#gonna be staring at them longingly every day until i get that shit done

[dagasinfilo]

unfortunately i cant start them right away since i gotta get an echocardiogram first. but once i get that i just send it to my psych and then im just. set? i CAN pick them up tomorrow though and thats exactly whta im gonna do

[baldwinboy5ive]

I call this Cobra Drive. AU where a sad boy meets another sad boy in his building elevator and they just stare longingly at each other for extended periods of time. (Daniel LaRusso, who made the crane kick famous, gets to add to his repertoire of bird karate moves by stomping Mike Barnes to death in the same elevator like a secretary bird.)

I also wrote some crap for this AU, even though I am not much of a fanfic writer. However, it’s not that bad. It’s just regular bad. 

“If I drive for you, you get your money. You tell me where we start, where we’re going, where we’re going afterward. I give you a five minute window when we get there. Anything happens in that five minutes and I’m yours. No matter what. Anything happens a minute either side of that and you’re on your own. I don’t sit in while you’re running it down, I don’t carry a gun, I don’t do karate - not anymore. I drive. Do you understand?” 

The well-rehearsed speech was delivered in an accent that was undeniably East Coast, but from a man who knew well the 100,000 streets of Los Angeles. Daniel ended it every single time with a secret tribute to his beloved mentor, whose life lessons were always punctuated with “Understand?” 

And Daniel did. He always understood what Mr. Miyagi had told him, and replied “Yeah, I understand,” even if some of his lessons had taken awhile to really make their impact on him. 

-----

Daniel moved frequently. It was routine now for him. Funny how things changed. He often remembered how monumental that first cross-country move had been, how the course of his entire life had shifted that summer of 1984. Now, his moves were quick, efficient, and all within LA. 

On his second day in his newest building, Daniel returned to his apartment by elevator. Another building resident stepped in with him, hauling a basket of laundry from the basement. 

He was familiar. Daniel kept his eyes trained at his feet while he felt the familiar man’s gaze on him for a moment. He allowed himself one quick glance, but didn’t manage to time it as well as he’d wanted. The golden-haired man who now shared a building with him was still staring back at him. 

His eyes were beautiful and sad. 

It was Johnny Lawrence. 

-----

“You just move back to LA or something?” was the question Johnny finally settled on after he and Daniel hauled his groceries into his second story apartment. There was too much he wanted to ask. It had been 34 years. Something in those 34 years had hardened the look in Daniel’s eyes.

“No, I’ve been here for awhile.” 

“So just new here?” 

Daniel nodded. 

“What are you up to now, LaRusso?” 

“I drive.” 

“Like, those internet car things?” Johnny asked, a touch of confusion on his face. 

“No, for the movies.” 

“You mean all the car chases and stuff?” 

“Yeah.” 

Johnny let out a soft laugh. “Isn’t that dangerous?” 

Daniel fully met Johnny’s eyes, and stared challengingly, the words “Oh, now you care about my safety and well-being?” hanging between the two of them unspoken. Daniel’s lips quirked into a slight grin. So did Johnny’s. Then Daniel knew. Johnny remembered it all. 

The intensity of Johnny’s bright blue eyes and the pain they carried eventually became too much for Daniel, who was the first to drop his gaze. He broke the silence by saying placatingly, “It’s only part time. Mostly I work at a garage.” 

“Where?” 

“Reseda Boulevard.” 

After a few more beats of silence, Daniel nodded his head towards the teen boy sitting at the kitchen table doing his homework, as if only just noticing him even though he’d rode up in the elevator with them. “He yours?” 

“They sometimes just come with the apartment. Old place here is infested. Overrun with roaches, children, teens. You might want to check under your kitchen counters and shit if you haven’t already, LaRusso.” 

The boy snorted, not offended in the least. “I’m Miguel,” he said. 

A door in the apartment slammed open, and another teen boy wandered into the kitchen. “Who’s this?” he asked, pointing at Daniel.

“This is LaRu- Daniel. Daniel, this is Robby.”

Daniel stared at the two teenagers. Neither of them resembled Johnny. Perhaps Johnny hadn’t been kidding about them surfacing from under the kitchen counters. 

-----

At the garage, a sly smile spread on the face of the man who’d given Daniel all of his jobs. “Oh, you and the kid know each other,” he said, gesturing rapidly between Daniel and Johnny while leaning over the open hood of a car he’d been working on. 

“Don’t,” Daniel warned. He stalked off, but not without grinning at his employer. 

“Uh…” Johnny began. A “He kicked me in the face when we were teenagers, but I did sort of deserve it a little, and it’s actually at least a 126 minute-long story” died on his lips. 

“We’re neighbors,” Johnny said. 

“Ahh,” said Daniel’s employer, as if that was all there was to know. 

Johnny explained in more detail what was going on with his Firebird, and was told that the repairs would take a few days. 

“Miguel, call us one of those car things from your iComputer.” 

“It’s an iPho-” 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” cut in Daniel’s employer. “You and the kid are neighbors! He’d be happy to give you a ride.” 

Johnny met Daniel’s eyes from across the garage. He did indeed look happy.

---

“Hey, I know you. Come on, we met last year! Well - met again. It’s me. Snake. You drove me and Dennis back from Palm Springs. Hey, I got this sweet job planned out --” 

Fury blazed in Daniel’s eyes. Someone both recognizing him and talking to him about his jobs was more than enough to make Daniel disappear for a few months, but this wasn’t just any someone. This was one of Terry Silver’s men. Over the years, Daniel had done everything he could to be free of Terry and his mob. But every time Daniel thought he was safe, eventually, Terry would always come back. And there would always be a job. 

Terry’s man - and therefore Terry himself - reappearing in his life would have been bad enough before, but now? Now he had Johnny. He couldn’t just pick up and leave. He realized with anger burning up in his chest that he didn’t want to pick up and leave. 

Daniel cut Snake off with a low whisper. “How about this? Shut your mouth. Or I’ll kick your teeth down your throat, and shut it for you.” 

All Daniel had wanted was to finish his dinner and coffee in peace, until it was time to drive Johnny to the bar for his night shift. Daniel stared at Snake, never taking his eyes off of him until Snake quietly retreated from the diner. Only then did Daniel feel comfortable returning to his food.

-----

Daniel’s face took on a detached and aloof manner when he addressed the man Terry had sent. 

“When you get your money, his debt’s paid. He’s out for good. And you never go near his family again. Do you understand?” 

-----

Daniel did everything in his power to keep his voice even. Confident. Balanced. But that voice on the other end of the phone would always terrify him. Some things never changed. 

“I’m going to give you a time and a place and you’re going to come and get your money. Do you understand?” 

Terry barked out a laugh. “What do you get out of it, Danny boy?” 

“Just that: out of it.” 

Daniel hung up. For once he had the satisfaction of dictating terms with Terry Silver. 

-----

“They came to my apartment. How did they know where I live?” 

“I told you, I was going to call Kreese, I just wanted him to know that… that it wasn’t about the money… that you’re not interested in the money… that you just did it for him.” 

Daniel exploded at the man who had been his longtime employer. So this was how Kreese and Silver and known it was him. “Why?! You told them about Johnny! Why did you tell them about Johnny?!” 

“Calm down, kid. Just calm down.” 

“I should fucking kill you - you told them about Johnny! That’s how they figured it out, you know - that it was me. You told them about Johnny and then they knew it was me.” 

“I just wanted him to know… that as soon as you returned the money, that was the end of it, that’s all! I didn’t know. I didn’t know. How was I supposed to know?! How was I supposed to know… that everything led to Silver!” 

Daniel’s voice was breaking as he screamed at the old man. Daniel’s eyes were wild and he was breathing hard. Breathe in, breathe out, echoed the voice of his dear sensei in his head. Soon, his racing heart slowed just enough for him to calmly tell his employer, “They came for me, and now they’re going to come for you, too. You have to get out of here. Do you understand?” 

-----

John Kreese pleaded with his lifelong friend. “Anybody finds out you stole from the family, we’re both dead. The money always flows up, Twig. You know that!” 

Terry Silver fell uncharacteristically quiet amidst their shouting match. He looked at Kreese ruefully. “That’s why this driver’s gotta go, Johnny. That’s why he’s gotta go. He’s gonna tie me to this robbery.” 

It was too bad. Terry had always been fond of Daniel. 

-----

Daniel hoped he would never again have to fear for Johnny’s and his kids’ lives. He flicked his eyes up to the rearview mirror. Miguel and Robby were fast asleep in the backseat - and safe. Alive. 

Daniel did, however, find comfort in knowing that he didn’t have to pretend anymore, didn’t have to keep his karate hidden and tucked away. If Johnny ever needed it again, Daniel would use it. He’d help Johnny remember his. He thought fondly of the way Mr. Miyagi had once insisted that only Daniel’s root karate came from Mr. Miyagi, and had urged him to make his karate his own. 

If Daniel could do it, so could Johnny. Johnny’s Cobra Kai would be better - different, new. A product of the goodness Daniel was confident Johnny had inside of him. Johnny would use that goodness to teach Robby and Miguel. And Daniel vowed to be there with them. 

If anyone ever again tried to hurt any of them, the four of them would be ready. 

Another Mr. Miyagi lesson surfaced in Daniel’s memories as he continued driving. Back in 1994, Mr. Miyagi had returned to Daniel in LA after a long stay in Boston, and over the course of several days, had told him all about Julie Pierce, and the lessons he taught her. The final lesson had been: “Fighting not good, but if must fight - win.” 

That was what Daniel had done. 

Daniel smiled at the beautiful man in the passenger seat next to him, whose sadness never left his eyes, but who, despite this, could now smile back warmly at him. Daniel checked the rearview mirror once more, never taking his attention from the road ahead of them. Miguel and Robby were both still asleep. 

Daniel turned his gaze back to the road for a moment, feeling the hum of the car around him and those he loved. 

“I’m yours. No matter what. Do you understand?” 

-----

OH SHIT i forgot to mention, the idea for the cobra on the back of the jacket AND for including Robby both come from @idontknowkaratebutiknowcrazy !!!! Thank you for your moral support and help on these concepts! I always knew I wanted Daniel to be the Driver, so it didn’t even OCCUR to me to have the cobra on his jacket, until @idontknowkaratebutiknowcrazy said it, and then she said he can give it to Johnny later (even though it won’t fit him haha!). Just a note - I changed up the cobra design from the Cobra Kai logo though because the original logo looked kinda goofy as a silhouette. 

[weasleypogues]

fight club (p.h.)

request: hii can i request smth angsty with pope ? maybe it could end well for both the reader and him but overall it’s just filled with angst and slow burn and tension ? ty xx

ofc lovieee!!! loving this pope recognition finally!! :)

this will be a two part becuause this was longer than i expected!!! part 2 here!!!

masterlist.

you literally felt like you could not sit still. anger was pulsating through your veins as you paced back and forth on the porch of the chateau. you also felt the piercing eyes of pope follow you back and forth as you struggled to form a cohesive sentence.

“it’s just- ugh! she can’t get away with this! she thinks because she’s a kook that i’ll be begging for her forigveness and shit like i’m a starving peasant just to save my reputation! i’m a fucking pogue, i don’t have a reputation to uphold!” you spat as your hands clenched together so hard you swear you were going to accidentally draw blood from your palms.

vanessa was a kook that you never had problems with when you were kids because you two had a friendship that was secretive and playful because of opposing groups. it wasn’t until middle school was when she ditched you, similar to kie and sarah’s relationship. thankfully for them, they sorted it out. however, vanessa was bitter and bitchy every chance she could get. 

“yes (y/n)! keep it fiesty! i wanna see you win a good cat fight.” jj egged you on.

“you’re gonna make yourself go crazy if you don’t just sit down.” pope spoke in a sterner tone than you would have expected. but as the rage filled you from vanessa, pope’s tone was not helping. you felt a tinge of hurt in your chest as he expressed his clear stress and annoyance with you. but you weren’t going to let it go that easily; not in this state.

“i’m fine just the way i am, thanks.” you responded just as passive-aggressively as he did. you literally had to restrain yourself from rolling your eyes so you wouldn’t egg this on, because the last thing you needed was for pope of all people to be on your bad side. 

you heard him scoff from behind you and his footsteps faded away. you spun around so quickly, maybe even too quickly to play it cool, to just see a flash of him as he turned the corner. your eyes flashed to john b, kie, and jj who had expressions that were just as shocked as your own.

“what’s his problem?” you asked, expecting an answer real quick before you had to go investigate it yourself. your teeth grinded against each other and you felt your face and ears go hot. 

“he probably just doesn’t think this is worth it (y/n/n).” kiara stated, trying to give him the benefit of the doubt and giving you a look that said don’t let it get to you. kiara shared a quick glance with john b and jj, which definitely did not go unnoticed by you.

“w-what was that? that little look you three shared?” you asked pointing your finger at them interchangeably and confused but angrily eager to find out. you raised your eyebrows, expecting another speedy answer as you finally turned towards jj who held his hands up in defense and bit his tongue. 

“cut pope some slack. you’ve been looking for trouble lately (y/n), it’s been keeping him on edge each time.” john b responded and slapped his hands on this thighs before getting up off the couch. you felt your cheeks get a little hot and your jaw drop slightly.

pope was trying to be protective of you. this was not a secret that you and pope were always flirty with each other but neither of you ever acted on it. both keeping the same sad mindset, if they wanted to, they would. everytime you talked about this with kiara and sarah at a girls’ night, they playfully judged you for thinking like that and tried to encourage you to just go for it. 

you took a deep inhale and relaxed your shoulders and face, feeling the tension ease up on your body. “she’s asking for it...look i don’t want to make pope upset or anything but vanessa can’t keep pulling this shit. she’s asking for her teeth to get knocked in.” you huffed out as you grabbed your backpack and phone to hop on your bike and head home. 

--

your grabbed your phone and backpack as you headed back outside to your bike. you didn’t even bother to text the rest of the group about catching a ride to tonights kegger because you were just a little fired up from earlier. they were your friends and if this were any other case, they would be backing you up. why is this time any different?

you’re recalling yourself getting ready. stud earrings because she can grab hold of hoops. your hair in two braids because there was less surface area for her to snatch onto. sneakers to make a run for it in case shit gets bad. 

what the rest of them don’t understand is that not only was vanessa mean, spoiled, and made your existence on the obx difficult, was that you had a bumpy past with her. more than just losing a friend. she made up a rumor based on fake ideas that she overheard her parents talking about. when she would run into you on the street with her other kook friends at the ripe age of 13, she would be a bystander as they spat insults your way. that always caused a strain in your friendship. 

until one day, she started the picking on first. she judged you on your family’s financial situation and said quote-by-quote “i heard her mom cheats on her dad with all of her little pogue friend’s dads. who knows, they could actually be related and we wouldn’t know. she’s a whore and i’m sure she’ll end up just like her.” tears still brim your eyes at that memory. you wouldn’t dare tell the rest of the pogues, whether it was out of embarassment or fear. it was best for them and their own minds that it was never brought up again. since then, it seems like constant torture from her. 

you pulled up on the beach and hopped off your bike as your tires were definitely not made for the sand. you laid it on a tree and made a b-line to the keg that john b was basically guarding. “thought we’d hear from you.” you heard kiara state as she sat on the sand and glanced up at you, squinting her eyes to keep the remaining sun from basically burning them.

“yeah well, just got a lot on my mind.” you responded. you didn’t want to be so abrupt with them but your blood was basically boiling with the idea of vanessa. john b stared between you and kiara and handed you a full red solo cup which you gladly took, taking a gulp.

“soooo...” jj started, throwing an arm around your shoulder, “cat fight tonight?” you felt a chuckle rise out of you as you playfully rolled your eyes.

“if you’re lucky enough, maybe you’ll get front row.” you joked, sending a smirk jj’s way and taking another gulp. you felt a presence behind you and turned to be faced with pope. his facial expression had clearly changed from what you saw from him last time. he looked almost guilty and concerned rather than aggravated. 

“come to snap at me again?” you said, turning towards the horizon on the water. looking into his eyes right now was difficult. maybe because it was the idea that you knew some part of you wanted to snap at him for him snapping at you earlier but you couldn’t make another enemy. not tonight. 

“about that...can i actually talk to you for a minute?” pope muttered, instincitvely cracking his knuckles, clearly scared to tread on water. you felt your shoulders relax and your facial muscles follow suit. placing your drink and backpack on the ground you followed a few paces behind him, closer to the sand where the tide was rolling in. although he didn’t stop, he wanted this to be a walk and talk situation. 

you strolled beside him, both of your hands slightly brushing against each other every now and then. while neither of you took initiative to grab the others’ hand, neither of you pulled your hands out of that pathway either. that connection and touch felt nice. it was reassuring that his snappiness, along with your own, was out of love and protection of each other. 

“you won’t be happy with what i’m about to say...” pope started, basically holding his breath.

“so why say it, pope? i know it sounds bad to say outloud but, why not just let me fight her? she has made my existence so unbearably difficult on this island and has slandered my name and countless others of those i love too much and for too long. i’m sick of being a pushover and letting her get away with it because of mommy and daddy’s money. im done!” you blurted out, letting more info out than you expected. “why does it bother you so much? if this was topper and john b going at it, or rafe and jj? which keep in mind, both have actually happened, i’m sure you would be more hesitant to stop them.”

your strolling came to a sudden halt as pope took a step directly in front of you, face to face. he looked longingly into your eyes, somewhat darting back and forth between your own eyes to search for an answer to his questions or even an answer to yours. 

“(y/n)! i can’t see you get hurt. i know how badly you want to do this and how much it means to you but in the end, what is it going to get you? an even worse reputation among kooks, bloody nose, and a black eye? is it worth it?” pope rambled drasticaly. 

“it is worth it! and i’m so thankful that you care about me and my well being and everything in between but this is something that i have to do. once and for all. i’m not putting myself and everyone i love through this torture anymore. and if that means beating the shit out of her and getting a bloody lip and battered up on the way, than so be it!” you responded, using your hands quite animatedly throughout the performance. the waves seemed like the loudest thing on earth as you awaited an answer from pope. he looked defeated and anxious, knowing that there was no getting through to you for this. 

“i-” pope started before cutting himself off, looking deafeated yet again. he ran his hands over his face in frustration and as he let his eyes shine over the tips of his fingers, they locked with yours. you felt stuck in place and in a trance for a split second before you felt a pair of hands on your waist and soon enough, you were lip locked with pope. 

instantly you pulled away, your heart feeling full and your legs feeling limp. your hands made their way to his jawline, slightly caressing his cheeks and neck as you pulled him back into the kiss, elongating it. 

he pulled away, shocked yet proud with himself. you could not help the small smile that made it’s way onto your face as your cheeks felt hot immediately. “i can’t believe i’m saying this but...fuck it. beat the shit out of vanessa.” 

the small smile grew as a laugh escaped your lips. you were quick to grab his hand as you both made your way back towards the kegger that was becoming a little more dense as the minutes passed. sarah, kiara, jj, and john b’s eyes were quick to fall on your interlocked hands with pope. both of you kept quiet, playing it nonchalantly. but you couldn’t help but notice pope’s look to john b and jj, all with smirks lined up on their faces.

part two out later!! :) 

[moonlitwings1]

HC/ficlet for Billy and Max setting off fireworks please.

It’s New Year’s eve.

He would’ve been spending it at Steve’s place if Neil didn’t insist that New Year’s was a time for family to reflect on the past year and a time to celebrate the new one together. Bullshit.

Max would’ve been at Mike’s house with the rest of her little buddies, but Neil put a stop to that too. She wouldn’t stop going on and on about the fireworks the Wheelers were going to put out that she’s going to miss. Apparently, they’ve got the fancy ones that make shapes in the sky. When she complained to Neil, he told her that if she wanted to have fireworks. She can buy them herself. Having spent all of her allowance, guess who she goes to? Yup.

He originally refused to buy fireworks, but she promised if he did, that she’d cover for him the next time he sneaks out, and damn if that didn’t sound like a good deal. That is, until he realized that fireworks were fucking expensive. Max had gone with him to the mall to pick some up and when he looked at the price and glanced back at Max, she had plastered on the biggest shit-eating grin. It took everything in him in that moment not to smack her upside the head. Bitch.

But they shook on it, so there was no going back. A Hargrove’s promise. Besides, it’ll be worth it in the end when Billy makes up for lost time with Steve. He’s got some ideas in mind.

But now they’re standing in their front yard trying to figure out how to light this shit up. It’s twenty minutes before twelve. And Princess Maxine wants to light them exactly when it hits midnight. It has to be on time!

“It says we should wear protective eyewear,” Max reads, holding out the instructions in front of her face. Billy snatches it from her and throws it to the side. He meant for it to be an aggressive move, but the paper just pathetically flutters to the ground.

“We don’t need that shit. I’ve done this before,” he says, squatting on the floor, putting the fireworks on a board.

Max squints her eyes at him, doubtful. He has done it before with his friends back in Cali. Sure, they might’ve aimed wrong and almost shot someone’s eye out, but it was fine in the end. How hard can it be to do it with your little sister?

Turns out pretty hard. With Max peering over his shoulder at every second trying to correct him with those damn instructions, he nearly threw her back into the house. He probably should’ve. She’s a pain in the ass.

He elbows her in the stomach, shoving her back and making her flinch hard at the impact. He almost turns around to make sure she’s ok. He doesn’t.

“Stop standing over me,” he says instead. “It’s fucking weird.”

Thankfully, she shoves him right back just as hard. “You’re doing it wrong, asshole. Why don’t you get off your high horse and read the instructions for once.”

He ignores her, bringing his focus back to fireworks in front of him. The hell does she know? He brings the lighter to one of the fireworks.

“Wait! Don’t light it now,” Max says, turning to run back inside. “Let me get my mom.”

Just as she’s about to sprint back inside, Billy grabs her by the back of the shirt, bringing her to a halt.

“Chill the fuck out. I’m just gonna test it out.”

“It’s not even midnight yet,” she pouts as she wrestles his arm off her shirt.

“I said I’m testing it out, dumbass. Calm down.” He lets her go with a final tug and squats back down with the board of fireworks. Now he just needs to bring the lighter a little closer--

“Wait, maybe we should-” he doesn’t wait for her to finish before bringing the lighter to one of the fireworks, watching the flame catch on.

He’s quick to his feet, walking backwards, bringing Max with him. She doesn’t fight him, her eyes wide and focused on the flame, watching it get closer and closer, until-BAM. The firework shoots up in the sky bursting and letting out a hail of red sparks. He doesn’t hear her at first, the sound of the burst deafening him for a second. He forgot how loud they were up close.

“Billy! Billy!”

“The hell do you want!,” he shouts, patience finally wearing thin with her constant nagging.

She’s panicking, waving her hand frantically in the direction of---shit.

Their fucking bush caught on fire. He almost faceplants running toward it. Probably would’ve deserved it too, but he reaches the bush in a split second and stamps the fire out quick enough. Why does shit always go down when he’s around? All things considered, it’s not the worst thing that could’ve caught on fire, but still.

“How the fuck--”

“I KNEW THIS WAS GONNA HAPPEN”

Oh for fucks sake. He spins around to glare at Max. “Well, why didn’t you say anything?”

“Like you’ve been bothering to listen to anything I’ve been saying for the past fifteen fucking minutes!” she shrieks, stamping her foot. She looks like she’s imitating a toddler, but Billy figures now’s not the time to point that out. “I literally told you that we should bring the extinguisher just in case!”

She did say something like that now that he thinks about it. Probably mentioned it sometime between the rant about the Wheelers and the droning on about the instructions. He internally curses himself for not paying attention to her for once.

“Well, we didn't end up needing one, did we?”

Her jaw drops slightly and she just gapes at him. “You’re a fucking psycho.”

“Yeah, yeah. Now help me--”

“The hell are you two making a racket about?”

Fucking great. Perfect.

“Nothing, dad,” Billy bit out. “I just lit a firework to test it out. Max helped me.”

Neil glanced at Max, eyeing her as if that was gonna reveal anything. “Did she? Not banging up anything are we?”

“No, sir,” Billy replies, hands in his pockets. Subtly moving in front of the bush so that maybe, just maybe, Neil won’t see the burn marks. Thankfully, the entire bush wasn’t burnt, just the edge. He could probably hide it or maybe break it off. Neil won’t notice it just yet.

They stare at each other for a moment. Neil doesn’t say anything aloud, but Billy can see the threat behind the eyes. After a minute, Neil gives him a nod of approval and saunters back inside. He breathes a sigh of relief. Maybe he just didn’t want to give Billy too much shit for New Year’s sake. He’s just grateful he won’t have to show up to Steve’s house bruised up again.

“That was a close one,” Max mumbles.

“No shit.”

Five minutes ‘till midnight.

Billy squats down in front of the fireworks again. “Hand me the instructions,” he says, sticking a hand out towards Max who beamed at him, glad he’s finally listening to her.

He snatches them out of her hand and gets back to work, fidgeting around with the set before standing back up.

“Well Maxine? Do I finally have your approval?”

“Firstly, don’t call me that. Secondly,” she says, making a big show of inspecting the fireworks, circling around them, “Yes.”

“If this shit lights a bush on fire, I’m coming for your head.”

She looks a little hesitant at that, but he ruffles her hair and she gives him a soft smile in return.

“Should we ask if they’re coming out to watch?”

Billy checks his watch. “Nah. One minute ‘till midnight. They’re probably watching the ball drop. I don’t give a shit.”

“Yeah,” Max shrugs. “I don’t really care either. Let's just light them ourselves.” Lies. He can tell by the way she keeps looking over her shoulder for her mom that she does care. Susan won’t join them. He knows that much. Wherever Neil is, she is. She won’t watch fireworks with them unless Neil does, and there’s no way he’s going to want to do that despite his claim of today being a time for family. Billy knows better. Max will too one day.

15 seconds until midnight.

“You wanna light them?”

Her head snaps up to look at him. “Really?”

“Don’t blow shit up, though,” he says, handing the lighter to her. Neil would most definitely blow a gasket if he found out his 13 year old daughter was the one lighting fireworks. But what’s life without a little risk?

She grins. “So basically don’t do what you did.”

“Exactly,” he chuckles. “You know how to light it?”

“I think so.”

“Have at it,” he says, letting her go but staying close in case she screws shit up.

Five seconds ‘till midnight.

Four

Three

Two

Max quickly lights the fireworks in a swift motion, and turns to run back. She covers her ears as the fireworks all fly up, bursting in the sky with a multitude of colors. From a distance, Billy sees other fireworks bursting, neighbors shouting. He even spots a yellow one shaped like a star right above their house that Max points excitedly to. He might have snuck one in the cart when he saw Max looking longingly at it. Probably not as cool as it would’ve been at the Wheeler’s, but it’s something. She’s still a whiny little bitch.

Turning back towards the door, he sees Susan peeking through the window, a soft smile, strikingly similar to Max’s on her face.

Happy New Year.

[lyallblacklupin]

It’s just Remus Lupin! (part 2)

The sun had risen and Sirius felt someone sitting on his bed. His neck was aching following with throbbing in his temples. He was struggling to open his heavy eyelid until he heard voices.

“Why don’t you talk to him right now after he wakes up?” That was James’ voice.

“No way! And after what he had told me? And now I have totally made everything awkward between us. I’m so stupid, Prongs!” Remus’ voice sounded so new, squeaky and very much worried.

“Yeah, there is no doubt. You are the mother of stupidity. But look at his face. He must’ve cried all the night. So peaky! He needs breakfast before he faints.”

Typical Potter, the mother-hen of the group.

“I’ve never seen him crying like last night.” Remus whispered.

Sirius’ heartbeat quickened as he felt a very familiar hand brushing against his. Remus’ warmth was all he yearned for. Then after a while, Sirius finally opened his eyes to see three heads hovering on him. James, Peter and Remus were gawking at him as if he were some sort of new creature they had discovered.

“How are you?” Peter asked.

“Yeah, I’m great.” Sirius struggled to sit up, propping on his elbows. He felt so tired.

“Well, do you wanna talk about it?” James asked, gesturing to the crumpled ball of parchment at his nightstand. Sirius distinctly recalled throwing it on the floor. Someone of the three had read it and put it back in its previous form. He nervously glanced at Remus who was looking at the floor, deeply engrossed in his thoughts. He felt a surge of unjust anger for him.

“Not really...” He answered.

“You know we are here for you.” James insisted.

“I know, Prongs, you are.” He didn’t expect himself to come out too bitterly, which made everyone in the room uncomfortable.

“Me too, Pads, and Moony here” Peter started but Remus interrupted.

“Wormy, what Sirius really need is breakfast so...”

“How do you know what I need?” Sirius suddenly snapped. He was hating how Remus was being this figure who tells people what they should be, or do, but then he was regretting his tone when he saw Remus wearing pained expressions, while James and Peter were becoming tensed. “Aye, you know what, just leave me alone. I don’t need breakfast.” Sirius said dejectedly, “its weekend and I would really wanna have myself for a while...”

Everybody sauntered towards the door and Sirius buried his head in his hands. He didn’t want to be a burden to his friends. They were his only family. No matter how awkward Peter could be, no matter how painfully lovely Remus could be or how irritatingly caring James could be, They were all a very essential part of his life, something he could not afford to lose. And now he was gradually losing one by one. Remus was lost, James was halfway there because telling him that he was gay would be disgusting enough for him and Peter to leave.

The door clicked shut but Sirius realized that he was not alone yet. He lifted his head up to see James Potter standing against the doorframe, smiling weakly at him.

“I’m not leaving you alone after you’ve cried literally like a baby, Padfoot. A legit baby.” He walked towards Sirius who let out a chuckle. “Padfoot?”

“Yeah?” Sirius looked into his hazel eyes, staring at him very intently.

“Moony told me.”

Sirius felt his entire body went numb.

“And...Sirius....”

Why are you gay? What is the matter with you? I can’t be friends with you anymore!

“...Why didn’t you tell me?”

Sirius jerked up his head with wide eyes and mouth. What?

“What?”

“I mean-I thought we share everything...is there something that I did to make you uncomfortable or-“

“James...no...You can never do something wrong...” He was at a loss of words. He didn’t expect this response. “You don’t disgust me?”

“Why? Did you pick your nose and eat it?”

“Ew! No Prongs!” Sirius scrunched his nose halfheartedly while a smile desperately wanting to settle on his lips. James was being James Fucking Potter, his supportive non-biological brother and a caring prat.

“Then, there’s no reason for me to disgust you, Sirius.” James gazed him earnestly.  He felt tears stinging in his eyes.

“Wha-Padfoot!?” James exclaimed at the sight of Sirius whose face was crumpled and was practically weeping silently. “Look at that! A baby! Legit baby!” James crawled on Sirius’ side and wrapped his arms around him, cackling affectionately.

They finally came down to grab buttered toasts from the kitchen as they ran to their first lesson of the day. The time crawled down like as if it were a turtle. Sirius wanted to bang his head against the nearby wall because it was becoming unbearable to be in the same class where Remus Lupin was. It was quite a hard truth to digest and that was Remus and Sirius becoming distant. They used to be glued against each other, and Sirius used to enjoy that one-sided intimacy, but now they were miles away from each other and Sirius was touch-starved. Well actually, this was Remus’ touch starvation.

“I think I’m gonna be sick!” He rested his head against the wall by the Great Hall entrance as he and James were waiting for the rest of the Marauders to gather for lunch.

“Hey! Snap out of it!” James blurted out, “Don’t let your emotions have power over you-“

“That’s what Moony said.”

“Then listen to him, for his sake! I know you’re falling for him and you think that he didn’t return the feelings—“

“I think?” Sirius glared at him, “He clearly rejected me!”

“He didn’t reject you! He is just being Moony! You know how he is, always self-deprecating, and not to mention, being affirmative that he doesn’t deserve anything good. That’s why he asked you if you were sure. I mean, I’m not defending him because of course, you are not supposed to say that when someone tells you that they love you, but Pads, I don’t think he is entirely unreasonable here. You have messed around with a lot of girls while he never got one. He is conflicted between being worthy enough to be with you, and making sure he doesn’t get a heart break from you of all people. All that matters to him, is your friendship. He is not judging you, he just doesn’t trust himself.”

Sirius knew that each and every word of James was right. It was a little hurting but true. He didn’t know what to say so he remained silent. He clearly had a bad reputation of having two-days relationships so, of course, Moony was doubting him reasonably.

Peter and Remus had joined the two of them and now the four of them were eating shepherd’s pie in their lunch. Sirius suddenly lost his appetite when his eyes found Remus, sitting between Peter and Frank, playing with his food while staring into nothingness. His heart clenched to see him like this. Remus’ eyes searched to find Sirius’ which were already staring back. Sirius quickly looked away.

There were these mixed feelings surrounding Sirius’ mind. He didn’t want NOT to be around Remus but every time he looked at those sad amber eyes, he wanted to kiss the pain away but then he was reminded that he had confessed and failed. Remus didn’t even come to him to clarify. If he really felt the same, he could’ve cornered Sirius to communicate.

The Marauders spent the rest of the day mostly in the library for the completion of Transfiguration Essay that was supposed to be 3 foot long, and Slughorn had given them homework to write the functions and ingredients of Felix Felicis potion for the gain of extra credit.

James was scribbling lazily on the top of his journal, it was distinct to see that he was drawing a snitch of L.E written on it. While Peter was drooling over the girl two tables away from them, and Sirius was casting quick glances at Remus who was so engrossed in reading a book with no title. It seemed to be a vintage journal and he had his eyes locked with it as though no power on earth can lift up his attention.

“Mooooony...I’m tired...” James spoke but Sirius knew that Remus wasn’t going to respond until his book is finished.

It was already evening and they hadn’t found any opportunity to be alone. Apparently, Remus hadn’t sought a chance to get Sirius alone because he had done his part but clearly Remus was not trying.

Sirius snapped his hand on the table and stormed out of the library, ignoring the glare from Madam Pince. He sprinted to the Gryffindor Tower and found the common room empty. He sat there alone with his thoughts.

He knew that Remus never dated anyone because of his furry little problem, while Sirius did date a lot including Marlene McKinnon before she realized that she was falling for Dorcas Meadows. Sirius had helped her without feeling bad for being dumped on the Yule Ball as her date. After when Remus had known that Sirius had no one to dance with, he led Sirius in the empty common room and waltzed around on Never Let me Go by Judy Bridgewater.

“So you’d rather dance with a person who is moping that he got dumped on the ball, than with the most beautiful woman on the earth.” Sirius had asked him.

“Padfoot, you are the most beautiful woman on the earth.” Remus had replied him which had made both of them laugh manically, stumbling over each other.

And then he had known that he would never let this man go from his life. Since that beautiful night filled with laughter and lot of dancing alone and drinking, Sirius had never stopped looking at Remus so longingly.

He sighed as the Gryffindor students flooded in the common room, back from the feast. Before he could be seen by his friends, he climbed up to his dormitory. He shut the door behind him and sunk into his bed.

The door swung open, and Shit! Sirius didn’t shut his curtains. He didn’t need to turn to look who came in because it was quite a decent and silent walk of someone, rather than being noisy like James and Peter.

“Hey.” Remus’ voice was as calm and pure as his soul.

“Hi.” He still had his back to Remus and was staring at the window.

“What? Now we won’t talk to each other?” The same sweet voice spoke rather sadly. Sirius reluctantly turned to face him because he couldn’t hurt him.

“Uh... no it’s not like that. Uh, how are you?”

Remus opened his mouth and then shut it quickly, narrowing his eyes, becoming very interested in the floor, as though calculating his words.

“I...” He glanced at Sirius’ eyes, “I’m sorry, Padfoot-“

Sirius felt his stomach twist.

“Look, Remus, you don’t have to apologize-“

“But I do! For-“

“Remus, it’s okay! Please!” Sirius didn’t realize he had shouted those words until he saw Remus’ distraught eyes, glistening with tears in it. “I mean, I shouldn’t expect anything from you, and to be honest I didn’t but it just hurts! We can forget about all of it and go back being friends because-“

“Would you be able to do that?” Remus’ voice was shaky, and Sirius felt a shiver ran down his spine. “You know what, I don’t regret for what I was sorry for earlier. For asking you if you were sure about what you said to me last night.”

What?

“What did you say to me?” Sirius had to pull himself from punching Remus’ beautiful face because Fuck you, Remus Lupin! You are the best cruel person in the world!

“You heard me! Sounds like you don’t love me enough just like I doubted! Because if you did you wouldn’t  be a coward to walk away from my life so easily! Would be that easy for you to forget everything!?”

A MILLION TIMES HARDER!! The word ‘easy’ was no near to this situation Sirius was dealing with. However, as much as he was taken aback by the challenging voice of the other boy, he knew deep down inside his heart that he was, again, reasonable.

He also wanted to retaliate but what came out from Sirius’ mouth was a whimper, and before he knew it he was sobbing on the floor.

Remus was immediately holding him by his torso from his behind, but a little more intimately, Sirius could tell.

“Don’t walk away, I can’t imagine my life without you.” Remus nuzzled his face in Sirius’ hair and continued whispering in his ear, “Please don’t become a stranger before hearing everything. I am going to keep my promise. I promised you I’d help you, I will, Sirius, I will.” Sirius felt a light brush of lips on his temple and it made him want to cry more, but in less pain.

Sirius turned to face Remus who looked so sad, yet radiant than the last time he saw him. It was something about him that made him look prettier every new second to Sirius.

“Do you really love me? Me?” Remus came closer to him, almost sitting on his lap.

Sirius’ heart broke a little at the tone. Why that was even a question? Doesn’t he deserve to be loved? There is no doubt in loving my Moony. He is the loveliest person in my life!

He leaned closer to him and stopped when he was an inch away. Remus was burning scarlet and it seemed that he had held his breath. Sirius was gazing into him very closely, examining every scar on his face. He touched the one on the bridge of his nose and he felt the other boy shivered. Remus was not moving anywhere farther, neither coming closer. Sirius was lost in the strange beauty of him. He was tracing every feature of him and it was becoming difficult to breathe in the heat of the moment.

“With every inch of my heart.”

But Remus shook his head, tears spilling from the brims as he whimpered, “I don’t deserve it.”

And it broke Sirius’ heart into million pieces. He held his wet face in the cup of his hands.

“It’s not true, Moony-oh Moony…”

Sirius embraced him and Remus slumped into his arms. He sincerely loved him. Loved every inch of him. He had waited for so long. Remus’ heart was beating furiously that Sirius could tell by the thudding in his ears. Remus broke into a sweet chortle between his tears and sniffing, and he looked adorable.

“I especially don’t deserve the love of my favorite person in the world.”

“Hope you are talking about me?” Sirius still had him in his arms, his head resting on his shoulders.

Sirius was anxious for Remus’ response, but he also wanted to be patient this time. He was not going to presume the situation wrongly this time.

To Sirius’ surprise, Remus was unstoppably weeping and he knew that those were happy tears because he was laughing merrily and struggling to stop the river streaming from his eyes. Sirius’ right hand were completely damp as it was still there, holding his jaws and his thumb was tracing his cheek while his fingers travelling to nape from his ear, back and forth.

Remus finally spoke, “I’m sorry for this unexpected...pool of tears...”

But Sirius wiped his tears, shaking his head to gesture that he didn’t mind.

“Sirius?”

“Hmm?”

“I do love you, too.” Remus’ breath was hot against his neck.

“Moony, you don’t have to-“

“No, you won’t interrupt me, Sirius Black, because I’m not letting us get ruined by your stupid pessimism!”

Sirius tried to hide his grin because there was the Remus Lupin he loved; the one who made him silent and flustered. He led him to the most corner of their dorm by window and they both sat on their wooden floor. The room was dark but the moonlight emitted faintly.

“You don’t know…” Remus murmured in a despaired voice.

He could sense that Remus was struggling with expressing his feelings. Sirius had known Remus from ages and he was familiar with that some nasty emotions laid beneath the deadpanned face. For instance, if there was rage sweeping inside of Remus, it would be hard to figure out what was going behind that serene face. And Sirius would be damned if he didn’t give him a chance to relax and explain his heart out. He squeezed Remus’ hand and smiled encouragingly.

“Hey, I’m here. I’ve got all night for you. Tell me everything, everything that is in your mind. I’ll listen to you this time and stop being prick like before.”

Remus exhaled a sigh of relief, easing his shoulders.

“I had been there. Just like you, when I was struggling through it since third year. And I knew the night you were there for me on my worst full moon. I never told any of you about that. On that night my full moon was worse because the three of you knew about me and i feared that one of you might let slip of my condition to anyone in the school. That fear worsened my condition. But after my transformation I found you outside the Whomping Willow, you were there for me even rather than being disgusted with me-“

Sirius opened his mouth to protest but Remus held his hand up to let him finish what he wanted to say.

“Pads, you didn’t hesitate to see me in blood and wounds. You cured me even you hardly knew any healing spells.” Remus chuckled and Sirius blushed.

“Every full moon, you held me. The comfort always came with you when I was resting in your arms but it was not same when James held me. I didn’t want to be rude but one day I was this close to tell James off and bring you instead!

“I convinced myself in the fourth year that they were just desperate stupid desires for having someone’s attention because you and I have had this bond, you know...but now I have this urge to be around you to just know if you’re doing fine. Every summer, none of my night went by not thinking about you, worrying about you for how your family was treating you. I can’t see your sad eyes.” He paused to look down at Sirius’ hand and then added, “Sirius, I’m weak. Much vulnerable as a lycanthrope, but if you’ll have me, I’ll always protect you.

Sirius thought he had never felt such fathomless influx of love for someone until now, and it was like his heart was singing Remus like a mantra.

“I never thought you’d like me in that way. And yesterday night in the common room you told me that you were falling in love with me, I couldn’t believe my luck. I thought it was universe playing tricks on me-and I just couldn’t say the right words, Sirius. I’m sorry I made you feel that I rejected you. God, I can never reject you.”

Sirius stared him so tranquilly, a smile lingering on his face. He stayed quiet for Remus to let out every single thing from his heart. This was a new Remus Lupin he was looking at. Someone, who never displayed his emotions, was now pouring his heart out to him. Sirius was starting to feel special.

After a brief silence and gazing into each other’s eyes, Remus stood, propping up on his knees and leaned towards Sirius, holding his face in his hands. Sirius thought, he was going to melt into a puddle.

“And tonight, in this very moment, I wholeheartedly confess that I’ve been in love with you and I’ll always love you, no matter what.”

Sirius thought that his heart would burst and before he could’ve processed those words and depict his next move, Remus had pressed his lips against his into a very passionate kiss that almost took him by surprise. He snaked his arms up to Remus ribcage, reaching to grasp his shoulders as he sunk into the kiss. It was like being intoxicated under those lips which were soft like silk.

They broke apart a little to catch their breaths.

“Merlin, I just kissed Remus Lupin.”

They suddenly laughed into each other’s mouths, pressing their foreheads together.

“Yeah, just Remus Lupin.” Remus smiled weakly at him and Sirius sprang on his feet, holding out his hand.

“Come here.” And Remus did. He seized his hand and they stood before each other. “Listen to me, before you let out that trash talk, you are not what you think you are. You are so much more than that. You have a very good heart inside that chest. I fell in love with that heart right there.” He poked his index finger on his chest where his heart thumped steadily. “You understand? And besides, you’re my Moony. Mine. I’ll always be there for you. I love taking care of you, it’s my favorite hobby.”

Sirius saw Remus blushing and smiling at the same time as he was looking down, and Sirius seized him by his arms and leaned to kiss him on his eyelid.

“I love you, Sirius Black.” Remus whispered.

“Seriously, Moony, I thought you had better taste in men.”

And in return he got a kick in his shin, which led to hitting each other, laughing and running in the dormitory. One chasing after other until they fell on the bed against each other, panting and kissing as if their life depended on it.

“I love you too, Moony, So much.” Sirius held him earnestly as he closed his eyes, savoring the warmth of Remus lying on his body.

Yep, just this beautiful boy on my chest, listening to my heartbeat like a simp! Just Remus Lupin, just the boy I love.

Part 1.

[nightowlfandom]

Bully! Park Jimin- I’m Your Devil (DIRRRRTTYY)

So...I got a new computer and I have no clue how to screenshot on it as of now...and tbh I don’t feel like figuring out how. SO I’m gonna be experimenting with some layouts but until then you just have these annoying announcements.

Anyways, ANON ASKS  🧑🏿‍🎤  🧑🏿‍🎤  🧑🏿‍🎤 (you know who you are wink wink)

may I request a really aggressive schoolbully!jimin / sadistic!jimin smut inspired by the songs daddy issues, into it, and the hills :) 

Y’all some masochists but I ain’t mad.

Just know ya worth and if anyone treats you like this in real life, punch them in the balls. That being said, This is also LOOOONG. I didn’t plan for it to be but yeah. ALSO I GOT YOUR OTHER ASK SO I GOT CHU. I’m not sure if this is good but I hope I did you justice.

Reader who isn’t a virgin, really mean bully man, more foreplay than actual smut lol sorry, touch of diet-angst

Leggo.

...

“Okay class, what do you think the author was trying to say when she was describing her relationship with Damien?”

You sat at your desk, chin propped up in your hand as you gazed off longingly into space. This was one of the rare times you decided to pay attention because your class was reading your favorite book. “The Young Devil” (Completely made up lol). 

“She’s obviously a broken woman if she thinks Damien is ever gonna change his ways. She’s a stiff.” a comment made you practically fall forward. You turned your head to find the culprit of who said such a thing about your favorite character. “Anyways, she’s too safe. She couldn’t handle his issues.”

“Well maybe if Damien made an effort to open himself up, Belle wouldn’t have to pry so hard.” another girl rolled her eyes. “Men always think women can’t handle what they throw when in reality we take the heat for your dumb asses.”

“Interesting conversation. Y/N, what do you think?” the teacher took note that you were paying more attention and turned her sights on you. “What do you think about the dynamic between Damien and Belle?”

You cursed yourself for looking too interested. You hated speaking. “I...Um.” you opened your mouth and closed it again, unsure of what to say. “I think Damien’s refusal to allow Belle to see the other side of him not only puts their mental connection at risk, but physical as well.” you replied. 

“What do you mean physical?” she egged you on to elaborate. “As in sex?”

“W-well, yes and no.” you shrugged. “Belle prides herself on building connection through touch. She can’t have sex with Damien because she doesn’t feel loved by him. To him sex is just a thing you do. He gets his pleasure from bullying her, that’s his high.” you explained. “She claims she doesn’t care but if she didn’t, she wouldn’t spend her time wishing he was different...or something.” you played with your hands, staring down at your fingers.

The teacher stared at you before a smile broke out on her face. “Excellent analysis, Y/N!” she clapped her hands together. You returned the smile with the tiny bit of confidence that built up inside you. “Yes, Jimin did you have something you wanted to add?”

You turned your head to find the always mouthy Park Jimin lazily raising his hand. “She likes being bullied by him.” he said as if it was a matter of fact. 

“Excuse you?” you couldn’t help but speak out. Suddenly the entire class was quiet. They had never heard you speak so abruptly before. “What the hell do you mean she likes it.”

“She wouldn’t put up with it if she didn’t like it.” he raised an eyebrow. “She could just tell him to leave her alone, get lost or something.”

“How in the hell would Belle enjoy someone like Damien embarrassing her every minute he gets. Are we reading the same book?” you sat up straight crossing your arms. 

“Now this is getting interesting.” the teacher mumbled.

“You can tell by her actions. The rush of her blood when she blushes, the way she stammers over her words, the way she listens to his every word...much like you are right now, princess.” he winked. His smug grin alone made your blood boil.

“Oh and I suppose his possessive ways are warranted in your eyes too aren’t they.” you scoffed.

“Maybe, I mean she even says herself she feels cared about.” he shrugged.

“Because Damien is a manipulative dickhead!” you snapped. “He obviously wants her around because she’s the only girl who gives a shit about his life and he’d feel lost without her.” you snarled. “Then again I would expect this point of view from a man who changes bitches like he changes his underwear.” (A/N we don’t hate women here).

“Language Miss. L/N.” the teacher spoke. You rolled your eyes, glaring at Jimin one last time before facing forward. The whole class was silent.

“Nice one Y/N” a girl on your opposite side nudges you.

“Not bad for a quiet girl.” a boy piped up.

...

As classes were let out for the day you wordlessly avoided the looks you got from your other classmates. You walked down the halls, holding your books tightly to your chest. 

“Oi, Hey L/N!” 

You weren’t sure if the sound of Jimin’s voice made you wanna speed up or slow down. It didn’t matter because he went as far as to run and stop right in front of you. 

“Um..What?” you looked up at him.

“Oh, not excited to see me?” he scoffed with a sadistic smile. You didn’t know what he was planning but you didn’t like it. “Way to try and debate me in class today, who knew you had a mouth on you.”

“I was just answering the teachers question..I don’t want any trouble..” you clutched your books even tighter. Before he could reply a girl ran up, practically attaching herself to him. 

“JIMMY YOU HAVE DANCE PRACTICE!” she practically screeched. “Why are you talking to her?”

“Oh...Y/N here was-” he paused. “Just confessing her undying love for me!”

“What! No I wasn’t!” you tried to deny, but it was too late. Everyone who was around heard him. “I don’t have a crush on you!” You felt your face heart up.

“Oh Y/N, You don’t have to hide it! Why else would you speak to me passionately in class today.” his sick grin never left his face. You could tell this was his revenge for embarrassing him in class. “You were telling me all about how you couldn’t sleep another night without telling me. How you want me in more ways than one.”

He spoke loud enough so others could hear.

“That’s not true!” you snapped. You were trembling. Humiliation filled your body and was overflowing, much like the tears of embarrassment you couldn’t fight anymore. “I’m not in love with you.”

“Oh Y/N, you don’t have to hide it anymore. I know everything. The love letters, the staring-”

“What?!”

But it was too late, people were already giggling and staring at you with pity. You took one last look at Jimin, who was already walking away, gleefully accepting the high fives from the pigs who dared to say ‘Nice score.’

“Are you alright, Y/N?’ a girl came up to you, putting her hand on your shoulder. “Should we go to the headmaster?” 

You didn’t answer, you just ran. You ran out the school, unknowingly into the pouring rain. It seemed the sky matched your mood today. You let out all the tears, not caring who saw or who looked at you as if you had lost your mind. Your house was far, but you didn’t care about that either. In that moment you felt as helpless as the character you loved dearly, Belle. 

...

You ignored everyone the next day, even your small group of lunch buddies. You worked alone, you sat alone at lunch, and by the time free period had rolled around, you had opted to hide. However, just as you prepared yourself to leave, who else but Jimin to stopped you in the middle of the halls. 

“Well if it isn’t my little admirer!” Jimin spoke loud enough to capture the attention of those around you. He ‘accidentally’ slapped your books out of your hands. “Oh, I’m sorry Y/N...Go ahead, pick those up.”

Without another word you knelt down, only to have him kick one of your books to the side. “What’s this! A diary!” 

A brown and black leather bound hardcover book sat at his feet. You instantly scrambled to get it, but he had managed to get his hands on it. “Isn’t this interesting!” 

“Jimin please don’t-!” you stood up, forgetting about your textbooks.

“Dear friend,-” he cleared his throat dramatically as he flipped through the pages of your diary.

Dear journal,

My life is nothing like stories I read about all the time. Each and every night I’d wish for my handsome devil to come. Come and take me away from here, away from the hate, away from the commotion, away from Park fucking Jimin. I don’t know what I’ve done to make him hate me the way he does. I just wish he’d be nice to me...just once. But that is one wish I know won’t come true. He’s just a sadistic asshole who bullies me because he knows I won’t say a word.

So why do i-

You snatched the book out of his hands before he could read any more, this time you were seething with rage. “If you EVER touch my property again I will- I’ll-”

“You’ll do what princess?” he smiled cheekily. “You won’t do a thing to me and we both know it...you’re just like that Belle chick. That handsome devil of yours is just a fever dream, get over it-.”

“Maybe, but I’d rather live in a dream than talk to Satan himself.” you snapped. “You’re just the devil.” you whimpered. “Why do I even put up with you?” you sighed. Jimin suddenly stepped forward. You mentally prepared yourself for the worst.

You felt his lips touch the side of your mouth, had you moved just a bit more, he would have been on your lips. “Because you love me.”

....

“For this project, I will be assigning you partners

Oh shit...please no. God, no. Dear lord if anyone can hear-

“Alex and Jackson. Lisa and Mark, Y/N and Jimin-”

“Fuck.” you mouthed. You dared looked next to you. Jimin was playfully leaning his cheek against the palm of his hand. He winked at you, taking his bottom lip between his teeth. 

“You will be doing book reports on The Young Devil. You choose the topic, this is due in two weeks. I recommend you get together outside of school.”

As class let out, Jimin followed you. “Sooo, partner! When am I coming over?”

“When pigs fly.” you answered sourly.

“Saturday at 7:00 you said? I’ll be there!” he threw an arm around your waist. “See you there, babe.”

“You don’t even know my address!” you called after him as he walked off. That probably wasn’t the best idea because everyone was staring at you again. “NO! BECAUSE WE HAVE A PROJECT....Nevermind.” you groaned. 

... (Saturday 7:30 PM)

“You’re late.” you seethed as you pulled open the door. Jimin sauntered in and you slammed the door.

Soon it was silent between you two. Before he could open his mouth, you left him standing there to bolt up the stairs. Jimin, being himself followed you. To be honest, you were already starting without him.

“Do you live alone?” he asked, noticing how empty your home was.

“I do.” you replied curtly. “My parents travel around a lot, so I never see them.” you shrugged. “They help me out though.”

“So mommy and daddy take care of everything-”

“You don’t know me.” you cut him off. You sat down at your desk and pulled up your notes, proceeding to work. “They help me because they care...unlike some people.” you scoffed.  “Shut up so I can concentrate.”

“I thought this was a partner thing.” you heard your bed creak. “I think we should put out minds...maybe bodies together and think of a concept.”

“I already have one.” you cut him off.

“Enlighten me.”

“If Damien hadn’t changed by the end of the book, would Belle still be with him.” you mused aloud.

“Probably.”

“....” you didn’t reply, because you didn’t want to admit he was right. Probably the only time you’d ever agree with him on anything. 

“What? Still mad at me for reading your little diary?” he asked. Once again, you ignored him. Suddenly, your chair was turned around abruptly and you were now staring at a red faced Jimin. “I don’t like being ignored, doll.”

He was so close, your noses were practically touching. You froze up, afraid to move. 

“Why are you so mean?” you found yourself asking. “What did I ever do to you?”

“Other than refuse to drop that good girl act of yours? We’re a dysfunctional two peas in a pod. I’m an asshole and you’re too much of a stiff to stop me.”

“Act?” you looked confused. “I don’t have an act.” you attempted to defend yourself. 

“Hm...that face you make is kind of hot.” he smirked. He slid his fingertips under your chin. Your vision went blurry, unable to process everything. You absent-mindedly began playing with the hem of your sweater.

(SMUT AHEAD, PROCEED WITH CAUTION)

“What is your deal!?” you found yourself getting angry as you stood up. Jimin stepped back looking startled. “You’re messing with my fucking head and I’ve had enough! Jimin what did I ever do to you?” you felt it again. Humiliation. “I’m not asking you to be my friend but the least you could do is be nice to me!”

“I don’t do nice, sweetheart. Like you said, I’m the devil.” he walked up to you. “Your blush is like a drug to me.” he laughed. “It’s cute.” he rested his hands on either side of your face. “Fuck, I kinda wanna kiss you right now. Do you wanna kiss me?”

YES!

“Yes, I mean no! I mean yes- I mean maybe, I mean fuck!”

Not even a second later, Jimin’s lips were over yours. Despite his bullying, his kiss was gentle. You practically melted. He protectively wrapped an arm around your waist. Your thoughts on the project were long gone. Jimin couldn’t figure out why he felt so protective of you all of a sudden, but thoughts ran through his head. Thoughts that if anyone else kissed you, touched, you even looked your way...he’d go ballistic.

And fuck, you were a great kisser. He held the back of your head with his free hand, guiding you into his touch, which you followed perfectly. His tongue slid through the gap in your mouth, yearning to taste you more. You felt lightheaded as if your heart was about to give out. He pulled away, resting his forehead against yours.

“Maybe I’m so cruel because I don’t know how to act around you.” he whispered. “Maybe I’m trying to be the devil you want so bad.” you could see a flash of sadness in his eyes, which was quickly replaced with lust. “I wanna be your devil, Y/N...”

He kissed you again, this time his warm hands slithered under your clothes. You were by no means a virgin, but the way you felt made you feel shy and exposed. Jimin walked you back towards your bed and practically threw you on the plush surface while he rid himself of his shirt. Your bodies practically melted together, bodies meeting in a sweaty mass of limbs that explored one another. 

Be fumbled with your pants, almost tearing them off you. He gave you a sadistic smile before ghosting his lips over both your thighs. Your legs shook, trying to keep them steady. 

“Have you ever...done anything with anyone?” he asked.

“Once, but nothing special.” you admitted. “It was straight to the point.” you shrugged.

“Then I guess I have nothing to compete against.” he bit his lips. “You smell so good here.” he shuddered. “I wanna-”

He yanked down your panties next. His lips ghosted over your slit, pressing feather light kisses against you. 

You held your breath, unable to register what was going on. His fingers met your clit, sliding his fingers through your slickness. Before you could say another word, Jimin licked a stripe up your slit. You bucked your hips, only to be held down. He sucked harshly at your clit before playing with your little bud with his tongue. 

“F-fuh-” you couldn’t even muster up the words as Jimin played with you. 

“Fuck Y/N.” he groaned. You felt his fingers slid inside of you, coating his fingers in your water. “I don’t know what’s hotter, the look on your face or the way your-”

“D-don’t say it!” you cut him off. “I’m warning you!”

“What?” you could just see she shit-eating grin on his face. “You mean pussy? The way this pussy takes my fingers so well?” (Now from the top, make it drop- I’ll shut up)

He abruptly removed his fingers which made your back arch and lurch upwards. You sat up on his elbows only to witness Jimin rid himself on his pants and boxers. Your eyes widened when you saw his hardness. You couldn’t look away. 

“See something you like?” his voice made you snap out of it. He bit his lip with a grin. He grabbed your legs and aligned himself with you, teasing the hell out of your entrance, just barely touching you with his length. “Am I your devil, Y/N?”

“God, yes.” you couldn’t fight it anymore. 

Slowly, he slid in, groaning at the feel of you around his dick. “Shit Y/N...How the hell am I gonna move when you’re so t-tight. I won’t last 10 seconds.” he whimpered. He slowly thrust again, your juices creating a deep echo in the room. “Hah...Ungh...f-fu” he planted his hands on the bed, one either side of your head. “Y/N...You don’t know what you do to me.”

“J-jimin.” you mirrored his voice, wrapping your arms around his neck. “P-please?”

That was all the motivation he needed to start moving. 

Your moans and yells echoes through the room, the clapping sound of flesh hitting flesh bounced off the walls. Sweat kept your bodies practically glues together. His fingers moved everywhere. Grabbing your sweater that for some reason was still on, grabbing your legs to pull you back into him. Your face to move your hair out of the way so he could witness the euphoria written shamelessly on your face. His jaw went slack and he felt himself getting to that part, and he could tell you were close too.

You were first, practically convulsing under him, screams of his name escaping your lungs.

“ARGH, FUCK!” He followed suit and immediately removed himself from you, only to spray himself...all over your sweater and legs. He felt forward, practically shaking against you. He messily kissed you, not bothering to think about neatness as his tongue invaded your mouth for the umpteenth time.

“Mind if I crash here tonight?” he laughed as he plopped next to you. 

“Sure.” you breathlessly replied. “Project can wait till tomorrow.”

As you drifted off to sleep, Jimin shimmied out of bed and walked over to the open window. He felt the breeze on his skin and closed his eyes. “Please.” He whispered. “I want to treat her well...don’t let me fuck it up.” He silently wished before joining you in bed again, protectively wrapping his arms around you. “I’ll do anything for you, Y/N...I’m your devil....”

...

Cheesy ending I know but what did ya think?! 

[starrywhump]

Ok whump idea with a little comfort mixed in, hope y’all enjoy!

CW: consensual nsfw(making out that is quickly over), swearing.

The whumpee rolled over in their bed, throwing their blanket down to their feet. 

 It was too hot, sweat stuck to their hair and face. 

They reached out, blindly grabbing for their phone on their bed side table. The bright light from their device made the whumpee squint.  It was only 10:17. 

A few text notifications shone on the screen, the whumpee ignored them, just as they had every text they had got over the last week.  

They were all the same, some variant of:

Hey how are you doing?

Are you doing ok?

I’m here if you need to talk.

Every single one a reminder of everything the whumpee did not want to think of right now. 

They dropped their phone, nothing on there was going to make them feel any better. 

With a groan they pushed themself off their bed, their body was sore. They were still dressed from the day before, jeans and and a grey sweatshirt. 

The whumpee’s head swam as they stood, they ignored it, walking out into the hall, leaning against the wall to make their way to the living room.

They stumbled over to their couch, collapsing down onto the soft seat.  Next to them lay a half finished bottle of whisky, just where they left it earlier that evening.  It was about 6, they thought, when they had put it down.  The nice calm it had brought them earlier had faded.  Painful memories started to edge back into their mind. 

“What a pretty little thing you are.”

“n-no pl-lease...”

“Oh little thing-”

“NO!” The whumpee yelled, shooting up from the couch.  They panted softly, having to convince themselves they were just in their living room.

Reaching back they grabbed the whisky and opened it quickly.  They took a long drink, relishing the warm burn that radiated through their chest. 

Their head was still too loud.  It was too quiet in their apartment to drown it out.  They had to get out.

**********

“What can I get you?”

“Anything, you chose. Just make it strong,”

The whumpee had never been much of a drinker, not until recently that is.

The bartender nodded, turning to make the whumpee’s drink. 

The whumpee frowned, trying to focus on the clinking of glasses, the music in the bar, anything that could occupy the space in their mind.

The whumpee’s drink was in front of them, they didn’t remember the bartender setting it there. 

They took it and drank it quickly, barely even testing whatever it was.

“That was fast, can I get your next one?”  A handsome stranger settled in the seat next to the whumpee.

The whumpee raised an eyebrow, they didn’t really want to talk, but a distraction would be nice, “I won’t say no to a free drink.”

The stranger waved to the bartender and another bourbon was placed in front of the whumpee. The whumpee didn’t drink it yet, their head was already feeling pretty cloudy.  

“So what brings you here?”

The whumpee raised an eyebrow, “well it’s a bar so alcohol I guess,” The whumpee glossed over the true meaning for their outing. 

The stranger smiled, the whumpee couldn’t help but joining them.  They had a warm air about them that drew the whumpee in.  

“So you’re a smart ass?” The stranger teased.

The whumpee smirked, “On occasion.” 

They felt a rush they had almost forgotten about.  A normal feeling, normal people get.  Just flirting with someone in a bar, not talking about their feelings, not dealing with the shit they have been through.  It was intoxicating. 

The stranger went to introduce themselves, “I’m-”

“Wait,” the whumpee paused downing their bourbon, “I don’t want to know.  Tell me if I’m misreading here but what if instead of small talk,” they turned to look at the stranger, meeting their eyes for the first time, “we went back to your place.”

The stranger’s confident air broke for a moment, a blush colored their face. They nodded, “sounds good to me.” 

**********

A part of the whumpee knew this was a bad idea.  They doubted that sleeping with someone you found in a bar was high up on the list of recommended strategies to cope with trauma.

But it was hard to care while they were pushed up against the back of a front door, enlocked in a passionate kiss with their handsome stranger.  

Being extremely drunk helped to ease any remaining doubts. 

The stranger’s hands roamed the whumpee’s body, skimming under their shirt.

“Can I take this off?”  

The whumpee barely registered the question before they were nodding.  

There shirt went up over their head, lips moved down to their neck, hands moved over their stomach. 

The whumpee gazed forward, letting things be done to them as their newest acquaintance wanted to. 

It didn’t feel as nice as the whumpee remembered, but it was a distraction, and that was good. 

At least it was a normal thing to do, where no one was going to handle them like a child, asking them if they were ok every other minute. 

“Hey are you ok?”

Scratch that last bit.

The whumpee perked up taking a breath, they realized they had basically gone limp in the other’s arms, “yes!  Yes, I’m good,” the whumpee leaned their head forward to capture the strangers lips in another kiss, “keep going.”

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to, really,” they looked concerned.

That was the last thing the whumpee wanted, they didn’t need anyone else to pity them. 

“I want to, really, keep going.”

The stranger smiled, they head moved back down to the whumpee’s neck.

The world seemed to blur a bit, it looked darker than before. 

A hand trailed down the whumpee’s arm, the skin felt rougher than before, the hand closed around the whumpee’s wrist.  Their wrist was moved up above their head and pinned there.  

Their heart skipped a beat.  The whumpee told themself that it was in a good way, the way the heart of a normal person would normally skip a beat in this kind of situation.

It was hard to try and excuse away the dread in their stomach as butterflies. 

Their breath was heavy because of the beautiful person currently locked onto their body, that’s what they told themselves.

“You’re crying.”

The movement had stopped, how long their stranger had just been staring at them the whumpee didn’t know.  

Worry was etched into the others face. 

“S-sorry,” the whumpee whispered breathlessly. 

“No, hey don’t be sorry it’s ok.”

Those kind words hurt more than any ones meant to inflict pain.  Tears flowed faster down the whumpee’s cheeks.  They couldn’t catch their breath.  They felt trapped. 

Their blurred vision turned to complete darkness. 

The whumpee tried to blink it away.

Hands moved over them, restraining them in their arms.  Their eyes cleared to see the whumper in front of them, grinning, holding them close. 

“NO!” 

“Are- hey it’s ok, it’s ok,” a soothing voice cut through the darkness. 

The whumpee blinked hard, panting as they tried to understand what was real and what was their brain pulling tricks on them. 

When they opened their eyes again the whumper was mercifully gone.  But the panic wasn’t.

Humiliation washed over them as they met the eyes of their attempted one-night stand. 

“You fell down, fainted or- something. Are- are you ok?  I thought it was ok, I’m so sorry if I- if I did something wrong.”

The whumpee tried to listen to their kind words, it was hard to take it in, they couldn’t breathe. 

The hands on them felt suffocating, one on each shoulder.  Their intent was probably just to keep them from collapsing fully to the ground but they were just added on to their trapped feeling. 

“Do- do you want some tea?  Or something?  Water?”

The whumpee didn’t care about tea, just wanted them to stop touching them.  But since they weren’t really sure how to make their voice work right now, they gave a jerky nod, hoping the stranger would leave to get it. 

“Ok- uh I’ll up just get you both, uh stay here, just a sec.”

The hands finally left the whumpee, they felt like they could breathe a little easier. 

Footsteps faded off in a different direction.

The whumpee took deep breaths, trying to convince themselves they were ok. 

In.

Out.

In.

Out

In...

The whumpee’s vision cleared up a bit, they looked around the room they were in.  Focusing on the green flower vase in the corner, the brown door, white walls, they began to calm down.

As soon as the initial panic of the moment had subsided the whumpee was hit with another massive wave of humiliation. 

“Jesus Christ...” they muttered to themselves. 

This was a complete stranger and they just completely freaked out on them.  This was meant to be their first day of normalcy and they had gone and fucked it up, just another reminder that they were never going to be normal.  Couldn’t just enjoy a simple fucking one night stand, no they had to have a full on panic attack.

“Can you do one fucking thing right,” the whumpee scowled, angry at themselves. 

Tears pricked at the side of their eyes, threatening to fall again.  The whumpee quickly wiped them away, there was no way they were crying again no matter how embarrassed they were. 

They looked longingly towards the door, thinking of maybe making a quick exit to try and preserve what little dignity they had left.

“You wanna come, uh... sit on the couch?” their was the whumpee’s stranger, holding a mug in one hand and a glass of water in the other.

The whumpee stood up shakily.

“I... I think I’m just gonna head home, I uh, sorry.  So sorry about uh, all that.”

“No there’s no need to apologize!  I’m the one who should be sorry, I really didn’t mean to do anything that would-”

“You didn’t really, it’s just uh, my own shit.  So um I’m just gonna go-”

The stranger placed their handful of beverages down on the side table by the green vase the whumpee had been paying too much attention to earlier. 

“Aren’t you uh, drunk, and... I mean, are you sure that’s the safest idea?”

“I’m fine, I don’t live too far and I’m not gonna drive. I walked to the bar, I can get back to my house,” it was going to be a pretty long walk but the whumpee couldn’t spend a second longer here. 

“Can I at least call you an uber?” That worried look was back on the stranger’s face.

“Oh no really it’s-”

“Please, I insist, call it my apology for tonight.  Besides I put all this work into this cup of tea, it would be a shame to waste it.”

The whumpee didn’t respond, honestly they would love to be driven home, they were tired and, very drunk.

“Please?” The stranger smiled.

“O-ok, thank you.”

“It’s no problem really!  Want that tea now?”

[ahkaahshi]

12:27 AM [kuroo tetsurou x reader]

pairing: kuroo tetsurou x fem reader (platonic relationship)

genre: fluff and angst

warning(s): swearing, brief mentions of alcohol consumption

word count: 2.8k

overview: you go on one, final late night food run with your best friend to commemorate your last evening in tokyo

notes: as stated above, the reader and kuroo’s relationship here is purely platonic. it just felt right. also, this one’s a bit more dialogue-heavy than usual, but it’s intentional :) hope you enjoy!

At 12:27 AM, Kuroo’s standing in the kitchen, poring over an open cupboard of food—none of which seems to fulfill his cravings. Tapping the toes of his house slippers against the tiled floor, he sends a glance over at where you’re sitting on the couch, watching the movie he’d put on with rapt attention. His attempts at successfully blocking out thoughts of what’s to come tomorrow are foiled once more when his gaze settles on the luggage waiting patiently in the entryway.

“Hey, (f/n),” he calls out to you, shutting the cabinets in front of him and turning away from them. The eyebrow you raise at him expectantly has him continuing, “Whaddya say to going on one, last late-night food run in the city with your old pal?”

With a snicker, you toss the mountains of blankets off your body and stand up as you say, “You act as if today’s my last day on the planet, Tetsu.”

“Seriously, though, who knows when we’ll be able to do this again?” he wonders, “Might as well live like it’s your last day on the planet, even if it’s just for a night, right?”

You shake your head as you pull on an old Nekoma hoodie out of your backpack that matches the one he’s wearing. “Quit it, dumbass; you’re gonna make me all sentimental.”

A grin spreads across his lips and he gives you a playful shake once the two of you have stepped into your shoes and left his home. It warms your heart but shatters it at the same time, since you’re painfully aware of the fact that tonight will be the last time you see it in person for what could be months. And if his words hadn’t already made you a bit emotional, the drive through Tokyo would’ve done the trick.

He rolls the windows of his car down, letting in the cool, nighttime air that whistles past as the vehicle picks up speed. In an effort he wants to seem as spontaneous as possible, he plays music from a playlist the two of you had made together back when you were in high school, shouting and dancing along to the lyrics of every song with you with an enthusiasm that has you doubling over in your seat with laughter.

Every stoplight gives other drivers and pedestrians buzzing around the bustling downtown area the opportunity to shoot you judgmental looks or those of entertainment, but you’re too busy living in the moment with him that you barely notice or even care, for that matter. You don’t know where he’s taking you, but you don’t bother to ask. Instead, you find yourself lost in admiring the dazzling array of lights passing you by during your drive through the lively city. Knowing you’ll be in a new one by this time tomorrow has you gazing upon everything you’d simply passed by before without a second thought with a newfound appreciation and lingering nostalgia.

Eventually, after Kuroo’s impressed you by maneuvering his car into a tighter parking spot than you thought he could fit in, you find your destination is a small restaurant tucked away in one of the back alleys aglow with neon signs. Though it’s packed to the brim with other patrons enjoying a late-night meal, there’s plenty of conversation between you and your friend to fill the time you spend waiting for a table.

Once you’re inside, you bask in the warmth heavy with the delicious smell of fresh food as the two of you sit together and reminisce over steaming bowls of ramen. “You know one thing I’ll never forget?” Kuroo begins, fishing out a few plump noodles with his chopsticks. You glance over at him expectantly while you blow on the broth in your spoon and he chuckles before adding, “The look on Lev’s face when he hit you in the back of the head during warmups and you gave him the coldest stare I’ve ever seen.”

“I felt so bad when I realized it was him, though, ‘cause I thought it was you!” you defend.

Kuroo’s unoccupied hand flies to his chest to complete the feigned look of shock on his face. “And you were gonna look at me like that if it was?”

“You were always aiming for me, Tetsu.”

“You were always on the court!”

“Helping Coach toss and keeping hitters like you from fucking up your ankles by coming down on stray volleyballs, you asshole.”

Kuroo shrugs and comments, “I never hit you hard, though,” and moves another serving of noodles to his lips. “Just wanted to keep our beloved manager on her toes is all.”

With an incredulous scoff, you retort, “Yeah, you did that, alright. And even well into uni, too.”

There’s a pause in your conversation as you both take a moment to enjoy your food before Kuroo questions, “Could you please submit your evidence to the court?”

“Halloween,” you state, (e/c) eyes laser focused on his own, hazel ones. He’s narrowing them, as if he’s trying to remember the event in question, so you help him out by continuing, “You and Kou were insistent on coming with me to a raging house party that night. The two of you got so, annoyingly drunk that you were laughing at the top of your lungs like hyenas about videos of pets dressed up in costumes at three in the morning.”

He raises a finger contemplatively. “I might’ve blacked out, but that does sound like something I’d do.”

“In that case, you probably forgot about all the noise complaints I got, then; and how the owner of the place came to scold me in person.”

A bashful grin forms on his lips at the memory you’ve reminded him of, and he concedes, “Alright, alright; we’ve both done a lot of stupid shit in the time we’ve known each other, so let’s just leave it at that. Besides, I’m sure you wouldn’t want me to remind you of the time you lost your bikini top in the ocean and were too mortified to move, so you made me swim in and get it, right?”

“This conversation is over,” you declare, face growing hot with embarrassment as a vivid image of the moment in question flashes across your mind.

As the two of you continue enjoying your delicious meals and reminiscing about other, more positive experiences you’ve shared together, you feel the knot that’s been settled in the pit of your stomach for what seems to be weeks now make itself known once more. In spite of your outward calmness and enthusiasm, you were starting to have trouble hiding your nervousness. The last thing you’d wanted was for anyone to notice and try to talk you out of your decision, but Kuroo’s far more perceptive than most and knows you well enough to understand what you’re thinking.

When the two of you finish your meals and find the strength to scoot out of your chairs, he notices the way you gaze longingly at your surroundings. He catches sight of the gentle glimmer of emotion in your eyes as you request that he drive you anywhere he wants—just to hold off on going back to his place for a bit longer. And each time he takes his eyes off the road ahead to cast a glance in your direction, he finds your attention fixated on all the buildings and people that pass by.

But it’s not until the two of you arrive at a nearly empty parking lot outside a large, sprawling park that he decides to bring up the question of what’s on your mind. “Hey, (f/n),” he says, making you turn on your heels to face him where you’d been standing a few feet away from his car, watching the twinkling lights in the distance. He looks so carefree, perched on the hood of his vehicle, hands shoved into the pockets of his black joggers, whereas you’re much more on edge, trying to keep your foot-tapping against the loose gravel to a minimum.

“Hmm?”

He purses his lips for a moment before answering slowly, “I’ve been thinking about this for a while—the last day we’d spend together. And it’s one of those things that you just can’t really prepare yourself for, no matter how hard you try to, y’know?” The muscles around your brow relax, and your expression becomes more curious upon being pulled out of your worrisome thoughts. “I know how I’m feeling, but how are you holding up?”

Your fingers interlace themselves as you bite the inside of your cheek. Even if you want to, there’s no bullshitting Kuroo. Not when he’s seen you in every state you can imagine and is often one to pick up on your feelings before you’re even aware they exist, though he often brings them to your attention with a more lighthearted approach than most would think appropriate to take. Doesn’t mean he cares any less, however; and you can see the genuine concern in his hazel eyes shining a paler color in the white moonlight.

“I’m excited,” you tell him. With the way your heart’s pounding in your chest, you’d be surprised if he couldn’t hear its pulse in your voice. Moving towards him to occupy the space on the hood beside him, you take a deep breath and look up at him. “But I’m terrified at the same time.” It’s instantaneous, the way you lean into his touch the moment he slings his arm around your shoulders to pull you closer to him. “Since we were kids, I was always talking about wanting to move to another country, remember?”

“I thought you just said that to make me sad whenever I pissed you off.”

You lightly swat his chest and argue, “Oh, be quiet.” But, before you can continue with what you were going to say, you find yourself focused on the words he’d spoken instead. “Wait, did you actually mean that?”

With a gentle chuckle, he shrugs. “Nah, I was joking.” The adam’s apple in his throat bobs when he turns his attention towards the sky and admits, “But I always did get a little sad whenever you mentioned it. Still do.” A moment of silence filled with the distant sounds of traffic and the chirping of insects ensues during which you watch your fingers toy with the aglets hanging off your hoodie. “I mean, come on, now; what kinda kid wants one of his best friends to move away when he knows how big the world is but how singular and small he is?”

“Tetsu,” you murmur softly, feeling your lip tremble with emotion and your eyes sting with oncoming tears, “You’ve always been there for me through, like, everything. Or, at least, it feels that way. Part of the reason why I’m so scared of leaving is because I’m gonna be all by myself, in a brand-new place, just thrown into the deep end of things and having to teach myself how to swim all over again. But another part of it is because I’m gonna be away from you. And even now, as an adult, I still don’t wanna move away from my best friend.”

He doesn’t even have to look at you or hear you sniffle to know you’re crying, and he tightens his grip around you, placing his other hand on your back. Appreciative of the gesture, you bury your face in the soft fabric of his sweatshirt and pull him into an embrace so you can hold onto him for a few, long moments that you wish didn’t have to end.

“Hey, it’s all good as long as you don’t forget about me once you make it big out there, okay?” His tone is teasing and lighthearted, as per usual, but you can hear the subtlest break in his voice that has more tears cascading down your cheeks and pooling in the creases of his sweater.

“I’m not gonna forget you—I could never—but, what if I can’t do it?” you whimper, “What if I get there and I hate the job, or I hate my coworkers, or I hate life over there? Then I’ll be stuck out there with no one.”

Rubbing your back gently, he assures you, “If worst comes to worst, you can come back home and regroup. You’ll always have a place to stay here. Well… unless I get super famous and end up being offered a job to travel around the world.” You can’t help but snicker at his comment, and neither can he. “Even if I’m not physically there, I’ll always be there in spirit. And don’t discount the possibility of me showing up at your doorstep, since we know I have a tendency to do that.”

“Like a stray cat I keep feeding.”

“Exactly. Maybe you’ll even get two if I can convince Kenma to come with me. We’ll have to see how long he can survive off his Switch alone.”

Your bodies both shake with laughter for a few moments before you pull away from each other, and his hands slide onto your shoulders to give them a firm squeeze. Keeping your head lowered for a moment, you drag the sleeves of your hoodie across your eyes to wipe up any stray tears you hadn’t left on his. When your gazes meet, though, the confidence in his almost entirely dissolves the knot that’s been building in your stomach for so long.

“Hey.” He shakes you gently, and you jokingly let your head roll about, eliciting more snickers from both of your mouths before looking at him expectantly and with your full attention. “Don’t let the worst-case scenario hold you back from something that could be great. You’re so quick to think about how likely the worst possible thing is to happen, but why can’t the best be just as likely?”

Playfully, you tease, “Wow, seems like someone’s trying to get me outta here,” with a smirk.

“(F/n),” he sighs, sending a long plume of steam upwards from his mouth. Giving you a firm pat on the arm, he admits, “I’m gonna miss you like hell. But this is what you’ve been wanting for so long, and I want you to do it so badly. Partly so I can say that I have a vacation property abroad, but mostly because you know I want the best for you, since you deserve it.”

Your lip quakes once again at his confession, but you manage to blink back the tears this time and crack a smile. “Okay. But if you’d better not get even the slightest bit sentimental or teary-eyed tomorrow or else I’m gonna cry like a bitch all the way through the airport.”

“Eyes will be dry as long as you promise to video call me the second you land so I can go on the cab ride with you and see the whole, cute apartment reveal thing that’s so trendy these days.”

A mixture of a giggle and a gentle sob leaves your mouth as you watch his figure distorted by your swimming vision rise from the hood of his car. You feel warm hands on your wrists pulling you up onto your feet before you’re ensconced in another tight hug while Kuroo rocks from one foot to the other.

“You’re gonna be fine.”

After giving you a squeeze hard enough to push the air out of your lungs, he releases his grasp around you and opens the door on the passenger’s side so you can climb in and retreat from the coldness of the night. “With all these emotions plus the food, I’m gonna knock out so fast when we get home,” you mumble with a soft sniffle, reaching for the packet of tissues in his glove compartment once he’s settled in the driver’s seat.

He scoffs and furrows his eyebrows at you as he sticks his keys in the ignition. “Who said you were sleeping tonight? You’ve got the whole plane ride tomorrow to do that.”

“Alright, you can’t blame me for being cranky, then.”

With a shake of the head, he shifts the car into reverse so he can back out of the parking lot and start the journey back to his home. While the music you’d been blasting earlier plays softly from the speakers, you rest your head on the door once more to watch your familiar surroundings breeze by outside.

“Tetsurou.” You glance over at him and his head of haphazardly styled hair that you’re sure won’t fit on the screen of your phone the next time you see him, and his eyes meet yours when he brings the car to a halt at a stop sign. “Thanks for spending my so-called last night on the planet with me.”

extra that didn’t make the cut: kuroo didn’t shed a tear at the airport until after he thought you’d left. but you’d actually just hid somewhere and caught him with watery eyes. you still video called him as soon as you landed, though.

when night falls masterlist ⭐︎ treat me to a coffee!

taglists (send an ask to be added to the when night falls taglist!)

when night falls: @aoyukai​, @why-aminot-dead​, @yamagucji​, @toutorii​, @shibayamasbae​, @tsukkisbean​, @devlovesiwa-channn​, @captain-shittykawa​, @ghblh​, @postsfromthe6​, @omibaby​, @deerixiie​

general: @dinablossom​, @newfriendjen​, @ohbyunhunn​, @aftcrlust​, @mister-future​, @kyleclxin​, @kac-chowsballs​, @osamusmiya​, @nit-sir-hc​, @arixtsukki​, @shinsurou​, @ichorizaki​, @dominikmagnus​, @tendo-sxtori​, @krynnza​​

kuroo: @lotsoffandomrecs​, @heyhinata​, @cuddlysoftbear​

[maaaddiexo]

The Lost Village (The Weeping Monk)

Mainlist | Serieslist

Warnings: none

part 4/4 (4 for now; maybe more after second season release)

-

It felt like hours for the group of three as they waited for the tattooed woman’s answer. She stared at all of them individually, sizing them up. Assessing them. Oddly enough, she stared at Y/N the longest.

“Fine. Blye! Get some blindfolds.”

The man who’d complained stepped forward with multiple strips of cloth in his hand. He wore a smug, sinister smile on his face.

“Not happening,” Y/N insisted. “Blindfolded or not, we’ll be able to track where you take us from where we are.”

“And what’s gonna stop us from blindfolding you?” Blye sneered. “You’re outnumbered.”

“And you’re outpowered.” Y/N lifted her hand, stared at Blye, and as she drew a circle in the air, she said, “Ignis.” A circle of fire immediately appeared around Blye and he screeched. He froze in his place and stared at Y/N. “Yes, I’m a witch. No, I don’t want to hurt you nor do I plan on it. I made a promise I wouldn’t hurt you and I don’t want to break it. But the only reason we came to you was because I saw your village in visions. We need help and we would like you to trust us just as we are trusting you not to take us into a trap.”

Alba lifted her head and contemplated again. “Alright. No blindfolds.”

Y/N lowered her hand and the fire around Blye disappeared. “Thank you.”

“But we still have no reason to trust each other. How do we know you guys won’t hurt us?”

“How about a blood pact?” The Monk suggested quietly. He cleared his throat when Y/N stared at him with a raised eyebrow. “Father Carden gave me full access to the reliquary to learn about the Fey. I read all of the books they had. I remember reading a spell book about types of magic. It mentioned a blood pact.”

“Those were my books he gave you.”

Alba looked at Y/N expectantly. “Can you do it.”

Y/N sighed, “I know which spell he’s talking about. I’ve never had any reason to do it before but I can try.”

“Do it.”

The Monk handed Y/N a small knife which she cut her palm with. Alba copied her with her own blade. Blood pooled in both of their hands. Y/N reached forward and clasped Alba’s hand in her own, as if they were going to shake hands. Y/N felt the familiar tingle and watched as a white glow began to emanate from between their palms.

“Alliges duplicia sanguine.” She retracted her hand and saw that her hand was still bleeding. She fisted her hand, saw it glow again, and when she opened her hand, the wound was healed completely.

“How do we know it worked?” Blye asked. Y/N tooked back the blade the Monk had given her and used the tip to prick the pad of her right thumb.

“Shit,” Alba cursed and there, on the pad of her right thumb, was a spot of blood.

“Whatever happens to me, happens to you, and vice versa. I’ll undo it when we leave.”

“Then let’s get this over with,” Alba grumbled. She turned around and walked away from them. “Come on, now.”

The Monk was helped back onto their horse and they were led through the forest, the fireflies still buzzing overhead. Y/N didn’t even know they’d arrived at the Lost Village until Alba said so. The village was so well disguised. The village was not on ground level. A few of the Lost Villagers climbed up the trees and disappeared into the night, but most disappeared between two large boulders covered in moss.

“You live underground.”

Alba nodded as they descended the makeshift set of stairs down into the ground. “Despite being smaller than most Fey villages, our tunnels are extensive. If the Red Paladins ever found our village, they’d never be able to follow us through the tunnels. Only the Scouts are above ground during the day. Even though the Red Paladins don’t come out here, we believe it’s safer to sleep during the day and work during the night.”

“It’s really smart,” the Monk praised. “The dirt makes it harder to smell you out when you’re underground.”

Underneath the ground, the tunnels were high enough where none of them had to crouch. Every few feet, alcoves had been carved to hold torches. Alba informed them that most of the villagers were in what they called the Hive, but they still passed a few people in the tunnels.

“Not all of them are Fey,” the Monk noted.

“Yes, a few are human. Some were kicked out because they were born with the mark of the devil or dark gods while others chose to leave because they sided with the Fey.”

The single tunnel branched out into a web of tunnels and Alba took a hard left. Having had to leave the horse above ground, Y/N and the Monk were a little way behind the group, but Alba walked slowly enough for them to keep sight of her. She stopped and pointed to a long room on the right of the tunnel hallway.

“This is the infirmary. Mary is the nurse working at the moment. Find an empty cot and she’ll come find you in a moment.”

There was an empty cot not too far from the entrance and the Monk collapsed in it. Immediately, Squirrel and Y/n began removing his weapons and cloak. His clothes were stuck to his body with dried blood, and when she pulled his hood back, she saw that the right side of his hair was matted with blood too.

“How do I look?” the Monk asked in a teasing tone.

“Like shit,” Squirrel replied honestly. He didn’t even miss a beat. Y/N laughed loudly and pushed the Monk’s hair out of his face. Beside the bed was a bowl of water and a dry cloth. She wet the cloth before dabbing at his head wound. Squirrel undid the tie at the top of the Monk’s shirt but then shrugged and cut his shirt up to take it off.

“Damn, I liked that shirt.”

“You also once liked the idea of burning a cross into your head. Soon enough, you’ll renege on your appreciation for it.”

“Was that an insult?”

Y/N only smiled. “How’s your side?”

“Something tells me it ain’t pretty.” The voice was new, and in the entrance, a short round lady stood smiling. Her long, braided hair had been pulled up into a tight bun and there was blood on the white apron tied around her neck and waist. “I’m Mary. I’m a healer.”

“I’m not a healer, but I can heal him,” Y/N said. “I just need to make the poultice.”

“You need to rest first,” the lady argued politely. “You’re welcome to sleep on the empty cots, and I’ll take care of him until morning.”

Y/N didn’t feel comfortable leaving the Monk in the hands of strangers – even though it was her idea to come to them – but the Monk’s hand on hers and his weak but sure nod were enough to push Y/N to her feet and over to the empty cot beside his. She was asleep before her head hit the pillow.

***

Y/N had no idea what time it was or how long she’d been asleep when she finally woke up. Squirrel was still asleep in the cot across from hers. Sluggishly, Y/N turned to see the Monk sitting up in bed, picking at a stark white bandage on his wrist.

“Don’t pick at it.”

The Monk dropped his hand and smiled at her. “Mornin’.”

“How long was I asleep?” Y/N rubbed her eyes and sat up.

“A day, I think. I slept for a little bit but the medication Mary gave me wasn’t very strong.”

“Here. Let me help.” Her bag was tucked underneath her cot and on the floor between their cots, she mixed an elixir in her pestle and mortar. She held the Monk’s head as she brought the mortar to his chapped lips. “This will help with the pain. I can apply a paste that will speed up the healing, but I’m not a good enough witch to fully heal them. Sorry.”

“It’s okay, Y/N.”

It didn’t feel okay to Y/N. Silently, she washed the mortar in a bowl of clean water and sorted through her bag for the proper ingredients. Together, they were ground into powder and then a paste when she added honey.

“A binding agent,” the Monk concluded. Y/N could see the pride in his eyes as she unwound the dressing around his wrist. The wound had been cleaned and wasn’t bleeding. With a clean hand, she applied the paste to the cut and then redressed the wound. After she was done applying the paste to his other wounds, she asked,

“You think you can walk?” The Monk nodded and after Y/N helped him up, she went to wake Squirrel, not wanting to leave him behind. “Come on. Let’s explore.”

With the medication and Y/N and Mary’s healing work, the Monk could already put a little more weight on his bad leg, but still clung to Y/N. They turned down a tunnel and felt a flitting breeze. In that short moment, he got a whiff of Y/N and thought she smelt nice.

“Do you hear that?” Squirrel asked, stopping in the tunnel. “Listen.”

Echoing through the tunnel from somewhere a head of them, they heard what sounded like a drum.

“Is that…music?”

“I haven’t heard music in years,” the Monk said longingly.

“Let’s go!” Squirrel exclaimed and ran ahead, following the beat of the drum. The soon found a set of stairs that brought them above ground. Immediately, they knew they were in the Hive. Above them, tree branches had woven to create a full-proof roof, but light still managed to filter in. Around them, people danced and laughed. What they thought was a drumbeat was actually the sound of people stomping their feet.

Alba walked up to them with a wooden cup in her hand. “Glad to see you on your feet again. You’re looking much better,” she said to the Monk.

“Mary was very kind. Thank you for letting us stay.”

“It won’t be forever,” Alba warned. “I won’t put my people in danger.”

“We understand. Still, thank you for offering what you have. It means a lot.”

Alba nodded and turned to walk away, “Enjoy the party.”

Squirrel had gone off to dance and Y/N helped the Monk to an empty spot on a bench. They sat and watched the people dance for a while, and at some point had accepted fruit that had been offered to them.

“The Red Paladins never had events like this,” the Monk said randomly. “I don’t think I’ve even seen the humans this happy during jousting events and such.”

“It’s quite beautiful, isn’t it?” Y/N said and rested her chin on her palm. She watched the different Fey and marked humans dance together in perfect unison and smiled at how quickly they had accepted Squirrel. “I’ve never seen anything like it either.”

“If I wasn’t so injured, I would ask you to dance.” Y/N blushed and admitted she didn’t know how to dance. “Maybe one day I could teach you.”

The girl smiled brightly. “I would like that.”

The Monk stuck out his hand and slipped hers into his to shake and confirm the deal. But it wasn’t a confirmation handshake.

“Hello, I’m Lancelot.”

[satuguro]

don’t say that you love me | pt. 2

IN WHICH: harry osborn is too persuasive for his own good, and y/n needs a getaway.

INSPO: how to be yours — chris renzema, the night we met — lord huron, my recent break up :))

NOTES: i didn’t expect this much love on my last fic. thank you all so much, and i hope this new year and decade brings you all joy <3 i also love the idea of having timothee chalamet as harry osborn, so that’s who i’m “casting” as harry in my fic lmao

LINKS: part one, part two

For days, you found yourself sluggishly walking to your classes, barely able to take your mind off of anything but Peter Parker, much to your discontent.

When they say that you can never stop thinking about people you care about, they weren’t kidding. Before, you scoffed every time Betty stressfully texted you about how everything reminded her of her ex, advising her to, “If he’s not thinking about you, don’t think of him.”

Now you understood. You wanted him to think of you, to look at the hoodie you made Ned give back to him, and have his heart hurt as much as you did. But looking at him longingly from across the classroom, watching as he laughed with Mj Watson— you doubted his heart hurt. He was happy; happier without you by his side.

“Hey. You wanna add the acid?” Your partner, Harry Osborn, nudged your shoulder gently as he spoke.

Blinking to get yourself out of your trance, you nodded solemnly as you took the dropper with the acid, dropping a few drops into the boiling beaker without so much as a sigh. You were glum, that much was obvious, but Harry couldn’t help but snort to himself at your sigh.

“Wow, I’m not that bad, you know.”

“What?” As if in a spell, you looked at him with confusion. It took a few seconds for his words to fully process in your head. “Oh. No, not you, Osborn.” You shook your head, placing your head in your hands as you tried to make yourself snap out of it. He didn’t have the right to be in your head so much.

“I thought we were on a first name basis!” Harry gasped, feigning shock as you hit him lightly on the shoulder with a roll of your eyes. Chuckling to himself, Harry stated, “I’m kidding, Y/N. I know that Parker’s the reason why you’re all down.” Harry, with his nonchalant tone and cheeky smile, made you scoff as you looked back at your lab book as if you were paying attention. You were, of course.

“The chemicals are burning, Harry.”

“What? Oh, shit.” Hastily, Harry grabbed the tongs, picking up the smoking beaker and setting it aside. Your chemistry teacher was eyeing you both as Harry offered an innocent smile that you couldn’t help but chuckle at. It was nice to laugh for once.

•

“Do you want him as a rebound?”

The sudden question caught you off guard, pulling your attention away from the chemistry notes that were sprawled out in front of you. To the right of you, a boy shushed you and Betty harshly.

A frown tugged at the sides of your lips as you tilting your head to the side. “Who as a rebound? I’m too tired for this,” you sighed.

“Yes, a rebound! Are you gonna have Harry Osborn as a rebound guy or not?” Betty questioned, excitement evident as she pulled the chair out from in front of you with a screech and sat down. She plopped her things to the side loudly, rolling her eyes as the same boy shushed her.

With one turn of her head, Betty shushed him back before focusing back towards the task at hand: you.

“What— No! Why would I? I mean, should I?” Your brows furrowed. Betty knew more about relationships than you ever could know— was having a rebound guy normal?

“Why not?” The smile she had on her face was ecstatic, enthusiastic, even. “Word in the halls say that he likes you a lot,” she explained, her grin growing as a gleam of mischief caught in her eye. Of course she’d know about his liking to you before you did; Betty was a sucker for gossip. You knew there was no saying no— when Betty had a plan, she was going to execute it in the best way possible.

“I still don’t know why Peter broke up with me, Bets,” you reminded, running a hand down your face as if you were wiping away all the thoughts in your head. “As much as I hate saying it out loud, I’m not over him. I don’t know if I ever will be.”

“Exactly why you should go out with Harry!” Clapping her hands uncharacteristically in excitement, Betty stood up, gathering her things quickly. “My dad should be here about now. But think about it, Y/N!” She waved you goodbye as she left you, alone and even more confused as before, staring at the notes you had made.

You wanted to ask Peter what the reason was for breaking up with you. But how could you do it if you haven’t spoken to him since the ball?

You stayed in the library until the moon hung high over the city and the city lights flashed into the library’s large windows. Your head was in your hands as you read the same paragraph again for what seemed to be the 84th time. You were tired, trying to keep yourself awake for just a little longer.

You left when the janitor yelled at you to.

Trudging down the illuminated streets, your face blank as you tried to remember all the terms you had written down, you barely even noticed the sound of thwips overhead. You were too out of it, too in your own head to even hear the soft sound of a bang and the tiny, “Ow,” that followed.

He had to say something snarky to get your attention.

“Too late for a walk, don’t you think?”

“Says the one who’s out here with me.” You glared towards the voice, your gaze softening when you saw the masked hero of New York— Spider-Man, standing on a light pole in all his red and blue glory. “Oh. You.” You turned away from him, not even acknowledging him for more than five seconds before acting as if he was just another annoying side character to your life.

“You’re nice,” the hero hummed, his tone playful as he swung to the next light pole ahead. His composure was calm and collective, but unknown to you, Peter Parker’s heart was beating too fast for his body as he followed you down the sidewalk. Of all the ways he could’ve tried to talk to you, this had to be the worst way to do it. “So,” he jumped onto the ground, landing perfectly on his feet alongside you, “am I going to have to ask why you’re walking outside at 3 am on a Wednesday?”

“School’s beating me with a bat. That’s all.”

“Oh.” Peter frowned from under the mask. Worry surged in his veins, much to his own guilt, and he found himself tapping you on the shoulder as he offered you his hand. “Do you, uh, want a ride?”

“A ride?” Your eyes widened, the deep purple bags that hung under them now gone as you looked at him with shock. Your lack of sleep was softening your reactions, making it as if you were speaking with a random boy rather than New York’s masked hero. “I mean—“

“It’s better and safer than walking alone on the street,” Peter added, the whites of his suit wide as he tried to persuade you. Whether it was the guilt in his stomach or his automatic concern for people’s safety, some part of him needed to know that you made it home safe. “Please; it’s the least I can do.”

You sucked your bottom lip into your mouth, your face uncertain but the aching in your body screaming otherwise. Hesitantly, you took his hand, holding it tightly as you moved closer to him. “Go ahead, Spidey.” The nickname was quick, a common one, but one that Peter found himself smiling at as he shot a web up into the sky.

His hands found its way around your waist, holding you flush against him as he brought the both of you up above the roads of New York. The yelp you let out was soon replaced by your laughter as you felt the wind whip your face, the addictive feeling of falling and being caught running through your body. You were more awake than you ever had been in months, your arms wrapped around Spider-Man’s neck as he laughed with you.

The world looked so pretty from the air.

It was over as soon as it began, his feet landing on your light-decorated balcony with a soft thump. He let you go gently, unwrapping his arms from you and allowing you to step back. Your hair was a mess, wild and tangled from the wind, but a grateful smile was etched on your face.

“Thank you— I needed that,” you murmured, shifting your things as you looked into the whites of the hero’s mask.

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s no problem,” Peter stammered, heart beating hard as he looked at you. You were beautiful. But as the thought came, so did new waves of guilt and anger towards himself come. Frowning from under the mask, he shook his head to himself as he jumped up to the balcony railing. Offering a playful salute, he swung away, ignoring the aching in his heart.

That night, as you laid in your bed thinking of the kind hero, a thought came into your mind that made your heart stop.

You never told him where you had lived.

Peter felt guilty.

He had nearly crashed into multiple buildings on his way home. His mind, much to his discontent, couldn’t think of anything else other than you. What he had done to you was nothing like him— but that didn’t change the fact that he still did it.

He was so screwed.

You didn’t encounter Peter Parker until you attended a New Years' party at the Osborn’s house.

Naturally, you were invited. Harry had made it his very duty to pull you out of the deep hole Peter had left you in, even if you had little to no interest in attending any party in the first place. But Harry, with his dimpled smiles and cheeky persuasive comments, had no problem convincing you to go. He had claimed that he could’ve taken you to the ball drop to see it in person, but he didn’t want to deal with all the other people there.

You picked at the rim of your cliche red solo cup, hesitant as you stood on the sidelines of the party. You had lost Harry ages ago— the boy was like a hummingbird, flying from one person to another with his hair wild and energy practically radiating off of him. You didn’t mind it; it was his party, after all. You didn’t know how he could be so energetic with no alcohol in his veins; he had told you that he didn’t plan on drinking throughout the entirety of the party, for he saw everyone at his party as his responsibility.

The loud thumping of the bass was all that filled your mind as you sipped the punch you had poured. It tasted strongly of vodka, poignant on your tongue as you swallowed it down with a slight wince. You weren’t used to drinking, but the want to have a good time was strong in your mind as you tilted your head back. You forced the alcohol down, wanting to have a good memory ( if you could even remember the next day ) after the days of stress and sadness.

The rest was a blur. Harry had found you ( or maybe you found him— you didn’t know ) and had led you to the dance floor, jumping along with you to the beat of the music. He had tied his tie around your head like a bandanna, yelling something about “making sure boys know you’d beat them up.” You were laughing, joking around and yelling lyrics with him as both of you danced like idiots. Harry’s hand was holding yours, making sure you weren’t going to drown into the crowd as the both of you danced. You had lost track of the time and the refills of punch you had, your world spinning and the lights hitting your face as if you had fallen straight out of Euphoria.

Giggling to yourself, you dragged Harry out of the crowd and brought him to the punch bowl ( again ). You reached for the ladle like a child, only for it to be taken away by Harry.

“You’re drinking like my Aunt Jackie on Thanksgiving,” he stated, keeping the ladle away from you, watching your pouting face with amusement.

“I’m not Aunt Jackie,” you replied blatantly, practically leaning against him and the table for support as you tried to make yourself sound serious. At your woozy tone, Harry chuckled and shook his head, curls bouncing every which way.

“I know, Y/N.”

You shoved yourself dramatically against the table, the dancing of the others in front of you catching your eye and making you stare. Thoughts, most of them unintelligible, bounced around in your head. You were frowning now, moods swinging as you tried to focus on one thing at a time.

“I miss him,” you announced.

“I know you do.” Harry stood next to you, his hands on the table behind him as he looked at you. Your chest was heaving from the dancing, your cheeks red as you stared blankly at the dancing bodies. “Hey,” he nudged you gently, catching your attention. “You’ll get over him. I know you will.” Despite his voice being soft, it still stood out from the chaos around the two of you.

One side of your mouth twitched upwards. “You think so?”

Harry’s terrible attention span reached him before your words could. “New Year’s! It’s almost here!” He took your hand, weaving you through the people as he led the both of you to the living room.

There, the projector showed the New York ball drop in real-time. Thirty seconds flashed on the timer as Anderson Cooper spoke about something that none of you were interested in in the slightest.

Harry pulled you onto the oak wood table in the middle of the living room, holding you close to him so that your wobbly legs wouldn’t bring you off the edge. You flashed him a grin, placing your hands around his neck messily as you both looked at the projector.

“Here it is! Three!” Harry yelled, cheering with everyone else as people began to pair up.

“Two!” Your eyes, wandering and heavy, landed on an image that made you want to throw up. In the corner, hidden and away from the rest of the world.

Peter and Mj.

“One!” Mj’s arms were thrown over his neck, bringing him closer to her. Peter, with an adoring smile, closed his eyes as he leaned his face closer to hers.

You tore your eyes away from them, focusing on Harry’s smiling face as he waited for the ball to drop. Before he could yell out a “Happy New Year,” you took his face, leaning it down to yours. Only then did you pause, before he gave you a reassuring smile that made you land your lips onto his.

“Happy New Year!” You shut your eyes, tears rolling down your cheeks as you deepened the kiss. It was desperate, an escape from the reality that stood across the room from you and Harry.

[peachy-beomie]

Can I Borrow A Kiss? (I Promise To Give It Back) <KUNTEN>

Genre: Fluff

Pairings: Kunten (Qian Kun x Ten Lee)

Word Count: 854

Warnings: None!

Synopsis: Ten is confusing, and Kun is confused. But maybe that’s okay. Maybe they work that way. And maybe feelings are more simple than they think.

A/N: I get inspired by weird things. So uh this is inspired by a random Mr Iglesias episode. I’ll just... leave it at that.

Kun watches intently as Ten floats down the halls with the elegance and grace of a ballerina. The gorgeous senior stops at his locker and puts in the combination he’d been using since 9th grade. Kun tries to will his gaze elsewhere, but it always seems to drift back to the boy. As it has for the past 4 years.

Ever since Ten transferred to the high school, Kun’s found himself hopelessly enamored. It’s hard to pinpoint what it was that first drew him to the younger. Maybe it was the way he always laughed at Kun’s dumb jokes, or how he dances when he’s overly excited. Whatever it is, Kun falls deeper each day.

He’s not subtle about it either. The entire 12th grade knows about Kun’s endless pining for the Thai, and that seemed to include Ten himself. He takes every opportunity to tease Kun. From sending him flirty winks in calculus class, to snuggling up to him at the lunch table. Anytime he could, Ten would be falling all over Kun.

All of his friends said he was stupid. And that he should just ask Ten out since it’s “obvious he feels the same dingus” (-Xiaojun), but Kun hadn’t felt confident about that up until just recently.

•flashback•

What had started out as a normal day had turned into one of the most exciting (and confusing) days of Kun’s life. Yesterday, in the library, Kun and Ten had simply been working on history as usual. Ten was leaning his full body weight into Kun as complaints poured out of his mouth. 

“Why does Mr Kim hate meeeeee.” He drawled.

“He hates everyone Ten that’s kind of his thing.”

“Yeah but I’m not GOOD at history like you so it feels like he hates me more.” Kun turned to Ten with his cute pout and wide brown eyes.

“You’re not bad at history Ten, you’re gonna be fine.” Kun smiled fondly and if he didn’t know better, he’d think he saw Ten blush a bit.

“Only cause you’re helping me,” Ten laughed. “If it weren’t for you, I’d be failing and you know it.”

“Mmm well lucky for you I have no intent of letting you fail.” 

“You’re my hero Kunkun.” The young male mused before pressing a kiss to Kun’s jaw. It caught Kun entirely off guard. Sure Ten was affectionate, but it never went past cuddling or hand holding. It was a new, but not unwelcome change.

Ten pulled back as the realization of what he’d done seemed to set in. Kun watched his face for any sign of regret, only to find nothing. If anything, the Thai male’s gaze held a sort of lust almost. Ten’s eyes lingered on Kun’s lips before he leaned in once more, this time placing his lips on Kun’s own. 

The kiss lasted no more than two seconds, Kun barely having the time to react. As soon as he pulled away a shit eating grin settled on Ten’s lips. In his true teasing nature Ten gathered his things and exited the library, leaving Kun to mull over what the fuck just happened.

•end of flashback•

And that’s how Kun ended up where he is now: staring longingly at Ten from across the hall, and psyching himself up. Kun had all but erased his doubts about the boy liking him back. After a late night pep talk from Lucas and Xiaojun he’d decided that he had nothing to lose.

Ten chooses that moment to turn and lock eyes with Kun, sending him yet another wink that makes his knees weak and his tongue numb. The Thai boy saunters up to him and has the audacity to giggle (Kun did NOT need his stomach doing any more acrobatics today thanks).

“Like what you see bear?” God Ten and his stupid pretty face and his stupid adorable voices saying the stupider nickname that never fails to make Kun blush a deep red. Ten giggles again (that bastard) before grabbing Kun’s hand and looking him directly in the eyes. “Need something?”

Uh y-yeah,” Kun stop stuttering you idiot, he thinks to himself before taking a breath and starting. “I can’t stop thinking about yesterday.”

“Me neither,” Ten smirks. “Any particular reason?” This cheeky mother-

“You know why,” Kun whined and buried his head in Ten’s shoulder eliciting more giggles from the younger and Kun’s heart almost gives out completely. 

“You’re freaking adorable.”

“Says you,” Kun grumbles, lifting his head enough to meet Ten’s eyes, and almost immediately regretting it. It’s only then that Kun realizes how blind he is. Ten’s eyes give away everything. He looks at Kun like he hung the stars in the sky. The fondness and love in them is overflowing and it fills Kun with a new confidence.

“Go out with me.” He blurts, catching Ten seemingly off guard. “I’m not above begging at this point Tennie.” 

“I don’t know bear, I’m pretty busy right now.”

“Tennnnn~” Kun is abruptly silenced by a familiar pair of lips, and the words whispered from them make Kun’s heart leap to his throat.

“But I think I can fit you into my schedule.”

KUNTEN PIC OF THE DAY:

[bgnmagic]

Whiskered Away

Summary: Arthur gets sent out to see the world after angering the King. He's not given much notice and is literally escorted out of the kingdom. Merlin was away visiting his mum at the time and is very upset to learn of his journey without him. So, Merlin sets off to find Arthur, he has to make sure the clotpole survives his adventure away from Camelot. Enough times passes that both Arthur and Merlin change in appearance.Why shave when you're on an adventure?  Beware beards abound!! XD -- Merlin could hardly believe his eyes, there, on the dirt path not fifty paces ahead of him was Arthur. The past two months of searching for his friend and failing had finally come to an end. Sighing in relief Merlin called out Arthur’s name. However, he was exhausted and the wind carried his weak voice away before it reached the intended target. Blast it all Merlin would have to run to catch him now.

Trying again he yelled louder, this at least got Arthur to stop the horse he was riding. Then, Arthur turned around and Merlin skidded to a halt. Life was apparently cruel, the man who turned had a scruffy beard and his blond hair was too long. It wasn’t Arthur after all.

Breathing heavily from running so fast Merlin worked to catch his breath. “Sorry – sorry I thought you were – someone else,” he managed. “I didn’t mean to shou--.” Merlin didn’t finish his thought as he gaped at the man before him. The blue eyes currently staring at him in shock were definitely Arthur’s, maybe it was really him. Renewed hope sprang through his veins. Merlin stumbled forward slightly and continued to look longingly at his prince.

“Merlin?!” Arthur exclaimed after a few seconds. “Dear gods man you don’t look like yourself at all!”

In hindsight Merlin had forgotten his own appearance. He’d foregone shaving on his journey as well. Unsure what his hair looked like Merlin self-consciously pat it down. “Sire,” he offered by way of an answer.

Arthur simply barked out a laugh and jumped off his horse, the other men he was with also halted and observed with neutral expressions. Merlin found himself being drawn into a strong, blessedly warm hug a moment later. Wrapping his arms around Arthur’s back Merlin allowed his mind to still. It had been a hard journey thus far to find Arthur, and now it was over.

“What are you doing here? Did you not get my note?” Arthur asked once they’d separated.

“Note? Wha? No, I’ve been searching for you since Uther sent you away when I was visiting my mum!” Merlin exclaimed, still upset at what Uther had done.

“Have you been trying to find me this whole time? Merlin, it’s been nearly two months!”

Nodding sheepishly Merlin let out a big breath, “I came back from my mum’s only to find out you’d been sent on some bizarre character building quest. I left before I even found out all the details.”

“There isn’t much to tell Merlin, father got mad at me for defending a good cause during a council meeting and decided I needed to learn more respect and sent me away to see more of the world.”

“How much more?!” Merlin lamented. “This is Germania for heaven’s sake. It took me nearly a month to even get on this bloody continent.”

“Ahh yes, well you didn’t have the lovely escort of knights I did to take me to the coast and make sure I got on a boat, did you?” Arthur grumbled.

“What did you say in your note?” Merlin asked suddenly curious of what he’d missed.

“Nothing truly special only that I had knights with me for protection and for you not to worry. I know how you get. I only intended to go as far as France but I got a little distracted.”

Smiling slightly at how Arthur would find purpose even when he’d clearly been trying to spite his father. “Now what?” Merlin asked as he glanced around to the other men in his small party. “I don’t think those are the knights you left with,” he noted with a raised eyebrow.

“Huh? Oh, the knights, yes, I ditched them as soon as the boat landed. Boring lot they were not very adventurous. Never mind them I found new friends, join us; we were attempting to find a camp site for the night. Do you not have a horse?”

“I’m not royalty like you Arthur, I can’t afford such things.”

“No matter, you can share with me. You look positively worn out. I hardly recognized you with all that hair going every which way.”

“Say’s you, who’s sporting an even fluffy beard than me.”

“You’re not around to shave my face now are you, come along,” Arthur ordered as he pushed them towards his horse.

Introductions were made of the other two men in the company but Merlin was too tired to really latch onto their names. One may have been called Randy and the other sounded like Marcus or Bracus. The only thing Merlin picked up on was one of them kept staring at him. Ignoring the attention Merlin held fast to the back of Arthur’s cloak and focused on not falling off. Now that Merlin was off his feet an overwhelming tiredness took hold.

Merlin managed to stay awake until they found a suitable place to stop and bed down for the night. It probably wouldn’t have been a very nice initial meeting to fall off the horse and crack his head open. Staying quiet Merlin knelt and began to unpack his own things. The other three men seemed to have a routine and Merlin was slightly jealous he’d been left out. Arthur was his friend but now he felt oddly out of place.

Wondering what he could help with Merlin forced his aching limbs to move as he stood. “Can I hel--.” Merlin’s breath caught in his throat mid-sentence. The man, Marcus or something, the one who’d kept staring at him had just used magic to light the fire. Absolutely no one seemed to care and that made Merlin very uncomfortable.

In a panic he glanced towards Arthur who was putting up a makeshift tent.  Had he not seen? With wide eyes Merlin whipped his head back around to Marcus. The man still had his head bent down and was carrying on like it was perfectly normal to use magic out in the open.

“What, Merlin?” Arthur asked as he spun around. “Sit down, you look like you’re about to fall over.”

“Shouldn’t I – help?” Merlin tried again attempting to not look nervous.

Arthur, damn him, picked up on his distress and crossed the short distance between them in a two quick strides. “You need to sit down, I don’t want you falling into the fire,” he replied while reaching out to guide him down to the ground.

“Sorry, I think I startled him starting the fire.” The other sorcerer offered by way of explanation.

“Oh shit, yeah, Marcus knows magic, um,” Arthur trailed off from his crouched position. “That must be a little jarring to see since, well, because of the laws back home and all,” Arthur finished.

“Magic shouldn’t bother him, he’s like me. I literally meant I started the fire without warning and he flinched, is all.”” Marcus added as he calmly setup a cooking pot over the fire.

Arthur’s full attention was on him an instant. The grip on his arm becoming almost painful as Arthur stared at him. “Is this true?”

Only able to nod due to his nerves, Merlin waited to see what Arthur would do.

“Fuck, Merlin. So you weren’t lying that day when you said you had magic in front of the entire council.” By now Arthur had released his grip and had stood up walking away in a daze.

“It’s no wonder he didn’t tell you Arty, from what you’ve said the punishment for magic back home is nasty,” Marcus supplied.

“How’d you know?” Merlin asked in a hoarse whisper.

“The protection spell you cast on your person is very strong,” said Marcus simply.

“Can I not do anything without the aid of magic!” Arthur bellowed after a beat. “I was in this place for barely a week when I met Marcus. He’s saved my skin several times already and now I’m realizing you’ve done the same thing.”

“Sorry,” Merlin rasped automatically. Hiding his magic for so long had done a number on his mental health. The first reaction to being discovered was fear and the worry of rejection. This was not how he imagined Arthur finding out.

“Oi, I think you might want to tell him it’s alright, he’s lookin’ a little pale,” the man named Randy pointed out as he walked closer and nudged Arthur in the arm.

“What? But he’s lied to me!” Arthur answered in defense. “For years!”

Merlin wanted to say something but he was having a bit of a panic attack. They were all talking about him like he wasn’t even there.

“And what else would he do? You said it yourself Arty, magic users get burned at the stake where you come from.”

Arthur deflated somewhat at that comment. Merlin watched and prayed Arthur would forgive him for lying. It wasn’t like he’d done it out of malice.

“It does fit with all the stories you’ve told us,” Marcus continued on as he cut up a few items for the stew he was making. “Merlin seems like he’s been your magic guardian since you two met.”

Merlin couldn’t help but yelp when Arthur suddenly plopped down right next to him on the grass. “You are to tell me everything, and I mean everything when we have a moment alone.”

Sorry was all Merlin could manage as he sat looking at the fire. He didn’t even want to know what came next. Arthur was clearly furious and Merlin didn’t have the energy to deal with it right now.

“He’s still looking a little peaky there, you might wanna tell him he’s not gonna die by your hand,” Randy chimed in.

“You wouldn’t have them burn me would you?” Merlin asked in a rush. Dying by another’s hand would count as Arthur not doing it.  

Arthur groaned and roughly ran his fingers through his beard, “Merlin, I won’t hurt you, no one will. You do realize I’ve spent the last two months hanging out with Marcus and that’s changed my opinion on some things. I’m just fucking pissed that you lied to me so let me deal with that for now okay? ”

The night progressed slowly after that. Merlin didn’t move from his spot but neither did Arthur. They sat nearly touching shoulders and ate in silence. Randy and Marcus went about preparing camp but remained quiet. After what felt like an hour Arthur leaned close and grabbed Merlin’s arm.

“Did you not trust me?” he asked with a pained expression.

Merlin couldn’t shake his head fast enough, “No! it’s not that, I mean I did wonder what you’d do to me if you found out, considering how the king feels about magic but I do trust you, I swear it!”

“Then why keep it from me?”

“I was scared, it’s not like I could go back in time to undo things if it didn’t work out. Every time I wanted to tell you, something would happen and you’d hate magic even more.”

“Oh, Merlin,” Arthur murmured. The prince sighed heavily and let go, letting his hand drop to the ground.

Nothing more was said after that, Merlin simply watched the flames lick at the wood in the fire. Marcus broke the quiet some time later announcing that they should all get some rest. Merlin nodded and went to crawl over to his bedroll, his being the only one out in the elements and not under a small tent.

A hand on his elbow stopped him. “Come on, you can share my tent, the extra body heat will do you good.”

“Are you sure?” Merlin asked of Arthur as he waited for confirmation.

Arthur’s answer was to tug him over to the tent and push his shoulders through the flap. The bedroll was tossed in next and Merlin went about setting it up. The space was small and neither of them would have room to do much else but lie directly next to each other.

It took several, long awkward minutes before they were able to situate. There was no light and Merlin could only feel the puffs of breaths coming from Arthur. He was too upset to sleep despite his tiredness. What if things didn’t go back to the way they were? Merlin didn’t think he could live life on edge like this; it was no different than hiding his magic. He was always in the wrong it seemed.

“If you don’t sleep Merlin, you’ll regret it in the morning,” Arthur huffed quietly.

“I can’t,” Merlin whispered back.

“Still scared of what I think of your magic?”

“Yes,” Merlin offered quickly.

“What exactly are you worried about?”

“I don’t want things to change between us.”

Arthur sighed deeply before he responded, “They’ve already changed Merlin that was inevitable.”

“Oh, -- what will happen to me when we go back?”

“You’d willingly go back with me knowing the laws of Camelot?” Arthur asked.

“You were, are, my friend Arthur. I have faith that you’ll become a great king in the future and I want to do my part in helping you achieve that goal.”

“With magic, I suppose?”

“With whatever it takes, magic, being there for you, anything you need.”

Merlin, why do you insist upon being so damned kind hearted!” Arthur exclaimed in a forced whisper.

“I just told you, clotpole.” Merlin was unprepared for the arm that flew out and smacked his ribs. Gasping at the sting he tried to figure out if Arthur was still mad at him or not.

“Cheeky bugger, listen, we are still talking later about all of this, but for now you need to rest. I can’t have my manservant falling over on our next quest.”

“Of course my lord,” Merlin offered with just a hint of sarcasm, he didn’t want to push his luck.

Arthur snorted in response, perhaps his tactics were working. “Idiot, go to sleep. We can talk more in the morning.”

Closing his eyes Merlin hoped his brain would slow down enough to actually accomplish something akin to sleep. “Sorry for lying, I didn’t mean to upset you,” he offered humbly in one last effort to make Arthur understand his feelings.

“Merlin, I forgive you, but seriously go to fucking sleep,” Arthur ordered with another light shove to his ribs.

Upon order of his future king Merlin temporarily let go of his worries and drifted off.

--

“Arty – Arthur?”

Taking a deep breath Arthur lifted his head to see who had called his name. Most likely Marcus since he was the only one that called him Arty. “S’everything okay?” he asked once he spotted the other man peering in through the tent flap.

“That’s what I was going to ask you, it’s nearly midday and you both are still asleep.”

Turning to check on Merlin, Arthur noted that he was still in a deep slumber. He’d looked exhausted the night before it was no wonder Merlin was sleeping so well now. Suddenly the thought came to Arthur that Merlin might be ill. Reaching out he felt Merlin’s forehead, the temperature seemed normal.

“Sorry for being late, I’ll get him up and we’ll get going.”

Marcus held up his hand and shook his head, “No need, he clearly needed to recoup. Let him rest we can take today to prepare for the mission.”

Arthur agreed and lay back down.  He could hear Marcus’ footsteps outside but it was peaceful otherwise. Rolling over slightly Arthur took the time to really check on Merlin. The young man had turned over during the night and was asleep on his stomach. The journey Merlin had taken so far had tanned his pale skin, it also added a few wrinkles here there, but that may have been stress induced.

Wondering whether Merlin’s magic would change things for the worse, Arthur began to think of all the times he’d made it out of a situation that should have killed him. After a few minutes he had to stop, it was alarming how often Merlin had been there, a seemingly innocent bystander, when he was nothing of the like.

After spending two months with Marcus, Arthur’s views on magic had changed.  They’d been thrown together at the right moment and Arthur had been unable to hate the man. He was a good person, just like Merlin. The first few weeks were rough trying to adapt to trusting in someone with magic but Arthur had persevered.  Now it seemed fate had simply prepared him for Merlin’s reality. One with magic.

Unsure of how he would have reacted back home Arthur hoped he would have been open minded, but that wasn’t a given. Uther’s hatred of anything magic had permeated his very being from a young age. That sort of conditioning was hard to shake.  

“Shit! Oh, it’s just you,” Merlin exclaimed suddenly.

Arthur had flinched when Merlin awoke but his friend hadn’t commented on it yet. Good, maybe he didn’t see.  “Yes, its me, who did you think it would be?”

Merlin yawned and stretched, almost like a cat, before rolling over on his back. “I wasn’t sure; I just saw the fuzzy beard and forgot it was you.”

“I’m not a barbarian Merlin, no need to excite yourself.”

“More like Neanderthal,” Merlin muttered around another yawn.

“What?! Merlin!” Arthur shouted before dragging the groggy man closer and giving him a noogie. Merlin shouted in surprise but could only squirm to get away, Arthur was stronger. “You were saying?”

“I yield!” Merlin yelled a second later.

The moment Arthur released his hold Merlin bolted up and crawled out of the tent, apparently he was awake now. Smirking at how he missed picking on his manservant, Arthur followed him out into the open air. Might as well get the day started. They had an attack to plan.

--

Merlin fell to the ground panting heavily, he was so tired. Having gone off in search of Arthur months earlier, Merlin had never dreamed he’d be able to stand by his prince’s side and use magic openly. Well, he wasn’t currently standing at the moment; he was working on not passing out. Hands on his shoulder forced Merlin to look up. Arthur was there in his line of vision grinning like a loon.

“We did it, we won Merlin!” Arthur exclaimed.

Happy that Arthur was safe and seemingly not upset at seeing Merlin use a massive amount of magic, he toppled over in the grass and smiled.

“Hey, don’t pass out; are you going to pass out? Shit, Merlin are you alright?” Arthur asked in a panic.

“M’fine, let me rest, we just took down an entire army of men.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you or your magic.”

Relief flooded over Merlin, Arthur truly accepted him, magic and all. Marcus’ voice sounded off in the distance, he sounded happy as well. Arthur had extended his trip away from home in order to help Marcus rid his village of invaders. The other sorcerer had seen in Arthur what Merlin always knew was there, a great leader and good man.

Despite Marcus being a magic user Arthur had looked past his feelings on the matter and offered to help. Merlin’s heart swelled in pride at the thought. Camelot would have a great and gracious king when the time came.  Letting his eyes slip closed Merlin let the warmth of the sun touch his skin. The next task was the journey home. It was time.

--

“I still don’t see why you haven’t let me shave that thing off your face yet,” Merlin sighed as they rode along towards Camelot. “You let me trim your hair when we arrived a week ago, why wait on this?”

“I think it’s a good disguise don’t you? No one seems to know who I am,” Arthur answered smirking. “Besides, I didn’t want to bother until we were closer to home. It’s hard enough to keep things trimmed and maintained with the proper supplies, let alone in the middle of the woods.”

“I can use my magic Arthur; its how I keep my stubble in check.”

“Yes, yes, but you have a baby face, it’s understandable that you need to use such measures.”  

“Excuse me? I have a what?”

“You heard me, a baby face, soft and --.” Arthur stopped talking when Merlin’s eyes glowed gold and he felt a soft brush of air to his face. “What did you do?” he demanded looking down only to see his blond whiskers scattered across his lap. “Merlin!”

Ripping his gloves off Arthur reached up and still felt his beard in some places. Confused as to what Merlin had done he spurred his horse forward to catch up. “What did you do to me?”

“Nothing terrible sire, I simply cleaned up your beard. I think the new look is quite dashing.”

Feeling his face one more, Arthur could trace the hair along his jaw line, up the sides of his mouth, and across his upper lip. “Did you give me a goatee?”

“Sort of, it’s closer to how Gwaine wears his but I’ve bothered to make yours look kingly.”

“You better not be teasing me Merlin.”

“Never sire, don’t forget I have to look at you too, is there any harm in making the view appealing?”

“Hey! You said my beard looked good!”

“It did, but this is better,” Merlin laughed before sticking out his tongue and spurring his horse onward.

Arthur couldn’t exactly catch Merlin, it didn’t matter they were nearly home.  He’d have enough time to torment his servant later. For now Arthur was content to return to a normal routine. The only thing left to figure out was whether or not to keep his beard.

[kissjane]

A GOOD NEIGHBOUR IS WORTH MORE THAN A DISTANT FRIEND / (Not so) Short fic

#44 from this prompt list

I’m your new neighbour and I got locked out, help!

Eliott cannot keep in a sigh of relief when he rounds the last corner on the stairs. He hadn’t really been up to going out just yet, not completely recovered from a depressive episode from hell, but his fridge had been totally empty, and he even didn’t find any shampoo, which he bitterly needed after days without a shower, so he had made himself get up. Of course, the store had been fucking swamped, and it had taken way too long, and then when he got back here, the elevator had been closed off for maintenance again, and so he had had no choice to drag himself and his groceries up eleven floors.

But he has the finish line in sight. He can see his front door, only fifty or so steps away, and then he can shower and put on a clean shirt and a fresh pair of boxers and fall back into his bed with some microwaved soup.

His feet shuffle over the floor, his breath shallow, his eyes focused on the door, keys already in hand. Forty steps… thirty steps… twenty…

“Excuse me,” a voice suddenly breaks through his count, but Eliott cannot deal with anybody right now, he needs to get in, fall down, close his eyes for a long time. Ten more steps.

“Uh, sir? I’m so sorry, but –”

A groan escapes Eliott.

The cashier couldn’t have been just slightly faster? The elevator couldn’t have worked properly, for once?

“Look, I am really sorry, but I live in 312, and I –”

Eliott forces himself to look up. The sooner he listens to this guy, the sooner he can tell him to fuck off, and the sooner he can collapse on his bed again.

In front of him stands a man he’s never seen before. He is a bit shorter than Eliott, but he looks to be about his age. His hair is brown and sticks in every possible direction – but Eliott cannot fault him for that, especially not when it looks clean and free of grease. His own matted hair surely looks a lot worse. The guy is barefooted, wearing grey sweatpants and a T-shirt that has faded into something undefined. He is holding a few envelopes in his hand, but Eliott doesn’t really register those, too busy staring at the guy’s feet. Who the fuck walks around without shoes?

“I just went down to get the mail from the lobby, but I guess the door fell closed, and now I can’t get in, so I was just hoping I could borrow your phone to call somebody, I promise I'll be out of your hair after that –”

Oh, god. Eliott really isn’t equipped to deal with people right now.

But his eyes fall again on those naked feet. Who knew how long the guy had been standing out here in the hallway already.

He takes a deep breath, thinking longingly about his bed, his shower, microwaved soup.

He looks up, unsure what to say or do, and the guy is looking at him with – oh.

Blue.

A summer sky. A pristine lake. Faded denim. Soft blankets. Warmth and safety and belonging.

This guy has the biggest, the bluest, the most beautiful eyes Eliott has ever seen, and suddenly he doesn’t feel as bone-tired anymore. Surely he can manage for another five minutes, while this guy calls the landlord or some locksmith or his girlfriend to come pick him up.

He nods, not trusting himself to speak, and he opens the door, while the guy smiles at him and those blue depths suddenly shine like the stars and the moon combined.

“Oh, thank you so much! Here, let me help you with that…”

He grabs one of Eliott’s bags before Eliott can react, and carries it in.

“Shall I help you put these up?”

He doesn’t wait for Eliott’s answer, and efficiently starts unpacking the bread, milk, juice, and microwaveable soup. He puts the shampoo on the table, and looks at Eliott expectantly. Eliott has no clue what he is supposed to say or do. The fog in his head is growing again, and if he doesn’t get into the shower soon, he won’t be able to tonight, and the idea of another night without washing up makes his skin crawl.

“So, uh, can I borrow your phone then?”

Ah. Right. He tries to remember where it is. Oh, right, he put it on the charger before he left the flat. He wants to go get it, but the idea of walking to the bedroom only to have to come back is suddenly way too overwhelming, and he sags against the wall.

Finally, the guy seems to notice something is up.

“Hey, are you – are you okay? You look a bit… off. Is there anything I can do?”

He sounds concerned, and his blue eyes have gone a shade darker as he watches Eliott.

“M fine,” Eliott croaks. “Phone… in the… in the bedroom.”

The guy looks outright worried now.

“Okay, uh, I think you should go lay down anyway. I can leave you to get some rest, I’ll find somebody else to borrow a phone from…”

Eliott feels bad, but it sounds heavenly. He nods once, curtly, trying to ignore the guilty feeling inside, and tries to move his legs, but he stumbles. In a flash, the guy is by his side.

“Let me help you get to bed,” he says, slinging Eliott’s arm over his shoulder, letting him put most of his weight onto him.

“Where is your bedroom? Careful now,” the boy admonishes softly, as they shuffle through the hall.

“Wait,” Eliott mumbles and halts in front of the bathroom. “Need a shower.”

He gets a sceptical look from the guy.

“Are you sure you can handle it? Not gonna lie, you look really like shit.”

Eliott just stands, too tired to nod, or to think about anything.

“Okay,” the guy relents, “but I’d feel a lot better if you let me stay while you shower. I mean –”

Eliott notices a blush creeping up on the guy’s cheeks, but he doesn’t have the mental capacity to figure out what that is about.

“I mean, not in the bathroom, obviously. But maybe I could wait until you’re done and I know you’re safe in your bed before I go? I wouldn’t forgive myself if you slipped and cracked open your head or something.”

It all goes too fast for Eliott to understand, but the siren call of the shower is too alluring to ignore, so he just nods again, and croaks, “Shampoo?”.

He waits while the guy quickly fetches it from the kitchen table, and then almost tumbles inside. He misses the apprehension in his visitor’s eyes, and finally takes off his smelly clothes. He is too exhausted to stand up, so he sits on the floor of the shower stall, and mechanically washes his hair. Turning off the water, he sits, not up to finding a towel and drying himself, until he hears a knock on the door.

“Are you okay in there?”

He mumbles something, and decides he is dry enough to pull on some underwear. Just as he hears another knock, a bit more urgent this time, he is ready. He pulls open the door, and even though it is probably rude as hell, completely ignores the boy, hand poised to knock a third time. The soup will have to wait, he vaguely thinks, as he manages to stay upright until he is within reach of his bed, tumbling down on it, and sinking into a dreamless sleep.

***

Eliott wakes up, disoriented and with a growling feeling in his stomach. He tries to remember what happened – he went to the store, he took a shower, did he eat anything? Another groan from his stomach seems to indicate he didn’t. He sniffs.

Something smells good.

He sniffs again. It’s almost like fresh coffee.

Slowly, carefully, he sits up, and swings his legs over the edge of the bed. The exhaustion has worn off somewhat, and he walks to the kitchen, ready to finally munch on some bread, when he stops in his track.

At the counter, with his back towards Eliott, stands a man in an old t-shirt, comfy sweatpants and – Eliott’s Pollock socks?

He coughs, and the guy whips around, a startled look on his face.

Blue eyes.

Suddenly it comes back to Eliott – the neighbour locked out of his flat, wanting to use Eliott’s phone, standing watch outside the bathroom door while he washed off the grime of the past week.

“Oh, you’re awake! I, uh – I didn’t want to come into your bedroom for your phone while you were sleeping, so uh, I hope you don’t mind me hanging out. I made coffee and I can warm up that soup you got…”

“Are those my socks?”

Eliott doesn’t know why this is the only thing on his mind at this very moment. It must be that the blue of the man’s eyes makes him a bit dizzy.

“Oh! Uh, yeah, sorry. I got cold feet… I started a load of laundry and I saw these were hanging on your drying rack, so uh. I’ll wash them and get them back to you, of course. As soon as I can get into my flat.”

Eliott sits down at the table, while the other puts a mug of steaming coffee in front of him.

“If it’s okay, I’ll go grab your phone now, and call a locksmith, yeah?”

“What time is it?”, Eliott murmurs, sipping his coffee. It is way better than when he makes it, and he eyes the mug slightly suspiciously.

“About eleven pm,” the guy says, moving towards the door.

“It’ll cost you an arm and a leg to get a locksmith out at this hour.”

The boy stops in his tracks.

“Yeah, well,” he shrugs, “not a lot of choice, have I?”

“You could stay until tomorrow,” Eliott hears himself say before he can think it trough. Or until the day after, his treacherous mind adds, as he drinks the heavenly brew.

The guy’s eyes open even wider.

“Really?”

“Really,” Eliott says. “I’m not the best company right now, but there should be enough soup for both of us, and uh, we could watch a movie or something.”

A long beat passes, and then the guy steps back into the kitchen, getting out the soup, and firing up the microwave.

“Thanks. I’m Lucas.”

“Eliott. And you’re welcome.”

They grin at each other.

Eliott feels the last drags of his dark mood disappear.

A good neighbour is worth more than a distant friend, he thinks, and if something inside him pipes up to say that neighbours can become friends, or even more than friends, he tries to ignore it. For now.

[spaceskam]

our fainted thrill carries on (11/13)

warning: mentions of anxiety, kidnapping, child abuse, etc

ao3

Regardless of their ambiguous relationship status, Alex had promised to let Michael know when he got to the motel safely.

Midnight passed.

1 A.M. passed.

3 A.M.

5 A.M.

7 A.M.

“You just forgot, right? You got back and went to sleep, right?” Michael asked, leaving his 5th voicemail of the night. He’d called 30 times and texted even more, spending the whole night curled up on the couch and biting his nails until they hurt. “You’re gonna call me when you wake up and you’re gonna be so pissed that I blew up your phone. I checked four times, you brought your charger, so if you’re ignoring me on purpose, then… Please be okay. I need you to be okay. I love you, bye.”

When Alex had gotten up the morning after their talk and just started packing a bag to still head out to meet the active Camerons, Michael had been stressed beyond belief. No matter how much he said it was a bad idea, Alex deemed it necessary. Then when Michael tried to invite himself along, Alex told him no.

“I swear to God, I am going to kill you when you get home. You can’t just not return my calls, that’s a real dick move,” Michael spat, taking a shaky breath, “I miss you, come home.”

He’d bothered him for the rest of the week, trying his damnedest to either get Alex to stay or get him to let him tag along. It would’ve been fun, he’d said, a road trip with all of them. Alex had banished him to yard work after too many minutes of failed, teenage-esque coercion.

“I’m worried,” Michael sniffled at 8 A.M. Alex should’ve taken his medication by now. Had he done his morning PT? “Please call me. I won’t be mad, I just need you. I need to know you’re okay.”

They’d been slowly trying to build trust again and now he wasn’t answering. Was he hurt? Was he avoiding him? Was he just having so much fun he forgot? Did someone take him?

“Alex,” Michael said, stress crying into his palms at this point as his whole body shook with a new, unknown level of anxiety, “I need… Just one response, okay? Just one. So I know you’re alright. I love you. Please take your medicine and eat something if you haven’t. I love you.”

For years, Michael had gotten accustomed to never being able to talk to Alex when he wanted to. He was overseas playing G.I. Joe and Michael avoided even trying. But now, now after months of Alex picking up when he needed him, months of spending so much time together, months of needing him to breathe… Now it felt like his entire world was crumbling and suddenly he was considering filing a missing person’s report.

“But that’d be stupid, right? You’re on a secret mission, I’m a… redacted… so I just gotta wait. Just gotta… Please be okay. I love you more than anything and I meant what I said. So, you know, if someone took you and is listening... Tell them I’ll fucking kill them. I won’t hesitate. Don’t worry.”

Michael pushed the heels of his hands against his eyes, trying to will himself to feel better. His hand seized up and his body hurt. He just needed Alex to be okay and alive and home. He needed him to come home.

“The person you are trying to reach is not available. Mailbox full. Goodbye.”

He dropped the phone onto the couch, raking his hands through his hair and pulling hard as he tried to calm himself. This wasn’t just anyone, this was Alex. If Michael trusted anyone to get themselves out of a sticky situation, it was Alex Manes. He was strong and smart and ungodly talented. He should be okay.

So then why wasn’t he answering his fucking phone?

“Whoa, what’s going on here?”

Michael looked up at the sound of Rosa’s voice. She was staring at him in concern which was new, but he couldn’t even take time to register it. He was shaking and felt like he was suffocating, his whole mind blurry and thinking of the worst-case scenario.

“Alex won’t answer and he’s not home and I can’t get in touch with him and it’s been hours and, and he said he would call or text or, or, or, or‒”

“Hey, it’s Alex, I’m sure he’s fine,” Rosa insisted. Michael shook his head, pulling on his hair a little harder.

“No,” he whispered, shaking his head, “No, he said‒”

“Did you try Kyle or Jenna? See if they’d pick up? Maybe Alex lost his phone,” she tried, coming closer. The couch shifted as she sat beside him and he tried to take a grounding breath just like Alex showed him. Identify the trigger and breathe. Except he knew the fucking trigger and he couldn’t breathe because it was an actual problem.

“No, I didn’t call them,” he said, staring at his phone. His messages were still unread and it brought a whole new wave of panic. He’d never felt so fucking helpless in his life. He just wanted Alex.

“Give me your phone,” Rosa instructed, taking it before he could actually hand it over. Which was valid because he felt like his skin was being turned inside out. He should’ve followed him or put a tracker on him or put a fucking handprint on him or something. Anything.

Anything would be better than this.

“Okay, let me try Jenna,” she said after Kyle’s went to voicemail. Michael groaned pathetically, shrinking in on himself again.

A few more minutes, a few more calls unanswered, and all it did was make Michael’s anxiety grow to insane levels. What happened? What the fuck could’ve taken them out? Sure, Kyle he could understand, but Cam and Alex? What kind of manpower did these people have?

“Oh my God, he’s dead,” Michael breathed‒or, tried to breathe, “He’s dead. He’s dead and the last thing he remembers is me being a total dick. He’s dead.”

“Hey, don’t say shit like that, he’s not dead,” Rosa insisted, swatting his leg. Michael just choked his tears, rocking slightly. Horrible, intrusive images of Alex’s dead body flooded through his mind. Bloody, beaten, shot, destroyed. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. “It’s Alex, he’s not dead, stop.”

 “Then where is he, huh?! If he’s not dead, where is he?!” Michael demanded. Rosa glared at him.

“Acting like this will get us nowhere,” Rosa said, standing to her feet and gesturing for him to do the same. He was pretty sure his feet wouldn’t work if he tried. She rolled her eyes when he didn’t move. “Listen, I want you to really think about what’s going on right now. If something is wrong, your most useful people are out of commission. You have to actually put in the effort.”

“I don’t know where to begin,” Michael argued. 

“You sure about that?” Rosa prodded.

She stared him down for a moment and he carefully took a few grounding breaths. He had to be logical at least a little bit. If he was going to get Alex back, he had to at least have a starting place. So he closed his eyes, focusing on changing that anxiety and sadness into anger. It wasn’t hard. It felt like a reflex.

He took a few more breaths before he opened his eyes.

“I know where to go.”

-

Michael Guerin let himself into the Manes’ residence for the second time in one week.

Jesse Manes was sat at the kitchen table, sipping coffee and not even bothering to stand in fear like last time. Instead, he just looked up at Michael. His fingers itched, eager to just throw him into the wall. But he waited.

“Tell me where Alex is.”

Jesse paused, looking at him over the top of his mug. He looked genuinely confused, but Michael didn’t buy that for a second. 

“Did you warn them that Alex was thinking about going out there? Did you tell them about him?” Michael demanded. Jesse slowly lowered his cup.

“Now, son, I thought we were getting along last t‒”

“Answer me!” Michael demanded, throwing the mug across the room and slamming it into the wall. It was a perfect demonstration of what he’d do to Jesse if he didn’t get an answer.

Jesse sighed, looking longingly at the shattered mug for a moment before turning his attention back to Michael. He was too calm. There was nothing calm about this situation. Nothing at all. Alex was missing. So were Kyle and Cam.

“I didn’t warn them, but they already know who Alex is. He’s got Manes features and every active member knows of every family member of the other factions for safety purposes. If they took Alex, it was because of you,” Jesse said simply. Michael’s heart dropped into his stomach and his breathing threatened to choke him all over again.

“Bullshit,” Michael spat. Jesse sighed and gestured to the chair across from him. Michael was hesitant to do so. Last time they sat and spoke cordially, Alex went missing over the very thing they spoke about.

But, then again, Jesse had warned him.

Michael reluctantly took a seat.

“They have a theory that says any human who gets involved with an alien is just as dangerous and corrupt,” Jesse said. Michael scoffed.

“You think that too.”

“I don’t think that,” he said, still oh so calm, “I think it shows weakness and is a symptom of being overly empathetic to creatures that aren’t worth it, but I don’t think it’s something one can’t come back from. Alex has… other compromising issues. He’s disabled, he’s got PTSD, CPTSD‒we’re just scratching the surface. I understand why you’re worried.”

There was a level of coldness to him that Michael couldn’t comprehend. It was like there was a legit disconnect and he didn’t see Alex as his son. He viewed Alex, not as the man he was, but as the idea of what he was. A disabled, queer veteran. End sentence.

“He’s your son,” Michael said, eyebrows drawn together and shaking his head, “He’s your son, why don’t you care? Why aren’t you worried? I-I’ve seen so many shitty parents in my day, but most of the time they at least pretend. You can’t even give him that.”

“Alex made it clear he doesn’t want me pretending,” Jesse said simply, “And I learned a long time ago there’s no reason in being worried for him. Worry doesn’t change what that boy does. If anything, it makes him run towards the fire. He’s made his bed.”

Michael shook his head, leaning back in his seat and looking up towards the ceiling as he tried to collect himself.

“Alex is… He is the strongest person I know. And I have no idea how the fuck he became that with you as a father,” Michael scoffed, “No matter what bullshit is thrown at him, he can be kind. He can still love so much. He doesn’t trust you, but he still loves you. He doesn’t trust me, but he still loves me. Do you not understand how fucking incredible that is?”

Michael looked at Jesse, seeing that he was basically unphased. It didn’t make sense. How many years had this man put effort into becoming something that he forgot how to be human? How had Michael spent years trying to avoid falling into the cold arms of humanity and failed, but Jesse Manes had successfully evaded it completely?

“I’ve encountered a lot of monsters,” Michael said, leaning a bit closer and making sure he held eye contact, “I’ve encountered so many and, despite the fact that I’ve also met my fair share of loving people, I still became one. I’m still this. But Alex? Alex has been wronged by every goddamn person he’s ever met and he’s still good. He is unapologetically good. And you know what? He deserves to see that there’s a point to it.”

“How exactly do you expect to do that?”

With a simple thought, Michael bound Jesse Manes’ wrists with an invisible string. Jesse managed to hide any type of alarm.

“We’re goin’ on a road trip.”

-

Alex’s head hurt ungodly bad.

“Alex, hey, welcome back to life.”

He squinted and saw Kyle looking down at him, shirtless for some reason. He tried to move, but it just hurt worse so he stayed put.

“What’s going on?”

“We may or may not be trapped in a cellar,” Kyle said softly, lifting something. It was then that Alex realized Kyle’s missing shirt was being pressed to his head. “But it’s okay, we’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay.”

“Me? What happened?”

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Kyle asked. Alex closed his eyes and thought really hard. He felt disoriented and achy and probably had everything to do with that head wound he couldn’t really feel.

“Um, getting to the club?” Alex said, trying to remember what happened after, but it was blurry, “Did I get any information?”

“Well, I don’t know, you don’t remember,” Kyle sighed, “I’m sure it’ll come back to you. Right now, just stay put.”

“What’s going on?”

“A couple of guy’s cornered me. I don’t know how they knew I was with you, but they cornered me and threw me in the back of a van. Same with you, but you were already unconscious by then. Not sure what happened, but you’ve got a pretty nasty head wound.”

“That’s it?” Alex wondered, “Where’s Cam?”

“Shh,” Kyle hushed, looking around and stroking Alex’s cheek as if that would cover up what he said. Maybe it would. He leaned down and put his lips right by Alex’s ear. “Don’t talk about that or we’re never gonna escape. They can’t know she’s involved with us, okay? Just play along.”

Alex gave a microscopic nod as Kyle sat back up.

“I think you’ll be okay. It stopped bleeding,” Kyle told him.

“Good, I need to kick someone’s ass,” Ale said, groaning as he tried to shift again. His body still felt too heavy. “What the fuck, I’ve had a head wound before. They don’t usually feel so… They… I…”

Carefully, Kyle hand traveled from his cheek down to his arm. He carefully put a little pressure over a spot just below the inside of his elbow. Alex jumped, his body reacting to the spike of pain. Kyle whispered his apology, but it was clearly something had happened to his arm. Kyle reached down more, grabbing his hand and lacing their fingers together. When he sat up straight, it brought Alex’s arm right into his line of view.

Branded into his arm was that familiar three men Neptune symbol, tiny and yet so, so obvious. In the first head, the one meaning Manes, was a little red dot, the product of an injection. His eyes went up to meet Kyle’s. His face was schooled, but his eyes showed his worry.

“And you?” Alex asked. He shook his head, saying they hadn’t done it to him.

Alex took a deep breath and nodded. 

This is why he hated going in blind.

[thetradeway]

Session 40 10 Apr 2021: Thunderbuns and Timothy P. Fuckapple

Sophie and Matthew are on their way back from somewhere, so we start a little later than advertised.

Quick recap - where were we? Most of us were having dinner with Mirt, Kessler had left, and also Tarragon not long after, having made Brother Charity wear her drink.

Tarragon arrives back at the Dagger and Kessler has her translate what she managed to scribble down of Carl’s book:

The rest eventually arrive back, in various states of drunkenness. We have eaten, so the DM exempts us all from hangovers. Yay!

Brother Charity, Matthew tells us, had all the sinful posh foods including foie gras.

Joe has added character sheets for the baby flumph, and Simon the mouse who has rat stats (including a whole hit point!) but is not a rat. Did Gideon add a flumph pouch to his sleeve? Yes, his friend Bromrick helped him make one.

Okay, so! Are we all in the taproom, and does Kessler want to share what she learned about Carl? She wants to have a quiet word with Brother Charity about it. She’ll have a time of it, Matthew says; Brother Charity has wedged a chair under his door handle so he can be undisturbed while he calms Brother Carl down.

Sophie, OOC: “He’s dead, how calm do you want him? Resting heart rate of zero beats per minute!”

Kessler knocks on Brother Charity’s door. He ignores it. “He has to come out at some point!” Or she could just tell the party we’ve been bringing a zombie around with us, or tell the bar staff he’s been keeping dead animals in his room. Still nothing. (Matthew, OOC: “Riveting game playing, isn’t it?”)

The rest of us make Perception checks, Ahleqs rolls the best as he is perpetually on edge waiting for danger, even in his sleep. We all roll well enough to hear Kessler banging on Charity’s door. Ahleqs listens at his door to see what the exasperated goblin sounds are about. He opens his door and asks her what she’s doing; she says she wanted a word with Brother Charity.

She makes a Perception check - she can’t hear anything coming from Brother Charity’s room. She turns back to Ahleqs and asks him to go and get Gideon and she will get the rest of us. She wants us all to meet in her room.

He does as he’s told, and goes and knocks on Gideon’s door. He throws it open; he is wearing his little jammies.

Ahleqs: “Kessler’s being weird.”

Gideon: “And?”

We gather in her room. What has she woken us up at this ungodly hour for?

She tells us about the Identify spell - Brother Carl is under the influence of an Animate Dead spell. None of us are especially shocked by this news. She says Brother Charity won’t speak to her.

Ahleqs notes that Charity seemed upset because we haven’t really given him a chance.

Kessler says that Carl told her Charity ‘saved’ him. Gideon doesn’t seem worried, he just wishes Charity had been honest about it!

Do we think Carl can communicate, has he perhaps told Charity that Kessler knows? It’s a possibility.

We should hear him out before we burn him. We’ll wait for him to come down to breakfast and ask him about it. Wait, let’s check and make sure they haven’t done a runner. Melaina climbs out of the window in Kessler’s room and around the outside of the Dagger to Charity’s room to see if he’s in there. She looks into the room - which is empty. The window is closed, so he likely didn’t go out that way.

He’s scarpered! We go downstairs to ask the bar staff if they’ve seen him.

Well we don’t have to ask, because the Brothers are in the taproom eating breakfast. Well, shit. Okay so maybe they didn’t scarper.

Ahleqs, nervously: “Good morning, normal to see you.”

Brother Charity calls us straight away on Kessler’s investigation; Ahleqs asks why he didn’t just tell us Carl was dead. Well it’s not a great opener with a new group of people, Charity explains.

Besides, we’re dragging Tarragon around with us.

Tarragon: “… Excuse me?”  

Charity: “She came back from the dead, I don’t see the difference.”

Tarragon, indignant: “I’m not literally rotting!”

We have judged Carl, so we must be experts on his condition, yes? We know everything there is to know? Charity asks.

Tarragon: “No, that’s why we’re asking!”

“I see.”

He insists he’s not a necromancer. He cast spells of the necromantic variety, but so did the Unicorn to resurrect Tarragon -

Gideon, out of the blue: “How does the group feel about summoning demons?”

Us: “ - …”  

Kessler goes to the bar; it’s too early for this conversation.

(BC is smiling and drinking his coffee as we have a sidebar about this.)

Tarragon asks Charity to enlighten us about Carl’s condition.

He shows us a piece of paper with a drawing on it by Carl, of all of us holding hands.

He says that Carl was horrified when Kessler demanded he undress her and threatened to kill him.

Kessler lets slip that she was born in a human household, while Charity is berating her by openly making assumptions about goblins, the way we’re making assumptions about Carl.

Tarragon asks about how he came to animate Carl; he says he found his corpse in a field and cast a spell on it. Carl had been bitten by a snake, and Charity happened upon him. He says his previous zombie had been eaten by a bear.

Wait, his previous zombie? When did he start raising zombies?

Two hundred and three years ago.

“Are you undead?”

No!

How did he come to raise zombies two hundred or so years before he was born?

He says that’s an interesting story, and he might tell us if we share something about ourselves. He starts by turning to Ahleqs, while Kessler goes to the bar and orders a keg of everything and as much food as they can bring to our table.

Jirr, seeing her approach: “Gonna be one of those, huh?”

It’s a bit early for Charity, he’ll stick with coffee. (Not at all like Matthew, who will have a PINT OF WHISKEY! That’s roleplaying for you.)

Charity asks about Ahleqs’s wild magic; what would he say was the most significant event to happen to him other than the acquisition of his magical powers on the day he discovered he had them?

Ahleqs stares into middle distance. He says that’s when he escaped; he never found out why they did it to him, but he’s not going back.

Woah.

(Charity tries to backpedal, and offers Ahleqs a scotch.)

Before Ahleqs can elaborate, his amulet starts to pulse and Mr Pickles appears. He looks around the table and his gaze settles on Carl.

“What’s this?”

Ahleqs, relieved: “Mr Pickles will sort everything out.”

Mr Pickles sniffs Carl. Ahleqs says he’s just coming around to the idea that Carl might be okay.

Mr. Pickles, sniffily: “it’s nothing to be frightened of. It’s just magic. Low magic, but just magic.”

Charity: “How dare you!”

Mr. Pickles, ignoring him: “I have an offer for you and your friends, anyone who can cast arcane magic, from the temple. We have a mission that you and your team would be perfect for.” He will explain further, but not here.

Tarragon says she can’t cast arcane magic, can she come anyway? Yes, all can do the mission, but the reward only benefits arcane casters. (Tarragon says that’s fine - everyone here has helped her with stuff before.)  Mr. Pickles tells us to eat our breakfast and join him later.

Ahleqs talks about the glowing orb he found, which he thought at first was elf poo; it has stopped glowing now so he thinks it might be something else.

Melaina, nodding: “My poos don’t stop glowing.”

Ahleqs takes Carl’s picture and puts it in the bag of holding. Aww.

Charity comforts Carl as we leave, rubbing his back. “See, I told you no-one was going to kill you.”

Duncan, OOC: “Guys, I think I love Carl!”

Charity makes a Perception check; he is not shit-hot at these. He rolls a 15, perceiving a medium amount of things. He spots one of Mirt’s paper cranes; he immediately pockets it without drawing attention to it. (There is something for him in the handout section of his journal. He will read that anon.)

Tarragon rolls Perception as well; she sees a black cat looking at her. It goes “PSSST!” She shakes her head and keeps walking.

We walk back through the fancy part of town where we were last night, toward the House of Wonder.

Ahleqs has been to the House of Wonder before, yes? He leads us there, excitedly telling us all how good it is. This is the temple if the Goddess of Magic, in the middle of the Sea Ward. Mr. Pickles is waiting for us.

Ahleqs asks him, if he gets really good at magic, so he hardly ever kills any of his friends, can he have a set of those robes?

“Of course, my boy.”

Gideon takes a look at the pillars - at ADV because of his Stonecunning, which he is going to use EVERY session. They’re pulsing with magic. Can he do an arcana check?

Yes. at ADV as well. 26! He is going to fondle those stones until he unlocks all their secrets! They are conduits for magic. Each pillar channels a different form, adding to the ambient magic in the temple.

We have to peel him off the stone at this point. “What are we here for, again? Missions! Yes!” 

Mr Pickles, somehow raising one eyebrow at Gideon even though he doesn’t have any: “Are you done?”

Gideon, still looking longingly at the pillars: “Yes.”

Mr. Pickles says there have been developments in the Shadow Weave. He would like us to undertake a journey to Candlekeep to find a book. Are we familiar with the Castle of Tomes?

Ahleqs makes a History check. He is from Baldur’s Gate so he can do it at ADV. 14; he has heard of it but never been there. It’s the greatest repository of knowledge in the world, guarded by monks. People come from all over to seek knowledge.

Do we just ask them for this book?

Mr Pickles asks Charity if he’s been to Candlekeep before; he has, once or twice. As he knows, the monks require a gift for entry; a book that is not already in their possession.

Melaina: “We could write one!”

Sadly this probably won’t work as they are stringent about the quality of the books they accept, and Mr. Pickles doesn’t know how we would get a good one. His head priest will write us a letter which should convince the monks to let us have the one we want to take away, but we must find a book that will be acceptable to the monks in order to gain entry.

Hmm.

Poetry, arcane arts, history, all of these would be acceptable. Erotic fiction? Ahleqs knows where we can find a lot of that.

Mr Pickles wants to talk about the reward; Charity already has a familiar, he says. (Does he mean Carl?) Would any of the arcane casters like a bond with such a creature? Ahleqs brings out Simon. “I already have one.”

Melaina says she would like ‘a little aminal...’

Mr. Pickles says they could bind Simon to Ahleqs as a familiar so that if something happens to him, he could be brought back. (Mouse Frumpkin!) He thinks Simon would love that; yeah, let’s do that.

Mr Pickles leads him to a chamber - Ahleqs skips after him, he’s so excited.

Ahleqs can add Find Familiar to his spell list - it will only summon Simon, and Mr Pickles will show him how to cast it as a ritual.

Mr Pickles offers the same to Gideon, for his flumph; he accepts.

Mr Pickles returns again and offers Kessler a familiar. She’s not sure she should keep a pet; she’d probably lose it.

Charity and Ahleqs both say “Or eat it” at the same time. Ahleqs holds his hand up for a high five; Charity is briefly confused before Ahleqs explains the concept of high fives. Charity feels included in the group for the first time, and accepts the high five.

Mr Pickles, ignoring all this, tells Kessler to trust him - this is a good idea. She finally agrees. Mr Pickles leads her into the ritual chambers and performs the ritual. Upon casting, a curious creature emerges from the portal created. It looks like a tiny clockwork beholder.

Mr. Pickles asks if Melaina wants a familiar - “Uhhh yes please that sounds awesome.”

She can choose which aminal she wants and let the DM know as and when, but she can add the spell now.

Joe goes to move on - and Sophie suddenly knows what she wants: “Weasel! Weasel!”

Weasel it is. :)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d2CTVqt2wxU

Mr Pickles can’t help us with finding a suitable book; he will think on it. Will we be around for a while?

Do we have to sort of guess which books they have at Candlekeep already, or do they have a published catalogue?

There is some sort of divination magic we can use to discern whether or not they have a particular book. They will take annotated copies if they’re interesting, or first edition copies, of books they already have.

Tarragon makes a Perception check - the black cat is sitting at the entrance to the temple, watching.

Tarragon waves to the cat - it raises its paw. It stretches, then lopes slowly toward her.

“By the gods but you are stupid!” says the cat, aloud, in Common. “I have been trying to get your attention for ages! Come to the shrines of nature!”

Tarragon says she will go along at some point today, and the cat leaves.

“Well now, run along,” says Mr. Pickles, lighting his pipe.

He says as we leave that he has something special for Ahleqs if we do well.

We go to the shrines of nature. (Ahleqs at least will come with; it sounds nice and relaxing.)

Charity and Melaina get chatting; after a while Charity notes, “I think this is the most we’ve spoken, you know.”

Melaina, immediately: “Fuck off.”

We arrive at the shrines of nature - Amithrel, the High Druidess, approaches us. She says she has been speaking to her colleagues about Tansy. Some have heard about this type of curse or poison before - there is a book that might be of benefit. She says the cat told her that we might be travelling to Candlekeep soon? This would be a perfect opportunity.

It involves a ritual cast on the heartstone that Melaina gave Tarragon. It’s in a book of ancient rituals and spells. It fell into the hands of a lore keeper and ended up in Candlekeep. The monks likely won’t part with it, so Tarragon will have to find a way of copying it.

Mr Pickles is going to give us the title of the book he wants us to borrow. The High Druidess can’t remember the name of the druid who told her about the book, but he will be coming here soon. Are we okay with waiting a few days for him to arrive, before we leave for Candlekeep?

Yeah, we need to find a book to give the monks anyway.

Amithrel asks if we’ve thought about how we’re going to get to Candlekeep. It’s about 900 miles by land. The best way to make the journey would be by boat; didn’t we have a friend with a boat? Didn’t he look like this guy (Charity) but ‘infinitely more handsome’? Perhaps we could contact him, he has friends at the Docks Ward who could get a message to him.

We could charter a boat, couldn’t we? Charity asks, clearly reluctant about contacting Gunna. Might be a little expensive, though. But Gunna was pretty clear that he was off doing family things, he might not want to come back just to ferry us along the Sword Coast. If he’s two weeks out, it’ll take him two weeks to come back, Charity points out. 

Ahleqs thinks we should either buy passage or gain employment as protection on a ship. Or we could ask Larissa, maybe she could get us passage?

Speaking of Lord Walrus, does Charity have anything he needs to be getting on with? He says if we’re near the Dagger he’ll go and look for some books and - the thing… (no idea what that means. Oh! Probably the Harper mission from Mirt.)

We head back to the Dagger and Charity and Carl excuse themselves to go off and look for ‘stuff’.

Kessler goes to the Watchful Order to see if they have any books that might be suitable. Ahleqs accompanies her. We just need to borrow one, right?

No, it would have to stay at Candlekeep.

Melaina: “Well they’re not called CandleBorrow.”

Charity puts his head back in the door to the Dagger to ask Gideon if he would like to accompany him and Carl on his mission to find a talking horse. Wait, what?

Gideon agrees, apparently not needing to ask any kind of follow-up questions. Where is this horse? Charity says it’s pulling around some kind of dray. (A wagon or cart type thing.)

Gideon asks Ria about drays; who around here might own one?

Ria says there are some companies, and some independents who own one. They’re mostly to be found here, though they travel all over the city.

Ahleqs has the Urchin background, so he knows his way around cities - comes from always keeping his eyes peeled for escape routes. Sadly, he’s already gone to the Watchful Order with Kessler, so that’s of no help here.

Gideon and Charity go off in search of the talking horse. Goes by the name of Maxeene apparently.

Perhaps they could take a dray carriage on a tour around the city? Would be a good way to get to know their way around. Well, not much use if they’re looking for a particular horse, unless they happen to get the one dray that Maxeene pulls. 

Tarragon and Melaina saw Ahleqs and Kessler leave for the Watchful Order; they also see Gideon and Charity (and Carl) looking around the street and arguing heatedly. Tarragon goes back to her wine and Melaina plays excitedly with her new weasel; neither seem to care overmuch about what Brother Charity is doing.

Outside, Charity approaches a guard to ask about the dray. Where do they run to and from?

“Any particular service? They run the length and breadth of the city.”

Any that have violet flowers as their emblem? Or horses that wear a violet flower?

The guard looks at him funny. “Are you drunk?”

Charity makes a persuasion check - a 13.

The guard isn’t sure that any of the horses have taken to wearing flowers in their hair.

(This seems to be getting him nowhere; maybe Charity should look them up in the Yellow Parchments instead.)

He gives up and walks away from the guard. He doesn’t quite know how to talk to ‘the lower-downs’.

He and Gideon make Survival checks; Gideon spots some dray tracks.

“Onward!!”

He splats his way down the street, following the tracks which lead to the market. There are a lot of drays going to and fro; if they found a vantage point they might get a better chance at finding the one they’re after.

“Maxeene!” Gideon shouts, in desperation and to no avail. Can they get onto a roof? It’ll be a DEX check. Would that be untoward? Would people think he’s a loon?

Wait - the familiars! Gideon could send his flumph! He sits on a bench and instructs Charity not to let anyone pickpocket him, as he’ll be blind and deaf as he looks through the flumph’s eyes.

He whispers into his sleeve and sends out the flumph, warning it not to talk to strangers. Baby flumph makes a Perception check as it floats into the air. Gideon brains over the relevant information: A horse with a violet flower behind its left ear.

Through the flumph’s eyes, Gideon spots the horse in question. He points, but he’s seeing through the flumph and still sitting on the bench so he’s pointing at the ground.

Charity forgets that Gideon is deaf while he’s using this spell and demands to know what he’s pointing at.

(Matthew, OOC: “This whole scene is a combination of See No Evil Hear No Evil and Weekend at Bernie’s.”)

Gideon withdraws from the flumph’s vision and he and Charity go in search of the horse. They catch it up and Gideon walks alongside the dray and asks the driver what time he finishes; the driver says he’s not his type.

Is there room for three more on this dray? Gideon asks, ignoring this. The driver pulls to a halt and introduces himself as Marcus. He says yeah, we’ve got no passengers. Fare is 4 cp; Gideon throws him 12. They scatter; Marcus scrabbles around to pick them up and tells them begrudgingly to get on.

Another human already on the dray introduces himself as Morgan. He is Marcus’ brother, and he gives Gideon the tickets.

They ride around the city on the dray, while Marcus happily chatters away to them. They make Insight checks; if one of them keeps Marcus talking, the other might be able to make contact with Maxeene.

They decide instead to take a tour of the city. They spend a very pleasant afternoon, even stopping for sandwiches. Finally they reach the last stop. Do they ask to go along to the stables…? Would that be untoward? Marcus is looking at them like he’d like them to get off his dray now.

Gideon suggests posing as inspectors. Charity loves that idea, “but. We have taken the entire tour. That might be a hard sell. But it’s not a terrible idea.” He suggests following the dray after they get off, finding the stables, and then engaging Operation Pretending to be Inspectors.

Gideon gets up slowly because they’ve been sitting down for hours and he’s a creaky old dwarf, and hops off the dray. Charity tries to attract the attention of the horse, but it’s tricky. He makes a Performance check - a ten.

Maxeene looks at him blankly. She and the other horses are untied and led down the alley, but Charity and Gideon have seen the direction they went.

Matthew wants to go outside for a cigarette, so we cut back to Tarragon and Melaina; Melaina is mucking about with her weasel, and Tarragon is busy getting wine drunk. Over to the other group then…

Ahleqs and Kessler have gone to the Watchful Order (Mina is not responding so we pick up with Ahleqs until she returns).

He tells the librarian he is looking for esoteric knowledge. Could they direct him towards the rare book section?

Is he looking to buy rare books?

Potentially…

As a paid member he can read or borrow anything here, but they don’t sell stuff. The librarian can recommend a number of good bookshops. Some Guilds might deal in rarer volumes, too, she adds... 

Ahleqs makes an Insight check - 18. The librarian is hinting that thieves’ guilds or Xanathar might have something akin to what he’s looking for. Ahleqs is way out of his depth, but nods as if he knows what’s going on.

He will peruse the shelves here anyway, he says.

Kessler pops back in and says that we recently did some work for someone who might be able to acquire rare books; what about Shanks? Perhaps her lot could steal to order? We might even get a discount on services if Melaina goes along on the job. (Sophie, enthusiastically: “Yeah!”)

Matthew is back from smoking now so we pick back up with Charity, Carl and Gideon.

It’s early evening by now. There are people around, they are still in the vicinity of the market. Charity finds a door to the stables, but it’s locked. He makes an Investigation check and rolls a 19. He could probably pick it without too much trouble but he doesn’t have thieves’ tools. They could go and get Melaina…?

(Sophie OOC: “Just text me.”)

Charity is reluctant to ask ‘the elf’ for help. She’ll just say no. Well she won’t say no, she’ll say ‘fuck off’. He asks Gideon to go, as she’s more likely not to swear at him.

“What? No! We can do this by ourselves! There must be a way. Is there an open window or something…?” Gideon looks for anything that doesn’t involve lock picks or asking the elf for help. Does he perhap have a spell…?

He looks for a spare key under a bucket by the door or something. He makes an Investigation check and gets a 22 - he spies a key on top of the doorway! He points it out to Charity who reaches up and grabs it. Gideon arcana checks the door to see if it’s trapped; it is not. Well, not magically, anyway.

They enter the stable. There are four horses in here - one of which has a violet flower behind her left ear.

“Maxeene,” Brother Charity whispers. She looks at him but doesn’t respond. He shows her the Harper button. She greets him and asks what she can do for him.

He says he has been sent on a mission and introduces himself, Carl and Gideon. He is here looking for information, and has been told that Maxeene might know about agents in hiding with ‘an unpronounceable name’. Would she be so kind as to let him know what she knows, and Charity is willing to pay for the information.

DM, laughing: “Are you offering the horse money…?”

Matthew, OOC: “Nah, like sugar lumps or something.”

Maxeene tells him that sugar lumps are bad for the teeth.

“I know that, I’m a doctor.”

Gideon, scoffing: “No you aren’t!”

Charity, miffed: “Bloody well am.”

Maxeene interrupts the squabble to say that she gave a ride to a sun elf and a half orc two days ago, dropping them at the Yawning Portal. They spoke of planting agents in the guild, in a weird way. The Xanathar guild, their enemies. They might be Zent agents.

Charity makes notes on his letter, while Carl holds the ink pot for him in his open hand.

Maxeene says he could seek them out at the Yawning Portal.

DM: “Kessler might know about tha - ”

Gideon, immediately: “No! We don’t need any help from the goblin!”

After some History checks, they know that the Yawning Portal is a famous tavern in Waterdeep. There was a tower that exploded, now it’s a portal to the Undermountain. Famous tourist attraction. Lots of adventurers pay money to be lowered down the hole to seek their fortunes.

This is starting to sound like more than a two-person adventure...

Gideon asks Maxeene why a horse of her ability is pulling a carriage? She is an agent for the Harpers, she tells him. You get to see all sorts in her line of work. (The irony.)

Charity says he thinks his job is done - apparently all Mirt wanted was to know what Maxeene knew.

But wait! Charity has a plan. He thinks they should go to the Yawning Portal and ask around. But in order to forestall any investigations, they should disguise themselves. How would Gideon feel about dyeing his beard to pass himself off as a different dwarf? He supposes he could. (Charity pulls out a little bottle that says ‘Just for Dwarves’ on it.)

Charity rubs some boot polish into Gideon’s beard, and they set off for the Yawning Portal. Wait - they need names!

Gideon, after a short pause: “Sledge Rock-Eater.” And what about Brother Charity? “Human names, human names… Paul?”

Charity says he will go with ‘Timothy’. (Is that a Tal’Doreian name?)

Before they go in, Charity suggests that Carl wait for them in an alleyway. He casts Disguise Self to look like a ‘cribbly old man’ (direct quote) and plops his wig on his head. (He could have given himself hair with Disguise Self, but anyway.) He also has ‘a manky eye and a hump’.

Does Gideon have a weapon? He blusters. “I use magic, I don’t usually bonk things.”

Carl offers his mace; “It’s all yours,” he says, the first words we’ve ever known him to speak - something that seems to pass everyone by.

(The scene that follows is not easily captured in text form which is a shame, as much of the nuance and high comedy - not to mention the abominable accents - are completely lost. My apologies to Thunderbuns and Ross Kemp.)

They enter the Yawning Portal. Trophies line the walls, and there is a big hole in floor into which people are being lowered on a rope. The bards here are really good, and obviously well paid.

They start to look around for a half orc and a sun elf who are together. Charity spots a balcony that runs around the edge of the main tap room. From his position he can see a male sun elf standing talking to a female half orc. That seems promising. They are hoping to get their names, and to find out if they are Zent agents.

Publicly, the Zent mercenary guild have a respectable face but they have a shady reputation. They are called the Black Network in underground circles, and most don’t trust their intentions. They undercut the prices of other mercenary guilds. They’ve been at war with Xanathar’s guild, who are also fighting with the Shadow thieves.

Charity, getting ready to make his move: “What was your name again, Thunderbuns?” He suggests dropping Xanathar’s name in a negative way as they walk by, initiating a conversation and seeing what they can glean.

Charity gets fully into character as Ross Kemp as he orders whiskey for himself and Gideon at the bar. It costs 2 copper, but he flicks the barmaid a silver piece and tells her to ‘buy herself summink pretty’. She winks and stuffs the silver piece into her cleavage.

Charity slams the whiskey and makes the face that people who aren’t used to drinking whiskey make. A couple of people at a nearby table notice and start to laugh; Ross Kemp points to the glass and tries to insist that it was ‘the shit stuff’. It’s unclear whether they believe him or not, but it seems unlikely.

Right, time for phase two.

They go up to the balcony, talking shit about Xanathar’s guild in the worst cockney accents anyone has ever heard. The half orc girl is picking at her nails with a dagger and looks up to warn them to watch what they’re saying.  

Charity tells her he is looking to get revenge on Xanathar and his Guild - “They’ll rue the day they crossed Timothy P Fuckapple!”

(Duncan is crying with laughter by this point, and we’re all not far behind him)

The sun elf says if he buys them a drink, will they go and drink it somewhere else?

Timothy P Fuckapple asks gruffly if they would be open to a game of cards…?

The sun elf, looking down his nose: “Absolutely not.”

Timothy P. Fuckapple/Ross Kemp: “What if I sweeten the deal with a bit of cheddar cheese, by which I do mean money?”

Still no.

Timothy says he was told that if a person wanted revenge on Xanathar then they should find two individuals who look like the elf and the orc, but clearly he has been misinformed.

The elf asks, do they have business with the Zent? Are they wanting to hire mercenaries?

Thunderbuns: “No - we wanted to join.”

The elf falls about with laughter. “Did you hear that, Yagra? These buffoons want to join!”

They have a name! Thank fuck for that…

Thunderbuns has an idea, and says he will bet the elf a gold piece that Timothy can guess his name. The elf sighs. “Fine, if you will leave inside a minute.”

Timothy makes his guess - “Silver Frond!” he says, confidently.

“No. My name is Davil Starsong, as anyone here could have told you.” Thunderbuns dutifully hands the elf a gold piece.

“And this here is Yagra Stonefist - she will happily see you to the door.” Yagra pushes them both toward the door; they offer no resistance. They have both names, yes!

Charity writes the information he has discovered on the back of the paper crane, once out of sight in the alley. The crane takes flight and disappears.

And with that the buddy cop movie ends, as does the session. Duncan has two new abs from laughing. (I don’t think this is the last we’ve seen of Thunderbuns and Timothy P. Fuckapple.)

[outlaws-of-anarchy]

Tainted Love (Chapter 4)

Pairings:  Tig Trager x Reader, Herman Kozik x Reader

Warnings: Heart break, angst

Words: 2400

--

Eyes ghosted across the yellowing stains along the ceiling, and the overwhelming, and forever looming stench of cigarettes plagued the mattress she lied on top of. It was quiet enough that she could hear a couple a few doors down fucking like wild, crazed, animals. After the blow out with Tig, Y/N had found sanctity in a dingy, worn down motel room. Yet, it was hard to disappear in a town that was ran by bikers, bikers that all knew just who she was.

“The differences between me and you doll is that I only love one woman that I fuck, and I come home to her every night.” Were the words that haunted her, further tightening the knots in her stomach.

It was no surprise that Tig fucked around with other women, but what had come as a shocker, was that he actually loved her. He saw her as more than just a pair of tits, or someone he could bury his dick in, he saw her as something else, some worthy of his untamable heart. Yet, he had been so reckless with hers, in fact, he had inflicted so many scars and seared his name into her heart, that she knew it would never heal properly.

Just like the part of her heart that had never fully recovered from Kozik’s abandonment.  

She felt guilty, and she knew why she did. While Tig fucked whomever he wanted, it was never with someone he loved. Y/N, on the other hand, had fallen so hopelessly back into Herman’s trap, giving him her body, the one Tig had marked and claimed repetitively over the course of a year. It was not easy loving two men, it was damn near impossible, but she couldn’t help how she felt.

At the end of the day, she could see herself with either of them. There was Kozik who was more stable, his mood didn’t switch constantly, he was faithful; for the most part. He also had admitted in the past of wanting a family with Y/N. And then there was Tig who was a loose cannon, a man with no morals nor ethics. He didn’t care who he hurt, as long as he got what he wanted. He was a rip-roaring storm, wreaking chaos everywhere he went. They had never spoke about having kids, nor ever taking their relationship to the next level.

Was there even a next level with Tig Trager? Who knew.  

☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

‘I’ll be there in an hour, finishin’ up some shit with Happy & Op.” Was the text from Kozik, and Y/N read it with a scowl.

She was now standing outside of the clubhouse, music raging in the background. It was another Saturday night and it was no surprise that was a party being held at the Son’s stomping ground. Kozik had messaged her earlier in the day, inviting her over, but she had refused. She didn’t want to see Tig, and she definitely didn’t want to be put between them again, who knew how another one of their fights would end. However, Kozik had sworn Tig wouldn’t be there, and after reminding Herman that she didn’t know what she wanted, she agreed to go and see him and the others.  

As soon as she entered the clubhouse, the stale scent of old booze tickled the entrance of her nose. Overtime, the smell had become familiar, one that she recognized as home. Yet, once she left, she had stayed away, the smell now foreign in her mind and unwelcomed.  

“Fox! Good to see you kid.” Bobby hollered from near the pool table, a cigar in hand.

Her lips tilted into a smile at the nickname, one she had earned amongst the ranks of men. If she had been a man, it was obvious she would have been a patched member of SAMCRO. The nickname had been given to her sly, vexing, dastardly ways when she drank too much. She had the habit of hustling the men out of their money at pool or even other drunken, party games.  

Nonetheless, she was a valued member of the family, even though she was now treading dangerously over two men’s hearts.  

“Bobby, I expect a game later.” She winked, which earned a chuckle from the man.

“No way darlin’, I ain’t ever bettin’ against you again.” He said.

She could only shrug with a large smirk. “Wise man!”  

Men and women had begun flocking in, filling the club house idly. Most of them she knew, some were also crow eaters. Women who have a particular taste for leather-clad men and trouble.

She had found a place at the bar, making small talk with Juice as he kept her glass full. “Juicey, stop giving me refills. I won’t be able to get home tonight.” She growled playfully.  

“This is your home, we are family. Just because you’re going through shit, doesn’t mean we stop caring. You can always crash in my room if you need to. Loosen up, you deserve it. I got you.” He leaned forward, ruffling her hair.

Y/N could only coo at the cute Pureto Rican before downing the remnants of her drink.

☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

An hour had come and gone and there was still no sign of Kozik, Opie, or Happy. Whatever they were doing had either gone completely south, or they were god awful slow. Yet, one person she hadn’t plan on seeing, showed up, his insatiable aura drawing her in, eliciting a fire in her belly that she thought had been doused.  

He had glanced once in her direction but after that, refused to acknowledge her, even in the slightest. He was giving her the worst cold shoulder she had ever received, and the only way she could fix it, was drink. Maybe spending so much time with the outlaws had influenced her, forcing her to pick up terrible habits. Such as, drinking to relinquish the pain and frustration she felt.

“Give me something stronger.” She murmured to Juice.

He was quick to oblige, sliding her a double edge of whiskey and rum. The drink was one hell of a concoction, it also tasted like shit, but it began working it’s magic and that’s all she wanted. Something to help ease the memories away, to smother the temptations, and to demolish the pain.

Juice had passed his bartender duties onto a prospect, giving him time to sit down beside Y/N and to edge into a meaningful conversation. And although she tried to give him her undivided attention, she could only look longingly over his shoulder into Tig’s direction.

It wasn’t long before a crow eater had taken an interest in him, of course it was one of the usual’s. One that had been passed around from man to man, taking whatever, she wanted. Y/N was positive she had seen Tig hook up with this particular woman before, but she couldn’t exactly remember. She was more focused on the way she draped an arm around her ex’s shoulder and pressed her fake tits into his chest.

Being only a simple man, it was easy for Tig to get lost in the captivating woman in front of him. But no matter what, no matter how hard he tried, Y/N’s face was all he saw. Taking the form of every woman he had tried to bag within the last week and ultimately failed at. She had kicked up dust in his mind, making it hazy and uncertain. Yet with all the uncertainty of the feelings she produced, he still wanted her, still loved her.

Hell, he was probably the most fucked up individual in the room, but she never cared. She loved him, she stuck by his side, until it all went to shit.

☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

The last fifteen minutes, she had spent watching Tig and the crow eater make out in the corner of the club house. Every so often, Tig’s icy gaze would flicker in her direction, almost as if he wanted to make sure she was watching. The longer she spent staring, the more she grew angry, and the more her heart crumpled. If he was paying her back for what she had done with Kozik, then it was working.

It had been easy to slip into a severely intoxicated state, her judgement a little compromised, but everything she was feeling was everything she would have felt if she was sober.  

Y/N’s cloudy eyes fell to Tig’s hands as they grabbed the woman’s ass, squeezing it while licking a stripe across her neck.  

“I’m gonna be sick.” She slurred towards Juice before jumping out of the seat and rushing out the front door.

She used the wall as support, her body bent at an awkward angle as she tried upchucking all the liquor in her stomach. All that came out however, was empty retches and slight whimpers. The cold air of the night tickled her bare arms, forcing her into a state of relaxation. Instinctively she wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand, only getting rid of a bit of saliva.

“Fuck.” She groaned before pressing her back into the wall, leaning fully against it.

Slowly, her eyes had fallen closed as she tried to force the nauseous feeling away. When the door of the clubhouse squeaked open, she only assumed it was Juice checking in on her. “I’m fine Juicey, just needed some air.”

“You don’t look good pussy cat.” Tig said with a rough drawl.

His voice twisted around her body, squeezing it and making her nerves hum to life. Peeling her lids open, she glanced somewhat in his direction. “Thanks.”  

“Where’s your boy toy at?” He asked.

Y/N tensed before pushing off the wall, stumbling forward a bit. Blazing eyes darted to the curly-headed biker, stepping cautiously towards him. “Don’t start with me Trager, I have enough shit going on in my head. I don’t need any of your bullcrap.”

He dug his hands into the fronts of his jeans, only offering her a snort. “What shit do you have going on? Trying to decide which dick you want to ride tonight? Maybe you’ll move onto one of the other guys. Ya know, you can be all of our personal little slut.”  

Even in her inebriated state, she knew an insult when she heard it. So, it was no surprise when she slammed her hand into his cheek, feeling the sting on her own flesh, she knew she had landed a good one. “Don’t fucking talk to me like that. You out of all people have no room to talk about being a slut, as you’re dry fucking out in the open for everyone to see. You have no idea what I’m dealing with, how I’m feeling.”

His jaw flexed as he rubbed the red, irritated skin of his cheek. Within an instant, he was grabbing her wrists and forcing her back against the wall, pinning her arms above her head with a firm pressure. She struggled against him, bucking around like a bronco, but his hold was too strong.

“Get the fuck off me.” She spat venomously.  

“Why did you do it? Why did you ruin what we had? Was he worth it?” He growled in her face.

His sudden questions made her shrink back before rediscovering her voice. “What we had? You mean me being devoted to you, loving you, while you went and fucked whoever you wanted, while you just used me? It was clearly nothing special Tig, because if you loved me like you claimed, then our situation would have been completely different.”  

There was an evident pain in the depths of his eyes, but he quickly shielded himself, unwilling to show an ounce of vulnerability.  

“You moved on pretty fast though, I’d get back to the bitch waiting for you.” She grunted, trying to jerk her wrists from his hands.

This only made him tighten his hold, her face contorting into a wince as she sucked in a breath.

“Are you jealous?” He asked.

Her eyes rolled dramatically as if he had asked the question, he should have known the answer to. “No shit, just because I slept with Kozik doesn’t mean I stopped loving you. I’m just trying to figure out everything, I’m trying to do what’s best for me. I can’t keep being hurt, it’s not fair, and it’s not fair that I keep hurting either of you.” Her voice softened.  

Tears slowly began welling up before pushing towards the corner of her eyes and dripping down her cheeks. “I’m sorry Tig, but let’s face it. We weren’t ever going to last, you’re wild and free and I enjoy that about you, but I’m not the one who’s gonna tame you. I’m not gonna be the one who makes you want to stop fucking everything with a pulse. I’m j-just sorry.”  

He looked down at her face, concern briefly flashing across his visage as he watched her silently cry. She was clearly in pain, not physical, but emotional. She felt guilty for what she had done with Kozik, and it was noticeable. She wanted his forgiveness, even if she couldn’t have his whole heart. She could settle with that, to just be forgiven for her betrayal. Yet, he wanted to be forgiven to, he wanted to give her his whole heart.

All the emotions he had developed over the months, were terrifying. But only because they were real, because they came from a place inside of him that he thought had died off a long time ago. She wasn’t perfect, but neither was he, and he continuously had hurt even if she had never verbally said so.

He could always see the disappoint in her eyes when she found hickies on his body that didn’t belong to her. Or when he would openly flirt with numerous women in front of her, knowing damn well she wouldn’t leave. He had hurt over and over, and she had stayed. She didn’t give up on him, she didn’t call him names, she didn’t do anything, just accepted it because she knew who he was.

But he didn’t want to be like that anymore, he wanted her.  

“I’m what’s best for you pussy cat.” He said before crushing his lips into hers.  

Chapter 5