrigued her more, if it wasn't so destructive to the tree itself.

She follows this path of carved trees, each one either having the same carving of the skull or some insipid writing on it, "D-Man", or, "Life Sucks And Then You Die", and other such emo sayings.

Courtney considered just turning around and going back on the trail—after all, what was she really hoping to gain from humoring this guy's vandalism with an audience? It wasn't going to lead anywhere, anyways.

So that's what she should've done...but then the slightest glint of something silver caught her eye from afar. And if Courtney had any weaknesses, it was her stubborn determination to see something through.

She found the hollow of a tree, probably stolen from a poor squirrel trying to nest there for the fall, and within it a stash of all sorts of things: Altoid tins with old joints inside, packs of cigarettes (some empty), and the silver thing in question—a lighter.

It was a custom lighter, not the cheap kind you find at a convenience store; it weighed heavy in Courtney's hand, with a sort of emotional importance, and a small inscription etched in simple lettering on the side of the lighter reading, "Take a walk on the Wild(er) side."

"Hmph," she scoffed, "so he's a stoner. That checks out."

Courtney absentmindedly put the lighter in her pocket and took a pack of cigarettes while she was there (a true guilty pleasure of hers, if ever one exists). Serves him right for leaving stuff here, and for carving into trees, she justified to herself.

Feeling that her business was done, the brunette trotted back towards the direction of her path, trying to occupy her mind with something else to distract from the fact that she soon had to walk back down and get ready for Geoff's bonfire. Oh, the horror.

She started singing to herself a bit, an old habit of hers that never really died and always came back whenever she was by herself. Recently obsessed with Fiona Apple, the lyrics to Paper Bag start fighting their way out of her mind through her voice—the perfect melody to match her serene pace.

Hunger hurts,and I want him, so bad,oh it kills,

Before getting back to the trail, she finds a slightly worn path going towards a lookout spot.

'Cause I know I'm a messhe don't wanna clean up.

Deciding that she can spare an extra 10 minutes she decides to follow it.

I've got to fall 'causethese hands are too shaky to hold,

And suddenly she's met with this amazing view of the whole town and the forests expanding far beyond it—a scene as commanding of the eye as a compass is obeying of a magnet.

Hunger hurtsbut starving works,when it costs...too much to love.

And maybe it was the scenery before her that just physically took Courtney's breath away, or the overwhelming breeze that had picked up at such a high altitude, but upon realizing that she was, in fact, not alone up there, and that she was among the presence of another, Courtney nearly felt her chest seize.

"Pretty voice. Why'd you stop singing? Paper Bag is one of my favorites."

Courtney turns to face him. Wow, his eyes.

The crystal blue quality of his eyes were the first thing to strike her about him, and Courtney found herself staring into them for much longer than she'd like to admit.

The next feature of his aspect she noticed were his piercings—his ears, a stud on his nostril, one of his eyebrows, and a flash of silver peeking out from his tongue. He also wore other forms of jewelry, some rings and chains that stood out against his black hoodie. He had very strong features: a defined jawline, deep set eyes (upon further inspection, she noticed the cerulean iris contrast greatly with the tinge of redness across his eyes, he'd obviously been smoking), prominent brows—his side profile was so defined it almost cut the scenery behind it.

But, perhaps the most distinguishable thing about him was hair; it was full around his head, straight locks with a slight wave and messy ruffle to it. From the root through most of its length, it was jet black, very striking against his pale complexion; but the tips were a bright neon green that Courtney couldn't tell whether she found off-putting or attractive.

Attractive?! Please, Courtney, get a grip.

"So you must be the tree vandal?" Courtney forced herself to say, realizing that she'd been staring at him for too long (and he noticed, too, owing to his smug disposition).

"What, this?" He threw a lazy thumb over his shoulder, pointing at the tree behind him that he was apparently working on before Courtney interrupted him. "Aww, don't worry about it. The trees don't mind." 

"In fact," and he took a couple of steps towards her, nonchalantly putting his hands in the pocket of his hoodie, "I had a real heart-to-heart with this exact tree here and, it doesn't mind."

Courtney scoffed at his condescension, "You're mocking me?"

"What? I'm totally sincere. Can't you tell by my eyes?" And he closed the distance between their faces by an uncomfortable amount, gazing directly into Courtney, "They say eyes are the window to the soul."

And while she found it hard to break eye contact with him, Courtney took an unsteady step back, trying to regain her composure, "Don't be an asshole, you're harming their ecosystems."

She crossed her arms defensively, "And with tasteless graffiti, too."

"I take it you don't like my art?"

"That's a generous label. I'd hardly put your 'art' on the same order as Monet."

"The whole point of art is that it's subjective, no?"

"Frankly, there's being subjective, and then there's just having taste."

At that he clutched a hand over his chest, feigning injury, "You're breaking my heart, babe. What made you so cold?"

She just rolls her eyes, "Don't expect me to humor your theatrics with a response...and don't call me babe."

A moment of silence passes between them. For a good minute, it was just him eyeing and studying Courtney the way she had been doing to him—and it made her immensely uncomfortable. She was willing to blurt out anything to make the moment pass: "You know Fiona Apple?"

It takes him a second to snap out of his daze and form a response, "Don't sound so surprised, does it look like I don't have taste?"

She pauses for a moment, thinking before responding, "You do that a lot—answer my questions with more questions. Why is that?"

"Just an old habit of mine I guess. Those die hard, you know," he nonchalantly sighed, tilting his head to the side as he not-so-subtly studied Courtney. But it wasn't like she wasn't doing the exact same thing to him, taking in his appearance, words, and presence as a whole.

"Well, as for the taste thing, I'm afraid that's already been established," she grimaced.

"In that I have none?" he cocked a quizzical brow in smugness.

"Precisely."

He simply scoffed at her guarded disposition and looked around, searching for a response, before focusing those teal irises back on her, "You don't like me," and he paused for a second, considering what to add, "you don't know me, but you don't like me."

And now it was her turn to feign a cheery expression. "What? No, I think we get along just fine!"

"So, why are you still here then?"

The brunette rolled her eyes at his crudeness. "Whatever, I didn't mean to barge into your smoking spot anyways. I just came for the view, but I'll be leaving now—"

"No, you stay. I'm outta here. My buzz is killed."

"How chivalrous." She scoffs as she watches him walk away. He throws a lazy hand up in the air as a goodbye, not even bothering to look back.

"To a princess like you? I've got to be," he calls out before disappearing back into the woods.

Courtney breathes a sigh of relief, feels her shoulders slouch and her arms fall from their crossed position once she confirms that he's out of sight.

"Don't call me that," she mutters more to herself than anyone else before turning back towards the view, her original reason for coming there.

Having committed the naturalistic scene to memory, she turns on her heels to leave, when a splash of color briefly catches her eye. It was the tree that he was working on—one of his usual carvings, but this time, it was a rendition of the landscape she had just spent 5 minutes staring at. As much as it pained her to say, it was a good rendition, too.

He was actually using some paint for this one, and didn't even bother to clean up his station before leaving; small bottles of paint and brushes were littered on the ground. 

Courtney considered picking the mess up and throwing it away, but she figured he'd be back for them himself.

The brunette studies the carving a little more, and while she wouldn't admit it to anyone but herself, she recognized the faintest quality of talent in the etching before her. And, with a simple hum of thought, she turns to follow the path back towards her new home.

— ♔ —

The car is almost completely silent, save for the quiet sound of Heather's finger rhythmically tapping on the driver's wheel.

The ravenette checked her phone again for the time—4:11 PM. Duncan was supposed to come out at 4, what the hell is he doing??

"Can't count on men for shit," she sighed to herself as she clicked on the FaceTime app, ready to call him.

She's interrupted, though, by a sudden rap on the passenger seat window. Slightly startled, Heather looks up to see none other than Gwen, more affectionately known to her as 'weird goth girl', standing outside her car.

"When the hell did you get here?!" She exclaimed, rolling down her window. Gwen crouched down to meet her eye level, leaning on the window sill. "I literally live a couple of houses down," she said, pointing down the row of houses to where she lived.

"So you're as pale as a ghost and creep up like one, too." She shrugged, unlocking the car doors to let her in. But just as she's about to get into the backseat, Heather remarks, "Why are you getting in the back? Do I look like an Uber driver to you??"

Gwen, visibly restraining herself from saying something snarky and mustering all the patience in the world, moved to the passenger seat door and grudgingly got in. The goth seemed to mutter something to herself, but whether or not Heather cared, she didn't question it.

"Remind me to never ask you for a ride again. I'd rather walk," she huffed, blowing some of her bangs out of her eyes.

"You honestly should—God knows you need the tan."

"I'm not that pale."

"Keep telling yourself that, maybe it'll come true!"

Gwen palms her forehead in frustration, "What the fuck is taking Duncan so long?!"

Heather starts honking her car horn nonstop, hoping to get the aforementioned boy's attention and shorten the amount of time she had to spend alone with Gwen.

It wasn't that Heather totally disliked the girl or held some sort of hatred for her—it was just admittedly too easy to pick on her at times.

A part of her also resented the fact that everyone had taken to Gwen so quickly: Geoff, despite them being polar opposites, always made a point to include her in everything; Bridgette (okay maybe this one wasn't as surprising) in the way that she'd always hang out, study, joke around with her; and Duncan. Well, he was the most shocking one of all, because he wasn't exactly the type to make a conscious effort in befriending people.

Maybe it was because of their shared emo-ness ('edgy humor', they liked to call it), or their numerous overlaps in interests, whether it be music, movies, shows, etc., but the two quickly became as thick as thieves.

Obviously, Heather had to be blind to not notice the fact that Goth-y had a major crush on the guy. It wasn't that she didn't understand the appeal (obviously Duncan was hot, but too emo for her, and frankly? An absolute dick, he was a walking red flag in most respects), but the fact that Gwen thought she had a chance? Hilarious.

Sure, he seemed to maybe, slightly, care about Gwen as a friend, but in terms of romance (which Heather wasn't sure he was even capable of anymore), she was completely far from his type—at least, based on past precedent.

"Alright, alright!! You can stop honking now, he's finally coming out!" Gwen shouted over the loud horn, her hands covering her ears.

"Hmph," Heather pouted as she glared down Duncan, who was taking his sweet time walking towards the car.

"Aww, how sweet of you girls to wait up," he said smoothly as he made his way into the backseat, the strong smell of his cologne filling up her car.

"This is the last time I do you the favor of picking you up," Heather scoffed, turning around to squint her eyes at him.

Gwen chuckled, "What took you so long anyways? It's not like you had to do your makeup or anything."

"It takes time to look this good, I'll have you know," Duncan nonchalantly sighed as made himself comfortable—his head tilted back on the headrest, man-spreading to his content.

"So who are you trying to look good for anyway?" Heather smirked at him as she put her sunglasses on and started the engine to her precious car. The smooth purr of its engine was like music to her well-adorned ears—she greatly appreciated a car well taken care of.

"Dude, everyone at school is so ran-through. I can't hook up with anyone without immediately getting into some BS drama with someone else. I need is someone new," the punk loudly complained.

"The only thing I miss about my old school was that you could kinda do whatever you wanted and not have it spread to the rest of the school within minutes," Gwen sympathized, putting her head against the window sill to feel the cool afternoon breeze against her temples, "Here, it's like living under a microscope."

"So what I'm hearing is that you're going back to Dakota tonight?" Heather inquired.

Duncan rolled his eyes in annoyance just at the thought of her, "Fuck no. I've already hooked up with her three times, she's gonna start getting attached and shit."

"Three times?! Yikes, Duncan. I've never broken the cardinal rule of getting with a hookup more than two times—unless it's an established friends-with-benefits kind of situation."

"I know, Heather, I'm not stupid. I'm avoiding her like the fucking plague tonight. I've been talking to one of her friends, though, Taylor?"

"Taylor McAuley??" Heather could hardly keep her composure, "I thought Dakota was her best friend?!"

"Beats me. She's thick as fuck, though." Duncan now seemed to be scrolling through her Instagram on his phone, "but is it really stupid of me to get with her?"

"Uhhhh," Heather thought on it for a second, "normally I'd say yes but they're seniors so they'll be leaving soon anyways. Besides, if Dakota ever finds out, she'd get way more pissed at Taylor than you. Girl code, or whatever."

"Wow, you guys are both assholes." That was all Gwen could contribute to the conversation, deciding to focus her attention on the passing scenery around them on their way to the lake.

One thing Heather and Duncan had uncannily in common was their approach (or rather, aversion) to relationships: purely for the cheap thrills, no strings attached, no messy feelings. It was just easier that way.

And frankly, it was nice for Heather to have someone to talk to so casually about sex and hook-ups. Bridgette was Ms. Relationship, she wouldn't even kiss a guy if they didn't have any verbal commitment; Geoff wasn't too much of a slut before Bridgette, but Heather knows he'd gotten with at least two of her old friends before practically marrying Bridge (come to think of it, it was probably Geoff who ruined those friendships for her, not that she really cared); Gwen mentioned a boyfriend at her old school, but it didn't sound like she was too interested in hooking up with people anyways (or if she was, she never made an effort to).

So that left Heather and Duncan to swap war stories, ask each other for advice, and set each other up with friends and mutuals so that neither of them was left high and dry.

And while Duncan was definitely an established man-whore at school, Heather was way smarter at keeping her sexual life on the down-low; that sort of reputation was always worse for girls than guys. 

People slut-shamed her enough without knowing her body count; they'd all go to town if they knew the actual number.

It's easy to hate a pretty girl, Heather sighed to herself as she admired her reflection in the side view mirror.

"Don't worry, Pasty, it's all just dumb fun," he said as he yawned, stretching his arms back above his head, before resting his hands there. "The second you decide you wanna hook up with someone, just make sure they're not like me."

"Got it."

That dry response was enough for Heather to know exactly what was going through Gwen's head, and a part of her sympathized with that sense of unrequitedness.

"So Heather, what are your plots for the night? Justin again?" Duncan asked with a sly grin, completely oblivious to the moody goth in their presence.

"Hell no. He may be hot, but he's got no personality. Which normally I wouldn't mind, but kissing him is like kissing a wall."

"Harsh!" Duncan cackled his ass off.

"No, I'm a junior now. It's time I start to aim higher—I'm thinking Jose."

"Burromuerto?"

"The one and only. Hooking up with him will be easy, but if I can get him to like me enough to take me to Homecoming, then I've got Junior and Senior Prom Queen in the bag," she stated intently, tightening her grip on the wheel with determination.

"Yeah, except...you have to get him to like you," Duncan teased, even earning a chortle from Gwen, who was still facing away from them and towards the window.

"Oh, please," she turned to smirk at him, "for me, it'll be a piece of cake."

— ༄ —

Geoff had outdone himself this time.

Almost 70% of the school had already pulled up and were vastly enjoying themselves at the lake shore; drinks were going strong, people were playing cup pong, 'beach' volleyball, chicken fights in the water. Some people had even started to hook up already, and it was only 5:07 PM.

Despite the darty's avid success, the only people he cared to share it with weren't even there. But, as if in response to his thoughts, the blond's phone starts ringing to show an incoming call from Heather.

"Where the hell are you guys?" Geoff exclaims, holding the phone close to his ear since it was hard to hear anything over the music-blasting speakers.

"Take a pill, Geoff, we're here already. I just need you to open your garage door so I can park inside. Like hell I'm leaving my car out for some drunkies to try to break into and hook up in."

And he could just barely hear Gwen's retort in the background, "You're so fucking dramatic."

"Don't worry, brah, I'm coming over right now." And he hung up the phone before hearing anything else.

He rushed over to the garage and did as he was asked; currently, only his car was sitting in there, leaving space for Heather's car and Courtney's. But both of their spaces were empty at the moment.

Geoff checked his phone again to make sure he wasn't missing any notifications from Bridgette, before sighing at finding none and pressing the button to open the garage door.

Heather smoothly drove in and parked her car, they were all out and joining him on the lake within a matter of minutes.

"Now this is a party!" Duncan exclaims as he walks up to Geoff to dab him up.

"Fuck that, this is a darty!!" The blond exclaimed.

"Yeah, I'm not saying that corny ass shit," Duncan chuckles as he looks around, taking in the whole scene before him.

"Geoff! Please tell me you have some weed leftover from last night—I never got to hit it before I left," Gwen pleaded, giving him her puppy eyes.

The blond simply laughed at her desperation, "Don't worry, brah, my plug's coming later to restock me."

Satisfied with his answer, she simply looks around to see if she can find any other familiar faces.

"Wow, Geoff, this is big—even by your standards," Heather commented, crossing her arms conservatively.

"I know, right?!" He responded incredulously, "I mean, I should just host all my parties out here—we can be as loud as we fucking want! WOOOO!" He shouted victoriously, as if to demonstrate his point.

"Wait, how is Bridge not here yet?? I thought she was helping you throw this," Heather kept scoping out the place, trying to spot her bubbly friend.

Geoff's mood was watered down at the reminder of his girlfriend's absence. It may sound cheesy as fuck, but stuff really was way better whenever Bridgette was around. And the fact that she hadn't texted him in so long was just a little off-putting for him.

"Uhh, I'm sure she's on the way. She said she was getting ready with Mocha, and the two of them together is a recipe for lateness," he faked nonchalance, a hand fixing the cowboy hat atop his head.

"Mocha? You mean Courtney, the girl Bridgette mentioned yesterday?" Gwen asked, arching a brow in curiosity, to which he responded with a simple nod.

"And Bridgette wanted me to tell you that she's off limits, Duncan," he said in a serious tone, well, as serious as he could muster.

"Damn, okay. Not like that was even on my mind or anything," his hands were up in innocence, but the devilish smirk on his face said it all, "Why? Is she hot?"

Geoff knew Duncan better than most, and he could tell Bridgette's warning almost registered like a challenge in his friend's mind. It probably would've been better that Geoff had said nothing, never even planted that seed of thought in his brain.

He just rolled his eyes at Duncan, "Just don't be a dick to her, and you're good. Actually, that goes for you, too, Heather."

"What, me??? I'm not a dick!!"

A moment of silence befell them.

"Okay, you assholes! Maybe I can be mean—but I'm just honest. Everyone's so damn sensitive," the ravenette crossed her arms defensively.

"Geoff, you do realize that other than you and Bridgette, everyone else in our friend group is really unapproachable. I'm not even that rude, and people still call me intimidating," Gwen pointed out.

"That's just because you're weird and unlikable," Heather shrugged. But at the following moments of awkward silence as everyone stared her down, she simply sighed, "Sorry, it's too easy sometimes. I can't help myself."

"I don't mean to worry you guys too much about it," Geoff tried moving forward with the conversation, "To be honest, Mocha's pretty unapproachable herself. But, just...be nice guys."

"Yikes, does that mean she's a weirdo?" Heather winced, "We all know Bridgette's not above taking in strays," and, of course, she gave Gwen a wicked side eye.

Geoff really didn't understand Heather, or girls like Heather, at all sometimes. Of course, he's gotten to know Heather enough since the start of high school to know she's not a complete mean girl, but there were times where she could've fooled him. Namely, right now.

And he could never really tell when she and Gwen were on good terms; sometimes they were indifferent and other times at each other's throats—it was hard to keep up. Girls, man. Thank God Bridgette's not so hot-n-cold.

"Well, Bridgette's a good person, and a good friend to people and animals alike—lucky for you, she's not disgusted by snakes," Gwen shot back, leaving Heather with a gaping expression.

And before she could even respond with one of her usual witty retorts, Bridgette, in her usual diffusive manner, saunters over to the group, completely oblivious to whatever verbal catfight had occurred moments before.

"Babe!" Geoff breathes out a huge sigh of relief, opening up his arms, ready to scoop her into a hug.

She's more than willing to jump into them, and Geoff held onto their embrace for longer than Bridgette probably expected.

"Awwww, did someone miss me??"

"So all this hype about Latte, or whatever, and she's not even here?" Duncan asked, crossing his arms expectantly.

"What are you talking about, she's walking over right now," Bridgette laughed as she turned back around and pointed a finger to single Courtney out—though she didn't have to.

The crowds of people were naturally parting a path for Courtney as she walked directly towards them, looking as beautiful and picturesque as ever.

Geoff and Bridgette chuckled to themselves, as if sharing a secret only they were in on. 

They were used to these kinds of reactions from people whenever they introduced Courtney to them; just the 10-second delay that goes on as their brains try to process that such beauty can exist in one person.

All their friends were just staring at her, mouths gaping in surprise.

Duncan, the only one with a verbal reaction: "No fucking way."

— ❥ —

Okay, so one could be the most secure and confident person in the world, and still be shitting bricks if they were in Courtney's shoes at the moment.

Almost everyone was pausing their conversations and craning their necks to see her as she walked down the shore to where Bridgette, Geoff, and the rest of their friends were standing.

I guess they don't get too many new kids here, she thought to herself.

The bonfire was everything Bridgette described it as, and more.

"COURTNEY!!! Court!! Get over here!" Bridgette shouted at her, eagerly beckoning the brunette to pick up the pace as she made her way over.

A loose smile spreads across her face as she gives her blonde friend a knowing look.

For a moment, it was just everyone else in the group eyeing Courtney, who was trying hard not to squirm under their scrutiny.

"I'm Courtney. It's nice to meet you," and she offers a friendly wave.

The brunette first meets eyes with one of the girls—very pale skin with contrasting features, dark, almost black, eyes and jet black hair with some chunks dyed a faded, space blue. It was messily styled, her bangs sitting sparsely above her ultra-thin brows and the rest of it hanging it just above her shoulders at a grown-out-bob length. Courtney could tell from the dark berry lip gloss, silver septum piercing, and black hoodie used as a cover up over her black boyshorts, that she was very edgy—gothic.

Meanwhile, the other girl was intensely scoping Courtney out, as Courtney was her.

She's got a sharp glare, I swear it could cut right through me, she thought to herself as she took in the rest of the ravenette's appearance.

In credit to her descriptor, she had pin straight, raven black hair that just barely reached her elbow. She had very dark hazel, almost washed-out gray, eyes that oozed judgment, hidden behind a full set of well-kept lash extensions. Whereas the other girl's figure was pretty slim, this one's was toned, with very lean muscle. If Courtney had to take a guess, she'd either say this girl either did track, cheer, or dance.

"Gwen," was all the first girl said in response, before adding, "I was new last year, so, I know what you're going through."

"It's a little overwhelming, isn't it?"

Gwen merely scoffed at her, "It's basically hell for the first, hm, 3 months or so? But it gets better, I guess."

"Not if I have anything to say about it," Bridgette piped in, wrapping an arm around Courtney in her usual cheery manner.

"You're sweet, Bridge, but I'm sure it'll take me some time to warm up to people. Or, at least, for people to warm up to me."

And then a third, previously silent voice joined the conversation: "Well, not if you play your cards right."

The ravenette was facing Courtney directly and outstretched a hand to rest on her shoulder, "I'm Heather. Something tells me we're going to be good friends."

Courtney slightly squints her eyes at the girl, not quite knowing what to make of her; it was clear from her gaze that Heather was a very calculated person, with intention behind every word said and action done. But honestly? So was Courtney.

Game, as they say, recognizes game. And this kind of stuff? Mind games, social politics, strategy—that, she was good at.

"Heather? Good? Oh, that's rich," Gwen chuckled to herself, earning a sheepish look from Geoff and a reproaching one from Bridgette.

Courtney also let out a slight chuckle, "For both our sakes, Heather," and she paused, giving the girl a look up and down, as she had been looking at her before, "I hope you're right."

And just for a second, Courtney could see Heather's guard falter, only slightly.

"I'm so lucky to have all my favorite girls with me!" Bridgette cheered as she clutched Gwen and Courtney's hand to her, completely oblivious to whatever was happening between the latter and Heather.

So that only left one person not yet introduced….

And, obviously, she'd noticed him walking up. How couldn't she? You don't forget someone like that, at least, not within a day of meeting them.

When she first caught sight of his green hair, Courtney stopped dead in her tracks; luckily, Bridgette didn't seem to notice and just kept on walking over to her friends. But Courtney needed a moment to compose herself and decide what she was going to do.

Well, what could she do? A) Pretend she'd never met him and be as cordial as possible, or, B) be her usual snarky self and pick up their bickering match where it left off in the woods.

Honestly, she was willing to not say anything or make a fuss about it, considering that he turned out to be one of Bridgette's good friends. After all, she really didn't mean to get off on a bad start with him—especially if they'd potentially be running in the same social circles.

"Oh! And Mocha, meet my bro, Duncan!" Geoff exclaimed, patting said friend on the back as he introduced them.

Duncan had been staring at Courtney the whole time she was there, with an expression that was very hard, even for her, to read.

"No need for the introductions, Princess and I go way back," he confidently remarked, earning puzzled expressions from the rest of the group.

"You guys know each other?" Gwen asked, drawing a finger between the two of them.

"We really don't, I don't know why he said that," Courtney rolled her eyes as she looked to the side in a sheepish manner, "And now you know my name. So don't call me Princess."

"That hurts my feelings, Princess, I thought we had a real heart-to-heart today—y'know, back at our spot," and he even had the audacity to throw in a cheeky wink at the end of his sentence.

'Our spot'?! What the hell is this guy's game? Why is he being such an ass?

"I don't understand," Bridgette said, hesitantly looking from Duncan to Courtney in complete perplexity.

"There's nothing to understand. We don't have a 'spot', we don't 'go way back', we don't know each other—plain and simple," Courtney seethed as she gave Duncan the dirtiest glare she could muster.

And Duncan, whether he picked up on Courtney's discontentment or not, was completely unfazed, returning her hostility with a lax disposition and signature smirk.

An awkward silence fell upon the group, no one quite knowing how to pivot from such a point of contention, and no one daring to. With one, notable exception.

"While you guys decide whether or not you know each other, I'm going to go have fun. This is a party, for heaven's sake." Heather scoffed as she turned on her heels, strutting away to make better use of her precious time.

Geoff let out a visible sigh at the given opportunity to diffuse the tension, "Right on! Let's party forever!!" He hooted, wrapping an arm around Duncan and Courtney alike.

The brunette merely let out a passive sigh and muttered a weak, "Yay." 

Bridgette linked her arm with Courtney's, leaning in to whisper, "Everything okay?"

She sighed, turning to her hazel-eyed friend. As off-putting as Duncan was, Courtney wasn't going to let him ruin the night. She's disliked people before, big deal. What's one more name to the list?

"Everything's perfectly fine." And with a curt nod, Courtney decided it was her turn to be the more impulsive one. "Now, let's get a drink! I need a Coke."

She grabbed Bridgette by the hand and pulled her into a playful jog towards the drinks table, barely hearing Geoff's shouts of encouragement, "YEAH, MOCHA!!"

It was about time she took a page out of Geoff's notebook. And besides, it'd be easier to forget about annoying, green-haired punks with a drink in hand.

— ❈ —

"Courtney…is so hot."

Gwen scoffed at Duncan's remark. It's not like she could disagree with him, the girl was gorgeous. Since she walked off with Bridgette, Duncan had not stopped staring at her the entire time.

Even as their conversations drifted to other topics, or as they talked to other people, Gwen couldn't help but notice that his eye would always find its way back to a certain brunette. 

She was used to Duncan always ditching her at parties to get with other girls, especially later into the night. It never bothered Gwen too much, except now it caused them to lose their previously undefeated cup pong streak.

Clearly, this was different than those other times—Duncan was keeping his distance from Courtney, which was definitely not par for the course. He was probably the most forward person Gwen knew…and maybe she could stand to learn a thing or two from him.

Anyways, why Gwen's treacherous mind forced her to focus on these things was beyond her—it's not like she was obsessively following his line of vision 24/7. But she couldn't help what she noticed; in fact, she wished she hadn't noticed these kinds of things. It'd make her life way easier, and her mind quieter.

She brushed all those thoughts away and gave Duncan a sly grin, "You really think so? I couldn't tell." He just rolled his eyes, still not taking them off Courtney.

Gwen cleared her throat, "Well, what about Taylor?"

"Who?" He scoffed.

"Taylor? You were literally just telling me and Heather about how you wanted to—"

"Who?" And this time he turned to face Gwen, giving her a deadpan expression.

Oh.

"Wow, you're forward," the goth crossed her arms in slight disapproval.

"And she's hot."

"Who, Courtney?" Heather asked as she walked up to the two of them and then gave them a bitter smile and eye roll, "That seems to be the general consensus."

"Jealous, are you?" Duncan challenged, giving her a knowing smirk.

"As if. Anyways, can you guys get over yourselves and help me out?" she scoffed, tossing her inky black hair to the side.

"Gee, since you asked so nicely," Gwen lamely rolled her eyes at her.

Completely ignoring her, Heather turned towards Duncan, "I need to start talking to Jose, like, now if I want him to be interested in me by homecoming."

Duncan and Gwen shared a similar look of dispassion, the latter crossing her arms in unwillingness.

Duncan sighed, "And how the fuck do you want me to do that?"

Heather patted an index finger on her lip, feigning thought, "Oh, I don't know—like this!"

And before Gwen could even blink, Heather pushed Duncan into the sand, making him bump into Jose—who was conveniently chatting with his friend only a couple feet away.

Gwen rolled her eyes. Here I thought she walked up to us because she wanted to talk to us.

Heather was already putting on her best performance of worry and concern, "Oh my god!! Are you okay?!" And she put a strategic hand on Jose's shoulder, "You'll have to excuse my friend, he's such a klutz."

"What the hell, Heather?!" Duncan complained as he got up from the floor, brushing the sand off his swim trunks.

"Aww, do you have a concussion? Go find Geoff." Heather couldn't get rid of him fast enough, pushing him again but this time right into Gwen, and twirling back around to focus her attention on charming Jose.

Not that it'd take a lot on her behalf; as much as Gwen hated to admit, Heather had a certain suavity when it came to flirting that made the goth just a little envious. It's not that Gwen had any direct interest in being some sort of femme fatale, but she's never known what it's like to be able to have that sort of effect on others. She was far too unsociable and off-putting for it.

"Nice friend we have, huh?" She rolled her eyes at said girl, who was laughing way too hard at whatever Jose was saying, and the consequential layer of blush covering his face was a sign of her charm at work.

"That's Heather for you," Duncan rolled his eyes, "but she's usually good about returning the favor."

"And speaking of…" He brought his palms together pleadingly. Gwen feared that she already knew where this was going…

"I need a favor from you."

Gwen only looked up at him with a cocked brow and crossed arms. Whatever was going to come out of his mouth next would probably come at the price of her contentment.

"I need you to go challenge Courtney to a chicken fight."

"What?! Why??" She shouted at him.

"Because she'll obviously say no to me! And I just want a chance to talk to her," he shrugged, beating around the bush for why he'd put in so much effort to get close to a girl when he could probably get with anyone else.

Gwen scoffed, "She's not made of stone, if you want to go talk to her, then do it yourself!!"

"It's not that easy…she just…look, if I could do that you know I wouldn't be asking you for a favor!" 

"Hello? I'm a terrible wingman! That's why you have Heather," Gwen shrieked, frankly disturbed at the thought of scoring Duncan a hookup.

"She's clearly busy right now! Come on, Pasty…"

And he did that motion of the eyes thing to Gwen again, his eyes so clear a blue that she swore she could even see her own reflection. As a cherry on top, he slouched a casual arm around her shoulder and pulled her close to whisper in her ear: "Do me a solid?"

Gwen's first instinct was to turn her face away from him, simply to hide the fact that her nose and ears were smeared an embarrassing shade of pink. So what if his proximity to her made her nervous?? 

She'd never let him know it.

The goth bit her lip as she stood in thought. She already knew what her answer was—how could she say no? She had no good reason to. 

At least, no reason that didn't involve an embarrassing confession.

Finally, Gwen let out an obnoxious sigh, "Alright! Okay! Jesus….but you owe me!"

"I knew you'd come through, you're the best!" Duncan explained as he grabbed her hand and jogged her to where Courtney was talking to Trent and Justin, Gwen leaving behind a trail of groans.

What the fuck have I gotten myself into????

When they walked up to the trio, Courtney's eyes seemed to flash with both recognition and relief at the sight of them.

"Gwen!" she exclaimed, rushing to hug the girl.

As much as it took Gwen aback, she felt herself fall easily into the role of Courtney's friend, even hugging her back. But that was probably more a response of shock than genuine affection.

Right before the brunette pulled away, she quickly whispered in Gwen's ear, "Please save me, the tall one won't stop talking and I've no idea how to get him to stop."

Laughter bubbled threateningly in Gwen's throat—she assumed Courtney was talking about Justin. Hot as he was, all sense of dreaminess and fantasy went away the second he opened his mouth…and never closed it.

Gwen never knew how his friends could stand him, like Trent, for example. Other than the fact that he played guitar and was relatively quiet, Gwen knew nothing about him. But the fact that he could stand to tolerate Justin on a daily basis told her that he had the patience of a saint.

"Courtney," Gwen began, almost forgetting the reason they'd walked up to her until Duncan had not-so-subtly elbowed her in the side. "Uhmm, I was wondering….well, we were wondering-"

Another elbow, this time to the rib.

"Nope! Just me! I was wondering if you, uhm….uh..."

Gwen kept losing her train of thought as she looked from Courtney, to Justin, to Duncan, to Trent, all dealing her puzzled expressions.

"Chicken fight?" She finally just blurted out. 

"Duncan and I against you and…" her gaze shifted to Trent, who could not look more uninterested, and then to Justin, whose eagerness could be smelled from miles away.

"Me!" Justin exclaimed before she could even finish her thought, and Gwen swore she saw Courtney's eye twitch. 

Trent, on the other hand, simply laughed out loud as he casually walked away from the train wreck.

Courtney hesitated, "Oh, I don't know…"

Justin put an arm around her, "Come on, Court, let's do it!"

Duncan cackled, seemingly at his pet name for her as well as her obvious discomfort with it, "Yeah, Court. Don't be a stick in the mud!"

"Who even says that anymore?" Gwen rolled her eyes at him. Why had she agreed to this in the first place…did she really like him that much?

The two girls shared an empathetic look with one another at whatever sad situation they'd both seemingly been roped into.

Until, a realization dawned on Courtney. 

"You know what? You guys are right, let's play." The brunette extended a hand and smug disposition towards her, "Gwen?"

It took a moment for said girl to catch on, but not as long as it took Duncan and Justin, who apprehensively followed the two girls as they walked, hand-in-hand, towards the shore.

— ꕥ —

"Okay, this isn't exactly what I had in mind!" Duncan shouted, as he struggled to balance Justin's lanky build on his shoulders.

Meanwhile, Courtney had no problem holding up Gwen's small frame, and even reveled in making competitive jabs at Duncan to throw him off even more while their teammates battled it out above the water.

It was all too funny for Bridgette to witness from afar, as she took a couple of hilarious action shots with her digital camera.

"This is definitely making it to the junior year scrapbook," she giggled to herself as she scrolled through all the prize-winning shots. She put her eye to the camera to take another nice picture of the sunset's yellow, orange, and pink before the frame was suddenly filled with tan, blonde, and blue.

"Geoff!" 

"Babe!" He picked Bridgette up and swirled her around. "Didn't I just make your shot 10 times hotter??"

She simply laughed as he ran a flirty hand through his blond, tousled waves, "How are you enjoying your party? Epic turnout, right?!"

"I guess," he lightly rolled his eyes, "but the only person I really cared about showing up was you."

Geoff touched his nose to Bridgette's nose, arms wrapped around her frame while her hands were occupied by the camera she held under her chin.

Bridgette considered sealing the deal herself and going in for a kiss, but instead she nuzzled her head into his neck and leaned into his embrace, which was more than welcomed.

She thought to herself for a moment about responding to him, only to come up with nothing. What more could she say?

Bridgette felt luckier than words could even express to have someone like Geoff in her life—someone who genuinely cared about her and was constantly thinking about her.

There were times when Bridgette felt she didn't know what to do with all this love, experiencing it in surplus. This was the kind of emotional encounter she'd only ever read about in her romance books, or seen in those movies her mom would take her to as a little girl. Where the prince swept the princess off her feet and everything was good with the world and they lived happily ever after. Period. The end.

But this was her reality. Geoff wasn't just Bridgette's dream guy—he was as real as the air she breathed, and lately, had seemed to be as intoxicating as it to.

As much as she wore her heart on her sleeve, Bridgette wasn't the overly vulnerable or codependent type. Lately, however, Geoff had her considering otherwise…

She quickly pulled away from him, "Hey, I'm gonna go check on Courtney, make sure Duncan isn't bothering her too much."

"Woah, woah, you leaving me so soon?" He whined, grabbing onto the blonde's hand as she tried to scamper away, "I feel like I've barely seen you at all today!"

"That's not true! I've seen you plenty!" She gave him a lopsided smile.

"Come onnn, let's go down to the hot tub! I specifically closed it off so we could use it!" he called to her, blue eyes beaming with hope.

"But, Courtney–"

"Look at her, Bridge. Doesn't seem like Duncan's bothering her at all—actually! She seems to be having the time of her life! Having fun! At my party! So you should do the same."

Bridgette didn't know where her hesitation was coming from as she bit her lip in thought. She blushed as she thought about the last time they were in the hot tub together; clearly, she'd enjoyed it then. So, why not now?

There was an obvious answer to follow. So she ignored the slight pit in her throat and took Geoff's hand leading her back towards the lake house.

— ✪ —

So the chicken fight may have been a failure in most respects—Duncan had Gwen to thank for conspiring against him with Courtney—but, it wasn't a complete dud.

After all, there was something to be said for the fact that he was now alone with Courtney as they both waited for Gwen and Justin to bring some towels from inside the house. 

On the one hand, this was Courtney, the girl who simply couldn't stand him and dealt him judgemental looks every possible second; but on the other hand, this was Courtney, a hot chick with an insane build wearing a tiny bikini, who had legs for days.

The only bad part about all this was that Duncan couldn't speak a word without instantly annoying her, and there was no way any of his usual pickup lines would charm her.

See, a better man might've taken the hint by now and given up—but Duncan was, well, Duncan.

"So, good game?" he offered a cheeky smile. Maybe he couldn't outright flirt with her, but he could try his hand at small-talk.

"Maybe not for you."

Rejection.

"That was a pretty devastating loss," she scoffed, crossing her arms away from him.

"Are you kidding me? That was the upset of the century!"

"Funny, I never took you for a sore loser," she lightly tapped a finger on her chin in fake thought.

"How about next time you try holding up Justin while he flails around like fish out of water—it's not easy!" He pointed out, defensively.

Courtney simply smiled at his dismay, amused at how riled up he was. "True, I mean his muscles must make up, what, 90? 95 percent of his body mass?" And that only seemed to annoy him more.

"Probably to compensate for the fact that he's got no activity going on up here," Duncan scoffed, tapping a finger to his forehead. And then Courtney laughed, and something within Duncan felt…proud? For being its source. Now that was funny.

"And hey, it's not like your partner was any better!" He added on.

"At least she was good enough to win! She may not be the strongest…like, at all, but she still got him in the water," and Courtney couldn't even finish her sentence properly without them both bursting into laughter, reminded of a less than flattering memory of Justin screaming like a prepubescent boy as he went down into the water.

It took a minute before the laughter fully subsided, and even then the two couldn't keep a straight face—even the slightest chuckle threatened a whole slew of laughter.

"You know, I'm pretty sure there's an obvious answer to this whole situation," Duncan said between laughs. 

"What?"

And he tried to keep a straighter face as he said this: "I mean, come on. Isn't it obvious? We've gotta be a team next round."

"Next round?" Courtney chuckled.

"Admit it, we'd be unstoppable."

A bit of silence fell upon the two, Courtney not quite knowing what to say. But Duncan could see the cogs turning in her mind. In fact, she didn't even need to say anything for Duncan to know what her response was—the subtle smile on her face said enough.

She opens her mouth to respond, but is interrupted by a disheveled DJ jogging up to them.

"Yo!" He shouted as approached, "What's up, Courtney?"

Said girl smiled and waved at him before he turned his attention to Duncan, "D-Man, have you been checking the group chat?"

He cocked an eyebrow before reaching into his pocket for his phone, "Uhh no. Why?"

He saw that he had 20+ unread notifications from Messages.

"There's no more alcohol, we need more for later," DJ explained.

"So? Go get some." He shrugged.

"None of us have our fakes, and none of us are good to drive," he answered, hands laced atop his durag in distress.

"Bro, didn't you only have one can of beer?"

He rubbed his eyes as he spoke, "I also popped an eddy with Harold."

At that, Duncan couldn't hold back his laughter, "Pffft, Harold? Dude—"

"He's a solid guy!" DJ puts his hands up in defense, "and anyways, I'm not getting behind a wheel right now. Mama would kill me if she ever found out!"

Courtney only gave a sympathetic look, while Duncan sighed in annoyance, "DJJJ."

"Please man! Geoff would do it but he's not answering either, and I haven't seen Bridgette in a while so, you know…"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Duncan said, shaking his head dismissively, "I didn't drive here, though."

DJ's expression instantly morphed from dejection to elation, "Okay, so all you need is a driver! Perfect!"

"Don't get so excited, almost everyone Ubered."

And suddenly, Courtney interrupted their conversation with an apologetic tone, "Right, well, this sounds like my cue to leave. I hope you guys find a driver–"

Just as suddenly, a thought occurred to Duncan, and he couldn't fight the smirk growing on his face. "Wait a second, didn't you drive here?"

Courtney was taken aback by his perception, "Stalk much?"

"Bridgette hasn't been driving lately, you guys came together, you haven't had any alcohol, ergo, you drove," he stated very matter-of-factly.

"Wow, so you do have a brain!" She said in fake-surprise.

He tilted his head at her, "Oh come on, Princess. Do us a solid?"

"I don't think I should—"

DJ cut into her sentence and pleaded with his hands laced together, "Please, Courtney! I promise I'll return the favor somehow!"

The brunette thought about it a little more, seemingly stuck between a rock and a hard place. But, in the end, one side prevailed.

She threw her hands in the air in acceptance, "Fine! Jesus Christ…but only because DJ asked me to!"

Duncan smirked at her, "Whatever makes you feel better—let's go!"

And just as he grabbed Courtney's hand and walked her towards the garage, Gwen and Justin were barely approaching a now solitary DJ.

"Wait, where are they going?" Gwen asked, holding an armful of towels.

"Getting some more drinks. We ran out." DJ shrugged.

Gwen said nothing, but observed them as they walked off together. She couldn't tell whether they were arguing or laughing together—or perhaps it was a bit of both.

Justin, who'd previously been concerned with getting the perfect ruffle through his dampened hair, came to the realization that Courtney had left.

"Wait, they left!? Damn it!" He exclaimed, slapping his arm against his leg. 

"I so wanted to ask Courtney for her number!"

— ♔ —

Heather had reached her final straw. She didn't know how much longer she could talk to a guy that had absolutely nothing going on in his brain, other than an obsession with himself.

The whole party had been nothing but her smiling and nodding as Jose talked about his accomplishments, his soccer stories, his camera roll, his unlaunched music career. It's not like she was ever expecting to talk philosophy with the guy, but this…this was worse than she'd expected.

So now, Heather found herself hiding out behind a tree, far removed from the festivities happening on the shoreline. Even just a few moments of silence, where she wasn't forced to hear him speak sentence after endless sentence, proved to be healing.

Lame as it sounded, Heather enjoyed having this moment to herself. She could hear her own thoughts, and forget all the social politics that she was so prone to obsessing over.

But somehow, becoming aware of the fact that she was alone, while everyone else wasn't, icked her out. 

"Ew, I'm like weird goth girl," she muttered to herself, shaking her head as she braced herself for making a reappearance at the party.

As she was walking back towards the shore, she inadvertently stepped into the middle of what seemed to be a group hangout—Noah, Cody, Izzy, and Owen were sitting in a semi-circle, some of them lounging on tree stumps while the rest sat on the floor. The pungent stench of weed also didn't escape Heather.

"Sorry, am I interrupting your orgy?" She scoffed down at them. 

"Aww, don't be bitter, Heather! You're more than welcome to join!" Izzy exclaimed, inching closer to her.

"Drop dead!" She scoffed, as she strutted away, hearing the roars of their laughter behind her.

Heather rolled her eyes—she really didn't understand people that chose to exclude themselves from social scenes. She simply didn't believe anyone that said they didn't care what others thought of them.

They were teenagers for crying out loud—they were supposed to care! She wasn't any crazier for obsessing about social status than they were for entirely dismissing it. People could judge her for it all they wanted, but at the end of the day, she'd graduate from high school leaving a legacy behind.

Queen Bee, Cheer Captain, and soon, only girl to bag the hottest guy in school. And! Only junior to get asked to Senior Prom.

Getting there proved to be harder than she expected—Heather internally cringed at the thought of having to talk to Jose again—but she had to do what she had to do. And she was going to succeed.

"Heather!" She's pulled out her thoughts by a voice calling to her, but her face drops any sign of interest once she sees that it's just Gwen.

"What?"

"Where the fuck is everyone?" Gwen exclaimed.

"What do you mean?"

"Geoff and Bridgette have been gone for well over an hour–"

Heather scoffed, "Does that really surprise you?"

"And Duncan and Courtney haven't come back yet."

At that, Heather's interest was piqued: "Where'd they go?"

Gwen looked sheepishly to the side, clutching her elbows, "To get more drinks, but the liquor store is like 5 minutes away and they've been gone for half an hour."

Heather thought to herself for a moment—she knew Duncan was interested in her, but Courtney didn't really strike her as the type to hook up with someone so fast. Then again, she didn't really know Courtney, like, at all.

"Okay…why does any of this concern me?"

"Excuse me for expecting you to be a real friend," Gwen rolled her eyes.

Heather crossed her arms, she didn't really know what to say or do. She didn't know how to be a friend to Gwen, even if she'd wanted to. It's not like they had tons in common.

The two seemed to be predetermined enemies based solely on their archetypes: Heather was the popular girl, Gwen was the weird goth girl. The fact that they both happened to be in the same friend group was an anomaly of sorts.

Just as Heather was about to speak in a lame attempt to start a conversation, she was saved by a lovey-dovey Geoff and Bridgette making their way over.

"Yooooo!!" Geoff hollered at them, and Heather noticed a look of relief wash upon Gwen's face.

"Finally! You guys were gone so long!" Gwen exclaimed as Bridgette dove in to hug her.

"Sorry!! We just, um, got caught up," the bubbly blonde sheepishly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Yeah, you can stop there," Heather said, crossing her arms.

"Where's Duncan?" Geoff asked, looking around.

Bridgette joined him in scanning the whole party, "And where's Courtney?"

Gwen and Heather shared a look, before Gwen finally sighed.

"Well…"

— ❥ —

Courtney sighed as she looked out the window of her car. "I don't know what the point of me coming was if I wasn't going to drive."

He took a moment at the red light to look over at her, shooting her a skeptical look, "You'd really let me drive your car by myself?"

"I mean, why couldn't you just ask anyone else for their car. Heather, maybe, or Geoff. You guys are all friends, no?"

He turned back to face the road, "Eh, don't read too much into it. This was the path of least resistance."

Courtney hummed as she refocused her thoughts on the scenery outside. Of course, this little beverage run had taken longer than she'd anticipated—nothing with Duncan was ever quick and easy, because once he recognized the cashier at the convenience store, he decided that now was the time to stop and share life stories—and now, the sun had long set and those same stars Courtney admired her first night in Wawanakwa made a reappearance.

If she was being honest with herself, Courtney didn't really mind this brief respite from the whole party scene too much, it let her social battery recharge. Even though she technically wasn't alone, Duncan wasn't too demanding of any effort when she talked to him.

Then, a thought occurred to her. She turned to face him, only to find that his eyes were intently set on the road, also deep in thought.

"Hey." 

He snapped out of it. "What?"

"Don't 'what' me."

"I'm thoroughly confused," he scoffed.

"Try amnesic," she rolled her eyes.

"If you have an issue with me, Princess, you've gotta learn to use your words."

"Well, you clearly don't remember me telling you not to call me Princess," she repositioned herself to face her body towards him, "I'm talking about earlier, when you told everyone that we knew each other."

"We did know each other," he said very matter-of-factly.

"No! We didn't! One conversation in the woods does not friends make," she huffed, at which he only laughed.

"Do you normally scramble your word order when you're mad? It's cute."

"You can be so insufferable—you'll do anything but listen to what I'm saying, won't you?"

"Don't you find it more fun that way?"

Duncan turned to look at her, and for a moment, nothing was said between them as they just held onto their eye contact.

He was the one to break it: "Though, I'm honestly not even sure you understand the concept."

Courtney scoffed, "Of what?"

"Fun."

"What?! Me…fun? Of course I do!"

He said nothing, but pressed his lips together in doubt.

"What?! I can take a joke! And I can make a joke, too!" Courtney sat up now, clearly disturbed by what he was insinuating about her.

"Calm down, Dr. Suess," he shrugged his shoulders, "I just mean. it's pretty obvious that things upset you easily."

She crossed her arms and turned away from him, "Well, it's pretty obvious that you don't know me."

Duncan sighed, sitting in silence for a second, before returning to the conversation, "Fair enough—tell me one fun thing about yourself."

"Try three: I like to read, I speak four languages, and…I dance ballet."

"Boring, boring, and….boring. No wonder you're so uptight."

Courtney turned back to Duncan and scoffed at him, "See, you fail to notice that the concept of fun is completely subjective. I mean, what can you tell me that you do for fun—vandalize trees? Poke holes in your face? Yeah, neither of those things sound fun to me."

"Quite the opposite, actually, those things are the product of boredom."

"I see, so you get bored, and you take it out on the trees?"

"It's not like there's anything else to do in this shit-hole," he shrugged, "Hell, I'm almost sorry that you got stuck in the most boring place in the world."

She shifted in her seat, not knowing how to receive his sympathies. Courtney thought of what to say to break the silence, but Duncan beat her to it.

"Tell me something, you're from California, right?"

"Right."

"So, you've been to the beach, then?"

"Of course I have."

Courtney can see him pause for second, internally debating whether or not he'll give this next question clearance through his mouth. In the end, he does.

"What," and he cleared his throat, "what's that like?"

Her response was immediate: "I don't think you need me to tell you that. Are you pulling my leg again? Another joke?"

"I've never been to a beach before."

"There's no way."

"What can I say? It's a terrible thing, to be landlocked."

She didn't know what to say, and for once, Duncan's expression seemed dead serious to her. This was unknown territory for her.

"Um, I don't know, it's nice. I wouldn't normally go during the day, it's much too crowded, and hot, and overstimulating…"

She paused to look at him again, only to find Duncan with a pensive disposition. He was waiting to hear what she had to say next, and when he realized her sentence came to a stop, he turned to look at her.

"I'd usually go by myself, at night."

"Yeah, and you call me emo."

A smile made its way to her face—this was the banter she was used to, and all feelings of discomfort simply dissipated. "Shut up! It's actually really nice at night, a good spot to think about things…or, to not think about things."

That seemed to be really intriguing to him, "To forget them?"

"Maybe."

Courtney considers stopping there, leaving her answer at that. But, maybe it was the inviting breeze of the night that drawled in through her cracked-open window, or the intrinsic beauty of the natural landscape surrounding them, or maybe it was him, Duncan….whatever it was, it made Courtney keep going.

"Whenever I'd go to the beach, I've always felt that, for a moment, all that there is, ever has been, or ever will be, is the blue right in front of me." 

"Hearing the waves crash against the sand and feeling the breeze moving through me, I guess it's nice to humor that maybe I'm just like…like a small grain of sand, tugged off-shore by a wave, or a wind."

She turns to face Duncan again, to see if he'd somehow gotten bored of her blabbing—but, much to her surprise, he still seemed utterly interested in every word coming out of her mouth. 

"The water, it makes you feel small, and all your problems small, by extension. Almost like none of it even matters in the end, because the waves will always just keep flowing and the world just keeps spinning." She chuckles sheepishly to herself, "I know that all sounds stupid and way too abstract, but it's comforting sometimes. To me, at least."

Duncan says nothing for a minute, for once, at a loss for words. Or maybe, it seemed to Courtney, thinking about how to parse through his thoughts and translate them into sentences.

"What? You're not gonna argue with me on this? Don't bother going soft on me now," she scoffed.

A smile crept onto his face, "You should be glad I'm ignoring the potential to make a dirty joke right now."

"And you've ruined the moment."

He laughs to himself, and so does she.

"No, no, I just…I always used to think that feeling small," and he laughed again (he really had the humor of a middle school boy), "I used to think that was like, a bad thing."

His expression sobered just slightly before he continued, "Small is…it's weak and powerless and shit. I mean, Wawanakwa, for example, is the size of a fucking thumbtack, and living here is like being stuck under a damn microscope."

Courtney sighed, "I guess it just depends on how you look at it. 'Nothing is always absolutely so'—so says Sturgeon, so says I."

"Uhhh. What."

She waved a dismissive hand, "It's nothing, just wise words from a dead man. He also said 90% of everything is crap."

"Sounds like my kind of guy."

Courtney laughs and considers whether or not she should let this particular slip out of her mind, but she goes through with it anyway, "You know, Duncan, you're not too bad when you're not being completely insufferable."

"Funny, I was going to say the same about you, Princess."

Duncan laughed as she rolled her eyes at that stupid nickname being used, yet again.

"I just meant that I didn't think you'd be a good conversationalist."

"To set the record straight, I'm not."

"Too cool for school, yeah?"

"Okay, see, I'm not really good at this…existential shit, and no one expects me to be anyways, so it all works out."

"I don't think anyone really is good at the 'existential shit'." 

Duncan looks at her in fake surprise, "Wow, did I just get you to curse??"

By now, Courtney's learned to ignore some of his antics, simply rolling her eyes before carrying on, "If there were right answers to these kinds of questions, we wouldn't be talking about them now."

"How thoughtful."

And another wave of comfortable silence falls upon them, but this time, Courtney is the one to break it: "Hey, thanks."

"You shouldn't be thanking me yet, I still have a whole school year to piss you off."

"And I'm sure you will….I just, I never realize the things I take for granted until I'm without them. I lose sight of things, and you just reminded me of them. Of the beach, for example."

"Hey, I'm just making conversation."

"How polite of you—cordial, some might even say."

"It's as I said before: to a princess like you, I've got to be."

She rolls her eyes for the umpteenth time that night, "I really hate that nickname."

"I know," Duncan says, without missing a beat.

And then they do that thing that Courtney partly likes and partly dislikes, where they're just looking at each other, analyzing each other, thinking about each other.

"I have a question for you," Duncan finally says.

She sets her sights on the road ahead and smugly crosses her arms, "Wow, you're just full of them tonight, aren't you?"

"It's the teacher-student thing…really turns me on."

"Don't be gross!" She lightly jabs at his arm, "You were saying?"

"I was saying…I thought they closed beaches at night. How'd you go, then?"

She paused to think about it for a moment, recalling the last time she went, "Um, I don't know, I guess I'd just sneak in."

"Sneak in? Doesn't that require", and cue the dramatic fake gasp, "breaking the rules??"

"Okay, stop. I know what you're doing," but Courtney couldn't fight the laughter bubbling in her throat.

"Woww, can't get so high and mighty on me now. What was it you were telling me about those trees?"

"Hey! There's a major difference between what I did and what you do!"

"Pot, meet kettle."

"God, you're so annoying!"

"I guess this means the princess has a dark side."

"Doesn't everyone?" She crossed her arms, "We're all a little fucked up."

Duncan thought about what she'd said for a moment, "You ever think it works the other way around?"

And there he was again, mischievous glint in his eye, turning the conversation inside out and back again, Courtney never quite sure which direction they were going next.

"What do you mean?"

"If everyone has some bad in them, then, do you think everyone has some good, too?"

"I don't really know. I guess, I like to think so. Do you?"

Duncan pauses again, eyes steady on the road. "Nah. We're all fucked up."

Courtney doesn't really know what to make of that, nor how to respond. Possibly because a part of her, the part that loathes a world in which people like her parents exist, knows that to an extent, Duncan was 100% right. And sometimes, it was so much easier to assume that dark side in people. 

But another part of her sat in quiet discomfort. She knew there was more to the human condition than could be categorized so simply into good and bad—there just had to be. 

After all, was she not looking at a perfect example of that, sitting right in front of her?

— ꕥ —

Bridgette checked her phone for the time, as she noticed the party starting to die down. 10:14 PM. For a darty, not bad at all.

She'd long noticed some friend groups dispersing and couples leaving to ride the rest of the evening out in the comfort of their homes. No one had gotten outrageously drunk, and clean-up wasn't going to be too bad. Overall, it was a good night!

She started scrolling through all the pictures she'd taken today: Lindsay and Katie tanning while Beth and Sadie drew designs on them out of sunscreen; Eva and DJ going head-to-head in an arm-wrestling competition; Izzy playing mermaids…well, by herself…while Owen was somehow drowning in the lake, only being 4 feet in; Courtney and Gwen cheering over their win while Justin and Duncan pouted like sore losers.

It brought Bridgette immense comfort to see all her friends, the people she cared about most, together and enjoying their fun. They wouldn't be teens forever, so she always took a secret moment to herself to relish in their youth and how relatively simple things were. 

"Alright, I'm out," Heather sighed as she walked up to Bridgette.

"Already?!"

"Is 5 hours not enough for you? I mean, then again, it is me, so I understand that I'll be very missed," she feigned concern.

"I was kind of thinking that you'd want to sleepover at my house tonight? We could make it a girls' night!" Bridgette dealt her the best puppy eyes she could possibly muster. And of course, contrary to popular belief, Heather wasn't made of stone, and the slightest hint of hesitation washed over her expression.

But instead of giving in, she sighed, "I couldn't even if I wanted to, Daniel starts school tomorrow and my parents are making me take him." 

Heather could only shrug, as Gwen and Courtney walked up to them.

"Wow, school actually starts on a Monday for him? Not a random Wednesday?" Gwen said incredulously, crossing her arms.

"Yep, it's crazy."

"Well please tell me that you guys can sleep over!" Bridgette pleaded, turning to her last two hopes of salvaging the night.

Gwen lets out an indifferent sigh, "Oh, what the hell. I'm game."

Now the blonde turned her attention to Courtney, who she knew would be the harder one to convince.

Under the scrutiny of three pairs of eyes on her, the brunette defensively clutched at her elbows: "I'd have to ask Josie."

"Josie?" Heather cocked a quizzical brow.

"Courtney's super cool older sister, who could not care less if you sleep over!" Bridgette clapped her hands together in hopes of swaying said girl, "Please, please, please, can you come!"

Heather squinted her eyes, "Hey, you didn't put this much effort in trying to get me to come."

"Pfft, that's because…" And Gwen trailed off before she could finish her snarky sentence, mainly due to Bridgette's deadpan look.

"Because! You have a valid excuse to miss out," Bridgette explained, putting a sympathetic hand on Heather's shoulder before she turned back to the brunette, "Come on, Court! We can even stop by your house if you wanna grab something."

There was another pause, as she mulled over her options. But Bridgette already knew she'd give in. Try as she may to make the rational choice, Courtney could never truly deny a fun opportunity when it presented itself. Especially if Bridgette had anything to say about it.

"Okay, okay, fine! I'm in!" She sighed, putting her hands up in defeat.

"YAY! Tonight is going to be so fun!" Bridgette squealed, swinging an arm around Gwen's shoulder, who only smiled in response.

Heather blew a strand of hair out of her face, "Nice to know how much I'm missing out."

Bridgette gave her a big hug goodbye, "Hey! It's an open invitation, if you ever decide to leave Daniel to fend for himself—not that I'm recommending that at all!"

"I'll consider it. Bye, Bridge." She said, hugging her back.

Then she turned to Gwen, and both girls just awkwardly waved, not quite knowing what to say other than the usual "Bye, Gwen" and "Bye, Heather".

"It was nice to meet you, Heather." Courtney nodded at her as she started making her way out.

"Yeah, same. We should talk more." Heather nodded at her as she reached for her car keys in her mini purse.

"Hey, wait a minute, aren't you driving Duncan home?!" Bridgette shouted at her as she started walking off.

Heather took a slight pause to her stride, before turning around and yelling in the general direction of the party, "DUNCAN! IF YOU'RE NOT IN MY CAR IN THE NEXT 5 MINUTES, I'M LEAVING YOU BEHIND!!"

Then, without another thought, she walked out the garage and went on her merry way out. Bridgette laughed and shook her head, Oh, Heather.

Duncan, summoned by her yelling, walked up to the three of them, pulling the hood of his sweater over his head. "Guess that means I'm heading out, too," he shrugged nonchalantly.

"Bye, Duncan!!" And Bridgette went in for another one of her signature bear hugs—Bridgette was probably the only person Duncan let hug him like that.

"I'll see you guys soon, we gotta hang out before school," he said, giving Gwen a fist bump, a signature trademark of their farewells.

"Hey, don't think I forgot. You owe me," Gwen smirked, and he shook his head laughing. Bridgette and Courtney exchanged a glance of uncertainty, both having no clue as to what was happening between them.

Bridgette noticed an awkward moment of hesitation as Duncan stood before Courtney, neither of them quite knowing what to do, when just as Duncan raised his arms to pull her in for a hug, she extended her hand for a…handshake?

Gwen chortled at the sight, "Oh, there's no way." 

"I thought you were going in for a handshake!" Courtney defended, clearly frazzled by the miscommunication.

"Maybe if this was a job interview or some shit," Duncan chuckled, the corner of his eyes crinkling from his smiley expression, while Courtney was obviously pursing her lips to bite back a smile as she looked up at him.

They stood like that for a surprising amount of time, and Bridgette squinted her eyes at them, but when she turned to see if Gwen had picked up on anything, the girl could not seem less interested as she scrolled through something on her phone.

Hmm.

"Heather's gonna leave without you, you know?" Courtney broke the silence.

"Right, then," he put out an open hand for her to shake, and she couldn't keep herself from laughing at his earnestness, "Bye, Princess."

She sighed, shaking his hand, "Bye, Duncan."

He turned to salute at Bridgette and Gwen, "Malibu, Pasty."

As he walked off, it didn't escape Bridgette that Courtney's gaze stuck to his figure until it went out of sight.

But before Bridgette could comment on it, Gwen spoke out, stretching her arms in the air, "Alright, so should we head out, too?"

"Yes!" Bridgette exclaimed, "but first, I wanna help Geoff clean up a bit. You guys can wait in the car!"

"Are you sure? We can help clean, too," Courtney assured her.

"We can?" Gwen asked, yawning.

"No, don't sweat it! I'll be fast, and I mainly wanna say goodbye to him."

"Say less," Gwen was already turning to walk to Courtney's car, lifting a single hand to wave behind her, "Tell Geoff I said bye."

Courtney shortly followed, calling out to her, "Let us know if there's more to clean than you thought!"

"Thanks!" She shouted back, practically jumping as she did so, in hopes of projecting her voice louder, "Also, I call shotgun! AND AUX!!!"

Gwen nudged Courtney with her elbow, "Get ready to listen to endless Taylor Swift."

"Let me guess, Lover album?"

"With some Reputation and Fearless sprinkled in."

"And 1989!"

"I guess you could say we know her…All Too Well."

"Taylor's-Version-ten-minute-version-from-the-vault?"

Gwen chuckled as she linked her arms with Courtney, "Louis, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

— ❈ —

They were now in their third—yes, third—hour of Just Dance, and the only reason they'd taken a pause was because Bridgette needed a bathroom break. Gwen swore that girl had the stamina of a strung-out bunny.

Gwen took a long chug of her water bottle before belly-flopping onto Bridgette's bed, where Courtney was already laying on her back, absentmindedly playing with something in her hand.

Upon closer inspection, Gwen realized that it was a lighter. She furrowed her brows at the brunette, "Wait a minute—you smoke?!"

She was then seemingly pulled out of her thoughts, and offered Gwen a polite smile, "Trying not to, actually. It's a stupid habit to have—those die hard, I guess."

And then Courtney sort of smiled to herself, though at what, Gwen had no clue. Instead of trying to figure it out, she merely shrugged: "Everyone's allowed one of those, though I never pegged you for the type."

"Trust me, I’m not. It just finds its way back to me whenever I’m stressed or anxious…which happens more often than I can confidently admit."

"Hey, no judgment from me. I smoke too, mainly weed." This brought back the memory of Gwen’s last time smoking weed with Duncan, and how they both went insane at the local grocery, overwhelmed by a fit of munchies.

She almost laughs out loud again at the thought of Duncan sitting in the grocery cart, demanding that Gwen speed him through each and every aisle like some 4-year-old on a sugar high.

But she’s pulled out of memory lane by Courtney’s hesitant voice: "Hey, do you think something that's bad for you can also do you a little good?"

Gwen’s gaze started to focus a little more on the lighter that Courtney kept turning and playing with in her hand. It was like she was constantly analyzing the object, looking for something new in each of its surfaces. "Um, I don’t know, I guess so? I mean, if you're talking about smoking, it definitely does you more harm in the long run than—"

Courtney flips onto her side now, to level her face with Gwen’s. "No, I just mean in general. Like, by and large, the things and people you're cautioned against and supposed to stay away from, don't you think there's still something to be learned from them? Some value in experiencing them?"

"It sounds to me like you've already answered your own question."

"Answers, it seems, are the only things I'm without these days."

"For your sake, I hope you find them here, in Wawanakwa. A soul can only be so tortured until they become insufferable to themselves—trust me, I know."

Courtney laughs, "That sounds like the plotline of a really pretentious, indie, coming-of-age film…but I hope so, too. Anyways, don't bother with my ramblings, it's just dumb stuff that keeps me up when I can't sleep. Call them champagne problems."

Gwen smirked at the subtle reference, "Hey, you're talking to the queen of insomnia, these eyebags aren't just for the aesthetic." Yet another biological marker that penned Gwen into the goth girl label. She never really stood a chance otherwise, did she?

"It's nice talking to you, I see why Bridgette likes you so much," Courtney takes a moment to look away from the lighter and now puts her full attention on Gwen. She finds it a little intimidating at first, but Gwen also found comfort in how easy it was to talk to her.

She sighed, "Yeah, I wanted to hate you when we first met, but that's gonna be very hard to do now that I’ve actually talked to you."

Courtney's eyes widened, "What?! Why did you want to hate me??"

"No, don’t take it personal. It's my general policy on people: everyone's an asshole until proven otherwise. Sounds cynical, but trust me, it saves you loads of time that would be otherwise spent on fake small talk. Maybe I'd be able to stand it more if I had some talent for it, but…." and she let her sentence trail off with a shrug.

"Wow…I guess that's..productive? How's that worked out for you so far?"

"Well, I have friends I actually like—which you'd be surprised to see how rare that is here in Wawanakwa. That small-town hospitality only goes so far."

"Okay Bridgette and Geoff, I obviously understand. Heather…?"

"Is more of a frenemy," Gwen pressed her lips together, finding difficulty in labeling her relationship with Heather. 

"Yikes."

"Eh, I'm used to it. It's pretty interesting to see her every day, not knowing whether she's going to be a decent human being or literal bitch to me; honestly, it adds a nice variety to my daily, otherwise mundane, routine."

Courtney chuckles at her cynicism, "Amen to that. I guess my read on her wasn't too far off." She takes a pause, almost unsure as to whether she wants to continue, "And then, Duncan?"

Gwen prays that her cheeks haven't blushed, "He's, um, he's cool." She briefly turns her head to check the doorway to see if Bridgette's back yet, but mainly to hide her flushed expression.

"Oh, I'm sure he thinks that of himself," the brunette scoffed.

"He can seem like kind of an egotistical dick at first, but he's not actually that bad."

"See, now that's a line straight out of some high school rom-com," she pointed out.

"No I promise it's true! You just gotta get to know him better," Gwen played with one of the low-hanging strands of hair in her face.

"I suppose," Courtney hummed in thought.

Gwen pauses for a moment, deciding whether or not to ask, "Do you?"

"Do I…?"

"Want to get to know him better, I mean."

"Um…" She flips onto her back again, holding the lighter in the air so that the overhead lighting shines favorably on an etching Gwen knew all too well.

What the fuck. Thoughts raced in Gwen's mind as she tried to piece together what was happening…somehow, Courtney had Duncan's lighter, arguably one of his most prized possessions. Not that he'd ever explained to Gwen why he was so attached to it—sure, it was a nice lighter, of solid material, with a beautiful custom etching: "Take a walk on the Wild(er) side."

Either Duncan gave it to her, or she stole it from him, neither of which made any sense to Gwen. They'd quite literally just met. What. The. Fuck.

Courtney, absolutely oblivious to the discourse in Gwen's mind, sighed as she thought of how to respond, "I'm not sure yet. I haven't quite made my mind up about him."

And then, she saw it. Gwen saw it—a moment so brief and fleeting that it might've totally passed over anyone else's head. But Gwen, being Gwen, saw in Courtney what she'd been seeing in herself the past year, since the very first day her mom moved her to Wawanakwa Falls and forced her to take her little brother to the park, where she met Duncan for the first time.

That subtle tinge of pink that filled Courtney's face at the sound of Gwen's question, and the way she coyly trailed her finger across the lighter's engraved writing, wrapping it safely in her palms—that was enough for Gwen to see what she'd been denying in herself all along.

Vulnerability, feelings, interest…with, for, and in, Duncan.

And Gwen had never in her life felt more stupid, when suddenly, Bridgette barged in from the hallway and assumed the posing and persona of a famous, guitar-playing rockstar.

"WHO'S. READY. TO. ROCK?!?!"

—୨୧—

Whew. Finally got through chapter one, and I'm so happy to get it done.

Are there any other Fiona Apple fans?? I hope you guys appreciate the Paper Bag reference because that's been my most listened to song on Spotify for the last 2 years.

As always, comment out your thoughts and opinions on all the characters so far because I'd love to hear them! My current favorite character to write is Gwen—she's very jaded, but really relatable at times, at least to me. She's just a girl lol.

My writing schedule is all over the place at the moment, like most everything else in my life. But! I do have a general storyline for how I want this story to go, that's partially why it took so long for me to write this. I wanted to nail all the introductory scenes so they align with the general story arc. All that to say, hopefully writing chapter 2 won't take me too long, (it definitely will) but I hope the chapter lengths somehow compensates for how slow I am at writing. I just really want to emphasize that, no matter HOW LONG it takes me, I WILL BE CONTINUING THIS FANFICTION! Okay? Okay.

Anyways, go listen to Paper Bag in the meantime if you haven't already, or even if you have, this is your excuse to listen again!

See you next time <3

a. yasmine

[youhaveaguineapigwhere]

He Can't Get This

Chapter 1

♡Set in Supernatural S14 Ep14. I recommend rewatching the ep or the crime scene bit ;)♡

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"That baby cop, he liked you." 

Dean Winchester slammed the door of the impala closed and reached to start her, his jaw tense and lips slightly drawn as he turned the key. 

Castiel tilted his head towards the hunter from his passenger seat, a little lost. "I'm sorry, what?" He shifted a little, adjusting his coat as Dean put the car in reverse, voice blunt but unassuming.

They'd just figured out that the Gorgon couldn't sense Castiel and Jack with his eyeball premonitions, for lack of a better description (most likely because they weren't human) So Cas and Jack would have to lead the attack when they tracked down the gorgon again. Whatever Dean had said made no sense to the angel. 

Cas' voice was that consistent gruff lull and his hair was stuck up at a little part in the back. Dean practiced restraint for the instinct to reach out and smooth it. 

"Mr. Twunk over there," He retorted, throwing a half hazard gesture towards the crime scene. Cas squinted through the windshield and saw a vaguely familiar blond head of hair popping out of a patrol car. The young officer they had spoken to earlier.

"Probably fresh out of academy too." Dean added, his tone short and irritated as he intrigued Cas' full attention, who furrowed his brows and leaned up in his seat.

"Oh, come on," Dean shot Cas a look, "he totally creamed his pants when you pulled the whole 'deep commanding voice thing', he went stiff as a board, don't tell me you didn't notice." He let a soft huff out of the corner of his mouth, his pink lips upturned in a small smirk, though still betrayed by his wound-tight words as he glanced from the road to Castiel. 

"I was more focused on the demi god and his victims, Dean." Castiel explained slowly. 

"Yeah, sure, not the young guy you got all hot and bothered." 

Cas squinted at Dean suspiciously, "Is this merely about your dislike for police officers, Dean? Or is it something else?" He questioned.

Dean forced out a laugh, "It's not anything Cas, just an observation." 

"That seems... untrue."

"Yeah." Dean chided, "And what are you gonna do about it?" 

Castiel's patience had run thin. "Dean..." he tested firmly. 

A blush crept up behind Dean's collar and he gripped onto baby's steering wheel, adjusting his seating, "I just didn't like the way he looked at you, okay, sue me." He threw his hands up for a breif moment before returning them to the sleek black wheel.

Cas titled his head, the line of his jaw catching a fragment of the afternoon sun as they passed by storefronts with big glass windows. "How did he look at me?" 

"Like he wanted you to bend him over and fuck him into next week." 

"Like how you look at me." 

Cas' voice was wet gravel. 

Dean halted on the brakes, jolting them forward, scarlet blush deepening, "What, no! You.. you know that's not- and before you say a word about what we did that one time in lebanon that was different okay! I don't gawk at you all the time Cas."  

"Different how?" Cas challenged. 

The trafic light turned green and a car behind them honked impatiently, "Okay, geez," Dean muttered as they started moving. "Because... I was super horny and hadn't seen you in what, four months?" he continued, "And you're my best friend dude and you were looking particularly moody that day and yeah, maybe I'm just jealous and a little bitch." He sighed, defeated. 

Cas let out a low chuckle. 

"Oh shut up you smug fuck," Dean reached out and shoved a hand over Castiels face, his own now a particular shade of pink. 

Cas cleared his throat and picked up a level tone as Dean's hand fell away, "You know you can always ask to..."

"Oh yeah, I know," Dean interjected, "Just check in between hunts and saving the world and having Micheal locked up in my head and raising our kid to be like 'oh Cas,' I miss the feel of my skin against yours and how you make me act like a dumb teenager and that night in the cowboy hotel was the best of my life and I can't get you off my mind every time you leave. I got Sammy breathing down my neck constantly cause he knows and just wants to rub it in my face but I won't say anything because I refuse to talk about feelings with a sasquatch or like you know ever and I-." Dean's words started out sarcastic and ended with a desperate pout and Cas gave him a kind look, reaching to rest his hand gingerly on Dean’s thigh as the hunter let out a heavy exhale.  

Cas knew life was never easy, for any of them, but Dean was the most important thing to him, no matter how closed off or stubborn he could be. 

"So, you got jealous when a man looked at me with sexual intentions?"

"Cas, you're making me sound like a little bitch again." Dean huffed, the peachy blush crowding against his freckles a complete contrast with his deep manly tone and set, sloping jawline. 

"My apologies, Dean." Cas stated, his eyes soft, "I wanted to know what was going on, and that only works when you tell me." 

"I know, I know." Dean exhaled, "You know I'm not good at this stuff Cas, but I have missed you.. All this running around.. 'drives me crazy sometimes." Dean nodded his head down and looked up at the road through his eyelashes.

Cas silently noticed how after all these years Dean still seemed to physically shrink in on himself a little, anytime he showed vulnerability. Or rather, he wondered with disdain, who exactly had taught him this trait. The only time he seemed to release himself from those instincts is when he let Castiel have him in bed. And oh, how beautiful Dean was then. Bare and trembling under his hands. Never trying to be smaller.

"I've missed you too, Dean." He comforted, knowing no words could come to match how he felt being so often pulled from the man. He looked out the passenger window, watching the landscape slide by, "You know-" he thought aloud, an idea still churning in his mind, "Rowena still needs time to prepare the tracking spell.." He lowered his voice and gave Dean's thigh a gentle squeeze. 

Dean swallowed and tensed his hands around the steering wheel, seeming much more determined to get to where they were going. 

[zarahjoyce]

MITD Fic: aftermath

Summary:

"Isn't it weird, Hyung?" Jun O tells his brother, just after they've eaten a particularly delicious dinner that Min O had prepared for him. "I felt like... I fell in love with someone without me falling in love with her. Like I miss her all the time but at the same time I don't and it's just--" He rubs his forehead and sighs aloud. "I feel like I'm going crazy sometimes."

or

Jun O, in the aftermath.

Notes:

I HAVE A LOT OF FEELINGS ABOUT MOON IN THE DAY THAT I CAN'T STOP MYSELF FROM WRITING THIS... THING IDK.

now also with Ao3 link!

--

Protect Kang Yeong Hwa. I need to keep Kang Yeong Hwa safe.  Jun O finds himself often waking up in the middle of the night, shaking, sweating, breathing hard. The thoughts beat in his mind like a drum, growing louder and louder until he's deafened by them. He drags his hand through his hair, trying to calm himself down, trying to keep his chest from bursting. 

Protect her from what? Why do I need to keep her safe? He doesn't hear any answer, however.

He never did.

And he's left wondering what that was all about for the rest of the night.

-

Min O notices the bags under Jun O's eyes, but never comments on them.

"Did you sleep well?" he asks instead.

No. I never do.

"You know, Hyung," Jun O quietly replies, playing around with his food without any urge to eat them, "I know I told myself that I wouldn't feel curious about--" 

He stops.

Kang Yeong Hwa. Even the mere thought of her name makes Jun O feel a deep sense of... yearning? Longing? For a woman he barely knew. 

Which is ridiculous, of course.

So, he just draws a deep breath.

And forces a smile for his brother's sake. 

"Never mind," he says instead. "What's my schedule for today?"

-

He finds that handling a sword came so natural to him, it felt like he's been doing it his entire life. Like it's an extension of his limb. Like cutting lives is something he did everyday. 

Don't even get him started on how ridiculously easy it was for him to hit a bullseye with an arrow - something he'd been awful at before. 

"Who knew I'd find sageuk dramas so easy to do?" Jun O muses out loud, patting himself on the back for a job well done - according to the director, no less. 

Manager Jang glances at him from the driver's seat. "Yeah," he says, and Jun O frowns at the odd tone of his voice. "Who knew." 

Dismissing that, Jun O gets his phone to scroll for articles praising his acting abilities - as they should - when he blurts out, "You're in contact with Kang Yeong Hwa, right? How is she?"

Thankfully, they were waiting for a green light, giving Manager Jang a chance to actually turn to him and say, "How'd you--"

"You're dating her friend, right? The one she thinks of as her sister. The one who owes her--"

And then Jun O shuts his mouth, and stares at his manager in horror. "I knew that? How do I know that?"

"T-that was what I was about to ask you," Manager Jang replies. "By any chance, do you actually remember--"

The car behind them honks its horn.

Jun O rubs his forehead.

"Drive," he orders Yoon Je. "Just... just drive."

-

By pure chance, his next project was about him being a firefighter. 

Jun O dreaded coming to the fire station. If only because that meant the possibility of coming face to face with--

Kang Yeong Hwa. And his heart skips a beat. 

Manager Jang must have noticed his obvious discomfort. "You know," he says, "if you're worried about seeing Kang--"

"Worried? Who said I'm worried? Are you worried? I'm not worried!" Jun O replies in rapid succession, scoffing all the while. "Why would I be--"

"She actually left yesterday," his manager continues. "For Antartica. So you won't be seeing her anymore."

Jun O stares at his manager.

"--oh," he says.

A beat.

"That's good," Jun O adds. "That she's... gone. That's good."

Except he felt like weeping. 

-

"Isn't it weird, Hyung?" Jun O tells his brother, just after they've eaten a particularly delicious dinner that Min O had prepared for him. "I felt like... I fell in love with someone without me falling in love with her. Like I miss her all the time but at the same time I don't and it's just--" He rubs his forehead and sighs aloud. "I feel like I'm going crazy sometimes."

Min O pats his hand. "Do you want to see her?" 

"No," Jun O replies quickly - which tells him that that was honestly what he was feeling. "No. It'll fade, whatever this is. I just need to bear it. I did beat cancer, of all things. I can beat this phantom feeling too." 

"That's right. Just persevere and you'll win." His brother smiles at him. "You're growing up, Jun O. I'm glad."

Except this didn't feel like growing up.

It just feels like he's lost.

-

But Han Jun O perseveres.

-

The next few years flew by in a hurry. Thankfully, Jun O's schedule had been packed with projects that he hadn't had enough time to mind anything else. 

Today, however, he's scrolling through his phone, browsing through the news to find anything related to him when he spots--

--an article about a miracle firefighter saving lives from a burning building - including a pregnant woman and her three children.

Kang Yeong Hwa, was the firefighter's name, written in bold print. 

And Jun O waits for that achy feeling that haunted him before to envelope him at the mere sight of it.

Except it never came.

Come to think of it, he couldn't even remember the last time he thought of her.

And even now that he is, Jun O doesn't at all feel... overwhelmed. 

Just... happy. At the thought of her living her life and saving lives in the process. 

He sighs and smiles in relief.

I'm free of you, Kang Yeong Hwa. Finally. Guess this means I win.

[junosartsthetic]

Warmth

This fic is my baby. I love her. I’m very proud of myself for this one. Also, my fics have been fucking up on dark-mode mobile so please let me know and I’ll try to fix it. It’s annoying as hell and I’m not 100% sure of the reason. This will be reblogged multiple times by me because Avdol deserves all the love in the world. Thank you. 

Warning(s): fluff, alcohol mention, reader is called miss, I believe that’s all, just cuteness and pining

--

You’d never been to a city like New York City before. The massive buildings at every turn, towering over the bustling streets like parents watching their kids at a playground. People hurried every which way, gloved hands carrying more bags than you thought possible, and yet whisking themselves towards more shopping centers. Every aspect of the neon city glowed at night—red, yellow and green stop lights shimmered against the wet pavement. Strings of lights coiled around every pole, tree, and window, illuminating the snow as it fell and dissipated onto the concrete, soon to be stepped on by ever-moving pedestrians. Cars honked, intermingling with sleigh bells echoing as workers ushered shoppers into their stores, wearing Santa hats and jingling with every movement. There wasn’t a spot in the city where life didn’t reside—stray cats and pigeons scouring for food in the cold cityscape. Paws and claws clicked on the snowy ground. Even a few stray dogs nestled themselves into boxes and under dumpsters, seeking shelter for the night. It was, in fact, one of these dogs that brought you and your companion to New York City.

Even after a day of searching, you hadn’t spotted the small black and white animal anywhere. You supposed it was a big city, and he was a smart dog. In fact, to call him a mere ‘dog’ might be an insult to his character. He possessed something you didn’t think animals could have—a power you and your compatriot shared. A stand. 

Upon hearing of this powerful canine, the Speedwagon foundation ushered you both off, handing you a small file with the little information they had on the mutt. There wasn’t much inside—just his breed, a possible stand, and a name. Iggy. In bold red lettering, they also had the audacity to put ‘DANGEROUS. WILL ATTACK IF PROVOKED. NOT FRIENDLY.’ You rolled your eyes, gloved hands shutting the file and sliding it back in your bag. You understood how important this stand-user was, and how valuable it would be if he became an ally, but also had your doubts, reasonably. This wasn’t a person—he couldn’t be bargained with. And given the fact that you were here—the foundation wasn’t planning on rolling out the red carpet for his arrival.

Your stand specialized in capturing and restraining—a small squid-like entity with long, ever-winding tentacles perched on your shoulder, nestling itself into your scarf. It wasn’t the most powerful, but you had yet to find a user that you couldn’t capture. The suctions and muscled arm-like appendages held on harder than a cowboy in a rodeo. Your stand, combined with Magician’s Red, were sure to get the job done one way or another. 

The stand’s user crossed your mind, and you looked beside you to where he strode steadily along, his ever-present red overcoat flowing behind him just high enough to avoid getting wet. He walked with a refined determination, like a pool player who had hustled long enough to see and know everything. In a way, he knew what you would do before you did it. That’s probably why he was so good at fortune-telling. 

You studied his face—two pale lines, mimicking your stand’s tentacles, curved down his face, crossing his strong cheekbones and ending at his muscled jaw. Your eyes wandered back up, staring into his eyes. Beautiful brown eyes, set on the world in front of him, pulled you in like the depths of space pulling in a lost astronaut. His hair, usually up in knots, rested down, curls and coils trailing around his shoulders and along the sides of his face. His gold-medallion necklace jingled with every step he took, matching the bracelets adorning his arms. He wore no gloves and no hat, and you sighed in jealousy. Having a fire-producing stand must’ve been nice in such cold weather. Even bundled up, you shivered at the nipping wind scratching at your sensitive face. You fell in step with him, scooching just a tad closer. You could feel the warm aura radiating around him—though couldn’t pinpoint if that was his stand, or simply your imagination. Either way, it was nice. Of course, you didn’t voice these thoughts, too afraid to speak to the man besides basic greetings and the facts of the case. It’s not that you didn’t like him—in fact, it was the opposite. You’d known about Avdol for a while, even before meeting him, and knew he had a handsome face and appealing personality, but to see him, and meet him? It’s like you were drowning in quicksand, struggling to find a grip on yourself. You were too scared to speak, afraid he’d dismiss you. You weren’t even sure what that meant. Dismiss? It’s not like he’d leave you to struggle on the streets of the city forever. Even if he didn’t like you, he still had a mission to complete.

Your heart clenched at those words. Didn’t like you. You hadn’t said more than a few words to the man—why would he dislike you? He had no reason to. Besides, you and he were paired by the foundation for more than just your stands. You had compatibility. At least, that’s what you told yourself as you walked next to him, teeth beginning to chatter.

Luckily, you were almost back to the hotel. You were hungry, tired, and cold. A day spent in New York City? Fun. A day spent in New York City checking every dumpster, alleyway, and backstreet in search of a dangerous and powerful dog who could attack at any moment? Not fun. In fact, you would’ve abandoned this mission by now if you hadn’t been placed with someone you would rather die than disappoint. Hah. That might be a bit dramatic. Maybe.

You brushed those rather dark thoughts aside, your only focus being the hotel doors that shined in front of you. You fell behind Avdol, whispering a thank you as he held the door open. He smiled, nodding. A blush burned your cheeks, and you whisked by him quickly. If you stared at his expression for too long you might think about kissing it. 

Deciding to take the elevator after a particularly arduous day, you pressed the white ‘up’ button, watching it light up gold. You glanced at Avdol, seeing that same gold color reflected in the chandelier of the hotel lobby sparkling in his eyes. You smiled softly, hiding it in the folds of your scarf. 

The silver doors opened, and you stepped into the spacious elevator, seeing yourself in the many mirrors lining the wood-accented walls. You always found it strange how they put mirrors in elevators, but didn’t mind in this instance. 

You opened your mouth in an attempt to break the silence, but decided against it. What would you say that didn’t sound desperate? Nice weather we’re having? You scoffed, shaking your head as you stared at the climbing floor numbers.

“Is something wrong?” he spoke, deep voice startling you. You face him, seeing a look of concern cross his face.

“Oh, no, I’m okay,” you replied quickly, voice cracking from disuse. You stifled another self-deprecating scoff at your own stupid reply. Should you keep talking? “I just—”

The doors parted open, revealing the fancy gold carpet and speckled walls of your floor. Deciding against finishing your statement, you walked out, throwing your gloves in your bag and digging out the room key. You hoped you’d scrounge it out in time to walk in without facing Avdol again, but didn’t succeed. You supposed it didn’t matter too much—you had a shared room, regardless. Not that it wasn’t a large room, with two queen beds and an entire jacuzzi in the bathroom. The full-sized fridge was fully stocked with all the alcohol you could ever dream of, too. The foundation really spared no expense. Well, except getting separate rooms, that is. 

“Let me,” he said, pulling the key from his pocket and sliding it into the lock. It lit up green, and he opened it, gesturing to allow you in first.

“Thank you,” you replied curtly, stepping inside as you set your bag down and took off your coat. The cold air consumed you instantly. You winced, sliding it back on. Did someone turn the heat off before you left? You let out a breath, seeing it materialize in the air. You looked to the wall, reading the thermostat. 30 degrees fahrenheit? That was below freezing! No wonder you continued to shiver. The temperature was no different than outside! You shot a glance at Avdol, who too noticed the freezing atmosphere.

As he was closer, he shut the door behind him, turning to press a finger on the heat button. Nothing happened. “Seems it’s out-of-order,” he said. “I noticed the lobby was rather cold, as well. It might be impacting the entire building.”

You huffed. Great. Not how you wanted your night to end. You walked inside further, slipping your boots off and sitting in the bed, legs swinging off. You picked up the white hotel phone, dialing the lobby. It rang. Someone picked up. “Hi, we are in room—uh-uh. Yeah, it’s freezing—okay. When are they—alright. No, I don’t think we’ll need any extra blankets—okay. Alright. Buh-bye.” 

You set the phone back on the receiver, hands rubbing your arms in a useless attempt to warm up. “The heat’s out in the entire building,” you said, letting out another sigh. You were doing that a lot today, unfortunately. “They called in a repair, but they won’t get here till tomorrow.”

He hummed. “That won’t be good for business,” he quipped as he searched through the small kitchen area. Finding what he needed, he pulled two cups from the cabinets, pouring a brown powder into both. “Care for hot cocoa?”

“Oh, sure. I haven’t had that in a while,” you mused, staring at his broad shoulders as he worked. “Not since I was a kid, I think. My mom used to make it for me after I played in the snow for hours. Used to come in nearly frostbitten. I don’t know how she did it, but even with the cheapest hot chocolate mix out there, she somehow made it taste delicious—” you paused your story, realizing you’d gone off on a bit of a ramble. “Sorry. I got a little lost talking there.”

“It’s okay,” he replied, voice gentle and deep, like an endless ocean on a peaceful day. You resisted the urge to drown in it. “Your story was nice. You never talk much, so I enjoyed listening.” 

“Well, thank you. We only met like a week ago, so I’ve tried not to scare you away with my stupid rambling,” you admitted, wrapping your scarf around yourself tighter. Maybe if you wrapped it tight enough you could escape this situation you put yourself in.

“It takes more than that to leave me frightened,” Avdol replied, stirring the drinks. You heard the metal spoon tap gently against the mugs. You smiled. You missed that sound. All those childhood snow-days. 

One thing your mother didn’t add to your hot chocolate, however, was the assortment of alcohol Avdol turned his attention to, hands gently caressing and turning each bottle to find a specific type. Finally, he grasped a dark-stained glass bottle, liquid sloshing inside. You saw his stand materialize beside him, pulling the lid off. You laughed silently. No time for bottle openers, you supposed. 

“Do you drink?” he asked, pouring the liquid inside one mug, the glass clinking against the cup.

“Sometimes,” you said. “When I feel like it, I guess. But go ahead. I’m intrigued. This is definitely not like my mother used to make.”

He laughed—a low chuckle that brought fire to your cheeks. He had a handsome laugh, as odd as it sounded. And you were the reason for it. You made him laugh. You smiled to yourself.

He turned around, handing you a mug of the steaming beverage. “Careful. It’s hot. Compliments of Magician’s Red.”

“Thank you,” you said, blowing on it gently. You could feel the heat radiated through your fingers and up your arms. It was a nice juxtaposition to the freezing room. You took a sip. “What kind of drink did you mix in?” you asked, tasting a milkiness. It contrasted surprisingly well with the rich chocolate flavor, and the bitter aftertaste added to the warmth hugging your body. 

“Irish cream,” he replied. “A friend of mine showed me. He usually drinks enough for the both of us, but he’s got better things to do than play dog-catcher.”

“Well your friend knows some things,” you said, taking another long sip. “Tell him thanks for me.”

“Hah. I don’t think Mr. Joestar needs any more ego. He might tumble over with a head that big.”

You snorted, drink invading your nose as you did so. You sniffed in an attempt to rid the burning liquid. “He sounds like a fun time.”

“He’s almost seventy, yet lives life like he’s twenty. But he’s a good man,” Avdol said, drinking his own spiked hot chocolate between sentences. You two sat like that for a while, he on his own bed and you on yours, having little conversations about nothing in particular. It felt like a breath of fresh air. Your shoulders relaxed, and while it may have been the alcohol, you quickly loosened up your anxious demeanor.

“Ya know,” you said, hands resting on your chin as you sat cross-legged on your bed. “When I first saw you, I felt like Bambi learning how to walk. I was petrified of saying anything because you’re just so—breathtaking. Everything you do is determined and graceful and I never thought I’d be sitting here drinking hot cocoa talking about my childhood with you.” 

“You flatter me, miss (Y/N). I am just a man, like anyone else. I have my limits. And my weaknesses—this dog actually seems to be one of them,” he mused, looking over his mug to shoot you a cheeky smirk. You stared back, cheeks burning. You set your cup on the nightstand. You decided you’d had enough to drink for one night. 

“I’m sure we’ll find him eventually,” you said, sliding off the bed as you finally took your coat off, leaving you in a long-sleeved shirt and baggy pants. It was still freezing, but you felt. . . warmer after the conversation. “I’m gonna get ready for bed if I don’t freeze to death first.”

He nodded, standing up and grabbing your cup. He set both in the sink, beginning to wash them. “Take your time. And don’t freeze to death.”

You laughed. “No promises.”

It didn’t take long to change into your nightgown, complete your nighttime routine, and sit yourself back on your bed in preparation to sleep that night. Avdol followed suit, donning a white t-shirt and black sweatpants. It was a large change from his normal attire, but you enjoyed seeing a more casual side of him. He didn’t look like a stand-user fortune-teller dog-catcher. It allowed you to imagine him as a friend instead of a coworker. And you enjoyed that. 

What you didn’t enjoy, however, was the temperature dropping by the minute, leaving you shivering as you tried uselessly to snuggle deeper into the blankets. Was it even legal to leave the heat broken on a night this cold? Regardless, you were miserable.

Finally, after a half-hour of tossing and turning, you got up, prepared to put your coat back on if it meant keeping warm throughout the night.

“Are you alright?” spoke Avdol from his bed, sitting up to look at you in the darkened room. He illuminated a small flame beside him, casting light onto your miserable face.

“I’m too cold to sleep,” you confessed, shivering. You resisted the urge to step closer to the warm fire lit beside him. “It’s impossible in a room this cold. What I wouldn’t give to have a fire-based stand right about now. You’re lucky,” you joked. He stared at you, silent, before finally voicing his thoughts.

“I don’t mean to be crude when I offer this, but would you like to share a bed? It’s possible you might actually get frostbitten in these temperatures,” he explained. He scooted himself over, gesturing to his former sleeping spot. “I promise I’m a gentleman,” he mused.

“Are you sure?” you asked, taking a few steps away from the coat rack and towards his bed. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“There’s plenty of room. I insist,” he replied. You nodded wordlessly, tentatively sitting on the bed and sliding your legs under the covers. The warmth compared to your bed was like night and day, and you quickly sank yourself almost completely under, letting out a sigh of relief as you turned to face your frozen wasteland. 

You sensed a hand come to rest on your shoulder, heat radiating softly from the large palm. You glanced behind you, noting the hand of Magician’s Red. Avdol looked at you, as if asking for permission to continue. You nodded. “Thank you, Avdol. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you and your stand ability. Freeze, I guess,” you joked. 

“It’s no trouble. If you need anything else, please, just let me know. I don’t mind. I’ve got enough heat for two.” You heard the ruffle of sheets, and assumed he’d rolled to face the window, his back towards yours. It was like the heat dissipated, and your body shivered impulsively. You were unsure if you imagined it or not, but it’s like a cold front settled over your body. You bit your tongue. Every fiber of your being wanted to pose a question that you might never recover from. But a small part held back. You couldn’t ask such a thing. He was a coworker. A new friend. Friends don’t ask that to friends.

“Avdol,” you spoke up. “Is there any way you could. . . I’m still sort of shivering. And I don’t want to bother you, or make you uncomfortable, but—”

Sheets ruffled again. A hand—not of a stand—came to rest over your waist. Silently, he pulled you against his chest, his chin resting just behind the top of your head. His legs entangled with yours. Lips brushed against your ear as he leaned down. “Is this okay?” he whispered, breath tickling your neck.

Any words drained from your mind. Instead, you placed your hand atop of his, still wrapped around your torso. You squeezed his much larger hand, rubbing your thumb over it softly. You didn’t have to speak—he understood.

‘Stay.’

[aliypop]

That's Alright for Such a Night

(Rewrite Chapter 3)

Word Count: 2.742

Writers Note: So far I'm enjoying rewriting this

Warning: mostly fluff / Historic Language and Values

Pairing: POC OC x Elvis

Plot: During the Louisiana Hayride two breakout stars meet in a rush only to learn they've dealt their cards in the hands of fate.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

  Memphis, Tennessee,1955

"How would you like to consider headlin' for Elvis and The Blue Moon Boys?"Hank Snow asked. Cecelia had tried her hardest not to blow her cool. Besides, he was the second Hank she wanted to meet. 

" Why do you ask?" Cecelia questioned, Elvis still standing by her side.

"Well, you're a crowd-pleaser if I ever did see one." He laughed, "Course, you'll need a bit of rebranding, a band even." He smiled at Cecelia as she looked at Elvis, who had a big smile on his face,

"So whaddya think Ms. Valmos, Mrs. Valmos," Hank looked at both women, waiting for an answer. 

"Seems you've got yourself a done deal," Cecelia said as she shook Hank's hand.

"And I'll be there too." Midge merged into the conversation, causing Cecelia to groan. Did anyone think she was capable alone on her own?

Nashville, Tennessee, August 21st,

"TIME TO GO!" Midge shouted, knocking on the front door of Valmos Manor. It was two in the morning, but Cecelia was up and ready and dressed. Rollers were still in her hair as she had on her scarf, "Good morning Elvis..." she said, a bit sleepy, as she kissed her poster.

"STOP KISSIN THAT DAMN POSTER!" Midge said for all of Tennessee to hear from the porch. Great, now Cecelia was both tired and humiliated. Walking down the hall with her suitcase in hand, she made a trip to the guest room, which was where Rosa had still been 

"Sleeping." Rosa softly shouted, turning again in the soft bed. 

"Midge is waiting outside." Cecelia groaned, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

"Let her wait." Rosa laughed, "It's our tour anyway."

"One, it's not "our" tour. We're headlining. Two, we have a long drive, so get up!"

"Does it matter?"

"You'll miss Scotty naked," Cecelia smirked, 

 Rosa tripped on the floor, rushing to get ready. A naked Scotty Moore was all Cece had to say. Rosa brushed her teeth, washed her face, and doused herself in perfume. Midge, however, had been honking her horn non-stop, telling the girls it was time to leave.

 Behind Midge were Scotty, Bill, and Sam, with Elvis in the passenger seat, combing his hair in the mirror. Sometimes, Midge wondered if he was vain or if he admired looking nice. 

Midge looked at her niece, who had already been sleeping against the window. She had black hair like her mother, green eyes like her father's, and very light skin to the fact she was damn near close to passing, but those weren't the reasons she was sitting in the passenger seat. It was because she could play the bass fiddle and carry a note. Daphane was the secret weapon for the tour.

"There is no trace of a naked Scotty Moore," Rosa growled at Cecelia, who was putting her suitcase in the trunk and saying to herself it was too early for this.

"Please get in the car." Cecelia wailed. 

"Okay, okay. Rosa threw her bags in the trunk, her head turned back as she heard a horn.

"Hiya, sweetheart." Scotty winked as Rosa waved back at him. Both Midge and Cecelia wondered what that girl saw in him.

"Do you mind if I help you with your bags?"

"I wouldn't mind at all." Cecelia gulped as she saw Elvis walk over. Even at two in the morning, the boy had the nerve to look so beautiful. Oh, how God cursed him to look so dashing.

 "You look pretty," Elvis said. Even without makeup, she was an angel. And under the fluorescent street lights. How did God make such a beautiful girl, and how was he so lucky to gaze at her and smell her rose-scented perfume? 

 "You do, too. I mean not pretty, but beautiful, I mean handsome!" Cecelia's stomach growled as Elvis let out a laugh. She was charming, shy a little, but it was cute. When he heard her stomach growl, Elvis had pulled out a half-eaten sandwich, 

"Would you like some? I wasn't gonna finish it, no way." Elvis had said, lying a little, but he could always eat. It was about appeasing this little lady that was more important.

"What's on it?"

"Banana's peanut butter and bacon," Elvis said, shrugging his shoulders. Cecelia was hesitant as she took a bite. Surprisingly, the texture wasn't bad, And the peanut butter leveled out the salt and sweet. Leaning over for another bite, Elvis looked at her, "You want the rest?"

"Yes, but I owe you breakfast." Cecelia smiled at him, taking the sandwich as they got in their cars,

 "Do I even want to know who gave you that sandwich?" Midge asked, shaking her head. Usually, she'd lecture her about taking things from strangers, but the last time she checked, she wasn't Denise. 

"It was Elvis Aaron Presley~" Rosa sang as Cecelia blushed, "Ooh yall are swappin' spit already." 

"Can it, RoSa!" Cecelia blushed, flustered in the face. 

The first few hours were peaceful. The girls were all asleep, and Midge was lost and alone in her thoughts. The radio was playing Only You, and the sky was still glittered with stars. Midge was in the zone. But behind Midge was the bachelor mobile, known as Elvis and the boys with their blazingly loud music. Elvis was strumming his guitar along to the beat of the song Speedo. Bill was asleep, and Scotty couldn't wait for morning so someone else could drive. After all, he could only actually see good out of one eye.

The sun was rising and hot, with a chilly undertone of fall. The girls all started to stir like little creatures, and Midge knew. They'd be hungry.

Arkansas, 1955

"Good morning, girls." Midge said, parking into a diner she had seen on an exit sign.Cecelia and Rosa took the rollers out of their hair. If she hadn't packed her makeup bag, she'd been putting that on too, but as the two were about to head out all they heard was a high-pitched scream.

 "CECELIA VALMOS IS ON MY AUNTS CAR!"

"Midge. Who's this?" Cecelia asked, blinking a bit at how loud she was.

" Daphane Fontana, my niece and the third member of Cecelia and The Garnets." Midge shrugged, 

"YOU'RE SO PRETTY IN PERSON AND I KNOW ALL YOUR SONGS AND-"

Cecelia applied lipstick while turning her scarf into a bow around her neck. 

"Welcome aboard." Cecelia smiled, opening Daphane's door.

 Rosa was already out linking arms with Scotty and peppering him kisses,

"We're going to jail," Cecelia mumbled, 

"Oh, lighten up." Rosa grinned, 

"Fine, but I'm not responsible for you if you get caught! It is 1954 you know!" Cecelia sighed, rubbing her temples, Rosa gave her the finger as Cecelia growled in anger, she sometimes cared way too much. 

 "Handful already?" Elvis asked,

"Rosa and her antics, not to mention Daphne, who's a fan of mine, and supposedly I'm responsible for making sure she knows every word and note in the songs." she groaned," Pres, I wanna go to sleep and eat until I combust," she pouted as she was lying in his lap. The breath in his body left him. He didn't know where to put his hands except for her cheek. Was that normal for a guy to touch a lady he was getting to know?

"Uh, Cece."

"Hmm." Her tired eyes looked up at him. 

"It's kinda hot out here."

"Oh, right."

 Elvis helped her up as they began walking into the restaurant. They had gotten stared down, but Elvis didn't Care. Of course, Arkansas was nothing like Louisiana or Beale Street, but it still shouldn't have mattered who he was walking in with. Besides money was green and everyone had it,

"We'll catch up with you after breakfast." Cecelia smiled. Daphane, Rosa, and Midge all walked toward the colored side of the restaurant,

"You sure," Elvis asked as Cecelia nodded. They sat down at the table in the back. Cecelia could hear the millions of girls screaming. A soft chuckle left her throat as she saw the look of the younger black patrons whispering to each other.

     "That's Cecelia Valmos..."

                   "Cecelia Valmos...."

                                           "Wait, and Rosa Calhoun..."

"Would you like an autograph or photo... They'll last longer." Cecelia asked as a herd of teenagers gathered around them, 

"This is Daphne, by the way. She's a part of our new group, Cecelia and The Garnets," Rosa introduced her as she was signing menus, napkins, and even hands. 

Looking over her shoulder, Cecelia had caught a glimpse of Elvis. Girls nearly threw themselves at him, and guys tripped to get to him. Midge saw the look in her eye as she knew what would happen. A riot, 

"You're going to cause trouble, kid." Midge laughed, watching Cecelia fluff out her curls some more.

"Eh, sue me." she shrugged,

"CECELIA VALMOS!!!!!" 

Who knew that many white teenagers knew of her existence? Elvis took a deep breath as he stood next to Midge. Exhausted at his newfound fame. 

"This is your fault, Presley."

"I didn't do nothin..." He gave her, his charming smile as she laughed, 

"I'm too old for you and married Casanova." Midge joked as he laughed with her,

"Do your parents know? I sing to you in your rooms every Saturday night." Cecelia laughed, flirting with the guys as Elvis's cheeks got red, 

"She could sing to me every night." 

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that..." Midge laughed yet again. 

"ELVIS PRESLEY !!!!!" 

And there it was, the sea of black teenagers mixing in with the white teenagers, and suddenly, it was a notion of being asked to leave, 

"Is this going to be my life now?" Daphane asked

"That's a great question kid." Midge shook her head,

"So, is that a no-go on breakfast?" Elvis questioned as Scotty groaned, 

"Do you only think about food?"

"Sometimes I think about girls too." Elvis laughed. 

"There's a McDonald’s, and when we get there, all you are staying in the car!" Midge grumbled. 

As their journey continued, it was nightfall again, and they had a small one-night concert in the city. Daphane was going through music. and what outfit to wear. Rosa was somewhere necking Scotty in the dressing room, and then there was Cecelia, sitting outside looking at the stars. 

"Nervous?" Elvis asked, sitting next to her, the wind blowing the scent of his cologne her way, 

"A little." she sighed,

"Wanna tell me what's on your mind,"

"It's nothing, kid," she looked at him, 

"Kid..." he laughed, "Cece, I'm probably older than you,"

"Oh yeah when's your birthday." she chuckled,

"January 8th, 1935," Cecelia gasped as her eyes got wide, 

"What's wrong."

"I'm January 7th, 1935!" she grins, "Which makes me older than you by a day!"

"Eh, you're just one-day-old expired milk." He playfully rolled his eyes at her. The two laughed and carried on. She was amazing from what he had seen of her so far. She was gutsy, brave, classy, yet funny, all the things that made him fall in- 

"Elvis..."

"Yeah, what's wrong..."

"What if I go out there and they hate us." 

"Well, I don't hate ya, so there's that." he winked at her as she playfully shoved her. 

"You're nervous 'cause you care about what you're doing."

"I guess you're right..." she smiled. Elvis booped her nose as she blushed,

" I know I'm right. If you didn't care about the music you do, you wouldn't be here." he smiled as his hand began tickling her ribs and she doubled over laughing. She was ticklish! 

This was going to be a field day for him. He kept going as she kept laughing harder. Cecelia would get him back. Both of their laughter filled the great outdoors. Cecelia was on top of him, taking note of some of the skin of his stomach being exposed,

"Don't you dare..."

"Ticklish there, Mr. Presley."

"Very..." shit, why would he say that!

Cecelia took her soft hands and began to tickle him as he tried to hold back his laughter. Her thighs were on both sides of him as she focused on getting him to laugh, "Cece! Stop!" he kept laughing, tears in his eyes as he then went back to her hips, causing her to nearly collapse again in laughter. Their faces were nearly inches away. She could feel his wavering breath on her lips, and he could feel hers on his ear. The moon was full and beautiful. Stars shining. But all he could focus on was the angel on top of him. Elvis was a devil in disguise. Cecelia was now on her back, looking into his hypnotically appealing eyes. 

"Hi there..."

"Hello..." she flipped him back over. She didn't know what was taking over her, but something told her she had to do this, Cecelia leaned closer, 

"I shouldn't..."

"Shouldn't what?" 

"Cecelia, where are you? Ceceli- WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TWO -"

Both Elvis and Cecelia got off each other as Midge shook her head.

"Tickle fight!"

"Tickle fight my ass..." Midge groaned, "You're not even dressed." 

"Earth Angel, Earth Angel..." Cecelia was in the dressing room singing as they were getting ready to head to the motel, "Will you be mine..." Rosa noticed how she was giggling,

 "What's gotten into you?" Daphne asked.

"I might have, uh almost kissed Elvis..." Cecelia said to Daphne.

"You did what!" Scotty looked at Elvis,

"I didn't kiss her," Elvis blushed hard, "Well, we almost kissed," he smirked, fixing his hair in the dressing room.

"I mean, you can kiss your friends, right?" Cecelia asked,

"I mean... I've kissed Scotty in places that I would consider very friendly." Both Daphne and Cecelia gagged, 

"I mean, I've kissed Rosa..." Scotty smirked as Elvis laughed,

"By kiss, you mean fucked her Scotty," Elvis laughed harder,

"Yes, mother, of course not mother." The concert was finished for the night, and both bands found themselves in a hotel, bought with the money Denise had stowed away. "Everything's fine. We should be in Texas by tomorrow, noon time." Cecelia sighed. She couldn't sleep, so here she was, taking a call at 4 a.m. in the hotel lobby.

 "I'll be sure to get some sleep." She then hung up the phone. Curling up in a chair, Cecelia went back to reading her comic books while also reading the horrid articles Jet had said about her. It broke her heart. 

"Can I join you?"

"Sure it's an open area." Cecelia shrugged until she saw Elvis tuning his guitar, 

"You like comics?"

"Yeah." she looked up at him,

"Well, I got a question for ya then."

"Hit me with it,"

"Okay, so do you think Captain Marvel Jr. could kick supermans ass?" Elvis asked, 

"Realistically, no, Superman would throw him further than the rock of eternity. Now, Batman, he could kick his ass!" she grinned as Elvis held onto his heart,

 "That raises the question, Wonder Woman vs. Batman?"

"Wonder Woman. She's a demi-goddess, and Batman is human, but with that said, he has an advantage because he's human. But if we're talking, Jay Garrick for the win."  

"Guess you got a point there," he laughed, "But I still think Captain Marvel Jr. Would win." She laughed hard as she looked at him, 

"If that keeps you up at night." She shrugged, 

"Say what's keeping you up at night." 

"I don't know." She looked at him, "I'm a bit worried."

"Worried?"

"You wouldn't get it..." 

"Try me," he was by her foot like a puppy,

"I guess I'm worried about how people may perceive me." she sighed. 

"Perceive you?" 

"Yeah, my mother wants me to have the girl next door image... Doris Day, but I like Peggy Lee," she smiled, "She's classy but edgy" Elvis smiled,

"I wanna be the Rita of music, or Lena Horne on camera, or gutsy and funny like Lucille Ball!" she sighed, 

"I wanna be so many things but." 

"But what, you wanna make a name for yourself, and be all those things, don'tcha." 

She nodded, 

"Well, I wanna be the next James Dean." 

"I once got a kiss from him," she giggled, "I think you can do it!"

"What kiss ya better than James Dean?"

"No, be the first you." She looked at him, "I mean, you gotta follow that dream I guess." Cecelia smiled,

"You need to take your advice to Cece. You're so confident in yourself. And also not."

"That's not true!"

Taglist: If you wanna be tagged let me know!

@darkmoviesquotespizza

@sissylittlefeather

@richardslady121

@thegettingbyp2

@presleyenterprise

@sissylittlefeather

@dkayfixates

@rjmartin11

@thetaoofzoe

MORE TO COME IN CHAPTER 4

[gamesimp]

Mr American Pie -A Mafia 3 Fanfiction (Donovan X Reader) (Part 1)

Warnings: Language, Violence,

Note: i decided to make this part one instead because, I was having a hard time fixing the first few chapters!

Note: I decided to do this sudden fast forward to actually make the 70's vibe

Times Square New York 1978, Its been a long time since Donovan and I had been in a relationship and we are going for the people who were involved in assassination of JFK for the last 6 years whenever we had time to go out of town and there were no rackets to do. And this is the last one of them. It was the 4th of July so a huge parade was happening on the streets. And its time to give him a taste of his own medicine. Despite what happened in 1963, he still had the guts to ride in a Convertible.

"(M/n), I have a clear shot! Over"

"Go ahead! Donovan, over"

The gunshot echoes throughout Broadway and the target's head gets blown up.

Donovan gets down from the roof and I told him to meet up with me at an alleyway.

I tried to make my way through the heavy traffic but the Hundreds of cars and yellow taxis making their way through the city especially during a Holliday made things worse.

"Come on!!!" I said before honking at the taxi in front of me.

I decided I would drive the wrong eay to get there faster. I weaved through the opposite direction of traffic while "Hold The Line" by Toto played on my radio.

"hey! What took you?!" He asked in a slightly annoyed tone.

"well were in New York" I said as I shrugged.

"They saw me!" He said before opening the door and getting in.

He got into my new (but stolen and bland looking) Ford Fairmont Station wagon.

I immediately floored it and the NYPD was right behind us in their cruisers. We tried to drive to New Jersey so we can get to Empire Bay but cops were already there, so we had to go to Brooklyn instead then lose the cops there before we make our way to Empire Bay.

"Damn! Since when did these cops become so good?" I was so frustrated. I made a quick turn to the Brooklyn Bridge and Donovan started to prepare a bomb so we could get rid of the cops. He shoved it out the window and it blew up taking out the officers. The cops and the surrounding vehicles go up in flames. And Donovan and I, as unhinged as usual. Don't give a shit. We rode around the borough avoiding all checkpoints and abandoned the car somewhere. We went to a nearby parking lot and looked for a car we could take. We scanned cars by their locks and saw if anyone left their keys. Until we came across a 71' AMC Rambler left unlocked and keys in the visor. We got in and we were bound for Empire Bay.

We stopped at a motel at Empire Bay before continuing our road trip.

"We alert our citizens about two suspects we believe are involved at killing a certain group of people for a reason we are yet to discover."

Donovan took a sip of his coffee while I stayed focused on the road as the news played.

"The descriptions of the first suspect is an Asian Male, Below average height, slightly muscular, tan skin, possibly Vietnamese. The second suspect, Caucasian male, Blonde hair, Green eyes, sometimes wearing aviators, average height, slightly chubby, usually wearing a light brown suit."

"Meh, they ain't finding us, we're already at Alabama!"

I scoffed and just as I thought we were safe. A patrol car pulled us over.

"Pretend we don't speak English!"

"I speak Vietnamese but I don't look Vietnamese!"

Donovan complained.

"Russian then!"

I suggested before stopping the car and stepping out. The officer slowly walked towards us. The sound of gravel crunching under his shoes. Lights from the patrol car are still flashing, illuminating the evening.

"Licence please." The patrolman ordered us.

I started speaking mixed Filipino, Singlish and broken and heavily accented English.

"Helo! You want ticke? Hele! ticket flom Wriglar Stadium at Rost Haben!"

I said trying to annoy the officer showing him a ticket which we used for an assassination at a Lost Haven Stadium during a game of the "Pups" and the "Triplets". Meanwhile Donovan started saying random stuff in fluent Russian.

"OK!!! Both of you! Just go!" The officer angrily blurted.

We finally got to drive back. To New Bordeaux. We were excited to see Lincoln again after a week of travelling.

We got to the newly renovated Sam's Bar. It was back up and running.

"Donovan! (M/n)!!!" Lincoln yelled as we entered and he embraced both of us in his huge arms. The new bar seemed like it wasn't wrecked just a month ago.

"Sam Would've loved this!" Donovan commented.

"does this jukebox work?" I asked examining the Jukebox.

"go ahead!" Lincoln encouraged me while pointing at a bunch of cassette tapes.

I started to play "Dont Stop Me Now" by Queen.

We started to party with the Underbosses as a celebration of the opening of the bar. The party was real hip. Well that's until tomorrow when we finally get a Hangover.

Soon the oarty ended and only me, Donovan, and Lincoln was left with the Jukebox still playing. The song "Yesterday Once More" then started playing.

Out of nowhere Donovan just took my hand and started to lead the dance.

"Donnie! Were still cleani-"

"I'll help you with that later!"

He cut me off and I turned red when Lincoln let out a soft chuckle as we danced in the center of the empty dance floor. It seemed to have triggered Donovan's memories of when we first danced together back in my old house.

[el-michoacano]

cicatriz

Tagging @dolly-macabre, @lokisinsurrection, @seraphtrevs, @lady-writes-flanagan, @jugem13, @sword-day, @slainmanca and @cooked-out-euro-trash 🖤

READ ON AO3

.

"Where'd you get that scar?"

There wasn't an easy answer; Nacho had many scars. He asked, "Which one?"

The Monte Carlo squealed to a stop before a red light, and Lalo turned his upper body toward Nacho. Lifting his arm to rest his elbow along the back of the seat, he reached out and touched the tip of his pinky finger to Nacho's eyebrow. "This one," he said. The light had turned green, but he either didn't notice or didn't care. It didn't matter, anyway. It was late, and the roads were empty and slick with a strange, unexpected rain. "Tell me about it."

When Lalo dropped his hand, Nacho lifted his own to its place. The scar was deep, so much so that he was left with a little bald spot in his eyebrow. He hadn't thought about it in years; It was just there. It was just a part of him, like the piece of another man's skull in his shoulder or the aching chasm in his chest. He was used to it.

A car pulled up behind them, and Nacho blinked in the sudden brightness of the headlights.

It idled behind them for a long moment, and Lalo glared at it as if the driver could see him. It honked, and he hissed, "¡Sigue adelante, cabrón!," as if the driver could hear him. Maybe they could, because even though they honked again, they pulled around the Monte Carlo and sped off into the night.

Lalo's dark, dark eyes found Nacho again, and he said, "Tell me about it, Ignacio."

Nacho didn't say, Only if you get us off the road. He didn't say, Someone's gonna hit us. He didn't say, Stop looking at me like you actually give a shit. He did say, "You know me and Domingo grew up together, right?"

Lalo said, "I do." He had been told weeks ago, and things had only gotten more complicated since then. Fring was breathing down Nacho's neck and the DEA was sniffing around and nothing at all had improved. There future was unclear. The upcoming drive down to Mexico was all there was to see, and he had no idea if he would ever be returning home.

"He's kind of a soft touch," Nacho said, though he felt bad saying it. He was sure Lalo had already realized it, though. He'd probably realized it that first day in El Michoacáno when he'd left Domingo looking like a scared fawn in the lobby while he cooked. "He was getting picked on, and chicanos gotta stick together, right?" He very much doubted the Salamanca prince knew anything about that, but Lalo nodded anyway. "It turned into this full-on brawl. I was all cut up, and Domingo ended up with a broken arm, and all of us nearly got expelled, but we won."

"That's all that matters," Lalo said with a shrug, and Nacho was certain he believed it. As long as the Salamancas were victorious, any loss was worth it, so long as that loss wasn't of Salamanca blood. It made Nacho's stomach twist. He'd nearly been such a loss. It had been Salamanca blood that had saved him. "Keep going."

Now it was Nacho's turn to shrug. "Tuco heard about it and made me an offer I couldn't refuse." He hadn't wanted Domingo, though. Domingo hadn't been brought in until much later, after a raid had left the Salamancas with far too few men to keep Hector's grip on the city.

"I've heard this part of the story!" Lalo's laugh filled the car easily, drowning out the sound of the rain. "You punched him in the nose!"

He had. It was extremely lucky that Tuco had been high out of his mind and found it hilarious, or Nacho would have been shot on the spot. Instead, he'd been pistol-whipped and left to bleed in the schoolyard.

Lalo finally took his foot off the break, seemingly satisfied, and off they went.

The pistol-whipping had only re-opened the scar, though. It hadn't been the cause of it at all.

In actuality, it had happened when Nacho was seven years old. He'd been upset about spending his Sunday morning in church in a stuffy little suit, and he'd been running up and down the aisle until his shoe caught at the edge of the runner and he'd fallen and conked his head on one of the pews. Lalo didn't need to know that.