#genuinely how did he get there. he should be dead in a ditch and somehow hes a politician. its never been more over

[averyconfusedbrowngirl]

I guess this is my very first ever post...

Sooo I'm definitely using this as my personal diary where ya'll can read about my boring life with very self-obessed problems.

It is currently Valentine's Day and I am feeling extremelyyyy lonely. My life is pretty dead where all I do is go to work, go back home, and sleep. And sometimes I go out with friends to get drunk and personally try to forget about my struggles. Oh did I mention that these are all basically surface-level friends. I only have one true friend who lives back in my hometown, which is 3 hours away.

Now not to get off topic - this Valentine is especially hard for me due to many reasons. Last V-day I was with my (first ever) boyfriend, and the first year I had a Valentine. Whereas in comparison, I had dead lonely on this one. Do you see a theme here - I say lonely alot.

I currently have 2 guys on my mind - by guys I mean headaches... First guy is A, and then Q.

A is someone who I used to text in 2020, who then ghosted me but we stayed friends. As a brown girl, my mom is very much into try getting me arranged married and constantly brings guys to me. She one day showed me a picture of A. I laughed out loud when I saw his picture. This is as I realised over time that this guy is definitely not my type and the situation was hilarious. I texted him telling him the situation where he also laughed at it. We got to talking and he explained how he actually moved to the city I am living in for work and we should catchup for lunch one day. We did just that - had lunch, then coffee and then finally a loooong walk. We started at 2pm and ended at 10pm. This is as he came over to mine and we chatted over tea. I realised that I actually do like him and he definitely is my type. However, for some reason he HAD TO make it clear to me that he isn't looking for everything and he is just focusing on himself. We laughed about it and left it at that. We did continue to be friends and check in on one another. One day I had to pick up a package from the post office and I reached out to him for help as the post office is very far away and he has a car. He helped me out and brought me back home and helped me carry the box up my 3 flights of stairs. Long story short, we decided to go out to drink but he has to leave his car back home so I went with him, we picked up dinner on the way, had drinks at his and the plan was to go out around 11pm. However, we continued to drink at his and ditch going out. We somehow talked all the waaaay to 4am. As it was so late, he asked me to stay over and we would put a pillow between us. However one thing led to another and we slept together. One thing to note is that when we did sleep together I was under the impression that we were going to try pursue something out of it and forget about the staying "friends". He was the best I've ever had, and I felt an inexplicable connection. I was genuinely so happy. But my heart was basically shattered when the next morning we had "the talk" and he explained that he still stands on the friends decision. This is definitely different from what he said the night before but I sucked it up because I didn't wanna seem like I was desperate for him and make a fool of myself. I left his place on a good enough note, with pain in my heart, and went home. H texted me if I got home safe and how I was doing and then thats it. No communication from him for a week. I have to say that it was the longest week of my life. I genuinely felt like my heart was cracking every single passing day. There was one night where I felt like I couldn't breathe. He then reached out on the 8th day. His text was so casual just how i was going and just casual conversation. This broke my heart more but I just processed that I have to get over him.

Then comes in Q. Q is someone that I am so so confused about. He is someone I work with. I met him at a work gathering and we just got to talking. We basically kept talking the whole time we were there - about 3 hours of conversation. We basically told each other about our life and just got to know eachother. When it was finally time to leave, he said that we need to meet up for drinks or something and talk more. I genuinely thought we had a vibe going. The next day I went out for a girls night out. Q knew I was going out and asked that I go to the club he was going to with his friends. I hate that club so I told him I definitely was not going to that club. However, my friends and I did end up going to that club. I was low-key very excited to see him because, again, I thought there was a vibe. Buuuut guess what? the boy just ignored me. I was very very confused, like wtf! He didn't say one word to me. Then comes Monday and at work, he still proceeded to not speak to me. Again I am verrrrryyyy confused. And now Tuesday, and I had to sit on the same table as him for lunch because all my other friends were there. This BOY, not man, STILL DID NOT SAY A SINGLE WORD TO ME. I said hey and that's about it.

So to conclude, my fucking love life is in shambles. Because apparently I'm the type of girl that guys like when they are drunk but when sober I'm nothing.

If you have reached this far, welcome to my blogs about my stupid stupid problems.

[pastxlscorp]

Bully! Mitsuya Fanfic (pt.3)

Chapter III: Abidance

✿ Word Count: 3.2k

✿ Pairing: Takashi Mitsuya x reader

✿ Topics covered: (Eventual) Enemies to lovers trope, Hakkai POV, Y/N POV, Mitsuya POV, tsundere-Mitsuya, bully! Mitsuya, fem. reader, minor manga spoilers, slight angst

Awakening from his slumber, he found that the woman was no longer taking up space in his bed. He heaved a sigh of relief, only to, unfortunately, see a message from an unknown number on his phone saying “Text me when you’re free ;)” Ignoring the text, he found he had a message from Hakkai and remembered that he had abandoned him to sleep with that damn woman. However, Hakkai didn’t confront him about it, but instead acted as if nothing happened.

🗨️ Hakkai: Is the party still on for today? (Sent 2:00am)

🗨️ Mitsuya: Yeah, sorry about yesterday. I wasn’t feeling my best, I should have let you know. (Sent 10:00am)

🗨️ Hakkai: No hard feelings. Ya feeling better now Taka-chan? (Sent 10:01am)

🗨️ Mitsuya: Not really, but it’ll pass. What’d you end up doing yesterday after I left? (Sent 10:02am)

Picking up on the subtle curiosity of Mitsuya’s text, it became clear to Hakkai that he did see him with you. As much as he admired Mitsuya, the anger building inside of him got the best of him. Therefore, in response, he chose a reply that he knew would get Mitsuya boiling.

🗨️ Hakkai: Caught Y/N outside of your class, had a wonderful lunch with her! She’s so nice, Taka-chan! Why are ya so mean to her? (Sent 10:04am)

Vigorous fingers typed in reply.

🗨️ Mitsuya: Why the fuck were you hanging around that slut? She’s just gonna try and get in your pants. What did she say to you? (Sent 10:04am)

🗨️ Mitsuya: Hakkai? Hello? (Sent 10:05am)

🗨️ Hakkai: Sorry Taka-chan, I’m back. She didn’t say nuthin bad, actually she was so sweet. She saw I was alone and we both had some tea together back at her place. Ended up sleeping over, I’m still here actually! (Sent 10:05am)

🗨️ Mitsuya: BACK AT HER PLACE? I told you, she’s just trying to get in your pants and you let her win! I can’t believe you let a whore like her win you over, Hakkai! Where the fuck is your brain? She probably was enjoying every minute of your sorry ass. (Sent 10:05am)

🗨️ Hakkai: Who said we slept together, Taka? (Sent 10:05am)

Silence enveloped the room.

🗨️ Mitsuya: Sorry… I just assumed that’s what you meant by sleeping over. (Sent 10:07am)

🗨️ Hakkai: Awh, it’s okie Taka, I know you were only looking out for me. (Sent 10:07am)

Absolutely, looking out for Hakkai. That’s what this was, that’s what he was doing. There couldn’t have been any other reason why he was so upset at the thought of you sleeping together. He was just being a good friend.

-----

┃ “Y/N!” the hoarse voice spoke to you, feeling the smooth cloth of his jacket pressed against your face as you bumped into him.

You looked up only to recognize Hakkai, kind thoughts flooding your mind, diminishing your anger stemming from your interaction with Mitsuya moments before. He grinned at you giddily, eyes relaxing any sort of tension left in your body. You slowly began to forget why you were mad and allowed yourself to indulge in his presence.

┃ “Good afternoon Hakkai! Waiting for Mitsuya?”

┃ “Mhm, you takin’ Designer 101 too, right?”

┃ “Yup! How come you aren’t taking it? You’re very fashionable, y’know?”

┃ “You’re too kind,” He giggled, his grin beginning to somehow grow wider on his cheeks as he raised his hand to pat your head.

┃ “I’m serious! Why don’t you join the class? It’s not too late, the second semester is about to start!” You eagerly pushed on, rejoicing in the positive energy he emitted.

┃ “ ‘m not really into making clothes, just showing them off...” He let out a hefty chuckle before getting cut off by you.

┃ “You don’t have to be good at making them! Some students choose to learn how to stylize different clothing and patterns, it’s all about the latest trends.”

┃ “Really?” He went silent for a few moments, smile morphing into a straight line as he contemplated your words carefully. Not to fret, as his smile quickly returned as he said: “Well then, might have to ask Taka-chan to help me sign up!”

You both shared a laugh and began to discuss the enrollment process in order for Hakkai to join the class-- if he were to drop another class, what class would he drop, or would he simply add it to his current schedule? While your conversation was nothing more than an innocent developing friendship, unbeknownst to you, Mitsuya had witnessed it all and declared it once more another betrayal. You were such a slut, flirting with anyone and everyone. Irrationality began to consume him-- instead of seeing your interaction with Hakkai for what it truly was, a genuine developing friendship, his brain refused to comprehend your behavior with other men. He never got to the level of comfortability you had with Takemichi, and he had lost the sense of ease you had with him to Hakkai and god, god did it piss him off. Unfortunately for that kohai, she was just another doll for him to play with just until he could get your attention again. Even a single drop of your attention, your attachment, it was enough to drive him for weeks just to be able to be near you again. Your kind words squeezing his heart tighter and tighter the more you spoke, your laughter ringing in his ears at a corny joke he told you during club meetings, it enveloped him into infatuation which later developed into a larger feeling. Such a large feeling over the progressing months that when he began bullying you, when your lack of presence and absences during meetings began to grow, an emptiness began to root in his heart, waiting for you to touch it once more and let it grow.

He could go on and on listing things about you-- the way he loved your sense of fashion, the way he loved your sense of humor, your compassion to helping others, your intellect that allowed you to read everyone like a book, everyone except him. Why couldn’t you see that he didn’t hate you? Oh, but that jealousy, the first time he’d admit that it was jealousy, it gripped him so tightly around his neck that it felt suffocating. Every shove, every clasp of your hand, your wrist, your chain, your chain, it made his heart shutter seeing that dead watery look in your eye, but your attention was like a drug that he just had to keep getting more of. It would never be enough to satisfy him, not until he could call you his and you would call him yours. He pitied using them, he really did, but he needed someone to satiate his needs. He was a womanizer, after all-- if one left he would just charm another into his bed. They all had high respect for Mitsuya, his intellect, his charm, his skill, and his kindness. Yet no matter how hard he tried, all those women, they were never you and they could never try and be you. He found that he no longer sought sex for his own pleasure anymore, but for your own, pretending so desperately that the one trembling out of pleasure beneath him was you. Imagining, no, fantasizing that he was making you happy and leaving you satisfied.

Upon seeing your interaction, he quickly left with his kohai for their own exchange, leaving Hakkai unfortunately confused as he waved you goodbye, patiently waiting for his friend to meet him. You were still on campus because you had taken additional extracurricular activities to build up your transcript to make up for your absences in Mitsuya’s Home-economics club. At first, you attempted to make it through the club meetings but he made every single one as unbearable as possible. The second semester, could it come any sooner? Hakkai, too focused on organizing his schedule with you previously, had failed to notice Mitsuya leaving with a woman. He waited, he waited, and he waited, coming to a good hour until he realized Mitsuya wouldn’t have left him waiting for this long without a heads up. He looked at his phone, expecting some sort of contact-- a phone call, a message, anything. All that awaited him was several unread messages from group chats and friends, none of them from Taka-chan. He sighed, placing his phone away just as he noticed your presence once more, planting a fake smile on his face to disguise his obvious disappointment. Unfortunately for him, his smile only instantly alerted you something was wrong.

┃ “Hakkai? Why are you still here, weren’t you supposed to be meeting Mitsuya?”

┃ His phony smile stood in place as tears began to fill his eyes. He croaked: “T-taka-chan left me. Do you think he’s mad at me for sumthin’, Y/N? I don’t ‘member doin’ anything.”

You instantly rushed over to comfort him, witnessing what appeared to be an intimidating giant become undone into a fragile teddy bear at the thought he had upset his best friend. Your disdain only kept growing for Mitsuya, first it was his lack of maturity during class, and now he had abandoned his best friend for whatever reason it was. Hakkai was a sweetheart, you couldn’t imagine what he may have done to upset someone. Therefore, you came to the conclusion Mitsuya had thrown a tantrum of sorts and took it out on him. It irked you, however, Mitsuya always remained respectful and loving to his best friend in addition to Yasuda-san, so you couldn’t help but raise your brow wondering what got him so upset for him to entirely ditch his friend. Pushing those thoughts aside, you placed all of your focus on bringing a smile back to Hakkai’s face, gently rubbing his back and placing your forehead against his temple as he crouched over in defeat. You desperately attempted to think of anything to cheer him up.

┃ “Ah, how about some tea?”

┃ “...Tea?”

┃ “Listen, I have absolutely no idea what you like and I want to calm you down so-”

┃ “Tea sounds good.” He said softly, a small smile returning to his face.

You escorted Hakkai comfortably back to your dorm, located on the east wing of the campus. Women and men could go to each other’s dorms, they just had gender-separated wings because it was just easier to contain the chaos if everyone was allowed to sleep with their girlfriend or boyfriend. The boys had their dormitory on the west side, thus you noticeably got some glances as you strolled with Hakkai. Mitsuya was always surrounded by Hakkai and Yasuda-san, so obviously most of your classmates were shocked to see you hanging out with his right-hand man. Were you both sleeping together? Ooh what a scandal (not). Although you didn’t mind the glanes too much, Hakkai on the other hand made sure to shoot down them all with a nasty side glare, quickly causing them to turn their cheek. It was a cute sight after all, seeing how you subconsciously had reached for his hand and began to rub gentle circles on it in order to ease him, which succeeded in doing so. Once you arrived at your dorm, you opened the door and gave him a show of jazz hands as you toured him around your dorm. Your dorm wasn’t the largest compared to his and Mitsuya’s dorm, which made him realize the privilege of not having a financially aided dorm. Your queen bed comfortably rested on the right side of the room, covered with a curtain and fairy lights on the wall behind it. Your desk was not too far away, maybe a good 15 feet across your bed, not too messy but not too neat. It was obvious you were working on something, as there were papers still out and scattered but the rest of the desk had the pens, pencils, and stapled papers sorted in a clean pile. Your pinboard was half-covered with your calendar, cluttered with small sticker reminders while the other half was your schedule, nicely decorated with washi tape sticking it to the board. Next to your bed was a wooden closet and you led him into the cramped kitchen that made him gasp, seeing how you make such a tight space so comfortable and presentable. You had a small glass coffee table in the middle, a small fridge cramped in the kitchen underneath a cupboard and next to a cabinet holding the sink on top. Next to that was a stove with a microwave on top, both color-coordinated black, contrasting the white of the room. You guided him over to the table and motioned for him to sit and he obediently did. Walking over to the countertop holding an old-school kettle, you used it to strain and brew the tea. Gleefully, you dropped a few ice cubes in his glass and carefully poured his tea and then your own, sitting across from him at the table. He took a sip of the tea you had placed in front of him, smiling not at the delightful taste but the awaiting face you had fixated, putting your hands under your chin waiting for a response.

┃ “This tea is delightful, thank you Y/N.” He said warmly and you basked in his praise.

┃ “Ah, sorry if I made you uncomfortable with the staring. I don’t… really get visitors. It’s nice to have someone over.” You replied, your face beginning to glow a light pink as your lips formed into a slight frown, embarrassed to admit how you had no friends.

┃ “Mm, I should be the one thankin’ you,” The softness in his voice made your crouched posture fix itself as you looked up to him. “You made me sum tea, opened me to your home, all ‘cuz I was sad and overthinkin’. You ain’t hafta do that, but you did anyway. I appreciate ya!” His iconic grin was now back where it belonged as his eyes glazed over you in pure adoration. You smiled in return, both returning to take a sip of your tea.

Hours passed and he was still at your house, you both gossiping and talking like old friends. You discussed your classmates, praising them and disapproving of the behavior of others. He began to confide in you about what he witnessed during his time as the second-division’s vice captain. You eagerly listened to him as he described to you his tales with his brother and his amazing sister Yuzuha, anything and everything was up for debate. At least, almost everything. Despite being the main reason he was so upset, you and Hakkai had not discussed Mitsuya’s treatment of you. He was mentioned in a few gang stories, but it seemed as if Hakkai was opting out of speaking about him out of respect for you. However, his head began to slump, implying he was tired. You grabbed your phone, which had been placed upside down on the coffee table, and looked at the time and saw it was well past midnight. You leaned over to rub Hakkai’s shoulder and you gasped when his head turned back upright, alert as if he just remembered something. Drunk on drowsiness, he began to speak:

┃ “Mmh, y’know Mitsuya used to talk about you a lot. Always went on about this pretty girl who was awfully sweet, really smart…” He trailed off, fighting off the sleep that clung desperately to his eyelids. “He never gave me a name but after club meetings when I woulds wait for him, he would tell me about his conversations. I always saw him looking at ya. What did ya do to make him so pissed off?” Although he had no malicious-intent in his questioning, it was enough to cause goosebumps all over your body.

┃ “I didn’t do anything, ‘kai. Really, nothing different happened that day. All of the sudden, the next day during his club he humiliated me in front of everyone and then made me stay after hours to yell at me even more.” You went silent for a moment, before your curiosity got the best of you and you questioned: “He used to talk about me? Are you sure?”

┃ Ignoring your question, he replied to your initial response. “You didn’t do anythin’ different at all that day?”

┃ You contemplated his question carefully, before realizing the one event that was an outlier to the rest. “I was waiting for my friend outside campus gates that day. He offered to wait with me but I insisted he didn’t, mainly because my friend had said Mitsuya wasn’t very fond of him so it was better if he didn’t see him.”

┃ “Who’s the friend?”

┃ “Hanagaki Takemichi.”

┃ The tired man in front of you took a full minute to process your sentence before bursting out and crying of laughter a few moments later. You looked at him, pure confusion coating your body as he continued to sob. Finally, after a few minutes, he wiped his eyes and sat back up, gleaming at you. “Well that’s your problem, Mitsuya fucking hates Takemichy. Probably spied on ya because he was worried, saw Takemichy, and boom-- he got jealous AHAHA!” He went back to crying of laughter, leaving you a few moments to yourself to process his words.

It was embarrassing to admit how Hakkai was half-asleep in front of you and somehow managed to put together your puzzle of confusion together months after said incident had happened, in under 20 minutes. However, you couldn’t find yourself disagreeing with his theory. Suddenly, Hakkai stopped laughing and looked up at you, all serious.

┃ “Now wait… that’s not funny! He’s been pushing ya around all the time just cuz he’s jealous of you being with other guys?! That’s fucked up! ‘M gonna beat his ass, Y/N! Just for you!”

You now began laughing, taking Hakkai’s hand in yours over the glass countertop and tapping it gently.

┃ “That won’t be necessary, ‘kai. How about we come up with a solution?”

┃ “My solution is beating his a-”

┃ “A non-physical solution.”

┃ He went silent for a few moments, looking away from you to the window to think. You could tell he thought of something when a smirk began to plaster itself on his face. “How about we test our theory?”

┃ “Elaborate.”

┃ “If that pain in my ass is done with whatever it is he’s doing, there was supposta be a party tomorrow. Not at our dorm, but our friend’s. You might have heard of him, Manjiro Sano?”

You responded with silence.

┃ “Mikey. The Invincible Mikey.”

┃ “Not ringing any bells.”

┃ “Brother of Emma Sano. Brother of Izana.”

┃ “Emma Sano is so nice!”

┃ “Captain of the Tokyo Manji Gang, Y/N.”

┃ “Oh.”

┃ “Point is, he’s having a party tomorrow. We could get some revenge, I bring you as my date~”

┃ “Won’t that make him angri-

┃ “That’s what revenge is.”

┃ “Why don’t I just talk with him?”

┃ “Has he tried talking to you?”

┃ “...no.”

┃ “I rest my case.”

Silence enveloped the room once more. It wasn’t an awkward silence, no, it was quite a comfortable silence actually as he patiently awaited your response and allowed you to process and think.

┃ “When is the party exactly?”

✿ tags: @haiq-trash @blackmysticalsimp @the2ndl @bren-heron @delicatejudgecopcowboy @skiwalkers

✿ a.n. // First of all, thank you so much for 102 followers <3 I appreciate the support being given to me! I would like to address one thing, however, please don't rush me to write! I've gotten very kind messages of support but others have been demanding more of me and it's important to remember that I have classes, chores, a social life, and many other things happening. I love writing but rushing me makes it unenjoyable and it won't be my best work. My goal for this ongoing fanfic is to post weekly. Just a little ted-talk there, I hope everyone enjoys this chapter though! I had such a fun time writing it :)

[midoriyas-wifey]

yandere! BakuDeku x fem! reader

ok so I know the original request wasn’t specifically for yandere but i wouldn’t be true to myself if i didn’t write for the yans. I take most of my inspiration for the types of yandere they are from @yanderenightmare

* So first of all, there’s no way out. Like there just isn’t. You’re stuck forever.

* I see bakugou as being both possessive and protective, while midoriya is much more obsessed and manipulative. He’s also delusional in the sense that you NEED to be taken care of otherwise you’ll shatter to pieces.

* They started out as rivals for your affection, because of course they did.

* Both felt entitled to you as a sort of reward for their heroism and all they’ve sacrificed to get on top.

* midoriya realizes bakugou is also after you first, given how midoriya stalks you at every chance he gets.

* It ends up turning into some spy vs spy shit before they finally decide to team up.

* Sharing is caring ❤️

* If you weren’t fucked before, you are now.

* Two of the top heroes in japan have set their greedy and obsessed eyes on you, and they have the resources and influence to do whatever it takes to get you.

* legal repercussions for their actions? don’t know her.

* As for how they treat you really depends on how you act around them. Midoriya has much more patience, but is somehow more condescending? He truly believes you to be too dumb and naive to take care of yourself. Or do much of anything else really.

* Infantilizes you like no tomorrow. Any little scrap of autonomous action or thought is quickly snuffed out.

* Gets a stiffy from feeding you.

* Like a dumb lil heifer, you NEED him.

* Bakugou at least respects your intellect to an extent, but of course he’s much smarter, goes without saying.

* Physical capabilities? Oh honey you’re even more outmatched and this time you all know it.

* Bakugou is the one to rub your nose in it the most, pinning you down underneath him and letting you squirm in vain. He’ll straight up laugh in your face. Just general assholery, you would smack him to Osaka but the fact that you can’t escape is kinda his whole point.

* Calls you a helpless weakling, and that you should be grateful for his protection, attention and affection. Where would you be without him? Dead in a ditch in his mind.

* Also gets a stiffy from feeding you.

* They both love to smother you with cuddles and attention. You never go unmonitored. They also spoil the shit out of you, you’re their baby ❤️

* Cameras cameras cameras. Not only for keeping an eye on you, but both of them fancy dressing you up in dainty clothes and doing what they call ‘photo shoots’... Speaking of,

NSFW AHEAD CHOO CHOO 🚂

* They DO take photos of you sitting pretty like a little dolly, but eventually that (forced) aura of innocence... gets to them.

* The last couple photos of every shoot is of you stuffed to the brim and dripping with their cream. Multiple loads. Your fucked-out look is so cute! They can’t get enough.

* Midoriya likes using sensory deprivation on you, loving to see your every surprised jolt, moan, and twitch, knowing them to be genuine.

* Bakugou has a filthy smell kink. He likes to get all up in your business and sniff like a dog, groaning and humping against the sheets the whole time.

* Both have a daddy kink and a double penetration kink uh oh

* You should be grateful of the time they spend prepping you, because handling even one of them is a tall order.

* Both? Whew chile you’re gonna be stuffed up to your throat 💀

* Both love to infantalize, their mission being to fuck you stupid, literally.

* “Aww, is my honey too dumb for words right now? Is my dick scrambling those pretty little brains of yours? Good, let daddy take care of it all from now on.” All of this is said while pounding you out into the mattress

* Bakugou’s favorite position is either doggy style or prone bone

* Midoriya’s would be the mating press

* Both love to spank as well. Your ass is just too inviting to stay away from. You can barely sit, even their softest of slaps leaves red marks for hours. And most of the time they’re not in a soft mood while they’re balls deep in you.

* You hardly get a chance to breathe between the two of them, shameless horndogs 25/8.

[amoristt]

Just a Dare | Nathan Prescott x Reader

@trueloveknifefight asked, Also can I request Nathan asking you out?

here u are! i love writing convos w nathan UGH i adore his character.

as always, replies and reblogs are greatly appreciated1 i check all tags and comments <3

wanna support me for just $3? here's my ko-fi!

The lights were bright, vivid. Almost blinding. They dance LED accents into the reflection of your drink- a dull plastic cup filled to the brim with one part whiskey, zero parts mixer. The taste could bring a tear to your eye but you would be damned to water down such fine alcohol, provided by none other than Nathan Prescott himself.

Music reverberated along the pool rooms walls, laughter and hollers distantly rising with the tempos. Your foot absently tapped to the beat- you were never one for dancing. Never one for parties, either, actually, favoring drinking in the solitude of a small friend group.

If not for Nathan you wouldn't be here at all. Some would say it's a privilege to slip past those heavy doors, entering the dully lit world of the Vortex Club. You mostly just felt like it was all for show. Somehow securing a place among Nathan's friend group, and a good friend at that, it was almost duty to show up. He insisted on it.

So, here you were. Leaning against a wall in a suffocatingly warm, cramped pool room surrounded by a sea of faces you hardly recognized.

That was, until you saw Nathan's face peer through the small break in shifting bodies. You knew him all too well.

Strikingly handsome, equally strikingly pompous. Funny, crude, an absent minded party goer just as much as he was a fireball with racing, incoherent thoughts. A drinker, a druggie. Takes the edge off, he says, but you think he does it to take away his thoughts completely. You felt like his entire life was all edges, never sacred ground.

The poor bastard.

He lures your attention in as he saunters over with squared shoulders, narrowly avoiding spilling his drink when a random student cuts it a little too close. Normally Nathan would make a bigger deal, give him what for, but this time he just shoots the poor kid a menacing glare and grumbles, 'fucking watch it'. He's walking with purpose and intent, you can see it on his face. You must have a target on your forehead as he darts straight over.

When he comes to your side, his own alcohol dripping down the sides of his cup onto his wiry fingers, you raise a brow.

"Something wrong?" You ask, as he takes a spot leaning against the hard wall right next to you.

"Just wondering why you're being so fucking lame over here," He shouts over the music, taking a sip of his drink, grimacing at the taste. "We're all having a good time over at the lounge and you're over here acting like all the other wallflower nobodies."

You roll your eyes with upturning lips. "Maybe I like being a wallflower. I like people watching. I see things no one else does."

"Yeah, okay, fucking weirdo."

"I mean it," You push off the wall and grin. "Look-" You point to a student obviously wasted, drink held high over head while he lets the music take him away. "That guy is clearly trashed- he's having the time of his life. He's gotta be seeing double."

Nathan whistles at his state, taking in the guys goofy smile, half lidded eyes. "I'll bet it's the triplets. I could breathe on him too hard and he'd fall over."

"You should go try it." You tease. He shakes his head and takes another drink.

"Nah, he'll get it himself. Guarantee we'll be dragging him out by his feet by the end of the night." He shrugs. "Or, at least someone will. I sure as fuck ain't staying that long."

You snicker. "What, got a hot date?" Nathan glares at you. "Oh don't tell me," you cup your hands to whisper, a secretive gesture, "homework?"

"Fuck no," He scoffs, and you can just barely see that he's a little more than tipsy now. His pale cheeks dusted with red, the tip of his nose ruby under the harsh lighting. It's also then that you realize he's a little more tense than usual, even despite the drinking. He's standing straight upright, his right hand gripping his cup like a crutch and his left now shoved hastily into his pocket.

He hasn't looked at you dead in the eyes yet.

"So what is it then?" You ask curiously. He shrugs and stares into his cup. You frown. "Bro, are you like, good right now? Do you wanna leave?"

For the first time since he'd wandered over, Nathan looks up at you. His eyes are unreadable, but his composure seems stressed. He shrugs again. Before you can even open your mouth to ask him about his state, he sighs and downs an entire mouthful of burning whiskey. It makes you cringe just watching him.

"Fuck it," He huffs. "Look I got some stupid ass dare to come over here and put the moves on you, okay." He sounds almost annoyed, like it's a hassle for him, or maybe embarrassing. You cross your arms. "I was dared to come over here and try to get you like, to fucking, you know, leave with me, but now that I'm over here I'm starting to think maybe that was a dumbass idea."

"Leave with you?" You say incredulously, a brow already lifting. "You were dared to come over here and try to sleep with me? By our friends?"

"No, no, fuck," Nathan seems agitated now, rushing. "Like a date sorta bullshit. Ask you out." He manages to get it out in almost the worst delivery possible, meanwhile you're just trying to pick out who would put him up to this. Hayden? Victoria?

A laugh forces its way out of you. "Aren't we a little too old for that game?"

Nathan shrugs. "That's what I said but they insisted. Fucking babies. At least make the dare a little more fun than just asking some bitch out. That's like elementary level shit."

Your eyes widen, you scoff. "Excuse me?"

Nathan sputters. "You're not some bitch, I didn't mean to-... Fucks sake, I'm clearly a little drunk right now okay, if you could cut me some fucking slack that'd be awesome."

"Hey man I didn't ask to be a victim of bullying," You tease, and he can't help but laugh. You soften. "Never expected it from you, though of all people. As ironic as that sounds."

"I'm not even bullying you, come on. Don't be a bitch. I even admitted it and everything."

You grin. "Yeah. Gotta say though, I'm a little disappointed."

"Oh what, you wanted to see my moves?" Nathan hums. "You wanted some Prescott action?"

"Shut the hell up." You shove his shoulder, an action that would be a mistake to so many others, but for you, it was welcomed. "I'm disappointed that it was just a dare. I'd probably have said yes if it wasn't. But, oh well."

Nathan doesn't answer for a long moment. First, he stares into his drink, processing. Almost like he hadn't heard that right, or like you were messing with him. It's rare to see Nathan Prescott stunned into a momentary silence. He's thinking, wondering what he should say next. Suspicious that you're just playing with him, hopeful that maybe you aren't.

And, you hadn't been. Truth be told if given the chance you would allow him to take you out for the evening. Show you fancy things, try out something a little more intimate than just laughter and poking fun at classmates together. You enjoyed his presence, looked forward to it at times.

A small part of you had hoped that he felt the same, maybe. Somehow. While grateful that he respected you enough to cut the crap before it even began, you couldn't help but feel a little... Disheartened at the prank. You'd saved your pride by denying him beforehand, but, if it had been genuine...

"So if it wasn't a dare," He began, quietly, barely audible over the booming music overhead. Eyes barely visible in the sea of vibrant lights crashing like waves. "You'd have said yes."

You shrug, trying to play it casual to save your own feelings, just in case. "Probably. I mean, we're already friends. We have fun so it couldn't have been that bad." He nods along to almost every word.

"Well what if we did it anyways." He blurts.

"Did what?"

"Go out tonight. Like, you know ditch this lame ass party and have some real fun."

"You love this lame ass party, and plus," You shake your head in feigned annoyance. "I'm not sleeping with you, Nathan."

He glares at you. "Fucking duh. I'm just saying we can go and hang out somewhere else. This party happens all the fucking time so it's not like we're missing anything."

"But, wouldn't that make me the butt of our friends joke?"

He shrugs. "Fuck em. It was a dumb dare anyways."

"Now it seems like you're trying extra hard to convince me to say yes." You state, and he's frazzled, running lines through his brain to try and save the absolute failure of asking you out. You decide to spare him, take a little leap of faith for yourself. "But, alright. I'm in."

Nathan gapes at you. "You're in?"

"Yeah, why not. I'm not busy right now and if you're not either than," You smile. "Why not. You better wow me though, Prescott. I'm talking a night to remember. Fireworks, dinner by candle light, a serenade. The whole package."

Nathan's eyes light up, but he tries to hide it, rolls those beautiful blues. "Well considering I've had like no fucking time to prepare how about we instead go to the roof and chill out."

You toss the idea around in your head for show. You already knew the answer the moment he asked if you were being serious.

"I mean I guess that would work," You say. "I was looking for fireworks but I suppose that will suffice. Feel free to go tell our buddies their joke may have backfired on them."

Nathan shakes his head. "Nah, don't even bother. They're all drunk and probably don't even remember daring me in the first place."

"Alright then," You push yourself off the wall, feeling your cheeks warm. A flutter takes wing in the base of your chest, your heart picking up just a little faster. You can't stop the smile that graces you as you say, "Lead the way, Prescott."

Nathan does lead the way. He takes your hand into his own, your fingers tracing over his boney knuckles as he drags you through the sea of bodies, out to the school hall and up winding stairs.

You giggle like a child when he struggles to find the correct key on the janitors ring he'd snatched weeks ago just in case, tease him when he almost spills his drink all over himself. Nathan's hands are almost shaking, but you chalk it up to the alcohol. You chalk everything up to the alcohol- his trembling fingers, his red face, a shy, albeit goofy smile resting upon his lovely, angular face.

The night was cool and crisp, a stark contrast to the smoldering heat of the Vortex Party.

He looks amazing out under the stars, and underneath the scope of the vast, black sky dotted with trillions of perfect, twinkling lights, you feel at peace.

Looking at him, you feel like this may be the start of something you'd denied yourself the chance of ever even imagining.

Out there, alone but together, hearing the echoes of music mixed with the livelihood of crickets in the darkness...

it truly was a night to remember.

-----------

Days later, you sit atop your desk, feet tapping rhythmically on your chair, typing away at your phone.

"Love the top," A familiar voice pipes, and you glace up to find Victoria standing before you, books pressed to her chest. She takes in your shirt, a nicely fitted long sleeve with a rather low cut v-neck. "Why haven't I see that one before?"

You shrug and set your phone down. "Never got around to wearing it I guess. Not a big fan of V-necks."

"It fits you," She sets her books down at the table beside you and brushes a hand through her hair, making sure every strand is in line. "I'll have to get one myself."

"You know what, you can have it after today," You say, and she perks up in disbelief. "As a thank you for what happened at the party."

That disbelief soon turned to confusion. "...Meaning?"

"Y'know, making Nathan ask me out. He made a whole huge deal about it- said you guys were drinking and playing Truth or Dare of all things. Gotta say, I was a little surprised."

Victoria's brows knit. "We hardly drank at that party, and I wouldn't be caught dead playing Truth or Dare. That game is for kids."

It almost knocks the wind out of you.

They hadn't even been playing in the first place.

As the teacher walks into the room, the first period bell blaring annoyingly over the speakers, you climb off your desk and prepare for the day, hardly able to contain yourself. It hadn't been a dare, after all.

And, you and Nathan's official second date was merely a day away.

[bxllafanficc]

Lady of mischief- Part five

Pairing: Loki x Greek!goddess f!reader

Summary: Asgard is having a change of power so there are several events Loki has to get right before he can announce victory against his brother as the next king. But one lady’s approval will change the whole outcome if the stakes are right. That lady is you, intended heir to the throne of Olympus but tied down to a marriage of convenience with one of the princes of Asgard. The prince you choose to marry will be the next king but you refuse to let yourself be a pawn in this game for power. Loki, with his intentions to take you as his queen has far greater reason to marry you than just for the reason of being king. You however, would rather cut off your left arm than exposing yourself for the fact that there’s another purpose besides Loki getting a throne to sit on.

One week later and you found yourself at a sea cliff on Asgard’s largest known bay. You’d brought Henna with you, just like every other day since you got officially banished. Now you couldn’t stand being in the castle and spent almost every waking hour in the city, avoiding the royal family at all cost. Odin even demanded you ate breakfast with them since you were an honored guest but of course you never showed.

Zeus left the day after the banquet and not a word from your parents. They probably didn’t even blink the second he told them their daughter had been locked in with an entire castle of self-centered gods.

“Gods are assholes!” You threw a rock at the size of a basketball into the water and glared at the splash, secretly hoping your father Poseidon would sense it and feel guilt. That was impossible, of course. A Greek god holds no power at the realm of Norse gods.

“My lady, you’re a god.” Henna stayed seated at a comfy rock she found the first day coming to the cliff. She said it was the perfect fit for her to relax her always perfect posture without sloping. You always told her you don’t care if she sloped at non-formal occasions.

“Yes, Henna. Me included.” You were just surprised she didn’t faint because you used such a mundane word, a thing you picked up from the humans on a visit once.

“I can’t stop thinking about what I said to the prince. It was a decade ago, yes, but he still remembers it. Probably thinks about it every time he sees me!” You tried to concentrate on the real reason you were here. To practice. You’d never win anyone’s respect if you couldn’t control your powers. You started with the hardest, the sea; a force that doesn’t want to be tamed.

A pulsing body of water drove up from the sea and flew in front of you. The goal was to force it into a perfect shaped globe, forcing the sea to obey so thoroughly. To your luck the liquid started obeying your wish when you put all your concentration to use. Almost a solid globe. You’d only need a few more seconds to-

“And I’ve already said you should apologize to him. Who knows, you two might hug it out and the next thing you know you wake up naked in his chambers the next day.”

The almost globe burst into millions of droplets and salt burned in your eyes at the shock. Your vision blurred out and you coughed on the water that went down your airways. Heat went to your cheeks and you looked down at your soaked clothes.

“Goodness, Henna! You’ve spent too much time with the Asgardian maids.

You can’t say stuff like that!” Your voice was still faint from the couching as you scolded her. You had to put your focus to use once again to extract the water into fine droplets hanging midair in front of you. The dress was far too pretty to get stained with saltwater. The jewelry looked surreal in the light the dress radiated. Every thread of the fabric seemed to be created of pure shining starlight or liquid diamond. The dress held the beauty of a thousand stars.

No one knew where it appeared from, however. You had your own guess, of course. It laid neatly folded on your work desk one afternoon and if it was the first born prince, he would’ve left some grand note with it as well. The dress just laid there in absence of anyone claiming the rights. An apology for sure.

“Well, you said asshole if I’m not mistaken.” There it was. Henna cleared her throat as a sign to drop the subject but you knew she had a big smirk on her lips. You didn’t want to turn around to confirm it.

“Let’s try again, my lady. Why don’t you try claiming the entire wave coming right there?”

You analyzed the wave and realized what Henna was asking. The size of it was huge and it would surely crash into the cliff side underneath you. Your job was to stop that impact and lift it up to your level.

It was dead silent as you waited for the wave to arrive. With a last big engaging try you felt the power of the sea surging through you. Blocking the impact of the wave lashing itself forwards was similar feeling to getting that same wave right in the face like a wall of bricks. But it was not in vain. The water started to rise to the cliff you stood on and you had to replace your feet for a better stance. Every second the sea threatened to leash out of your hold.

“How mighty.” A soothing voice, yet laced with viciousness, appeared only a hot breath away from your ear and you screamed.

The scent of new books hit you too late and the wave had already been unleashed on the threat behind you. The water had devided around your frame, covering Henna and Loki from head to toe in seawater without showing mercy. The sea held no mercy. Right…

A moment of silence and Loki still had his eyes tightly shut, his entire body frozen in place. He’d been less than an inch from you and you hadn’t noticed. He was still less than an inch from your bodies touching.

He slowly went to wipe one of his eyes clean of water and tasted the layer of salt glancing his lips. You cursed yourself for noticing the shameful way his tongue swiped across his bottom lip. Did he take the warm weather with him somehow or why was it suddenly growing hot again? And why did he look so different with the drenched clothes hugging his frame, hair slicked back. The dripping from the each strand fell and caressed the heavy outline of his collarbones.

What were you even thinking about. He must’ve done something. A spell of some sort.

“That was unnecessary.” He said it as simple as ever and it made you grit your teeth.

Stop staring at his abs, dammit!, you thought.

It had to be a spell. This couldn’t be real.

“Why are you here?” You weren’t prepared for this. He was supposed to be on a mandatory meeting right now. Did he just right up ditch that?

“You’re no fun… I came with a proposition.”

“Of what sorts?” You eyed him with careful detail, trying to sense a trick of some sort. His gaze lingered on your appearance a little too long from what seemed appropriate. It was a thorough scan up and down and the soul behind the eyes held a strange glow. Of course he was shocked you wore the dress he bought.

“We can teach each other things. You tell me stories and history of the Ancient Greece, your kind’s gracious era and I teach you illusion magic.” He could tell your raised eyebrow was a sense of confusion. “Like, combining water and light into something entirely new. I’ll teach you how to conjure spells-“

“Like the one you’re doing now?” It just slipped out of you and it was too late to ignore. It was now his turn to look confused. The tip of his tongue came out once again to wipe off some salt and you looked away.

“What?” He asked.

“Whaaat?” You repeated along with a dumb giggle you had no idea where it came from. The already tight fabric of Loki’s shirt was riding up from the wet fabric rolling itself up. You really did try not to think about how the pearls of droplets looked like glitter in the sun on his toned stomach, but realized that you already failed. You swallowed a hot lump of dryness that caught in your throat.

So no spell then?

Loki sighed and cracked a tense muscle in his neck, a green light drying him and his clothes from bottom and up in a matter of a second (Henna remained drenched).

“Just say no quickly, there’s no reason to drag it out. I’ll leave you be when you’ve answered.” You bit your bottom lip and actually took a moment to think about it.

“Actually, it doesn’t sound too awful. But don’t you already know everything about my realm there is to know?” That earned a genuine smile from him and you thought about how that was a rare sight.

“You’d be surprised of how understocked Asgard’s library is when it comes to your history, your highness.”

“And stop calling me that! It’s weird. You never did it before so why do it now?”

“I thought you disliked me being informal.”

“Oh do shut up!”

Loki laughed and nodded in agreement. It was just then you realized how you were still inappropriately close to him and how his breath smelled of something sweet. Something brushed past your hand and Loki retracted his own with a flinch and an apologetic look.

“I’m s-“ Loki started but Henna’s loud cough and pointed glare.

“Wait!”

“Yes?”

“I don’t… I don’t find you disgusting.” You watched his expression and expected him to get upset but nothing in his body language seemed tense. If anything, his jaw and shoulders seemingly dropped.

“That’s like the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” His chuckle was bright but your gut still twisted in shame.

“No but like, I don’t find your touch disgusting. I never did, actually-“ The amount of truth you entrusted this man with was almost too much. The words were so tense on the way out that you started coughing.

“Then why did you-“

“I don’t know! No more questions though. All I know is that it was far from unpleasant and that’s all you need to know for now.” Loki raised his eyebrow, lips slightly parted. You understood you’d talked before your brain caught up with you again.

“No, that came out wrong. But you know what I mean!” Your hands fiddled on the edges of the dress, only to flatten out the fabric right after. The dry lump just couldn’t seem to go down.

“Oh I sure do… And I agree with you on how we speak to each other. I hate speaking to you formally! It doesn’t sit right for me especially. Then I wouldn’t be able to say the stuff I actually want.”

“Like what?” You regretted asking immediately but couldn’t bring yourself to step back as he leaned in.

Lips brushed against your earlobe and his scent was all up in your world, along with the surreal warmth that always seemed to follow him.

“That dress looks absolutely ravishing on you, (Y/n). I never thought you’d wear it to be honest. We’re you really planning on fleeing the castle on such an occasion and not letting me see any of the beauty?” His voice turned low again and the always present rasp seemed extra present today.

The dry lump finally went down.

“You could’ve gifted it to someone else if you wanted to see the dress on an actual body instead of a hanger.”

A low rumbling came from his chest and erupted in his throat. It took you a moment to realize that the sound was a chuckle.

“See, I don’t think that’s true. Yes, any person could wear it, but I can’t think of anyone else who could wear one of the most beautiful things crafted ever and the most beautiful thing in the room would still remain the person in it.”

You couldn’t move your body. It was frozen in place even though the blood in your veins was literally boiling. You were almost thankful that he was so close. That way he wouldn’t see your red cheeks.

“You don’t mean that.”

“Why would I lie about it? Meet me in the library tomorrow after breakfast. I look forward to our time together.”

(A/N: Hi! Don’t hesitate to comment on each chapter what you thought about it/if you liked it since that keeps me motivated to keep writing. Also reblog so my story reaches a wider audience, if you really liked it! Your support is much appreciated. Also let me know if you want to be added to the tag list for this series. Have a good day, lovelies!)

Find the other parts in my MASTERLIST

Tag list: @liffydaze

@queen-of-mischief

@girl-obsessed-with-things

@obsessivelysearching

@reverse-iak

@perpetually-exhausted-and-tired

[softtransbf]

Fresh Blood, Old Scars Part 1

You'd disappeared 15 years ago without a trace- what's Yancy supposed to do when you walk into Happy Trails Penitentiary and don't recognize him, because he's transitioned? canon compliant trans!yancy/reader

Reader: he/him trans man, no physical description

Rating: T

Warnings: mentions of violence, canonical and parental. deadnaming and misgendering before either of you came out (none by anyone who knows the correct name/pronouns)

Word Count: 2,690

“Hey Yancy, I heard there’s fresh blood comin’ in today for some sorta museum heist.”

“Oh? Know anything else about these guys, so we can give ‘em a proper welcome, Bambam?”

“I know some. The first guy, Mark Iplier, claimed to have been in charge of the whole thing, but from what my sources said, it’s the partner that ran the show- just real quiet-like. I’ve been told that he don’t say a word.”

“Got a name for this, uh, silent partner?” He chuckled at his joke.

“Y/N L/N.” Yancy’s stomach dropped the way it always did when he heard that last name, your last name. Get your shit together. Wrong first name, and Bambam said he and his. Bambam don’t use pronouns other than they/them unless they’re sure. It’s just some guy with the same last name.

“Yance, you okay?” Tiny waved his hand in front of Yancy’s face.

“Yeah, yeah, just, uh, thinkin about how best to greet dese guys. The usual, wit Don’t Wanna Be Free ready just in case?”

“Right off the bat? You really think they’re that high of a flight risk?” Sparkles finally spoke up.

“I, uh, I don’t trust dem silent-types. They’s always schemin’, got somethin goin ahn in their heads.” And if he's anything like- yeah. Gone before you know it.

“Okay, if you say so. I’ll go let the others know.” Yancy didn’t even register who was speaking; he was too lost in memories.

- 15 years earlier-

Yancy knew it wasn’t cool to be excited for the first day of school when you’re a senior in high school, but he didn’t care. He didn’t need or even want to be cool- all he needed was to be your friend. Well, maybe not just friend. You’d been gone for almost the entire summer, and he’d spent the whole time figuring out how to both ask you out and tell you that he’s a guy.

He practically skipped across the street to your house so you can walk to school together, like you had every day since middle school. He knocked- nothing. Rang the doorbell- still nothing. He checked the back door and the spots where you had hidden spare keys over the years- nothing. All the curtains were drawn, too, so he couldn’t see inside. He kept trying as long as he possibly could before he had to sprint to make it to class just barely in time. All day, he kept an eye on the door, waiting for you- the two of you made sure to sign up for the exact same schedule before you went on your vacation. At lunch, he went to the office to see what he could find out.

“Y/DN isn’t a student here anymore- Mr L/N just told us last week.”

“What? Do you know where they went?”

“I’m sorry, hon, I don’t. All I know is that Y/DN is no longer a student here.”

He’d never ditched a class in his life, but that was the last thing on his mind as he ran home, crying. He didn’t stop crying for weeks.

-Present -

He’d never wanted to be wrong more in his life, but there you were. Looking better than he’d ever dreamed, following Mark around silently as he blabbered on about wanting to rally the other inmates to try to break out. No. I lost you once, and it cost me everything. I’m not about to lose you again. He quickly spread the word to skip pleasantries with the new guys and prepare for the song. As he was, you made eye contact with him from across the room. His heart dropped; you didn’t recognize him. You looked right through him, with the same calculating expression you gave everyone else. Of course he wasn’t gonna recognize you, dumbass. You’ve been on hormones for years and have had top surgery. Usually Yancy loved that he couldn’t see anything of the person he used to be in the mirror, but today he hated it more than anything in the world. Stick to the plan, Yance. He doesn’t recognize me, but it might be better this way. This way, I can get him to stay and get to know me as I am now, and he won’t be disappointed that I haven’t become anything like what we dreamed of so long ago.

Yancy couldn’t have planned it better, Mark practically begging Jimmy to punch him through the wall right before the show started, leaving you alone.

The number went great, as always, but then you showed him a picture of your parents. He knew that picture; you took it when the four of you went on a vacation together before you started your freshman year of high school. He also knew that he had once been in the picture, but you’d cut him out. The tape and staples that had been holding his heart together since you left fell away.

He stuck with his usual response to people citing family for wanting to leave, for the most part. No one at Happy Trails knew about you, and he’d killed his parents before they could leave him, so he’d kept his true abandonment issues to himself. Face to face with you after all these years, though, he couldn’t stop himself from adding “they’re always just gonna leave you behind” and a warning about trifling with the past. You flinched a little at both of those, and a spark of hope ignited in his chest- maybe you hadn’t forgotten about him, even if you didn’t recognize him now.

Then you still chose to leave. The rest of the rather single-sided conversation was a blur to him. Later, as he was tending to his injuries in solitary, he remembered calling you handsome and/or beautiful and your blush when he did. And, of course, you knocking him flat on his ass. He’d challenged you to a fight, because he’d always been able to beat you before. The part that truly left him confused, though, was why he offered to help you break out.

All he’d wanted for the last fifteen years was to go back to the day you left and beg you to stay. He’d told himself dozens, maybe hundreds, of times that if he ever saw you again, he’d do everything in his power to keep you with him. On his darker and angrier days, he truly meant everything. But here you are, and he offered to help you leave. This is what you get for even hoping someone might stick around. Let’s just do this. I gotta stop in with the warden first, though…

“Me? Out there? With you?” He chuckled. You had no idea that, with that simple gesture, you offered him everything he’d wanted for so long. Fuck, I don’t deserve him. I still love him, but he deserves someone better than the angry, selfish man I am. The fragments of his heart splintered even more. “I, um. I done a lotta bad things. And, uh.” He made himself brighten up. “This is home! For now, anyway. Maybe next time parole comes up, I’ll, uh” take it and go find you like I should have fifteen years ago. And I’ll spend every minute until then trying to become the kind of man you deserve. “Anyway, I gotta get back to it. You take care now, you hear? And, hey, visitation! Every third Sunday!” You looked down at the box you’d brought with you, and he ran. When he got back to his cell, he cried genuine tears for the first time since that August day when his world turned upside down.

- 2 weeks later, visitation day -

He knew hoping you’d come was a waste of time, and that he was just setting himself up for more pain. He’d learned the hard way that when you were gone, that was that. But still, there he was, looking up every time a guard walked into the room. As expected, they never called his name. The rest of the inmates gave him a wide berth as he went back to his cell for the night, and they were right to. He was itching for an excuse to fight. No one gave him one, though, so he told himself he’d find one tomorrow and got ready for bed.

When he got to his cell, it took him just one second to realize there was someone on his bed, pull them off, and shove them against the wall. It took him three more to process that it was you, and then another five to step back and let you go.

“Sorry for scaring you, Yancy. I didn’t mean to. It’s just… it’s visitation day, but I’m still wanted for the escape you helped me pull off, and I haven’t decided if I want to come back for good or not.” He stood there, frozen. You chuckled nervously. “I get it, your turn to be the quiet one. I’m sorry about that, by the way. There was a lot to process all at once, and I just kinda shut down when I get overwhelmed.”

I know. I remember that you didn’t say a single word our first day of high school, Yancy wanted to say. He wanted to say something, anything, but you being there and so close was just too much.

“Okay, so, honesty time; there’s a specific reason I came back.” You took a deep breath. “I haven’t been able to shake this feeling that I know you, somehow. But I know I’d remember meeting you- no way I’d forget someone like you. Anyway, I'm probably way off base and ridiculous. I guess I just wanted to tell you?” You ran your hand through your hair. “God, that sounds even flimsier than it felt in my head. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It, uh. It means a lot that you came back to say that.”

“Uh, Yancy? What happened to your accent?”

“Shit. Um. C’mere.” He muttered, as he sat down on his bed and pulled you down next to him. He prayed that you couldn’t hear how his heart started racing when he noticed your knees were touching. “No one here knows that the accent isn’t how I always speak. Not even the warden. I’ve been here five years and haven’t dropped it once. Anyone learns about this, and you’re dead, understand?” He knew that the threat was empty, but you seemed to believe it.

“Yeah, yeah, I do, don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me. I gotta ask, though- why fake it? It seems like a lot of effort. You don’t owe me an explanation, of course, but since you’re heart-on-your-sleeve about your parents, it must be one hell of a reason. I bet it’d feel good to let it off your chest. I can promise to leave and never come back if you do- a burden shared is a burden halved, and if I’m gone, you can be 100% sure no one here will know.”

He took a deep breath. “Something flipped my world on its head, and I needed to distance myself from who I was before. That’s an odd phrase, though- ‘a burden shared is a burden halved’. Where’d you pick that up?”

“Oh, um. The mom of someone I loved a long time ago used to say it a lot. It just kinda stuck, I guess.”

“Loved, huh? You break their heart, or did they break yours?” Yancy was surprised he got the words out without his voice shaking or cracking. You were silent for a long time, and Yancy was sure he’d pushed too hard and you would completely shut down or, worse, leave altogether.

“Sorry, I haven’t talked about this… ever." Your voice shook. "I’ve never talked to anyone about this. I don’t know if I was loved back, but if so, I was the heartbreaker. I didn’t mean to be- I couldn’t control having to leave, and I didn’t know I wasn’t coming back until it was too late. I couldn’t say goodbye. I’ve hoped every day for the last fifteen years that my feelings were unrequited, though. I’m happy to have the pain of an unrequited first love if it means she wasn’t heartbroken.” The incorrect pronoun stung a bit, but you didn’t know, and you’d loved him back all those years ago. He was invincible.

“Have you tried reaching out? Even if your feelings were one-sided, I think you owe it to both of you to say them, at least once.” He reached out and took your hands without thinking. You didn't stop him, and he felt like he could fly.

“I tried, actually. About eight years ago, I'd, uh, escaped and was finally an actual person again after everything that was done to and taken from me, so I started looking for her. But it’s like she vanished off the face of the earth five years to the day after we were separated. It’s actually how I met Mark- I got into some deep and shady shit looking. I only gave up last year. Nothing turned up in seven years of searching, so I have to figure that she did something incredibly stupid a decade ago and got herself killed.”

“I didn’t die. Just the name did.” Yancy breathed. A half second later, he realized he’d said it out loud, and his heart stopped. You took your hands out of his and scooted away.

“Yancy. Are you trying to tell me that you’re- that we- oh my god. It is you. I knew I knew you. Everything else is different, but I should have recognized your eyes. I guess some part of me did. But you- I- I thought you were dead.”

“As you can see, I’m not dead, Brain. And for the record, your feelings were definitely not one-sided.” He reached out and cupped your cheek with one hand.

“Shit, Pinky, it really is you.”

Yancy had dreamed about how seeing you again would go in a million different ways. Not a single one of those included you practically jumping into his lap and kissing him with a lifetime's worth of love and want.

He let out an undignified whine when you broke the kiss. “Wait, wait. You knew from the second I walked in here who I was, didn’t you? You tried so hard to stop me from leaving… but then you helped me do just that. You chose to stay here when I asked you to come with me. Then I came back, and you got me to say all those things… And we’re both trans and wound up here? This is all just. So much. I can’t- I can’t do this.” You got off his lap and scooted to the far end of the bed.

“What are you saying, Y/N? That you’re leaving? Again?” He couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice.

You stood up and faced him. “You do not get to play that card. You don’t know how much I went through trying to find a way to tell you I was sorry, that I didn’t know that the trip was a permanent one until we were on the other side of the country. Dad said that I'd never see mom again, and he’d kill me if I tried to get in touch with you or anyone else from back home. He broke my arm to prove he meant it. I can’t stay here to unpack all of this. I have to go. But you can come with me. I mean it even more now than I did last time. I’m not leaving you, I’m leaving here.”

You walked to the cell door and looked back at him with a sigh. “But I know you, and you have a family here. I’ll get you my address- it’s your turn to come to me, when you’re ready. I’ve waited 15 years to be with you again, what’s a little bit longer?” Without giving him a chance to respond, you kissed him again and were gone.

[evarcana]

I See the Moon

Oh when you are looking at the sun

Ev wears some very impractical shoes and learns that she does not know the city quite as well as she thought.

characters: the usual cast of Ev and consul Valerius

words: 2,4k

warnings: none!

notes: I wanted to write something short and sweet to act as a placeholder between the previous part and what is coming next, but I think I got a bit too emotionally attached in the process. The title is from “Be the One” by Dua Lipa and I will leave it open for interpretations.

Darkness strikes Ev’s eyes as she steps out of the theatre doors and for a moment she is completely lost in time and space, staring at her surroundings as if seeing everything for the first time - the disorientation which comes with returning to reality after the magic of the theatre wears off.

A few myopic street lanterns glimmer faintly and the moon, pitched extraordinarily high, is covered by the ragged organza of thin clouds and barely available to light the streets below. Passing groups of people turn into clusters of dark silhouettes, and Ev watches the collars being lifted and scarfs wrapped tighter, as the theatregoers hide themselves from the wind moist with the cool evening dew and disappear into the shadows, leaving only trails of soft footsteps and animated chatter behind them. It is this time of the year when night falls suddenly and way quicker than anyone anticipates.

The impatient tug on Ev’s arm cuts through the hazy darkness. “Are you going to let me leave or what?!” Valerius sounds desperate in his exasperation.

“Just a moment and you are free.” Still watching the dark street, Ev reaches for her bag and throws a pair of flat pointy mules decorated with golden beads and tassels on the ground in front of her. Using Valerius’s arm for support, she lifts one leg to untie the ribbons on her ankle. Somebody behind them helpfully holds the theatre door open, letting the light out, and they both stare at Ev’s bright red toenails as she steps out of her shoes. Ev frowns to herself and curls her toes - it is hard to be an intimidating opponent when you wear a cute sparkly little ring on your fourth toe, when she feels another tug and catches her breath in surprise, losing her balance. The arm slips from under her hand causing her to immediately crash into Valerius. Well, no chance of looking like a menace now. At least Valerius can’t run away, she thinks, because her entire face is smashed into his chest. “So impatient,” Ev rolls her eyes and tucks her heels in the bag.

Valerius hurries to brush off something invisible from his coat and then looks down at Ev’s feet with cynical interest, “Going on a hike?”

She contemplates telling that it took her a very detoured walk from the palace and four nervous circles around the Town Square to finally burn all that destructive energy her body generated in their morning argument, and that right now she is dying to rub her sore ankles, but decides against it. After all, wounded animals are easy prey. “Looks like it,” Ev says, shifting her weight from one foot to another. She scans the road once again and clicks her tongue. There is a carriage pulling away, two people inside, and another one rolling on towards the theatre, the coachman already waving to somebody, but most of the theatre crowd chooses to walk. They all must be locals, or heading to the closest tavern, Ev realises.

“Don’t tell me, -” Valerius’s voice says and Ev looks up, surprised that he is still standing there, “you don’t have a carriage because you were hoping to find a date to continue the night. You shall forgive me for ruining this little plan of yours.” His words are dripping with distaste.

She realises that Valerius must have been following her eyeline. The nervous lough blasts out of her but she manages to catch it and it turns to sound like a cough. A lucky guess on his part? Or did he take inspiration from his own plans? Ev refuses to think about the whole theatre fiasco. The sinking feeling in her chest has started and she puts her hands on her hips in annoyance. “I thought there would be carriages waiting,” she manages to say.

Valerius arches his brow in response, “...how pathetic.” Ev gives him her best withering look and turns away.

The last carriage departs with the din of wheels hitting the worn edges of the stones. Valerius’s eyes are still set on Ev’s face and his brow begins to crease slowly. He is clearly deliberating something but Ev cannot see it. She is watching clouds moving slowly across the moon. “Where do you live?”, he finally asks.

“By the Town Square,” Ev responds automatically, squinting at the sky above her.

“Not in the Heart District?” It sounds like a genuine question at first but the edge of his mouth lifts in a wry grin. “Didn’t you say I wasn’t the only one with the money here?”

“Too close to you,” she smirks back, “the urge of leaving a dead fish by your gate at least weekly would be -,” she leans in closer, turning her voice into syrupy sweet hush, “- irresistible”. This is getting weird. “Anyway,” Ev hurriedly looks behind her shoulder at the theatre doors, “I think it is going to rain later. Have a good night,” the words come in a flat orderly row, she is already concerned with something else, “I will see whether the theatre director can fetch me a carriage.”

“My carriage is waiting down the road.”

“Mm good,” Ev mutters to herself but then the realisation hits and she turns to the consul, eyes wide. “Are you offering me a lift home?” A ‘thank you’ sign lights inside her head but she crashes it with a wave of suspicion. It’s Valerius out of all people. He has no reason to offer her a ride in his carriage besides plotting to murder her and then ditch the body somewhere in the forest. Ev gives him a hard stare.

Valerius breaks the staring game first - his eyes flash with the new unidentified emotion before he regains his usual dismissive look. “Not home,” he snorts, “to the Town Square,this should suffice for a favour.”

“No no, hold on,” Ev raises her hand in protest. “I haven’t asked you anything yet, and hospitality is not a favour.”

“What hospitality are you talking about?”

“You repeat that it is your city all the time! Technically, I am still a guest.” Inside her head Ev is thanking all the available gods for her ability to just keep talking, regardless of whether it makes sense or not, because she definitely has not processed what happened yet.

“Yes, well, just keep your mouth shut,” Valerius says and walks off without a backward glance, his back soon disappearing in the darkness of the narrow lane.

Ev’s eyes follow his path and then she throws another look at the theatre building. The light in one of its rounded windows goes down. She watches the emptying street and feels the goose bumps scatter her forearms. The air is beginning to chill. She looks down at her feet. Ev decides that the consul is the kind of man who would rather pay somebody if he wanted to get rid of her than being involved himself and for the second time this evening she rushes after Valerius. This is so weird.

She is about to call him out to slow down because the sound of duck feet that her ‘emergency’ shoes make is getting on her nerves when she hears a loud thud and a curse. In the darkness of the path Ev is not sure how close Valerius is to her but she knows that he stumbled and it makes her giggle in delight. She stretches her hand out glancing at the strips of warm candlelight coming from the gaps in the window shutters and the ivory glare of the moon. A small globe of light, the size of a plum, forms above her hand. Its light is delicate and warm, as if filtered through the frosted glass, but bright enough to fill the space between the two of them.

The consul straightens up quickly, “Why -”

“I don’t know about you but I like my toes all intact,” Ev walks over to him. “It’s only a small trick, here,” she raises her hand and the light gets brighter, “you can touch it, it’s not hot.”

Valerius takes a step back, looking at the ball of light suspiciously. “You are full of tricks, aren’t you?” he says.

“Don't even make me start on what you are full of.” She bunches her hand in a fist and the light sphere drops down but, before hitting the ground, it bounces back in the air like a small ball and splits into a dozen of smaller lights, startling Valerius. They hover in the air along the path similar to a garland of lanterns as they walk in silence until the lane ends, opening to the canal, and Ev asks, “Is it your carriage there?”

***

The servant opens the carriage door and much to Ev’s astonishment, Valerius waits for her to get in first. She gives him a confused look but complies. There is no evening chill inside and the cushioned seats are invitingly soft, so Ev’s immediately decides that regardless of what is going to happen it was a good idea not to walk home. Valerius takes a seat opposite her and reaches to unbutton his coat and pull his long loose braid from under the collar. His head rolls gently to the side and Ev sees a couple of inches of the neck, soft lines and the glowing skin. She feels her cheeks beginning to heat, suddenly remembering the warmth and the bitter almond fragrance she breathed in every time she got too close to the man, and gods did she get too close tonight.

This is about as far from the real world as Ev can imagine. The carriage is small and the little triangle of her beaded slipper somehow ended up between the consul’s leather boots. If she was to stretch her leg, the bareskin on the side her foot would brush along his shin. They have never sat this close together. Ev thinks about the old lady from the theatre. How would she feel if she knew that she was the only thin barrier stopping them from recognising each other and fully succumbing to the mutual hostility, claiming at least half of the theatre as casualties in the process. This could have been a disaster.

Ev looks at Valerius again and tries to understand how could she not recognise these features straight away. The signature crease between the dark brows and the sulky mouth. Valerius sits in silence, and his eyes are definitely not the ones she knows. They are so wistful and lonely, and so golden under the lamp light, Ev has to look away.

She puts a hand under her chin and leans to the window. A fine mist of rain has started to grit on the glass, and behind the sparks of its tiny drops - a bridge arches over the canal’s silver curve, both ends of which are clipped by infinity, which, in the dim light of the early night, is only ten feet away. The backdrop is all in flashes of the lit windows and the black outlines of pointed rooftops, round cupolas and slender towers, all together resembling a crown adorned by a single grand jewel of the moon, burning bright white. Then, the skyline and even the moon gets momentarily obscured by the huge wall, deprived of any lights, looking ghostly in the tempered gloom.

“That massive rounded building, what is it?” Ev is surprised with herself for striking a conversation.

“Have you not seen it before?”

“No, I have not really been to this part of the city,” she says, turning to Valerius, “What is it? A hippodrome?”

“It's the coliseum. The count’s favourite place,” he gives a chuckle which sounds bitter. “The man loved... performances.”

“What kind of performances?” Ev asks, watching his mouth twisting in distaste. Something about his look makes her frown.

“Gladiators. Bloodshed which lacked any order or purpose besides the count’s own entertainment,” Valerius rubs the bridge of his nose and glances to the window. Ev cannot tell whether he is looking at the moon or the looming coliseum, considering something. “But it’s not what this place was intended for,” he pauses. He turns back to Ev and the expression in his eyes is softer. “It was built before Lucio became a count, although it was slightly less grand back then. The rituals and ceremonies were conducted there during the festivities and the previous count used to reenact scenes of the famous battles there, using the actors. It brought the whole city together. Nobody wants to remember those days anymore.”

Ev feels a weird tremble inside and she is not sure what has caused it until she realises that it is a strange, unusual affection in his voice. She crosses her arms and seats back to contain the feeling. It’s so freaking strange to talk to him when his face is not a mask of boredom. “Did you use to come to watch?” she asks.

“Only when I had to. As if I would mix myself with the roaring crowd of plebeians. Besides, it was terribly distatestful and the smell inside was disgusting.” His mouth tightens, and a strange shadow clouds his expression this time. “Pointless waste of human life.”

“Oh,” is all Ev can manage. She cannot stop staring at Valerius. There is some kindness beneath this asshole facade, human decency, fairness even. It is not the perspective that she has been prepared for. “I meant before that,” she adds faintly.

“Yes I did, when I was much younger.”

“I cannot believe I have never heard of it.”

“Did you do any research before you came here?” The consul is back to his dismissive tone.

“Honestly? I had other things to worry about.” Ev turns back to the window, suddenly unable to look at him anymore.

She hears an irritated snort from Valerius but then, after a brief silence, he starts talking again, and it is not about Ev’s inadequacy. He talks about the canals named after constellations, traditions which Vesuvia used to have, and what you could find in the city before the plague. His voice is calm and steady, and has this velvet quality to it, which fits the night perfectly. Ev closes her eyes and thinks that maybe if she asked Valerius, as that favour she got from him, to continue his stories sitting by her bedside, she would finally be able to fall asleep before the sunrise.

[lovelyirony]

the much anticipated second part for the amnesia-related fic. 

A wedding ring. 

This doesn’t mean that he and Tony are married except that he hasn’t seen Tony with a wedding ring and he hasn’t mentioned a wife and he doesn’t sound like he has a wife and if Rhodey-if Jim had a wife, then wouldn’t he know about her? Wouldn’t they have met by now? He may not know Tony yet, but he doesn’t think that he would be that cruel. 

“Colonel Rhodes-” 

“Friday, don’t,” Jim says, swatting at the air. “What-why did you hide that from me?” 

“Sir believed it would be best,” Friday answers, tone almost quieter. “He...wasn’t sure that you would understand.” 

“I don’t understand,” he says. “Why would I marry him of all people? He’s not exactly my type.” 

“Since I am a learning program, I cannot say for sure. Humans do a lot of illogical things.” 

He’s trying to wrap his head around it and avoid Tony at the same time. 

Friday won’t let him see any wedding pictures, not until he remembers more. 

- 

Even though he’s been (mostly) successful at avoiding Tony for about a week and a half, the man is still so nice. 

He’s still operating under the assumption that Jim has no idea that they’re married, and he does stuff like leave out a cup of coffee and offer breakfast up or ask if he wants pizza for dinner.

Jim reads too much into it. 

And he doesn’t know why, because it’s not like anything has really changed, except for the fact that Tony won’t call him Rhodey. 

Jim gave him permission to, saw how much it killed him with every correction and every reminder. Told him “you can call me Rhodey, if you want.” 

And he doesn’t. 

Tony never does. 

He still almost says it, but Jim is quicker on the tongue, and he doesn’t make a move to try to push any memories at all. 

(Even though he remembers how happy Tony was to hear that memory about grocery shopping and Dum-E’s code source.) 

He does want to remember. He wants to remember why he apparently married Tony and was genuine about it, why Pepper and him are best friends and never were anything more, why he’s...why he’s so different from what he wanted. 

-

Tony knows that Jim’s acting differently. He’s not sure why. He’s not sure he wants to know why, because that might complicate everything. 

And he doesn’t want another thing to be wrong. Everyone’s walking on eggshells around him except for the one damn person that probably should be, but Rhodey’s never been good at following rules. (But he’s good at fooling people.) 

Pepper talks to Tony a lot. Asks him how he’s doing, if there’s anything she can do. 

Repair someone’s memory is a little bit outside of her area of expertise. 

“It’ll be okay,” she says, putting her tiny hand over his. “Things will work out.” 

They both know that in Tony’s life, luck has never been quite what it seems. Or existent at all, at times. 

-

Ironically, it’s their anniversary of the wedding when Jim remembers something else. It actually comes in the form of looking in the fridge and not finding his apples. 

“Quit leaving honey-crisp off of the list just because you don’t like them you asshole,” he calls to Tony. 

Tony almost yelps. 

“Out of everything in your life and that’s what you remember? Your stupidly sweet apples?” 

“Are you gonna get them?” 

“Why don’t you come with me?” Tony asks, “just so that you can get your apples and maybe get out of the house for once.” 

“Hmph. Fine,” Jim answers. “Where’s my coat?” 

“Uh...” Tony trails off, trying to find the words. “Third peg on the...right, I think?” 

“You’ve known me for years, and you don’t know where my coat is?” 

Rhodey is always the one to hang up his coat, and then put his arms out for Tony’s. 

“To be fair, I am important and fancy and a big deal,” Tony scoffs. “Come on, go get your coat and then I’m going to show you what horrible things you buy from the store.” 

“It’s not that bad. And what, you don’t like good apples?” 

“As sour as can be, sourpatch. As sour as can be.” 

-

Grocery shopping with Tony is...interesting. He didn’t think it would take so long. 

“This is why you don’t usually come,” Tony teases him. “I take so long and you end up sitting in the car and cursing at Pepper or Happy about how much time I spend dedicated to snack-judging.” 

“And I put up with that?” 

“You do,” Tony says, grabbing the cart. “Because you love me and you deal with a lot worse from me.” 

“Like what?” 

“Best not to talk about it,” Tony says. “We’re in public after all, honey.” 

“Ugh, boo,” Rhodey teases. “Give me the list. I bet I can speed-run this.” 

“How? Technically, you don’t think you’ve ever been to this store before!” Tony exclaims with a gigantic, shit-eating grin. 

“Way to rub it in you bastard,” he says with a laugh. “Now come on, I wanna see what kind of salad you think we’re gonna get.” 

“Not you thinking you’re going to be eating junk food,” Tony sighs. 

“I lost my memory!” 

“That would’ve worked, like, two weeks ago. Now I know better.” 

Grocery shopping is...fun. They make fun of foods and different products, and Tony shows him which things he might like. 

“I like...I like fruit salad?” 

“Yes, yes you do Rhodey-dear,” Tony says. “Your favorite thing in the world for fruit.” 

“Seems suspicious.” 

“You’ll have to try it again, then.” 

Rhodey watches him as they’re shopping. He’s easy to be around, honestly. He has that sort of energy that makes you feel like he’s just happy to be in that moment. 

Tony also has very questionable taste in everything. 

“Quinoa?” 

“What? You’ve eaten it before! It’s not your least favorite thing that I’ve cooked?” 

“How is it not? Is it because I’m old?” 

“No, not because you’re old,” Tony scowls. “When you’d come back from the service, you’d eat literally anything I put in front of you. I once gave you a block of cheese and you just sat there. Eating it.” 

“There’s no way I did that.” 

“You did! Ask Pepper, she has a picture of it!” 

He goes back to quiet after that, remembering the picture. 

-

Jim isn’t even sure he wants to bring it up. He’s not even sure if he could love Tony again, and somehow that thought makes his head hurt. 

He knows that apparently, he fell in love once. 

So he needs answers. 

-

Jim had talked to his parents, but he hadn’t really had an opportunity to talk about anything important. Try as he had to get more information out of them, they weren’t giving much up, except for parts about his military achievements and funny stories that he’s written to them about. 

When he gets back home and he sees Mama, she knows. 

“Come here baby,” she says, putting him into her arms. “Let me answer your questions.” 

“Why him?” 

Mama laughs, grinning up at him from her place on the couch. 

“You reacted like this when you first started rooming together, too. I was worried that I’d be involved in a court case for attempted murder!” 

“And you weren’t?” 

“No,” Mama answers. “Instead, I get no phone call from you for three weeks, until the day before your holiday break started, and you told me that you were bringing who you used to call ‘the biggest nuisance since fruit flies’ home to Thanksgiving.” 

“Why did I...why did I bring him?” 

“I didn’t get that answered until he fell asleep,” she says. “I’m making you some coffee, alright dear?” 

“Okay, so long as I get an answer.” 

“So impatient,” she mutters as she makes her way to the kitchen, Jim following. 

He watches how easily his mom pours the coffee, and remembers in a brief flash that Tony always would bring the fancy, flavored creamer to the holiday events. 

“Oh come on,” Tony said. “You have gotten too used to my kindness, and there’s no reason to stop being kind. Besides, remember last year when you nearly cried because I bought creamer from the store? Yeah, not having a repeat of that.” 

“And would that be so bad?” he teased Tony, wrapping an arm around his waist, and-

He blinks. 

That was...that was definitely a new kind of memory. 

“James, are you alright?” His mother is looking at him, and maybe she knows, maybe she doesn’t know that he just remembered something. He’s honestly not sure. 

“Uh, yeah. Fine. I’m good.” 

Mama looks across the room, smiling. 

“He was a timid little thing when he got here. Fixed up the washing machine when it broke, just in time. Nearly wore a suit to dinner, said you didn’t tell him what kind of ‘casual’ we were going for...” 

He snorts as he slowly remembers that one. 

“What do you mean you didn’t mean a suit?!” Tony had wailed, gripping Rhodey’s shirt. “You said I had to dress nice!” 

“I meant literally anything but your Black Sabbath shirt!” 

“Why would I have worn my Black Sabbath shirt? Your mom would probably think I was a Satanist!” 

They both look at each other for a moment, and Rhodey’s the first one to break and laugh. 

“Listen you idiot, it won’t be so bad. We can just ditch the coat, ditch the tie, and you’ll be...okay. A bit nicer than most of us, but hey. That’s what I get for not telling you that suits are weird.” 

“Suits are not weird, you’re just uneducated in what is sophisticated,” Tony says, turning his nose up as Rhodey rolls his eyes. 

“Oh yeah, sure, because knowing which one is the dessert spoon is going to help me save people abroad. My bad.” 

Tony looks back at him, and his heart skips a beat. It does. Really, it does. 

It almost feels like someone’s reading back to him what he already knows at this point. 

His mom squeezes his hand, smiling. 

“You remember at least some of it, don’t you?” 

“Well...uh, yeah? I-I do.” 

“Does Tony know that you know that you’re...married?” 

“No,” Rhodey says. “I know some, but not enough.” 

“Give him a chance,” she says. “And get back home, I’m sure he’s missing you.” 

Rhodey embraces his mother, and prepares for the drive home. 

- 

Being missed is a weird concept to deal with. 

He also did not exactly think of that. So he’s currently driving back and checked his phone to seven missed calls from Tony, three from Pepper, and one text from Happy that simply reads “lol ur dead hahaha good luckkkkk” 

Well shit. 

Tony, understandably is pissed and scared and a tad upset. 

Not a tad. 

“Where were you?” He says as soon as Rhodey appears back in the kitchen. Tony’s hands wander close, and he almost leans in. 

Almost. 

“I was visiting my parents,” he responds. “Sorry, forgot to text.” 

“Please remember next time, your-well, Tony’s annoying when you leave,” Pepper says. 

(Okay Rhodey doesn’t know how they got away with this for so long, it’s really, really obvious that they’ve been covering it up.) 

“I will,” Rhodey says. “Did I miss anything?” 

“I’ve elected that we’re going to cook tonight,” Tony declares. “I am absolutely sick to death of takeout, and I’m pretty sure that with your lack of knowledge on recipes now, I have you beat in the kitchen.” 

“I can still read recipes, you dumbass. Besides, I just remembered your stupid ‘bake’ hack for your stupid casserole dish, so...” 

“Out of everything, and that’s the thing you remember today?!” 

“Well, I also remembered that apparently you wore a suit to my house for Thanksgiving!” 

Tony stops. 

“What else you remember from that, or was it just that?” 

He doesn’t want to say anything in front of Pepper, doesn’t want to say anything just yet. 

“I remember that you were weird about your suit!” 

Tony deflates a bit, but still smiles. 

God, he looks gorgeous. 

Rhodey blinks. Shakes his head out of the thought.

“So. What are we cooking?” 

- 

Tony and cooking is a very interesting concept because it shouldn’t work. 

He never stops moving, can lose interest quickly, and Rhodey would think that he could burn water. 

But he doesn’t. Tony hums along to music, and he tells him all about his favorite songs and why. 

It’s not any rock music, any heavy metal. 

“I don’t listen to that all the time,” Tony says. “You always think I do!” 

“Oh right, because someone who personally has Angus Young’s number just casually isn’t someone who listens to the band all the time, sure,” Rhodey says sarcastically. 

Tony grins, and it’s probably the best damned thing he’s seen all day. 

His heart zings at the realization that Tony smiling is what makes him smile now, what makes him want to stay and learn so much more about how they came to be, what they’ve done together. 

-

Dinner is fun. Tony tells him all about college and what they used to do, and what Rhodey had done. 

Memories are coming back easier. 

“You totally emailed the professor really petty responses!” Tony cries, laughing. 

“It wasn’t that petty,” Rhodey said, huffing. “He was an asshole anyway, he hated whenever we would come late because we wanted coffee, and your order was too complicated!” 

“It wasn’t that complicated!” 

“Oh I’m sorry, them having it written down behind the register for when you come in?” 

“Oh, like they didn’t have a description of you.” 

“Yeah, as your long-suffering companion,” Rhodey teases. 

“You’ve always been,” Tony says. “Because you’re the best.” 

Rhodey stops stirring the pot for a moment. 

“Rhodey? What is it?” 

“I...” 

Tony stands there, grinning. He’s nervously fidgeting, and it’s his move to say the vows. 

“You know, I wasn’t ever sure you’d be up to marrying someone like me,” Tony confesses. “Especially since I almost burned down our dorm room one time.” 

“Wasn’t just one time,” Rhodey teases. “But carry on.” 

“You loser,” Tony says. “Even now, interrupting my heartfelt moment.” 

There’s a ripple of laughter from the small crowd that’s gathered. Rhodey smiles at him, feels tears prick up around his eyes. 

“But I knew that I loved you ever since you would always buy my favorite ramen even though you hated it, and you were the one to get the pizza when I was sad. I knew I wanted the chance of seeing you every day, coming home to you at the end of the day. You’re home, Rhodey. You’re it. No one else could ever possibly hold a candle compared to you.” 

Rhodey startles, looking at Tony. 

“I...I remember. I remember!” 

“Remember what?” Tony asks cautiously. 

(He can’t be let down. Not again.) 

“You smashed cake in my face at our wedding!” Rhodey yells. “And we got married! We got married! Where the fuck is my ring?” 

Tony laughs, scooping Rhodey into a hug. 

“I can’t believe you remember.” 

“Well I was bound to at some point,” Rhodey says. “I can be smart, doofus.” 

“Don’t call me ‘doofus’ during an emotional outburst you absolute nimrod!” 

“I’ll call my husband whatever I want,” he teases, “although I still wanna know where my ring is.” 

“Come with me and get it,” Tony says. “I hid them in my room, just in case.” 

It’s all coming back, the steps they take, the way that Tony supports him as he moves slower. 

Iron Man, for one. War Machine the next. The dates they went on, the proposal. 

The rings are simple. They’re also not wedding rings. 

The class rings. 

Rhodey remembers getting them, remembers getting his initials and Tony’s on the inside, remembers how Tony made some “adjustments” after they received them. 

“You know that you got me,” Tony had told him. 

It slides on, and it feels right. Feels like something was missing. 

He looks up at Tony, smiling. 

“Show me the pictures, Tony.” 

- 

Pepper walks in to find Rhodey absolutely terrorizing Tony about the decor choices from the reception. 

“So I agreed with red and gold? I had no problem with it?” 

“Well, I did do some major convincing, so...” 

“What does that mean?!” 

"You’ll remember later and be sad,” Pepper says. “Or happy. But please don’t tell me if you remember it.” 

“You loved the color scheme,” Tony says. “Because you love me!” 

“Now I am doubting,” Rhodey declares. “I loved you enough to have those colors?” 

“You lost a bet, Boss,” Friday interjects. “That’s why there were those themes.” 

“Friday,” Tony whines. “Why snitch on your creator like this?” 

“I am not programmed to have loyalty, Sir.” 

Rhodey laughs, taking Tony’s hand in his. 

“Well, I guess I’ll still love you. Even if our wedding theme was weird.” 

“It wasn’t that weird!” 

-

It takes about another month before all of the memories are all back to normal, and in that time Rhodey learns (and relearns) a couple of things: 

1.) The best feeling in the world is waking up to Tony, who sleeps very lightly and also wacked Rhodey in the face a total of ten times. (That’s not a new thing, he remembers.) 

2.) He special-orders peppermint-flavored coffee creamer. 

3.) Tony was lying when he said that Rhodey’s new favorite movie was The Goonies. 

(He mostly forgave him for that one.) 

[niallloverontheloose]

“Stop ignoring or sidelining Scott McCall when he is the true alpha and the main fucking character of Teen Wolf!”

LOL the fuck is Scott/Posey Stans’ problem https://scintalla.tumblr.com/post/650697822782586880/i-am-really-done-with-the-tw-fandom-i-mean-this

https://scintalla.tumblr.com/post/650260868277370880/scott-mccall-is-not-dumb

@scintalla:

I am really done with the TW fandom. I mean, this post isn’t about ALL fans of Teen Wolf but the majority have just ruined my experience in this fandom. Keep in mind that these are my opinions which I’m sharing and not a personal attack on anyone. So here’s why I’m fed up with both the fandom and even the show to an extent:

1) The hatred towards Scott McCall is just appalling. I genuinely can’t think of a reason why anyone would hate this precious ray of sunshine who is always trying to protect everyone. Like is a 16 year old and doesn’t know everything about being a werewolf the second he was bitten? *Lol, he’s so ‘dumb’.* Doesn’t immediately trust Derek because he has no reason to? *Poor Derek Scott is such a 'meanie’* Doesn’t abandon Allison the moment Derek tells him to because the latter is a stranger and Allison doesn’t even know about her family being hunters? *Everything is Scott’s 'fault’.* Makes a masterplan to defeat Gerard and save everyone? *Fandom shrugs and continues to make everything about Stiles* His ex girlfriend dies in his arms? *Fandom cries a tear and moves on to fawn on Void! Stiles* Saves everyone in the show, becomes the true alpha from the merit of his character *Fandom closes its eyes and fawns over one liners that Stiles threw* Literally dies and is attacked by his best friend for not saving his father when he was DEAD? *Poor Stiles, Scott is such a bad friend. Why can’t he just do everything according to how Stiles wants him to? Who cares that even Stiles himself trusted Theo and confided in him only about having to kill Donovan and never clarifies to Scott that he did it in self defense.* Like I can go on and on about how much of Scott’s trauma and pain are shrugged off because of fandom’s obsession with Stiles and even the show makes it appear as if it was Scott’s fault somehow that he died and couldn’t save Stiles’ father. I’m so tired. Tyler Posey was so good at playing Scott and his performance is ignored by 99.99% of the fandom.

2) KIRA YUKIMURA DESERVED BETTER! She was treated so badly by both the fandom AND the show! People were continually comparing her and Allison even though Allison was okay with Scott moving on and even teamed up with Kira in 'De- Void’ episode. And why can’t Scott move on? Allison wouldn’t have wanted Scott to mope over her forever. And Kira’s story and character development are thrown in trash and she isn’t even mentioned in season 6! Like, I’m not mad that she chose herself over Scott because it’s okay but they could have spent AT LEAST five minutes to talk about Kira and where she was and how she was doing. And the fandom’s unwarranted dislike of her even though the show had made it clear that she isn’t Allison’s 'replacement’ or whatever reasons people use to justify their hatred of her. Like she is a sweetheart, her relationship with Scott was cute and healthy and she doesn’t deserve any hate thrown towards her. Arden Cho portrayed her so well and I hate that she was treated like this by both fandom and writers of the show.

3) Malia Tate is treated so badly by the fandom that even I was surprised by the venom hurled towards her. Malia spent eight years as a coyote, so obviously she doesn’t know how to handle complex human emotions that even teenagers struggle with. And she does better than expected . She is not an 'unsupportive’, 'abusive’ girlfriend that toxic Stydia (i.e. not ALL stydia shippers, only the toxic ones) shippers make her out to be. She even figured out that Stiles had killed Donovan in self defense and said she didn’t judge him for it. And what did she get in return? She was ditched by her boyfriend for her efforts. And no, it’s not toxic that she was jealous of Lydia and Stiles because she was just dumped and wasn’t given closure over it, so obviously she isn’t going to be okay that her boyfriend was moving on so quickly. Like it’s not ideal but it’s not the worst thing. And even if you don’t ship stalia, you have no reason to hate on her. Just ship your ship and leave others who don’t agree with your personal opinion alone.

I haven’t even scratched the tip of the iceberg but these were the only ones that came to my mind. The blatant sexism and racism from the fans really saddens me and I wouldn’t be so mad if actors like Tyler Posey, Arden Cho, Shelley Hennig etc.. weren’t hated on for doing their literal jobs. Like, I’m not telling you to hate Stiles or Derek (which is impossible as it is when it comes to TW fandom) or tell you to stop shipping Sterek and Stydia (There’s nothing wrong with the ships inherently but I wish its stans weren’t so hell bent on making everything in TW about their ship). Only that you stop hating poc, female characters for no valid reasons and stop excusing your white faves’ problematic actions because they cried about it once or whatever. Like no wonder why white men are able to get away with the worst shit while poc and women suffer for no fault of theirs and hated on for things they can’t control; like their race or gender.

//

“I’M NOT TELLING YOU TO LIKE SCOTT AND HATE STILES AND DEREK” Antis screech at the top of their ragged lungs as they proceed to hate Stiles and Derek for daring to eclipse their whiny fav Scott from day one without even trying, throw a temper tantrum because everyone – including the whole Teen Wolf cast and their bitter flop fav Tyler Posey himself – prefers Stiles and Derek to Scott, and go out of their delusional way to twist and/or erase canon in order to blame Stiles and Derek for Scott’s own canonical toxic actions and behavior.

I also luv the way they try to paint Tyler Posey as a poor mistreated, sidelined, discriminated victim and pretend to give a shit about Arden Cho and Kira Yukimura as if Posey hasn’t been texting Jeff Davis begging his buddy to give him a job for the past five years and didn’t refer to Kira as “a good distraction for Scott”

@scintalla post is another proof that Scott Stans never watched an episode of the actual show:

“Scott makes a masterplan to defeat Gerard and saves everyone? Fandom shrugs and continues to make everything about Stiles”

Except that Scott didn’t save anyone in Master Plan – Stiles, Peter and Lydia did – and failed to kill Gerard. The only thing Scott achieved with his dumb excuse of a plan was prompting his buddy Gerard to order the Kanima to slaughter everyone in the warehouse, including Scott.

“His ex girlfriend dies in his arms? Fandom cries a tear and moves on to fawn over Void Stiles”

Did you notice how Scott/Posey Stans, just like Tyler Posey and Jeff Davis, try to make Allison’s heroic death all about Scott? Also: the Teen Wolf fandom can call the show writers out for shitting on Allison and making her heroic death all about her toxic ex boyfriend AND fawn over Stiles and Void Stiles at the same time. Just saying 😘

“Scott saves everyone in the show, becomes the true alpha from the merit of his character” Lmfao sure Jan! Like, everyone knows Jeff Davis came up with that true alpha nonsense last minute just to make his self insert Scott a little less irrelevant. But go off I guess

“Who cares that even Stiles himself trusted Theo and confided in Scott only about having to kill Donovan and never clarifies to Scott that he did it in self defense”

1) Stiles never trusted Theo. Theo himself had no problem admitting that Stiles was smart enough not to trust him. Unlike Scott, who fell for Theo’s cheap lies and got played by Theo like a cheap kazoo throughout Season 5 #Oops

2) Scott is neither Stiles’ dad, alpha, nor authority figure. Stiles is not obligated to share his traumas with a toxic friend if he doesn’t want to

3) Scott’s the one who yells “B-b-but it is not self defense anymore!” at Stiles in Lies of Omission

“I can go on and on about how much of Scott’s trauma and pain are shrugged off because of fandom’s obsession with Stiles… Tyler Posey was so good at playing Scott and his performance is ignored by 99.99% of the fandom”

If Scott/TP Stans are so butthurt that everyone is in love and obsessed with Stiles and Void Stiles instead of paying attention to superior true alpha Scott, then why don’t they take their jealousy and frustrations out on Posey? Tyler Posey is just as in love and obsessed with Dylan O’Brien, Stiles and Void Stiles as everyone else is (if not more.)

As for @scintalla & Scott McCall defense squad circle jerk whining and throwing a tantrum cause “Posey’s performance got ignored”, well… they should be fucking grateful everyone – including critics, fans, viewers, the whole Teen Wolf cast, and Posey himself – were too busy praising and gushing all over Star & Breakout Star of the show Dylan O’Brien’s phenomenal acting talent to pay attention to Tyler Posey’s cringe worthy attempts at acting

[wouldduskwood]

Descendants of Despair Part 56

As we pulled up to the warehouse, Jake was more anxious than he had been the last time we were here, observing the surrounding area with keen eyes. “Give me a moment,” he murmured, pulling out his laptop and opening various windows, setting up scans. I watched him work in silence. Finally, he put his laptop away and drove to the warehouse door. I put my hand on his thigh then jumped out instead of him and pulled open the door myself, running inside rather than back to the car. Jake drove in after me and soon after that Dan joined us. As soon as Dan’s car had entered, I pulled the door down and ran back to our car to meet Jake.

Jake hopped out of the car, fully masked and still jumpy. I cast my eyes around the warehouse. We needed an out if the worst came to the worst. Probably shouldn’t really throw Dan under the bus either, though the thought did briefly cross my mind. “What do you think?” Jake whispered as he noted my expression. “I think there are not many options for all of us to get out safely if anything were to happen,” I groaned. “You and I could probably climb up and jump through the window at the top, but I’m not sure Dan would be able to follow.”

“Anything he can do, I can do better!” Dan stated enthusiastically as he came up behind us. “Really?” Jake questioned sarcastically. “Should I give you a go with my setup and see what happens?” I grinned then nudged Jake, really angry with myself for getting involved in their childish point scoring. “Let me clarify, anything worth doing I can do better,” Dan snickered then grinned at me pointedly. “Isn’t that so, MC,” he winked, causing Jake to wrap an arm around me tightly. “Look, it isn’t really anything to do with ability as such. You haven’t had the practise that we have. It would require hasty and measured movements to get out safely.” I said as soothingly as I could. I was quickly becoming sick of male rivalry.

“Look, we are on really borrowed time at the moment. Alan’s appearance will likely only spell bad news for us. Can we just get down to business?” I asked, somewhat snarkily.

“You know, if you drop the dead weight, you wouldn’t be having to worry about safety right now?” Dan sighed, glaring pointedly at Jake.

“You know what Dan, fuck you.” I announced and grabbed Jake’s hand, prepared to turn away and just chalk the Phil incident up to a bad event.

“Wait, chill. I was just trying to point out how much better off you would be if you ditched hackerman. He is bringing you down MC.” Dan said, this time without so much bite towards Jake.

“I am going to say this just once, so listen and follow along with what I am saying, okay?” I asked, moving myself so I was so close to Dan that he backed away slightly. “Jake is in as much danger because of me as I am because of him, probably more so in fact. See this?” I pulled down my pants slightly, thankful for the length of my hoodie, and exposed the no longer covered wound on my thigh, much to Jake’s distress. “This is a bullet wound from when I so mysteriously disappeared on you all. You want to talk about the danger in all of this? Sure, Jake’s pursuers are way smarter, but mine...by a long shot, are far more deadly.” I snarled as I pulled my jeans back up and fastened them.

Making my way back to Jake’s side, I mumbled an apology. He grabbed my hand and squeezed it gently. “Don’t be, I think he needed to know...otherwise I probably would have reacted far worse than you just did. Besides, all he could see was a bit of thigh, your hoodie kept you covered.” I nodded thankfully.

“Uh...shit MC what the fuck did you get yourself into?” Dan stammered. “Look, that shit is in the past. Jake and I will sort it, but right now we have more pressing matters. What did you pick up from Phil?” I asked, trying to press forward, feeling suddenly exposed and uneasy. “I dunno, he didn’t seem to want to get to the point of anything. I thought he would be spilling his guts as soon as he sat down. At least I would have if it had been me stuck in there. This was his one shot at trying to tell someone more of the truth and instead he flirted with you.” Dan sighed, casting a glance at Jake once more. To my relief, Jake didn’t react to Dan’s wind up.

“Yeah, I gathered pretty much the same. He was...not lying so much as he was deflecting from my original question. Is there anything else you noticed?” I asked, completely businesslike but leaning in to Jake for support. “Not really, other than he looked more than shocked that he was being offered bail.” Dan replied, causing my head to snap up. “Shit, that is potentially helpful. Thanks Dan.” I replied with actual enthusiasm this time. “We had better get going, but I’ll be in touch at some stage.” I started to back away to the car, followed closely by Jake.

“Wait, do you have a place to go?” Dan called after us. Jake paused. “No, but I will take care of it. You may not like me Dan. You may not trust me. But this girl and her happiness and safety have become my sole purpose on this Earth. There is no way that I will let anyone harm her, and if you care about her at all, like I think you do, then you will trust her opinion of me as well.” Jake’s words were soft but clear and as he finished speaking, he climbed into the car. Dan didn’t say a word as he watched me climb into the car after Jake. Instead, he headed for his own car, got in, closed the door and drove away. We followed out of the Warehouse, and I hopped out once again to close the door behind us.

“Let’s go,” I murmured as I got back into the car. “We need to find somewhere safe to stay before dark… and Jake...you know it is only you that I love, right?” I asked, still feeling uneasy after my altercation with Dan. Jake turned briefly to look at me, pulling off his mask with one hand as he steered with the other. He smiled genuinely and replied, “I know. I know you love me as much as I love you. Your relationship with Dan is complicated, isn’t it? But I know it isn’t the same type of love, I can see it in your eyes and in your reaction to him.” Hearing his words and seeing the genuine feeling behind them made me relax a little. My relationship with Dan was complicated...but somehow I did care about him and I had no idea why.

Part 57

[haunthouse]

23 (“I immediately regret this decision.”) with a dealer's choice of au jaylen

ft pacific rim au !! this one ended up long, so it’s also on ao3.

Jaylen knows, the moment one of the drift techs suggest offhand that she try drifting with Allie, that it’s a bad idea.

She knows this somewhere distant in her mind, omnipresent background radiation — the same way that, when kaiju begin spilling from the breach again, she’ll be able to predict with a hundred-percent accuracy when it’ll happen long before the nerds down in k-science figure it out. Her instinct is to say no. She almost says no — almost says fuck no, absolutely not, we aren’t dragging him into this, almost storms out of the room and slams the door on her way out.

But she has to be a good little pilot to prove Mike was right to drag her out of the breach. At the very least, she has to avoid getting into fights. She’s made sure half the jaeger program will never get in a cockpit again just by drifting with them, something inside her mind breaking something in theirs, and she’s made the other half terrified of her; they scatter when she walks through the halls, as if her death is contagious. 

They would not have let Mike rescue her if they’d known it would cause this much trouble. That’s another thing she knows; she’s still deciding how she feels about it. Parker would’ve sent every jaeger the program had left to follow Mike into the ocean, drag him kicking back to shore.

The least she can do, in their eyes, is find a copilot who can drift with her without collapsing with blood leaking from their goddamn eyes. Current record’s forty-four seconds of drifting with Jaylen; in the droves of pilots they’ve sent since Henderson’s failure, no one else has gotten close, and clearly they’re fucking desperate if they’re asking for Allie, who has never wanted to be a pilot, never trained to be one. Allie teaches music. Allie hangs around the mechbay because that’s where Jaylen is, most days, and he is the only one who treats Jaylen the same as he did before she was declared missing in action and presumed dead, the only one who hasn’t made a huge fucking deal out of her being dragged out of the breach with her eyes the color of kaiju blood, like something just as toxic was waiting inside her.

A part of Jaylen worries that drifting with Allie will change that. Jaylen is not a person prone to being honest, but she only lies to Allie in ways he’ll be able to detect; he rarely calls her bluff, but she knows he knows whenever she’s told him something untrue, and she knows he knows she has reasons for it. In this way, she’s more honest with him than she’s ever been with anyone else.

Drifting is a whole other level. She has walls built up she has no idea how to collapse; she isn’t even sure she’s the one who built them. Jaylen hasn’t exactly been gentle with the other pilots they send to drift with her, but she doesn’t know how much of what happens to them is in her control.

She worries, but distantly. It’s far enough back in her mind that, when the drift tech who’s name she’s already forgotten says “Jaylen? I suggested we bring — what’s his name, Abbott? To try drifting with you.” she nods, sharply, and turns on her heel to leave the room.

***

Three days later, Jaylen and Allie walk into the drift-sim chamber side by side.

It’s strange — she’s never actually come in at the same time as her prospective copilot before, never watched them strap into the helmet and connect the electric wires to their temple and pull the restraints over their arms and legs, just in case Jaylen sends them spasming to the hard metal floor. She’s never given a shit about who they are. The first few drifts, part of her was still too far gone to care what she was doing; the dozen or so following that, she’d learned to sink her expectations as low as they could possibly go. She’s learned to fight back the animal instinct to grin as blood-dripping drift partners are carried away on stretchers.

“You sure about this?” Allie says, turning his head to look at Jaylen. It’s clear in the way he moves that he isn’t trained for this; he doesn’t know what to do with the bulk of the suit, he shifts awkwardly to avoid running into the wires connecting him to the interface in front of them. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

Jaylen wants to laugh. Of course she has to. She bites back the sound, smiles at him in a way she hopes is comforting. Everything about her has been too sharp since she returned, but if anyone could see past that, it’s Allie. That’s half the problem — it feels, sometimes, like he’s already inside her brain, and she cannot imagine something more intimate than taking that to its more literal conclusion.

(Drifting with Mike had never been so terrifying. They were best friends before they were copilots; she’d dragged him into the jaeger program alongside her; he’d been by her side for all her worst moments already, and her his, so nothing they saw in the drift could surprise either of them.

Drifting with Allie should be easy, for the same reasons. But Allie was not there for Jaylen’s worst moment. Mike was, and now Mike is gone. Allie grieved somewhere on land, untouched by the category-three that had dragged Jaylen screaming into the Pacific Ocean.)

Jaylen talks less now; when she opens her mouth she feels like she should still be screaming to be heard over the wind and rain and ocean and roaring kaiju, even safe on solid ground as she is now. She forces her voice to be low and steady as she replies: “C’mon, Allie, don’t fuckin’ chicken out on me now.”

She knows that he knows that it’s more for herself than for him. If Allie wanted to stop, she wouldn’t blame him.

“I wouldn’t,” Allie says, genuine as ever.

“I’m not scared,” Jaylen says, feeling laid bare already as she pulls the helmet over her face, double-checks by rote that all the wires are in the correct places.

“I know.”

The voice of one of the techs crackles through the speakers in their helmets. Jaylen knows they’re standing on the other side of the two-way mirror outside the simulation chamber, watching to see if Allie will be the person who cracks down Jaylen’s defenses at long last, or if their last-ditch effort will be a total fucking disaster. “You guys ready?”

Jaylen nods. “Yes,” Allie says, like he’s sure of it.

“Initiating neural handshake in five, four, three, two —”

***

Jaylen has not successfully drifted with anyone since Mike.

It was almost a joke, with Mike — they would bitch at each other about whatever they’d caught floating off the other’s mind, act like they were psychic when really it was just ghost drift, fully scientific. Jaylen’d play her bass and Mike would pick up his guitar and they would be in perfect sync, even writing songs off the cuff; by the time she died, it felt like they were always drifting on some level, always a little bit in each other’s heads. That was fine with Jaylen. She’d trusted Mike with every stupid fucking thought she had, and he’d trusted her the same.

Part of Mike died with Jaylen. When she was thrown into the sea from a height that must have killed her on impact, she was still so intertwined with him that she couldn’t tell where she started and he ended; she couldn’t tell if she was screaming or if he was, or both. Mike would have far too much time to ponder the same question, and would die without an answer.

Part of Jaylen must have died with Mike, too. He’d brought her back, but not all of her, because he’d sacrificed himself in the process and even hardly-lucid as she was when her lifeboat sprung to the surface she’d felt him fall and fall until she could no longer feel anything, just a gaping emptiness.

Now, when she tries to drift, something breaks in her and the shattering echoes across the drift. Maybe Mike feels it, too, wherever he is, now.

***

“Neural handshake calibrating.”

Flashes of memory from Allie. Hanukkah with his dads growing up. The first time he wrote a song. Watching Trespasser land on TV, San Francisco, 2013; watching his dads discuss if they should flee Seattle, move inland, as far away from the Pacific as they could get. Meeting Jaylen. Mourning Jaylen.

It’s the furthest into a drift Jaylen has gotten since her return. It’s the most she’s let in from anyone else’s mind.

Jaylen’s funeral. Allie’s hands piling pebbles on Jaylen’s empty grave. Jaylen in the cockpit beside Mike. She can’t remember her jaeger’s name now, and isn’t that funny, the thing that killed her and the thing that brought her back and she can’t remember.

She can remember what it felt like to be inside it. The power. The ability to fight whatever storm came at them. Mike’s mind in her own. Her mind in Mike’s.

“Out of alignment. You’re both out of alignment.”

Jaylen ripped out of the jaeger by something unfathomably large. Never seen a kaiju from outside the jaeger before, not up close. Not a living one.

Jaylen thrown into the water, still conscious. Somehow. Jaylen underwater. Jaylen drowning for what felt like the entire six years she was gone.

“Jay?” Allie’s voice, distant. Right beside her. Unbelievably far away. Not there at all.

Jaylen dying. Jaylen gasping for breath —

“Shut it down,” she gasps. “I’m tapping out — stop the fucking drift, stop it.”

The connection between them severs, though the ghost of it remains; Allie’s concern, Allie’s fear, and worst of all, Allie’s love for her all sliding into her mind like a knife through the gaps in a ribcage. The hum of machines powering down around them overpowers the clattering of Jaylen’s helmet as she throws it off her head and onto the ground, the shattering of the glass in it; they’ll be angry with her for that, but she can’t bring herself to fucking care, not right now, not after dying again. Maybe not literally, but — does the distinction really fucking matter? Death twice feels the same as death once.

Allie is gentler with the equipment, coaxing the helmet off his head with one hand and reaching out to Jaylen with the other. She flinches away from the touch.

“We shouldn’t have done this,” she says. Her voice shakes and she hates it for doing so. She wants to scream; she wants to tear the shatterdome apart with her bare hands. She wants to be something huge and monstrous and capable of vast destruction, not a woman trapped in a body too small to hold everything swirling within her.

Maybe the rest of the pilots are right to fear her. Maybe death and undeath have changed her in some irrevocable way.

Right now, she doesn’t care.

“Jay?” Allie doesn’t reach out again, but she can feel how hard he’s clenching his fists to keep them by his side. He’s straining against the urge to take her into his arms and make promises he can’t keep, that everything will be fine, that nothing he saw changes how he feels, that they can try again if she wants.

Allie is physically fine. He lasted at least four times as long as the next-highest attempt, and his eyes are clear, and no blood drips from his nose. Jaylen did not hurt him, and some distant part of her is grateful for that, but it’s overpowered by the death lingering over her head, the way it felt to experience it again. The way it feels to know Allie was there with her.

Regret swirls deep in Jaylen’s stomach. She feels sick. “Don’t,” she says, even though he isn’t doing anything. “We’re not doing this again.”

She runs from the room as quickly as her trembling legs will carry her. Bares her teeth at the crowd of onlookers swarmed outside the door, waiting to see if Allie will be another to the line of copilots broken by Jaylen Hotdogfingers. As loudly as she can, she projects her thoughts to Allie through the ghost of their drift, already fading fast: Don’t follow me. Please.

Jaylen needs to be alone.

[cherry-ber]

Too drunk to fuck (pt 1)

A. N: so I originally wrote this as a very soft thing, while I myself was kinda tipsy and emo so I figured it was only fair to re-write this with a vibe that fitted the song that inspired it in the first place. I really hope this doesn't turn out shitty.

Anyway as if it needed to be stated, I have a soft spot for Mark but bad boy/ fuckboy / kinda punk - ish Mark??? Yes please.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Everybody seemed to know something about Mark Lee that you didn't understand. You've heard countless rumors about him, how he is agressive and how he's even been in jail a hundred times, how he got expelled from 20 different schools, how he got in a physical fight with a police officer, but after the first time you bumped into him you knew it was absolute bullshit.

The events of that damned day replayed on your head every single night since it first happened a month ago, and you felt like the dumbest girl ever for falling for him, and it was probably true.

That Tuesday morning, you were running late after ditching your alarm five times, arriving to your classroom barely on time, you ran into him, making him drop his phone and his helmet.

“Oh shit, man, I'm sorry” you said quietly, he could barely hear you, and went inside.

You should have known better, because you pissed him off, and you've heard, the guy was scary when he was pissed off.

So, after what seemed the most boring class ever, as you were putting your books in your backpack, he entered the classroom and went directly to your table, staring at you as if he was trying to look intimidating. Everyone noticed, except you.

“Can I help you?” you started almost annoyed, but when you turned to face him, you felt almost afraid “ah, it's you. Listen man, I'm very sorry and I should've apologized better but I was running late-”

He abruptly interrupted you with the cockiest thing you've ever heard, even from a jerk like him:

“I don't care, you should respect me better”

As much of an idiot you've heard he was, you never spoke to him, so hearing him speak to you like that ignited the flame of your very short temper.

“Fucking pardon? Who do you think you are?”

And it seemed like the first someone spoke to him like that, he looked almost amazed and for a whole minute he was speechless and his bad boy attitude wrecked.

“Fuck off” he said and stormed out, leaving you with everybody staring at you in disbelief, but to you, calling him out was just common sense, and you didn't even say anything mean at all.

And as if that first encounter wasn't bad enough, after school, he waited at the exit, and when he spotted you, he walked in your direction and stood in front of you, keeping you from walking away.

“We should go out someday”

And you did. Many days, actually. He would wait outside for you, say hey and walk you to the parking lot, you'd ride his motorcycle and stop in an old abandoned house, you'd go behind it and make out there for an hour or two. At first it was almost exciting, knowing what people thought of him, yet you felt like he was wrapped around your finger every day for some hours at least. But as expected, it escalated quickly. For a whole week and a half, you kept telling yourself that you were strong, that you didn't want to get involved with him, you were just helping him out to release his damn hormones, and that was it. But the day he grinned at you when he saw you walking towards him, you knew you were fucked; up to that point, you thought that Mark Lee was just a hormonal jerk, that built a bad boy image based on nothing but his arrogance and his feeling of being superior, you actually disliked him, but not enough to leave him, because he was almost a good kisser, and his hair was soft when you ran your fingers through it, and fucking damn him, he was actually kinda hot. That was the same day he accidentally grabbed your hand when you were walking to his motorcycle. You always walked close, but never really said a word to each other, and when you did, it was meaningless, maybe him saying you looked nice, maybe you saying you liked his jacket or a cold how was your day when he looked stressed, knowing he wouldn't reply until you were kissing and he was being rough, biting your lips or holding your hands so you don't touch him, he was just like that.

He made it look like an accident, he was lightning a cigarette, and as he was blowing out the smoke, you walking slightly behind him, he reached for your hand, but you immediately panicked and stop, so he just pulled you closer, annoyed by your response, as if he was expecting you to squeeze his hand and walk like any other couple would.

“C'mon, we don't have time for that” he said, dismissing what just happened, brushing away the fact that he liked the heat he felt when he touched you. You were hesitant to grab onto him while he was driving, but he always went so fast it was impossible not to do it.

When you arrived to your secret place, as he was taking off his helmet, and you the one he started carrying just for you, you couldn't help but feel nervous, and you were disgusted with the idea of him being the reason, but you followed him anyway, knowing that even if you didn't want to be there, you would never tell him, you were weak for him, but why would you?

He sat on the ground, and as always, you followed him, sitting on his lap, and you couldn't help but stare at his eyes, his beautiful, shiny eyes, and then his marvelous lips. He probably realized, and you looked away almost blushing, but that only made him giggle. It was the first time you ever heard him giggle, and it was angelic, you couldn’t help but smile. He put your hair behind your ear, and caressed your cheek slowly, as his lips were getting closer to yours, and when he finally kissed you, it felt like electricity running through your body. You caught feelings for Mark.

When he pulled away, you were petrified, you felt scared, but you knew better than showing him how he made you feel, so you kissed him, passionately, not giving him a chance to think, you didn't want to leave a single second where he could talk. As it often occurred, his hands were on your waist, moving through your body, from your thighs, to your chest, stopping for a moment on your neck, you pulling the collar of his white shirt, your hands roaming from his back to his shoulders and his precious hair, only pulling away again when you felt his bulge grow harder, thinking that what you felt before never happened, and that what you really wanted from him was exactly just that, but as you ran your hand over his jeans, he stopped you softly.

“We never really talk. I want that.” he said, squeezing lightly your thigh.

If you did as we wanted, you knew it would be over. You didn't want him to talk, you just wanted his lips, you weren't interested in meeting him, you knew he was a jerk, but he didn't think the same.

“Y/N, how was your day?” he asked with genuine interest, and as you were about to tell him how your teacher was being so hard on your group with pop quizzes every other day, his phone rang. You felt relieved that he was going to pick up when he checked who was calling, and got off him, fixing your clothes and your hair, then trying to fix his hair, he smiled when he felt your fingers playing with his hair, he hung up the phone and glanced nervously at you.

“I'm so fucking sorry, I have to go now, do you want me to drop you home?” Hesitantly, you said yes, and rode home, somehow feeling empty inside, wanting to ask if everything was okay everytime you stopped in a red light, but unable to speak a word, until you arrived home, you knew no one was there, and as you were giving him the helmet back, he asked for your number, “in case I need it” he said.

Head over the clouds, you waited for him to text you the rest of the day, and you were unable to sleep peacefully, hoping he'd call saying sorry for leaving early, and not calling before, but he didn't, and for the next three days, he was not waiting for you outside, you just saw him leave, riding alone, never looking back to you, and you knew then you made a mistake. You should have never kissed him, you should have never talked to him at all, and you sure should have never ever fell for him, but you did, and it was more painful than someone could ever imagine, no one ever warned you about feeling something for him.

Friday, 7:36 p.m: unknown number: “Do you wanna come to a party tomorrow?”

♡ Next

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

GUYS I'M SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG AND I NEEDED TO POST SOMETHING SOON OR I'D LOSE MY MIND, THERE WILL BE A PART 2 BUT I FELT LIKE IT WAS ENOUGH FOR A SINGLE POST

[curly-bangtan]

30🆘33🆘34 AAAAAAAAAAAAA 🥳🥳🥳🥳

#30: “you’re secretly so soft, don’t even deny it.”

#33: “let me kiss your pouty lips.”

#34: “okay that’s it, you’re definitely my soulmate.”

A/N: @taexxxiiaa means with Heatwave!Taehyung loll she got too excited…! Any fic member drabbles are non-canon so this could have happened in the Heatwave world but only hypothetically/possibly!!

.

“Fuck.” Taehyung looks at his phone screen as it lights up so blindingly bright after plugging it into the charger. “Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. FUCK!”

[23 unread message]

-23:01-

Roommate hoe: yo wya

-23:05-

Roommate hoe: y u always late

Roommate hoe: u better be on ur way

-23:14-

Roommate hoe: bitch where r u

-23:16-

Roommate hoe: kim taehyung

Roommate hoe: taehyung kim

Roommate hoe: hyung kim tae

-23:17-

Roommate hoe: can u at least reply

-23:19-

Roommate hoe: im getting so pissy

-23:20-

Roommate hoe: n cold

-23:29-

Roommate hoe: where the fuck r u

-23:31-

Roommate hoe: u better not be dead in a ditch somewhere or i killu

-23:33-

Roommate hoe: answer ur phone

-23:45-

Roommate hoe: 45 mins late

Roommate hoe: no sex for u tonight

Roommate hoe: i’m rly mad @ u

Roommate hoe: i’m sleeping with someone else tn

-23:49-

Roommate hoe: istg if u forgot our anniversary

-23:50-

Roommate hoe: is ur phone dead again

-00:00-

Roommate hoe: 1 hour

Roommate hoe: i’m rly fucking mad right now.

Roommate hoe: TAEHYUGN

Roommate hoe: u r dead to me.

[8 miss calls from Roommate hoe]

Taehyung is scared for his life. And then he hears the keys rattle at the front door and his heart drops ten storeys more from the purgatory it had already fallen to. He has never experienced fear like the fear of your wrath, fiery as dragon’s breath and as potent as the venom of a scorpion. He chucks his phone onto his bed, anchored by the charger wire to the wall. And he quietly, cautiously, creeps out from his room.

Okay, you look really fuck hot. In your skin tight leather pants and black mesh top that allows some skin to peak through.

If it wasn’t for the pure rage carved onto your face like you’re some Halloween mask, he would pounce over like a wolf and fuck you on the couch. Except you’re practically breathing out fire through your nose, absolutely seething, arms crossed at the sight of him.

“M-My died phon- My phone died.” He stutters out like a poor kindergarten boy explaining to his teacher that he’d left his homework at home but he promises he did it.

“How. Many. Times. Did. I. Tell. You. To. Pack. Your. Charger. In. Your. Fucking. Bag.” You grit each syllable out so hard that your jaw almost hurts. Gulping, Taehyung watches you shake your heels off and kick them away harder than you need to.

“I’m so so so sorry I forgot, Y/N. I got so carried away at the library, it just completely slipped my mind.” It’s extremely brave of him, you have to say, for him to take those long strides towards you.

“You forgot? We literally were texting about it this afternoon! How the fuck can you forget? It’s our friendship anniversary! We do this ever fucking year!” Taehyung flinches as your volume raises. You almost regret it. But then you remember how fucking cold and embarrassed you were, waiting outside for a whole hour for his dumb ass to show up.

Every year, the two of you like to celebrate the night you had first met at the club. It’s a tradition for you to go to this club together and have a blast of a night, just the two of you, no inviting other friends, no sleeping with anyone else, and then end it with chicken and beer at the local 24hr Korean fried chicken place. It’s tradition!

And because Taehyung just so happen to have coursework due at midnight tonight, he had spent the whole day at the library rushing his project and promised to meet you there. It wasn’t like the thought hadn’t crossed your mind that he would be late; you had had an inkling that he would somehow goof it up and maybe show up 20 minutes past 11 or something. But you didn’t know that he would forget about it entirely.

Fucking ouch.

“Hey, I’m really honestly so tremendously awfully,” he inhales, “extremely terribly immensely appallingly very very sorry. I’m sorry. I fucked up and I have no excuse.”

You stare at him, hand gripping the plastic bag containing something that he doesn’t deserve but you got for him anyway. Fuck the frown lines you’re going to get, you’re gonna frown as much as you fucking can at him. He’s got those wide apologetic puppy eyes, trying to convey his genuine contrite and guilt.

Fuck his stupid puppy eyes.

“Okay. Good night.” You heedlessly toss the bag at him, watching him fumble to catch it in surprise as you walk past him to you room, purposely not making any more eye contact.

To your relief but also annoyance, he’s too busy revealing the contents of the bag to chase after your heel. You don’t slam your door, but you do shut it loud enough to convey how much you’re fuming.

God, you feel like an idiot.

You were just standing there in front of the club, waiting for an hour. So many people you know walked by as well, asking you how come you’re not going in yet. You should have just went in with them.

Taehyung is infuriating sometimes. On good days, he’s cute and ditsy, on bad days, he’s clumsy, incapable, forgetful, careless, unreliable and absent-minded. It really is as if you’re his mother sometimes.

Disgruntled, you flop onto your bed face first, mentally swearing your stupid roommate in six different languages. Then comes the timid knock on the door you were expecting. You ignore it. You hear his muffled throat-clearing, “Y/N… Can I come in?”

You want to ignore him. You want to ignore him so badly. But there’s just something about his boyish innocence that has his claws embedded into you. You sigh, cursing your soft spot for him, and go to open the door.

“Wh-“

You’re silenced when he enshrouds you in his embrace, his honey scent permeating into your mind and making you unable to resist sinking into him. You give yourself credit for being able to not reciprocate the hug. But as he walks you back into your room into your bed, your head buried in his shoulder, his hands clutching your back the way he holds his teddy bear Kimchi when he sleeps, your own arms are itching to circle his neck. The plastic bag dangles from his elbow, swinging at your every step back

With his weight on top of you, you fall onto the mattress. Or more like he forces you to fall onto the mattress, his body propped up over you by his two arms on either side of your face.

“I’m so sorry.”

You refuse to look at him.

“You got me chicken and beer on your way home?” The noisy crinkle of the plastic bag as he takes out the takeaway you had bought for him despite being absolutely livid is vexing.

You should’ve just consumed it all yourself. Why did you even get it for him?

“Yeah, figured you’d forget to eat since you were at the library all day. Plus, unlike some people, I don’t forget our annual friendship traditions.” Grumbling, you fix your eyes on him, determined to coax more guilt from him. Yet instead, it backfires because you feel a warmth in your chest, urging you to forgive him.

“Fuck. Okay, that’s it, you’re definitely my soulmate.” He is cursing at himself in his head, you can tell. As he pushes his hair out of his face in frustration, you want to kiss him stupid. The fuck is wrong with you?

“Ha. Don’t call me your soulmate if you can’t even remember our anniversary.” Puckering your bottom lip out at him, you say. “I’ll kick you in the balls if you don’t get off me.”

Taehyung laughs. It’s a sound that threatens to dissolve your anger, a smile queuing impatiently at your lips. Don’t break. “You wouldn’t. You just went all the way to to get me fried chicken and beer even after I stood you up on our anniversary. You’re secretly so soft, don’t even deny it.”

“Shut it, dickface.” You attempt to roll away from under him but he cages you between his arms. “Look how you take advantage of my kindness towards you. You don’t deserve me.”

“I knowwww I don’t deserve you. I will do all the grovelling for as long as you want me. I’ll do laundry for the rest of the month. I’ll wash the dishes every time. I’ll buy you bubble tea any time you want me to. Pleaseeeee.” Whining, he squeezes your cheeks between his two unholy massive palms and nuzzles into your neck.

Ugh, you’re so sick of him. He’s impossible.

“Firstly, the last time you did laundry, you stained all our white clothes pink.” You yank him by his hair off your neck. “Secondly, I don’t trust you with the dishes because you’ve already broken my favourite mug. And third, no take backs on the bubble tea.”

He smiles at you sheepishly. He knows how incompetent he is, how he is honestly a twenty-something year old toddler. A man child.

When he doesn’t say anything, plainly staring at you with his cheeks risen so high from his smile, you finally give in and giggle.

God, why is your roommate so annoying?

“Haha! Got you! You can’t stay mad at me.” Taehyung shakes you by the head triumphantly like a baby playing, borderline trying to decapitate, his doll.

“Let go! I’m getting whiplash!” The laughter sputters out of you traitorously.

“Let me kiss your pouty lips then.”

You hate that you let him, and you hate how just like that, you’re not mad at your best friend anymore. As he kisses you so softly and apologetically, you melt into him, forgetting how rudely you were cursing him an hour ago.

Later, you two eat the Korean fried chicken and drink the cans of beer on your bed, reminiscing about your early days after initially moving in together, laughing at all those weird awkward encounters.

It’s your friendship anniversary, so you don’t have sex tonight. But ironically you can’t stop kissing as he cuddles you to sleep.

.

05/11/2019

© Copyright 2019

[riverdalenerdlol]

a moment without you (makes me go insane)

Riverdalenerdlol

Inspired by an ask by @sabrinas1d

Keeping up the act was taxing, even for one with as strong a mind and will as Betty Cooper. 

In that split second that Jughead had almost died, she had almost caved in on herself. They were both lucky that he’d only been knocked out by the rock, left for dead by the Stonies. She thought she’d done it, for a while, as Jughead didn’t know what was going on when he woke up from it. She cried tears of joy when he came back into consciousness, wrapping him up in her arms and kissing all over his face while he tried to comfort her. He’d shed a lot of blood from a cut on his forehead, a cut that Veronica had been tasked with keeping pressure on. She was holding the ripped cuff of Archie’s shirt to the gash. 

Read on AO3 or below the cut

It was when Jughead got a grip on reality that the four of them came up with a plan. The Stonies had left him for dead, so they were going to play off that - ultimately deciding that Jughead’s death should be faked in order to corner the preps and eventually catch them slipping up. One way or another, they were going to get caught for the attempted murder of their friend. Betty was the one to propose that they bring Charles in to help. He kept in contact with them, giving them specific instructions, including the burning of their clothes, the ditching of the rock in the swimming hole, and bringing Jughead back to Riverdale covertly in the bed of Archie’s truck. 

Dr. Curdle Jr joined the cause then, stitching up Jughead’s forehead for a fair price (in cash, of course). He agreed that he wouldn’t say a word about their interaction and in the manufacturing of a fake body. It was only then that Jughead ditched his own clothes to be used on the red herring. From there, they carted Jughead to Dilton’s old bunker. 

Betty had to say a tearful goodbye to him there. He promised that he’d be okay for a few days. There were enough rations and he’d stored a set of clothes there that he would be fine wearing for a few days. He insisted that he would be fine. Betty was emotional about parting from him so soon after she’d almost lost him. She clung to him for a few minutes, refusing to let go. She didn’t want to leave him there. Veronica eventually had to come back to pry Betty off of him (she and Archie had stepped out of the bunker to give them privacy) so that they could leave. 

It was 3AM when Betty was dropped off at her house. She thought she’d been quiet and discreet, but her mother found her. Naturally. She had questions. Naturally. And she was angered about coming back after her curfew. Normal. Then she noticed how she didn’t have any clothes on. When Alice Smith said Jughead’s name, Betty almost collapsed into a broken, sobbing puddle. She excused herself and ran back to her room. 

Betty couldn’t look herself in the mirror, she could only think about Jughead’s blood all over her, how he’d almost died… and she suddenly felt crushed by the weight of her secret. 

She threw up in her bathroom and felt empty when Jughead wasn’t there to hold her hair back or help clean her up (what he usually did when she had sickness spells like that). 

Betty found it hard to sleep that night. 

She found it hard to sleep every night after that. 

It had been a while since the search party, since seeing the false corpse of her boyfriend. The latter was traumatizing. Betty had to keep reminding herself that the body was fake - it wasn’t Jughead. The press outside the door did nothing to help, as FP had to wrap his arm around her in order to muscle them through the crowd. Donna and Bret bursting through the door pushed her over the edge, forcing them out of the morgue. 

Using the last of her strength, she burst into tears again, FP sheltering her shaking body in his arms. It was then that she decided that Mr. Jones couldn’t be kept out of the lie any longer. She, with the help of Dr. Curdle Jr, helped explain the entire situation to FP. He was shocked at first, and a little angry, but he understood that Betty, Archie, and Veronica had good intentions with what they did. 

Archie later brought his mom into the circle - it helped to have another adult they could trust, a lawyer no less. They all knew that things were soon to get sticky. 

Archie also managed to smuggle clothes and supplies to the bunker. Betty wanted to, but they all knew that Donna was focused in on her and they knew Betty would want to stay there. They couldn’t have that. She did make one trip there, however, to set up the murder board in the bunker so that Jughead would have something to keep him occupied while they enacted their plan. 

Jellybean became suspicious that night, asking why Betty had come home so late on a school night and why it looked like she’d been crying. Suddenly, Jellybean was also privy to the details of Jughead’s false murder. She seemed unsurprised. 

After Yale called the Cooper-Jones residence, offering Betty their open slot, she broke again. She imagined that Jughead had actually died on the Ides of March when she realized Yale was offering her Jughead’s slot. Around the same time, Alice started her documentary. 

Hiding things from Alice Smith was like trying to hide treats from a bloodhound. Betty wanted to protest the film’s making, but FP told her not to. Betty tried to lessen the weight on her shoulders by going to Pop’s and picking up a coffee. 

It was there that she ran into Cheryl. While Betty appreciated her cousin’s concern and sympathy, she didn’t really want Cheryl’s service - no matter how genuine it was (because Betty knew that Cheryl wouldn’t joke about the situation she seemed to be in). Even though Betty felt like part of her was missing without Jughead beside her to support her in the stressful situation she had put herself in, and she hadn’t been sleeping too well because they couldn’t communicate, she didn’t want to admit that she wasn’t in the best state of mind. She tried brushing Cheryl off, but she insisted and Betty couldn’t blame her. 

After the awkward interaction with her cousin, Betty went off to Stonewall to collect the last of Jughead’s things. She got emotional while packing up his photos - again thinking about how Jughead could have really died that night. She couldn’t imagine living the rest of her life without him. Throughout senior year, she couldn’t help but picture them going through college together, getting married away from Riverdale, and settling down with him. She would take his last name, drop her father’s last name, and do her best to forget the bad things that had happened all throughout high school - the Black Hood, the Gargoyle King, all of the bullshit she was currently going through. They’d leave and never return to the spot of their most vivid traumas - the ones that kept both of them awake at night. 

Bret showed his nasty face, to no one’s surprise, shattering her hopeful idea of their future. After his smug smile and gelled hair had blown her daydream to smithereens, she left… but not before she planted Jughead’s Quill and Skull tie pin in Donna’s desk drawer. 

On the way home, she called FP and told him that there was incriminating evidence in her possession. 

Little did she know that would all backfire on her so spectacularly. The next day in science class, FP arrested her, Veronica, and Archie. They were eventually released after the forensics on the false rock came back, but Betty knew that the entire thing was Donna’s play. The night they were released, Betty had somehow managed to sleep with the help of a dose of melatonin, a lavender candle she’d used before bed, and a cup of chamomile. 

Donna naturally had to call her at three in the morning, waking Betty from the best sleep she’d gotten in the past three weeks. The prep was ranting about how Jughead’s death must have been faked. Betty couldn’t shrug it off, but managed to keep her composure as she lied right through her phone. She informed Veronica and Archie, telling them that they were going to put on a fake funeral for Jughead with the Stonewall Four invited. 

It went as expected. Donna tried to harass Jellybean and Betty was in the process of kicking her out when Bret tried to make a scene. He was stopped by the brute force that was Sweet Pea and all of the Stonies were forced to make a swift exit. 

Rumors started spreading that Jughead could be alive after the funeral. Betty cried herself to sleep, wishing Jughead was there to dry her tears. It still wasn’t safe to go see him with Donna so hot on her trail. 

For their next move, Archie came back from the bunker away later with a plan. He didn’t like it - it had been Jughead’s idea - but he couldn’t deny that it was a good plan. They would use Cheryl’s eavesdropping skills to their advantage. She caught onto Betty and Archie’s conversation in Pop’s and created a vigil for Jughead at his old locker. 

Betty hadn’t expected such sincerity in the way that it came. She imagined once more a world without Jughead in it. A small sob betrayed her composure as she ran off. Archie was right on her tail, as planned. 

It took her a moment before she could bring herself back to the present. Hugging Archie helped calm her down, and she was then able to focus back on the plan. She didn’t want to kiss this childhood best friend, but she had to when she saw Cheryl looking through the window. It wasn’t unpleasant, but Betty knew that Jughead’s lips were softer, warmer, more comforting. Jughead made sparks fly in her head when they kissed. Betty didn’t want to describe kissing Archie as kissing a dead fish, but… 

Her standards had raised significantly since Jughead had entered her life. That was the truth of it all. 

Veronica went off on them an hour or two later, as planned. It was effective, too. Quite believable, Betty had to say. 

Donna even visited Betty that night as she was working late in the Blue and Gold, once more insisting that Jughead was alive. Betty couldn’t help but smirk to herself internally - Donna was starting to pull at strings. She was desperate. 

Betty didn’t crack. 

Phase Two of their plan was in motion. 

Betty knew that Donna would follow her from school, so she texted Archie and told him to go to the bunker and promised that dinner was on her. She drove to Pop’s, smirking triumphantly as she pulled away. Betty had seen Donna lurking. She purposely looked suspicious as she went into the bunker, and she was unsurprised when Donna showed up. 

The look of disgust on Donna’s face when she saw that Betty was all over Archie was priceless. She wished Jughead had taken a picture of it from his place under the cot, but his anonymity was of the utmost importance. 

After Donna left and the trap door shut with a solid clank, they all burst into laughter. Betty threw Archie’s shirt at him as Jughead slid out from under the bed, wheezing with a smile on his face. As their laughter died down, Betty distributed milkshakes and burgers to everyone. They ate together, unable to look each other in the eye without almost choking on their food. It felt like the Three Musketeers again - old times. 

When Archie was done, he left, claiming homework. Betty knew it was just so she could have some alone time with Jughead. She fiddled with the straw of her milkshake while Jughead finished off her fries. 

“Hey,” he said softly, placing his hand on top of hers gently and stopping her movements. Betty looked into his crystal blue eyes - the ones she wanted to see first thing in the morning for the rest of her life. He didn’t have his beanie (they’d burned it) and his dark hair had piled on top of his head in its unruly state. This had been the longest he had gone without a head covering of some sort since he got the beanie. He looked handsome. And concerned. “What’s going on?” 

“Nothing,” she lied. Betty missed him. Deeply. She let him slide his hand into hers, pulling it away from the milkshake straw to lay on the table. He stroked the healing scars on her palm tenderly (she’d reopened them the day after his fake death when she went to plant the bug in his dorm). 

“Betty,” he replied, looking at her knowingly. “Don’t run away from me now.” 

“I’m fine, Jug.” 

“No, you’re not,” he told her. “You look miserable. Have you been able to sleep?” 

“Yes, I’ve been sleeping.” Jughead looked at her pointedly. “No,” she admitted with a sigh. “Not well.” 

“Why?” 

“It’s just everything,” she informed him. “I walk around town and school portraying the widow all day. I have to pretend you’re dead and you’re not coming back… and that hurts.” Jughead held her hand comfortingly. 

“I’m right here. You know I’m alive.” 

“But what if you weren’t?” She asked. “What if you’d died that night in the woods, Jughead? What then?” 

“Is that what you think about all day, Betty? Because all I think about is how wonderful it’s going to be when I can finally get out of here and be with you again,” he replied. “I don’t think about anything but you out there kicking Donna’s ass in this convoluted game the Stonies started.” 

“I wish you were there with me, Jug,” she whimpered, her emotions beginning to overwhelm her. “Every day all I wish is that you were fighting this battle with me.” 

“And I am, Betty,” he told her. “I am fighting with you.” 

“You know what I mean!” She added. “I wish you were right next to me. I wish I could sleep next to you again. I wish I could see you without risking Donna finding out where you are, Jug!” 

Betty’s eyes clouded with tears as her jaw trembled. Her chin ducked down and hit her chest. She lost the battle with her despair. Before she could choke back a sob, Jughead had her securely in his arms and seated her in his lap. Her floodgates opened, allowing all of her emotions to pour out of her. She slung her arms around Jughead’s neck and buried her face in his shoulder. 

“I don’t want to be without you, Juggie,” she cried softly, teardrops accumulating on her eyelashes while Jughead held her to his chest. 

“Baby, look at me,” he whispered. She shook her head from his shoulder. “Betty,” he stated. “Look at me, Betty.” Jughead managed to get her to look at him, but even then he had to tilt her chin up so he could see her glassy green eyes, and the redness that had developed with her tears. “I am never going to leave you. Ever. Okay?” She looked away and he pulled her right back. “Hey. I’m right here.” 

“You’ve almost died twice in the past year,” she whispered. “What if someone tries to finish the job?” 

“Betty,” he stated. 

“What then, Jug?” She sniffled, holding back more tears. “What happens when I lose you?” 

“After we graduate—“ 

“There’s two months until then, I don’t trust that something stupid won’t happen to us between then and now.” 

“After we graduate—“ he started again, cupping her face and wiping away her tears with his thumbs. “— I’m going to get us away from here and all of the terrible things that have happened to us here. We don’t have to stay in touch with anyone, we can just go. I don’t care where, so long as it’s with you, Betty, but I promise I’ll get us both away from here… and soon, I hope, I’ll be able to rejoin you in the land of the living, okay?” 

“I want to sleep next to you tonight,” Betty whispered, changing the subject. “Let me stay the night with you. Please.” 

“Betty—“ 

“Please, Jughead.” 

“I can’t let you do that,” he replied softly. “But I’ll let you sleep next to me for a little bit.” 

“Okay,” she replied. Jughead stood up with Betty in his arms and seated them on the cot. She slid off of his lap and circled her arms around his torso as they laid down together. Betty was exhausted and her eyelids started drooping almost immediately while Jughead was working on pulling the covers up to keep them warm. She fell asleep nuzzled into his chest before he could ask if she was comfortable. 

Betty woke a while later, Jughead spooning her from behind with his arms wrapped around her waist. She tried to roll over and look at him when he spoke up. 

“Hey,” he whispered, his nose prodding the side of her neck just before leaving a kiss on her skin. “Sleep well?” 

“Yeah,” she replied. There was a minute of silence before she spoke again. “I wish you could come home with me.” 

“Me too,” he said. “I’ve missed you like crazy.” 

“You have no idea.”

They laid there for a while afterwards. Betty flipped to face him at one point, softly kissing his lips. As they began tenderly making out, Betty tried to take it further, reaching for his shirt. Jughead pulled back then. 

“Betty,” he said, looking at her. She didn’t want to hear it, diving her face into his neck and kissing his sensitive skin. “Betty, no.” 

She finally pulled back then. 

“What?” 

“You need to go home. We have to keep up the image.” 

“Jug—“ 

“Betty,” he said to her. “We’ve come so far. We’re so close.” 

“I need you, Juggie,” she whimpered. “Please just hold me.” 

“You have to go home,” he said firmly. “I want you to stay too, but the game’s not over yet.” 

“I love you.” 

“I love you too, but you have to go.” 

“When can I come back?” She asked quietly. Jughead sighed. 

“Tomorrow night,” he told her. “You have to bring me dinner, though.” 

“I will,” she told him, climbing over him to get out of the bed. She started putting on her coat. 

“That’s the only thing you’re going to look forward to tomorrow, isn’t it?” He asked, rolling over to look at her. 

“You bet,” she replied, kissing his forehead softly and combing his hair away from his eyes with her fingers. “I like your hair better like this.” 

“Beanieless?” 

“Yeah. It’s really soft.” 

“Stop stalling,” he said. Betty removed her hand from his dark hair. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” 

“Okay,” Betty replied. Jughead propped up on one elbow, his other hand pulling her face down. They kissed tenderly. Betty never wanted it to end. 

“I love you,” Jughead whispered when he pulled away from her lips. 

“I love you too,” she replied, letting go of him. 

Climbing out of the bunker was the hardest thing she had to do that night. She didn’t want to leave him there. 

The second hardest thing Betty had to do was sit in front of her mother’s old video camera and be asked questions about her “relationship” with Archie and about how Donna followed her to the bunker where she met up with Archie after picking up Pop's. When her mother asked when she and Archie had started seeing each other, she didn’t want to answer. When Alice proceeded to tell her that she shouldn’t be ashamed of it (even though she always flipped out at even the mention of her having sex with Jughead in the past), Betty couldn’t lie to her mother’s face anymore. 

“Mom, there’s something I need to tell you,” she said. “Turn the camera off.” Her mother listened for once in her life. “Please don’t scream when I tell you this.” 

“You’re pregnant and it’s Archie’s.” 

“No!” 

“You’re pregnant and it’s Jughead’s.” 

“Mom!” 

“Sorry,” she said. “What is it, honey?” 

“Jughead’s alive. His death was faked,” Betty stated simply. 

Alice knocked over the tripod as she hastily stood up. Betty got her to calm down as she explained everything that happened. She told her about everyone that was in on it and how Jughead was currently hiding in the bunker. 

“So he was in there when you lured Donna and made out with Archie?” 

“Yeah…” Betty replied. “He hid under the cot.” 

“And what did he have to say about that?” 

“About me kissing Archie?” Betty asked. She nodded. “We haven’t… talked about it.” 

“But you saw him tonight.” 

“We had other things to discuss,” Betty replied. “I hadn't seen him in a while. Archie’s usually the one that runs food and supplies for him because Donna’s been on my tail.” 

“I see,” Alice said. “I’ll tell you what, Elizabeth. I know you’ve had a hard time this week with everything that’s been going on. It’s been a very emotional week for you, I know. I saw how puffy your eyes were when you walked in the front door.” Betty touched under her eyes self-consciously. “Go spend the night with him tomorrow. I’ll even give you money for Pop’s if you want to pick up food for you both.” 

“Really?” Betty asked, feeling as if she were going to start crying again. 

“I’m serious, Betty,” Alice replied. “As long as you text me by 9AM… and as long as you’re safe.” 

“Mom!” 

“I know you are, I was just joking,” she said. “You deserve to be happy, Betty. Jughead makes you more happy than anything else, I’ve realized these past few weeks.”

Betty was so happy to hear that. It wasn’t quite approval, but it was the closest thing she was going to get from Alice Smith. Betty, overwhelmed, couldn’t respond. She hugged her mother tightly, crashing into her arms. 

“Thank you,” she whispered, on the verge of tears. 

“You’re welcome, honey,” Alice replied, running her hand over her daughter’s back comfortingly. “I love you.” 

“I love you too, mom,” Betty told her, allowing herself to smile. 

As soon as school got out the next day, Betty (very subtly) left Riverdale High as quick as she could. She ran home and grabbed her overnight bag, then phoned in an order to Pop’s as she drove to the restaurant. Pop almost met her at the door as she ran in and grabbed the white bag and two milkshakes before bolting back to the car. Betty sped over to Fox Forest and made sure to park her mother’s car discreetly. She got out of the station wagon quickly, slinging her duffel over her shoulder and grabbing the Pop’s order. She walked as fast as humanly possible while looking over her shoulder every so often to make sure Donna or Bret weren’t a few steps behind her. 

She found the bunker with ease, dropping the duffel inside before carefully climbing down with the Pop’s bag and milkshakes. 

“Betty?” Jughead asked, turning around from where he was working at the small folding table. 

She closed and locked the hatch before quickly walking over to where Jughead was. She placed their food on the table, then grabbed Jughead by the collar of his shirt, yanking him up and sealing her mouth to his hastily. 

Jughead was shocked at first, then he pulled her closer by the waist. Betty pulled away from his lips momentarily, her eyes fogged with lust. She shed her coat and let it pool on the floor while Jughead stood there dumbly, looking at her. They hadn’t had sex since before his death had been faked. 

“I need you,” Betty said breathily, taking a hold of his t-shirt again. 

“Hello to you too,” he replied, tugging her closer by the belt loops on her jeans. 

“Shut up and kiss me, Jones,” she told him, yanking him down so they were connected again. 

Their shirts were gone before either of them knew it, their shoes toed off and kicked across the room. Betty had found a good spot to place a hickey while Jughead was trying (and failing) to focus on unclasping Betty’s bra. He eventually pulled it away from her and tossed it somewhere. Pants and socks were hastily tugged and pushed until they both managed to get out of them, only left in their underwear. Betty jumped into Jughead’s arms as soon as her socks with little pandas on them had found their rightful place: on the floor and about thirteen feet from each other. 

Jughead hummed into her mouth as he solidified his arms under her thighs. Betty’s fingers were tangled all up in Jughead’s hair, gripping and pulling at the root while Jughead managed to press Betty’s back into one of the cold cement walls of the bunker. She hissed at the sensation, but dove back into Jughead’s mouth. He had other plans, however, as he pushed her head up, dipping his down to lave kisses (and his tongue) on her neck. Betty’s eyes rolled into the back of her head as she turned to putty in Jughead’s hands. He pressed his hips into hers and lured a moan from her lips. 

“Jug,” she whined, scraping her nails against his shoulders and neck. He grunted. 

“Say it again.” 

“Juggie,” she repeated desperately as he continued to assault her neck with his mouth. 

“I love you so fucking much, Betty Cooper,” he said hoarsely against her skin. 

“I love you too,” Betty whispered, her head resting against the wall with her eyes closed. 

Jughead very quickly pulled away from the wall, hitched her up higher around his waist, then backed her against the concrete wall in one swift movement. She groaned at the shift just as Jughead kissed down her chest, sealing his searing mouth over her nipple. Her back arched up, but Jughead pushed her down, trapping her against the wall as he made his way with her. Just when Betty didn’t think it could get better, Jughead switched sides abruptly. 

Betty didn’t think their skin could be any closer until Jughead started working her underwear down. How he managed to get off hers and his own while keeping his grip on her, she never knew. She could only feel how hard he was as their flesh collided. 

“Jug,” she managed to choke out. “Fuck me. Please.” 

“Christ, Betts,” he replied. “No condom.” 

“Pill,” she said choppily. “Hurry up. Please.” 

Almost without warning, Jughead quickly lined up and slid all the way into her. They had to stop for a minute to adjust to the sensation, their foreheads solidified against each other. 

“Good?” He asked. 

“Yeah,” she breathed, her hands moving to his shoulders for stability. “Yes.” 

Jughead started a little slower than Betty wanted him to go. 

“Jug?” 

“Yeah?” 

“More.” 

“Fuck.” 

Jughead picked up a relentless pace, his hips meeting hers. Betty knew she’d be sore and/or bruised later, but she didn’t give a shit. She’d never regret it. The sound of skin against skin was almost deafening as Jughead pounded into Betty. Her head lolled back, Jughead claiming her neck with his mouth again. It was rough, it was fast, it was glorious. Betty felt herself melting in Jughead’s touch. His thrusts began hitting a new angle inside of her that made Betty knock her forehead against Jughead's, her nails scratching his shoulders and biceps while she kissed him sloppily. Her tongue slipped against his and he bit down on her lower lip. 

“Keep going, Jug,” she panted. “I’m so close.” 

“Me too, shit,” he replied, almost out of breath. 

“A little more,” she pleaded. Jughead went deeper inside of her than he’d ever gone before, ripping a whine from Betty’s throat. 

He slammed into her as hard as he could and she crested beautifully. It was only a moment later that the sensation of her around him took him into nirvana as well. They were sweaty and out of breath as Jughead gently worked them down from their respective climaxes. Betty wrapped her arms around him, her head resting against the top of his as his lazy strokes came to a slow. 

“Oh my God,” Betty breathed, keeping her grip on him as he gently pulled out of her. She could feel their combined come sliding down the inside of her thigh as Jughead pulled them away from the wall. He walked over to the cot, laying her down before he joined her. Betty melted into his side like she always did, drawing patterns on his skin with the tips of her fingers. 

“One day you’re going to be the death of me,” he whispered and they chuckled together while Betty pulled at the covers to keep them warm. 

“That was amazing,” she replied, brushing her hair from her sweaty forehead. “Thank you.” 

“Always happy to make love to my girlfriend.” Jughead rolled Betty onto her back, looking down at her. 

“What?” 

Jughead leaned down, kissing her softly. 

“I’m so thankful for you, that’s all,” he replied. 

“And why would that be, Mr. Jones?” 

“You brought Pop’s.” 

“Is that you asking if you can leave to bring it over?” 

“Yes?” 

Betty laughed, but let him out to go get the bag of food. 

They learned the hard way that eating fast food while naked and in bed wasn’t a good combination. Instead of putting ketchup on one of the many napkins that Pop had supplied them, Jughead put a dollop on Betty’s chest and used one of his fries to swipe it off. Betty was not down for food play, so she threw Jughead’s shirt and boxers at him and made him get dressed. She put on one of Jughead’s clean shirts and found her underwear before climbing back in bed so they could finish their milkshakes. 

They laid there, just trying to memorize each other’s bodies by soft touches over t-shirts. Betty was trying to count all of the freckles on Jughead’s face when she finally broke the silence.  

"Even by our standards, this was a pretty crazy week,” she said. 

"Well, pretending to be dead is one thing... but hiding under a cot in this sex bunker of death while you make out with Archie just to convince a bunch of evil preppies that I did die…"

"Yeah, definitely cracks the top ten craziest things…” she agreed. “But it worked. And now Donna will start doubting herself… this whole thing is a game of confidence, and what happens when you don’t have confidence? Mistakes are made.” Jughead looked at her proudly. "And bonus, you’ll have all of this uninterrupted time to figure out how the pieces of the mystery fit together."

“And an additional bonus is that they won’t come back to finish my botched braining,” he added. Betty hummed in agreement. 

“Well, I never thought I’d say it, but God bless that beanie for cushioning the blow, even just a little bit,” Betty said as Jughead brought his fingers up to trace over the four stitches in his forehead. “Speaking of that,” she began. “Close your eyes and hold out your hand.” He looked like he wanted to laugh, but he did as she said. Betty trotted over to her duffel bag and pulled out what she wanted. She sat on the cot before placing it in his hand. “Open.” 

Jughead looked down at the charcoal knit beanie in his hand. He was dumbfounded. 

“Betty, when did you have time to do this?” 

She giggled. 

“We all manage our stress in different ways,” she told him as he pulled it over his head to the tips of his ears. “My mom had her documentary… I taught myself how to knit.” She adjusted the hat on his head softly. 

“Are you sure telling your mom was a good idea?” He asked then. 

“Well… considering Charles, your dad, Jellybean, Dr. Curdle Jr, and Mrs. Andrews are all in on it, yeah it felt like the prudent thing to do,” Betty replied. 

“Okay, that’s fair enough,” he agreed. There was a small pause where Betty could tell Jughead felt slightly uncomfortable. She fixed his new beanie a little more. “When you kissed Archie… none of those old feelings came back… did they?” He asked. Betty was able to hear how self conscious he was just by the waver of his voice. She knew that he still didn’t feel like he was good enough, and that sometimes he feared that she would eventually go back to Archie. It hurt her heart to hear him think that about himself. He was the greatest thing that had ever happened to her. 

“Jugheaaad…” she chided. “No! Of course not! Okay?” She assured him. “Don’t be silly… You know you’re the only man for me…” She watched Jughead smile a little, once more assured that he was the only person she ever wanted to go through life with. “And our scheming can take a night off, don’t you think?” 

Betty rose from the cot, straddling Jughead’s lap. He pulled her down swiftly and she smiled. Betty cupped his face and giggled before kissing him. His hands were on her waist as he rocked back. Betty’s hands slid down to hold his shoulders while he cupped her face in his hands. 

Betty knew as soon as she sat on his lap that if she had to go out, she’d do it like this: straddling the love of her life’s lap while they kissed softly… 

Maybe she’d prefer less clothes, though.

fin

[strawberrysoup]

Let’s Review || Chapter 4

Peter Parker knew that his big sister would do anything for him to be safe and happy. She’d given up everything for him twice over already and would do it again in a heartbeat. And that’s why, when the criminal mastermind Tony Stark started inextricably following him around, he didn’t say a word. Because he knew without a doubt Penny would do whatever she had to if it meant keeping Peter safe. He had to protect her, just like she always protected him. He never considered what would happen if Stark decided both Parker siblings were worth taking. Never considered who else in Stark’s inner circle would agree. He just wanted to protect her and yet somehow, they both ended up with needles in their necks.

relationship: Steve Rogers/Original Female Character/Bucky Barnes, background Peter Parker/Tony Stark rating: Explicit warnings: Dark Steve Rogers, Dark Bucky Barnes, Dark Tony Stark, Dark Avengers, kidnapping, non-con/dub-con elements, underage Peter Parker, emotional and psychological abuse, very dark

When she was younger, Penny could remember her mother blaming little problems around the house on trolls. She said they were little gremlin like creatures that crept around in the dark and sabotaged things just enough to be inconvenient. Whenever Penny forgot something stupid, or worse, something important, she blamed the trolls. Forgetting her purse? The trolls. Forgetting to turn off the lights when she left the apartment? The trolls. Forgetting to make a to-do list? Trolls, obviously.

The latter, of course, was the worst. Forgetting to do things was annoying, but forgetting to do them even though you’d thought about making a to-do list and then just didn’t? A nightmare. Fucking trolls.

Penny had left the apartment with all the necessities; shoes, purse, phone, keys. She had a plan in mind that started with an outrageously expensive coffee and ended with a haircut. She knew what her plan was, had everything she needed. And that’s why she blamed trolls for the way her morning went.

When she got in line to get her coffee, she dug into her purse only to find that her wallet wasn’t in it. Which was ridiculous, because her wallet was always in her purse. She never took it out at home. The only options were that A. Peter took it (a joke) or B. She had been pickpocketed on the subway. Her head dropped back on her shoulders and she groaned loudly, ignoring the looks from the hipsters surrounding her.

“Ma’am, are you alright?”

Penny startled slightly and turned, not expecting a voice to come from quite so close behind her. The coffee shop was super busy, she shouldn’t have been so shocked that the patron behind her was so close, but it still startled her to nearly bump her nose on the man’s chest. She rocked back on her heel in surprise, nearly falling over if it wasn’t for the man reaching out and steadying her by the shoulders.

“Are you alright? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

His hands were fucking huge. They covered her shoulders entirely and curled down towards her shoulder blades, his grip tight enough to keep her on her feet but not bruising.

“Ma’am?”

“I’m,” she gulped slightly and shook her head, “sorry, I’m fine, just a drama queen I guess.”

“Are you sure? You seemed bothered by something before I scared you.”

Penny gave a small shrug and sighed with a self-deprecating smile on her face, “I think I was pickpocketed on the subway, my wallet’s gone. Should’ve been paying more attention I guess.”

She needed to get back home and call the bank, her debit card and credit card were in that wallet. And her driver’s license too, which meant a trip to the DMV. Was it even worth it to get a new one at this point? She literally planned to be in jail (prison?) by the end of the week.

“That’s horrible,” the frown on the man’s face didn’t do anything to mar how stupidly beautiful he was, “let me buy your coffee.”

“What? Oh my God, no, you don’t have to do that!” Penny had forgotten that his hands were still on her shoulders until she lifted her arms to wave off his concern, accidentally bumping against his elbows.

“Please, I’d like to,” he moved his arms, only to grab her flailing hands for just a moment before letting them go and moving to stand at her side rather than behind her, “my boyfriend should be showing up any moment and he’d skin me if I didn’t pay for you.”

She momentarily considered that Fuck All the Good Ones Really Are Gay right before relief filled her. Ever since the incident with Brock, men showing any amount of interest in her gave her goosebumps. Having a boyfriend meant that this one at least couldn’t have any ulterior motives, he was literally just being a good person. A genuine smile crossed her face at the realization.

“I guess it would be in bad taste for me to say no then, I wouldn’t want your boyfriend to skin you alive.”

“Alive?” The blond beside her laughed, a bone achingly deep and attractive laugh, “I want to point out that you escalated that, I assumed I would be dead before he skinned me.”

“Why am I skinning you, alive or dead?”

The man who appeared was definitely on par with the Adonis she’d already been speaking to. Standing next to each other, it was like looking at the cover of Men’s Fitness. He was tall and tan and built like a fucking tank, his shoulders looked so broad she wondered how he fit through doorways. Both of them, actually, how did either of them fit through doorways with shoulders wider than most people’s arm spans? Okay, that was an exaggeration but Penny was just about floored by how freaking attractive they both were.

“For not offering to pay for her coffee after she got her wallet stolen,” the blond responded with a grin, leaning over slightly to kiss his boyfriend’s cheek.

“You get mugged, sweetheart?” The frown on the brunet’s face was a goddamn crime and Penny quickly shook her head.

“No, no! Just pickpocketed, I think. Probably on the subway, I wasn’t paying as much attention as I should’ve been. It’s really not a big deal, I didn’t have any cash on me and I’ll just have my cards cancelled,” she gave a shrug and moved forward with the line, trying to pretend she wasn’t actually super upset over having to deal with yet another heap of bullshit.

“Well, Stevie’s right anyway, I’d skin him for not buying you a coffee. Are you traumatized doll? I’ll make him spring for a scone too.” Did he just wink at her? Penny’s told her heart not to stutter like that, he had a boyfriend for fuck’s sake.

“I don’t think I’m traumatized,” Penny turned big, brown eyes on the blond and tilted her head down for effect, “but I might be a little shaken, like enough for a cake pop.”

She didn’t notice the way both of them gripped each other’s waists, as if having to hold each other up under the onslaught of her puppy dog eyes, or the way that the brunet pinched his boyfriend’s side to keep him from offering her the entire world on a platter if she asked for it.

“A cake pop it is, sweetheart,” Stevie (Steve, Penny she supposed she should probably call him) gave her a nearly blinding grin and she had to stop herself from taking a step back in awe, “What’ll you have to drink?”

“A vanilla latte? Please,” she cleared her throat slightly, “Steve, was it? And you are?”

“Call me Bucky,” the brunet held his hand out for her to take and she hesitated for only a second, reminding herself again that they were gay, gay, gay before she shook it, “What’s your name sweetheart?”

“I’m Penny, thank you guys for being so kind,” they’d made it to the register and she stepped aside slightly so that Steve could center himself in front of the barista.

“Large black coffee, large white mocha, and a large vanilla latte please,” he ordered politely, before putting his arm around Penny’s shoulder and nudging her towards the dessert display, “Which cake pop did you want doll?”

Penny had to literally reign herself in under the weight of his arm, to not go stiff in fear or swoon at the feeling, “t-the, uhm, chocolate one, please.”

“And a chocolate cake pop,” Steve directed the barista with a smile.

“And a blueberry scone,” Bucky interrupted, jabbing his finger at the case, “And one of those giant chocolate chip cookies.”

The barista glanced at Steve for confirmation, who just nodded in response and held out a matte black credit card, “you two go sit, I’ll bring everything out once it’s done.”

“Ah finally, let’s ditch this punk, sweetheart,” Bucky snatched Penny’s hand and tugged her away from the line, heading for a table in the corner that was recently vacated.

She just barely heard Steve scoff before they got too far away, letting Bucky pull out her chair before sitting down. It vaguely registered in the back of her mind that this was the most bizarrely pleasant situation she’d ever been in. Considering the amount of shit she dealt with on a regular basis, it was a breath of fresh air. It was kind of a shame she hadn’t met the pair of them before she’d started actively planning how to get thrown in jail.  

“I think Stevie made a mistake,” Bucky snorted, breaking her from her thoughts and drawing her attention to Steve, who was fumbling with three coffees and several pastries.

The squeaking noise she made upon standing to go help was not deliberate and actually kind of embarrassing. She was pretty sure Bucky laughed at it as she walked away, quickly stealing one of the coffees and two of the pastry bags from Steve’s hands.

“Thanks doll, nice to know one of you has some manners,” Steve shot his boyfriend a look as he and Penny sat down, winking at the brunet when she wasn’t looking.

“You know, you’re lucky you’re so good looking or I wouldn’t put up with this kind of BS,” Bucky stated casually, reaching over to snatch his mocha from Steve’s grasp.

Steve rolled his eyes but didn’t reply to his boyfriend, “so, Penny, what do you do?”

The casual opening for conversation made Penny immediately uncomfortable and she shifted in her seat as he passed over her coffee and cake pop, “oh, lots of things. Barista, day care, that sort of stuff.”

“Day care, huh? You a kid person?” Bucky asked as he took a sip of his coffee, grimacing slightly as he burnt his tongue, “that shit’s hot, watch your tongue, doll.”

Penny shifted the cup between her hands carefully but avoided drinking any, “Kids are precious. Annoying as all Hell sometimes, but I do like working with them. I’m usually with the infants anyway, toddlers occasionally. At that age they’re just cute.”

“We never been around kids too much,” Bucky shoved almost half of the blueberry scone into his mouth in one go, mumbling something around the bite immediately after.

Steve rolled his eyes and reached across the table from his place next to Penny, pulling the scone away and replacing it with a napkin, “manners, jerk. I think he was saying we’ve only been around older kids.”

Bucky nodded in response, picking up the napkin to wipe his face before gesturing for the rest of the scone. Instead of giving it back, Steve pushed it in front of Penny before resting his arm over the back of her chair.

“Let Penny have some before you murder the rest of it, Buck,” the blond admonished, “have at, sweetheart.”

“Oh, that’s alright, I don’t need any,” she shook her head and pushed the bag over to Bucky, “thank you though.”

“Nah doll, you eat the rest of this, I’m gonna hit this cookie.”

He repeated the process of sticking at least 50% of the cookie into his mouth in one go, chewing obnoxiously while Steve dropped his face into his hands in embarrassment.

“You’re a nightmare, I can’t believe I bring you out in public.”

Penny laughed happily at their exchange, enjoying the casual friendliness. She got so wrapped up in the whole experience that by the time she noticed the clock, two hours had gone by.

“Oh shit! I’ve got so much to do today and—crap, I’ve gotta go home so I can cancel my credit cards,” she slapped a hand against her forehead, finally remembering that she was busy today. A lot of planning went into getting put in jail for child neglect and she was dropping the ball.

“Here doll, you can borrow my phone to cancel your cards,” Steve started digging into his pocket but Penny waved him off.

“I have a phone, I just have to get on my computer to look up the numbers to call,” she stood up, shoving her hand into her purse to grab her phone, only to freeze.

Her fucking wallet was in her purse. A deep red blush spread over her cheeks and down her neck. It would’ve been one thing to have missed that her wallet was in her purse, but Steve had gone out of his way to pay for her coffee. Embarrassment coursed through her.

“Hey, what’s wrong sweetheart?” Bucky stood from his seat, hand coming to rest on her shoulder as he curled his shoulders down, making her feel engulfed by his presence.

“I,” she closed her eyes and inhaled sharply, “I’m so embarrassed. I just found my wallet, it was in my purse, I swear I wasn’t trying to scam you— it wasn’t in there, I know it wasn’t but now it is and I—”

“Calm down, sweetheart, its alright,” she’d been drawn in to an all-encompassing hug before she really knew what was happening, pressed tightly to Bucky’s chest with his hand gently stroking the back of her head, “we don’t think you scammed us, it was an honest mistake. We’re just glad you didn’t get robbed, right Stevie?”

“Absolutely, doll, I’m glad you found it,” Steve had stood up as well and was standing just beside the pair, close enough that she could feel his body radiating heat, “don’t be embarrassed, things like that happen.”

Tears were welling in Penny’s eyes; how the fuck had she come across such nice, kind people at such a time in her life, “sorry, I don’t mean to be so emotional. Just having a rough go of things, I guess. Look, I really do need to get going. Thank you both so much for being so nice.”

“You don’t have to thank us for being nice,” the blond gave a small grin, his hand coming to rest on her shoulder from where she was still wrapped in Bucky’s arms, “How about we get your phone number before you leave? We’d love to have you over for dinner some time.”

Penny hesitated for a moment as they both reached for their phones; what was the point of giving them her contact information? Her days of freedom were shortly numbered, if they tried to call her they’d think she was ignoring them when she never answered. But still, what was the harm— she’d never see them again most likely. Even when she got out of jail she’d have a record of child abuse and who the fuck wanted to be friends with a child abuser?

She quickly punched her number into their phones and waited for each of them to call her cell so she’d have theirs, “well, it was great meeting you guys! I’ll see you around, okay?”

“Are you going somewhere nearby?” Steve gave a wide smile as he stepped a bit closer, sweeping his arm between himself and Bucky, “we’d be happy to walk you.”

“Oh, that’s not necessary,” Penny shook her head, distracted enough by the phone in her hand and the text message she’d gotten from Peter at some point during their conversation that she didn��t notice the way Steve’s smile tightened, “I’m just going to the salon to get my hair done.”

“We’ll walk you doll,” Bucky’s grin was as charming as the rest of him and she tried not to swoon, “You can tell us who you’re so excited to hear from on the way.”

“Excited to hear from?” She frowned in confusion before the brunet gestured to her phone, “Oh! Just my little brother, he got a 100% on his chem test, highest grade in the class.”

“That’s wonderful, must be a real smart kid,” The expression on Steve’s face was soft and fond as he led them out the door, and Penny wondered if he was thinking of his own little sibling from the proud glint in his eye.

“Peter’s a genius, we always joke that when I was born I took all the chaos and left him all the IQ points,” she flipped her pay-as-you-go phone back open as she received another text from the kid in question, “although with how often he gets his ass beat at school maybe he did get a bit of chaos too. I should’ve taught him to fight but he’s scrawny and I always worried he’d break his wrist trying to punch someone.”

“He gets beat up a lot?” She didn’t look up from her phone, too busy replying to Peter to catch the furious expressions the boyfriends exchanged over her head as they continued down the street.

“Nerd on nerd violence is surprisingly common,” Penny pursed her lips and waved her hand flippantly, “and he doesn’t get beat up anymore. I paid this girl in his grade to beat up his main bully when they were in freshman year and then Peter became friends with her, so he doesn’t get messed with too much anymore. I guess Flash was just super pissed Peter got a better grade in chem this time around,” a careful shrug came as she opened a new text message, “MJ will take care of it. I can’t beat up minors anymore.”

“You paid a girl to beat a kid up?” There was a disapproving tone in Steve’s voice and Penny immediately stopped walking and texting, looking up at the blond with a scowl.

“If it laid hands on the kid they’d of slapped me with a lawsuit and taken Peter away. He was too small to fight for himself, so yea, I paid one of his classmates to beat the shit out of the boy who sent him home with a black eye and bruised ribs. And I’m not ashamed of it either, that little asshole deserved what he got,” she jabbed her finger at his chest and left it there forcefully, “If I could’ve beaten the shit out of that little punk for what he’d done, I would’ve in a heartbeat. MJ was my next best option. If you’ve got a problem with how I take care of my little brother, you can get fucked because I couldn’t care less what some stranger thinks of—”

“Hey, hey, doll,” Bucky quickly stepped in, cutting her off and gently taking her wrist to pull her hand away from Steve’s chest, “I’m sorry my man put his foot in it. He’s a dumbass, doesn’t think before he speaks and certainly doesn’t consider the impact of his words. Steve, apologize.”

Penny pulled her hand away from the brunet and lifted both in a placating gesture, “I’m not interested in an apology, it doesn’t matter anyway. I’ve really got to get going.”

“Wait!” Before she really knew what was happening, Steve had grabbed both her arms and stepped into her space, holding her tightly in place, “please wait, Penny, I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, you shouldn’t have,” she tried to pull her arms back but he held firm, keeping her far closer than she was comfortable with, “let go of me, please.”

“You take great care of your brother, Penny, I shouldn’t have judged how you decide to do that.”

Bucky came up right behind, boxing her in between the pair and put his arms on her shoulders when she tried to pull back again, “hey, calm down sweetheart, don’t get upset.”

“Get off me! Both of you!” A spark of panic was starting to shoot through her, voice rising as she yanked hard on her hands and bumped roughly back against Bucky, “Get the fuck off!”

“Hey, what’s going on over here?!” Penny’s head snapped to the left to see a little old lady barging her way through the crowd, garnering the attention of several other people on the way, “you let her go, right now!”

Bucky and Steve pulled away like they’d been burned, both with placating, placid looks on their faces. Penny didn’t stick around to see if they could talk their way out of the situation, taking off down the street in a dead run. They were so fucking charming, so handsome they could probably talk their way out of a paper bag. She continued straight passed the salon she’d planned to stop at and kept running until she couldn’t anymore. Her breath came in exhausting pants and she bent over, holding her chest.

What the fuck, how could such a pleasant morning go so badly so fast? Bucky and Steve had seemed so nice and then out of nowhere thought they could manhandle her however they pleased. She could still feel Steve’s hands circling her wrists, Bucky’s pressing down on her shoulders and her back against his chest. The sensation of being held down hadn’t just been terrifying but had brought back brutal memories of being assaulted.

Just like when she’d been attacked, fury pumped through her veins. Those assholes, those fucking assholes. Penny found herself heading down to the closest subway station and getting on the train towards home. Fuck the salon, fuck getting her nails done, all she wanted to do was crawl into Peter’s bed and hide under the covers. It was easy to forget about everything she had to do that day in the wake of her panic.

Peter was still texting her, she could feel her cell phone vibrating inside of her purse as she boarded the subway and sat down heavily. She’d been out of the apartment for hours, accomplished nothing, and was thoroughly exhausted. Her head dropped back against the window and she clenched her eyes shut. The blows just kept coming. What a nightmare.

[dyaz-stories]

Fluff #29: brOTP Inu&Sango

Such a nice one anon! I don’t have the chance to write about them that often, so I’m glad you gave me that opportunity! Hope you’ll enjoy this one :)

29. “Uh . . . how long were you standing there?”

Some sights are quite fascinating to behold, to the point where you just cannot look away. The look on your husband’s face when you tell him you’re pregnant. A fawn taking its first steps. Your best friend running towards you after she’s been gone for three years. A demon flying towards you at full speed.

And apparently, Sango could now add to that list a half-demon rehearsing his proposal.

“So I guess what I’m sayin’ is, erm— Would you— Could you— Do you wanna— Ah, just fucking move in with me already!“

Sango had managed to remain perfectly still and perfectly silent until now. Old reflexes from her training as a slayer placed her against the wind, so Inuyasha hadn’t smelled her approaching. He could not, however, miss the laugh that she very much tried to muffle.

The poor half-demon froze, then very slowly turned towards her, and Sango walked out from behind the bush she had used to hide. She was clearly caught red-handed, but she doubted Inuyasha would have much to say about that.

“Uh… How long were you standing there?” he asked, ears flat against his head, clearly fearful of what her answer would be.

Of course, she could have pretended she hadn’t heard anything. Or seen, for that matter, because he had also practiced kneeling — and had uprooted a tree out of frustration before putting it back in place, hoping no one would notice. She knew he would feel very embarrassed, but she hoped she could, perhaps, give him a hand. Of course Inuyasha wouldn’t ask for help, particularly for something as personal as that, and, well, maybe he did need help this time.

“Well…” she started, and Inuyasha immediately spun around, ready to run away. It was only Sango’s extremely fast reflexes that allowed her to catch him by the back of the haori. He let out a sound that could only be described as a hiss, and she sighed. “Yeah, I saw the whole thing. I think you were right to ditch the part where you bring her a dead boar, by the way. Somehow, I don’t think she would be very sensitive to that.”

Inuyasha’s body slumped, and she was relieved that he had stopped fighting her. She really didn’t want to have to knock him out with the Hiraikotsu.

“’s not gonna work, is it?”

Sango rolled her eyes and released him. He looked genuinely sad, so she swallowed the annoyed speech she had been preparing.

“Just be clear,” she said. “I love Kagome, but she’s not going to get anything subtle.” Like someone else I know… “She’s going to say yes. She’d say yes to— How did you phrase it? ‘Fucking move in with me already’?”

He barked a laugh at her words, and Sango smiled, satisfied with herself. Good. It wasn’t like him to be feeling so down.

“I just— I want it to be perfect,” he mumbled. “She left everything to come here. I don’t want ‘er to regret it, ya know? And if she says no…”

“Inuyasha. She’s not going to say no. She’s been waiting for that for almost as long as she’s known you. And if she hadn’t stayed on the other side of the well, it would probably have happened earlier.” Just like it had for her and Miroku. “You guys lost a lot of time. I’m sure she just wants to make up for it.”

He nodded slowly. For once, he was listening to her attentively, and it was almost unnerving. Then, he grinned.

“For the record, Miroku was worse than me when he prepared to ask you.”

She bursted out laughing. She hadn’t expected that, but… well, to be honest, it didn’t surprise her. Her eyes softened as she rested her hand on her stomach. She wasn’t pregnant, but that was the one thing that came to mind when she spoke about her marriage.

“And that turned out rather well, didn’t it?” she asked gently. “So you should just go for it, Inuyasha.”

He nodded.

“Thanks.”

She winked.

“You’re welcome. I don’t know what you’d do without me.”

“Yeah. Me neither.”

He paused for a second, almost like he wondered if he should say something, but they weren’t big on, well, words.

“So? Go!”

He nodded again and left, jumping through the trees. Sango watched him with a bright smile, and discreetly wiped a tear that had somehow managed to slide down her tears. She wanted nothing more than happiness for her friends, and they were finally going to get everything they deserved, everything that had been taken away from them unjustly for the past three years.

She couldn’t wait to spend the next happy years by their side.