#he had no backpack no baggage nothing

[mxstellatayte]

pretty please: chapter three.

pretty please masterlist.

chapter three contents: these hoes being in LOVE love, a lot of plot but it makes sense just wait, 2020 turkish grand prix, very brief sex but it's vanilla bullshit, love confessions, lewis' private jet, ROSCOEEEEEE

chapter three word count: 4.8k

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@slutmeoutsworld @itsgrlalmghty

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she on an ego trip, baggage in the trunk

lewis sent emails.

a month later, you get an email from one of the mercedes pr representatives, the subject line reading "turkish grand prix invitation." you roll your eyes, already knowing exactly who arranged your visit to the grand prix. as expected, should you accept the invitation, you'll be receiving premium treatment from mercedes, equal only to a vip paddock pass. when you send lewis a text about it, he simply responds by asking if you'll be there.

your reply? "if nothing comes up, i'll be there."

when you receive the email in late september with your november assignments, you breathe a sigh of relief when you don't have any traveling on the roster for the whole month. after a brief phone call with lewis and a lot of insistence on your part that, seriously, you'll survive a four hour flight on commercial, you giggle and roll across your bed, squealing like a teenager. the day of your flight can't arrive soon enough.

tuesday, 10 november, 2020.

the timing of your flight to istanbul is, admittedly, less than ideal. you land at almost ten PM local time, so by the time you've made it through customs, your eyelids are heavy and you want nothing more than to hit the pillows of the hotel bed that awaits you. thankfully, it's relatively easy to spot the driver that mercedes has sent for you. you find the well-dressed employee- melek, her name tag reads- who holds a tablet with your last name on it, and greet her with a smile beneath her mask. "i trust you had a good flight?"

"yes, i did. thank you. how have things been here?"

"they've been good. i'm sure you know that when mr. hamilton wins this weekend, he'll secure the championship. please, let me take your bag." you nod, handing her the handle of your suitcase but keeping your backpack slung over your shoulder. "will we be heading to the hotel or another destination, ma'am?"

"i think i need to head to the hotel tonight. i'm exhausted. thank you" melek nods, tacking her tablet under her arm. "lead the way." the car ride to the hotel isn't long by any means, but despite the flight from london to istanbul being just under four hours, you still feel the exhaustion that only exists in the depths of your bones, and it's an exhaustion you only feel after a day of travel. frankly, you don't know how the drivers, mechanics, engineers, lawyers, and team principals regularly do this, sometimes traveling to upwards of twenty races each year.

"i am staying in this hotel, as well, and my phone number is on my business card so that you can call or text me. i am at your service for the week." melek fishes around in the pocket of her blazer, then pulls out a crisp white business card. you accept it gratefully, remarking with a smile that she won't have to be driving you anywhere for the rest of the day-you're completely and entirely drained of any energy from traveling. "in that case," melek says, matching your own smile beneath her mask, "good night."

you nod and bid her the same, smiling when you open the small pack melek had handed you with her business card, indicating that you're bound to stay on the twenty-second floor of the luxurious hotel. the elevator takes painfully long to climb to the floor, but once you stagger through your door, ditch your suitcase somewhere along the way to your bed, and barely manage to untie your shoes, pull off your jeans, and yank on a pair of loose, star-printed sleep shorts, you shimmy under the duvet and fall fast asleep.

one thing that you've considered about visiting the middle east multiple times has been the dress code. sure, there isn't any explicit dress code, per se- it's not like school where you had a specific uniform that you had to obey every day lest you'd get a talking to from one of your teachers or, god forbid, detention. no, it's much different, but it's still a dress code you're going to obey. in fact, in the middle east, it's much more like a social norm than a dress code. since islam is the most commonly practiced religion in turkey, you've opted for some of the more modest items of clothing in your closet, even packing a dress that goes past your knees and reaches your wrists for the race.

today, you're going to explore istanbul. after arranging your flights and lodging, you'd been asked what you would want to do in your two free days before the race weekend. normally, you'd only have one free day, if any, before needing to report for your media duties, but, since you're a guest to this race, the first time you'll set foot in the paddock is friday, for the free practices. another reason melek is your guide for this weekend is because she was born in istanbul and knows the city like the back of her hand.

it seems that you beat melek to her first comment, which is that of modest clothing and keeping your wallet close to you. today, instead of the professional attire she wore last night, she wears a simple long dress in a beautiful dark purple (an abaya, she says,) and the same black hijab she was wearing yesterday, but today she wears a white undercap as opposed to the black one from yesterday.

"do you have any ideas for what you want to do for the next two days?" she says, smearing paprika butter onto her toast. you both have ordered the same meal, although you just followed her lead when her eyes lit up upon seeing that her favorite breakfast was on the menu. çilbir, she said it was called.

you shake your head, swallowing the bite of poached egg and toast, the rich flavors of the garlicky yogurt sauce the egg had sat on remaining in your mouth. "not really. the only idea i had was to follow your lead, honestly. i saw that you were born here and figured it would be best to see what someone who knows the city as well as you do would do with a free day." melek's eyes light up once more, smiling broadly.

"i was kind of hoping you'd say that." her voice is filled with glee, and you know you're in good hands when she pulls out her phone and shows you a list of ideas she'd come up with the night before. "if you're up for it, the first thing i'd like to do is a bit of shopping. the grand bazaar is absolutely incredible and, if you'd like, we can find you an abaya and a hijab for you to wear this weekend." when you nod eagerly at her idea, another bite of your breakfast in your mouth, she continues. "i'm not sure if architecture and culture is your thing, but the blue mosque and the hagia sophia are the most iconic mosques in istanbul, so those are definitely also ideas for places we could visit. they're also right next to each other, so we can definitely see both if you want."

you finish your breakfasts making relatively loose plans for the day, and you can tell that melek is overjoyed that you're excited to learn more about istanbul. as she'd suggested, your first stop is the grand bazaar, and you really underestimated it. it's loud, crowded, and hot, but it's beautiful in its own unique way. the first shop that melek pulls you into is a clothing shop, and your jaw drops. the fabrics that line the walls are in colors so rich and beautiful you almost think you're viewing the post-editing photographs of it, yet you somehow know that it's real.

"it's beautiful, isn't it?" melek's voice snaps you out of your trance, and you nod.

"it's stunning. thank you for bringing me here."

"this is just the beginning. what colors do you normally wear?" after telling her, she rattles something off to the stall owner, a kind-eyed woman wearing an abaya and hijab similar to melek's, though she doesn't wear an undercap and her hijab is much more opaque. "oh, look at that." when you turn, seeing what she's referring to, you're starstuck. a dark blue abaya lays in the stall owner's arms, and something uneasy stirs in your stomach. you attempt to quell it, though, instead accepting the dress from the owner and scurrying behind a curtain to try it on. when you emerge and face the full length mirror, a sheepish grin spreads on your face when melek gawks at you. "oh, my goodness. you look stunning."

"really?"

"absolutely. do you want to try on a hijab, too?" the uneasy feeling returns in your stomach, and this time, you're able to pinpoint what it is.

"wouldn't it be appropriating your culture, though? i don't want to offend anyone."

"oh, nonsense," melek says with a wave of her hand. "i'd say you're appreciating it more than anything. here, try mine on. pull your hair back?" she unfastens the magnets that hold the fabric together at her chin and drapes it over your hair, securing it with the magnets below your chin and styling it how she had it on her own head. when she moves away from the mirror and you're able to look at your reflection, you're... slightly shocked.

somehow, despite your typical style being jeans that hug your body and shirts or blouses that end before your elbows, you feel beautiful in a full-length dress and a headscarf.

you feel beautiful, confident, and, most of all, you feel strong.

you don't notice it initially, but tears are brimming your eyes, and melek jumps forward, dabbing at your eyes with the sleeve of her abaya. you laugh, tilting your eyes upwards to avoid letting the tears fall. "you look absolutely beautiful."

"i feel beautiful."

by the time you collapse into your bed that day, your smartwatch has logged more than 30,000 steps throughout the streets of istanbul, your camera roll has increased by nearly 500 photos, your stomach is full of delicious street food, and you've purchased two abayas, a white undercap, and three different hijabs. you travel to the middle east several times a year- why shouldn't you have some outfit variability?

before parting ways for the day, you'd made plans with melek to visit some museums tomorrow, the first of which is the rumeli fortress and the second being the topkapi palace museum. you just hope your phone has enough storage to hold all the photos you're going to take.

so pretty and you know it, my heart goes hammer time

soon enough, friday rolls around, and you can't help but admit that you're a bit nervous. knowing the media, they'll tear you to pieces for simply adhering to the cultural norm, but you push down your anxieties in favor of smiling at yourself in the mirror- you really look gorgeous. you're wearing the dark blue abaya you found on wednesday with a simple white chiffon hijab. the juste un clou necklace sits just below your collarbones, and you'd laid your hijab in such a way that it'll be visible, but only if you're really looking for it. knowing lewis, though, he'll see it instantly. after tying the ribbons into a bow at your back, giving your silhouette a fitted waistline to contrast the otherwise fully modest outfit, you make sure everything you'll need is inside your clutch, including two extra masks, and head to the elevators. once you arrive in the lobby, melek greets you with a smile below her mask and hands you a vip guest pass.

"you look beautiful," she assures, almost as if she could read your mind once you sit in the car.

"thank you. you do, too." she's wearing a white shirt and pants set below her lilac jacket-style abaya with a black undercap and hijab, and her converse match the abaya. honestly, it bugs you a little bit how she's so effortlessly beautiful and stylish.

when you step out of the car at the paddock, you slide the pass over your head and hold your clutch tightly in order to stop your hands from shaking. the nerves are starting to settle into your bones, but they're immediately banished when you catch a glimpse of dark tattooed skin, and you instinctively call out his name.

"lewis!"

he'd know that voice anywhere.

before he can fully register your voice, he's whipping around and scanning the crowd for you, almost skimming over your figure. "hey!" he approaches you, and, as is the standard now, brings you in for a hug. "you look amazing. where- when did you buy this?"

when you turn, attempting to find melek in the crowd, you realize it's purely in vain- she's ducked away from the cameras and is making a beeline for the turnstiles to enter the paddock while somehow still avoiding every single camera. "well, she's disappeared now, but melek and i went shopping in the grand bazaar on wednesday. it was absolutely beautiful. you need to go sometime." you've started walking toward the turnstiles with lewis, and you fish your pass out from the folds of your hijab. "you feeling ready for this weekend?"

"a little nervous, but you know how it is."

"i don't, in fact," you quip, making lewis laugh, and, oh, how you missed that laugh. it's high and bubbly and fills you with so many stupid emotions that you really don't want to process right now, so instead you try to turn your dumb smile into a sly smirk. "why don't you tell me?"

"it's... difficult to put into words." he pauses, fist bumping sebastian vettel and giving him the signature 'bro pat' on his arm before returning to his conversation with you. "there's different feelings for each event. for practice sessions, there's less pressure and you're just trying to get a feel for the track, the conditions, learn which corners you're over- or understeering in, that kind of thing. for qualifying, though, it's a waiting game for the first bit, and then, on your flying lap, the world goes quiet. i learn the car get a feel for it and how it responds to everything in the practice sessions, and then in qualifying, i boil all of the mental notes i gathered during the three hours of practice down into one or two notes per corner and send it. i put everything into the car like it's the last lap of the last race and the championship is purely based on this lap." by now, you've made it to the mercedes garage, and you're handed a headset to slip over your neck before smiling and fist bumping a majority of the mechanics and hugging bono quickly. as soon as you've ducked out of view of the cameras, lewis' hand grasps yours tightly, and you quietly thank whatever gods are watching over you that you haven't taken your mask off yet, because you're positive that the heat seeping through your cheeks is incredibly visible.

"when i'm in the car for the race, though, it's a whole different feeling. i feel every minute detail, every time the tires slip or lock up in the slightest bit, how the car gets snappier with each lap as the fuel burns off, every tiny pebble or piece of debris that i run over." you don't let lewis continue talking, instead unhooking your mask from your ears, reaching up to undo his, and kissing him softly. your hands, still holding both masks, rest on his chest and his arms wrap around your waist, caging you in safely.

"you should be a poet," you say, smiling softly against lewis' skin while he continues peppering feather-light kisses to the corners of your lips and cheeks.

"oh yeah? what makes you say that?"

"the way you explained that was... beautiful."

within the next hour, your phone is being blown up with notifications. to be fair, most of them are from amelia saying how absolutely stunning you look and encouraging you to "go get that driver dick, baby!" the others are mostly instagram and twitter notifications, and although the majority are praising you for respecting the modest culture, the ones that you remember the most are the ones critiquing and berating you.

"don't go looking through that bullshit," lewis says, prying your phone from your hands. you're laying on his couch after the first practice session, your feet kicked up onto one armrest and your head resting against the other. "they're just jealous because you look so pretty."

on saturday, lance stroll takes pole, excelling in the rainy conditions. the internet goes up in flames when you arrive at the paddock wearing an abaya and a hijab yet again, but today, you remember lewis' words, and your nerves calm a bit. in the post-qualifying interviews, though, you're surprised when sebastian, daniel, carlos, lewis, and valtteri all come forward, defending you and condemning any fans that have been criticizing you for dressing in a culturally sensitive manner.

it's sunday. you had seen the abaya you're wearing today on your walk to the topkapi palace on thursday and it remained in the back of your mind the whole time you browsed the museum. on your way back, you'd nudged melek and gone into the shop with her, and, after standing behind melek slightly awkwardly as she conversed with the shop's worker in turkish, you paid for the dark teal abaya and moved on to the rumeli fortress. a dubai abaya, melek had called it. "it's more dressy- see the embroidery on the sleeves? it's typically for more luxurious or glamorous occasions."

what's more glamorous than the pinnacle of motorsport?

when you find lewis and valtteri in the garage, their faces light up and lewis brings you in for a hug quickly. "you look stunning, as always," he whispers, and a rush of butterflies flood your stomach once more.

"thank you."

"can i get a spin?" valtteri says, and you happily oblige, the abaya twirling at your feet. "it suits you." you beam below your mask. valtteri is a very reserved person, but you've quickly learned his mannerisms. he isn't the person to hand out compliments for the heck of it, so when you do get a compliment from him, you know he really means it.

"thanks, valtteri. you ready for today?" he nods and is about to respond when his race engineer notifies him that he needs to review some strategy ideas, so he excuses himself from the conversation and you're left with lewis. "what about you, soon-to-be seven-time world champion?"

"nervous. with the track being such a high-speed circuit and the rain, it's going to be hard to not spin out."

"aw, come on. you'll do great."

and he does. after multiple rain clouds, fluctuations in temperature, and so many close calls that could've resulted in spins or crashes, you're clapping in the mercedes garage, hugging every mechanic that's overwhelmed with glee alongside you. your headset is over your ears, and you tear up a little bit hearing lewis' voice over the radio.

"what a way to win your seventh world title," bono says next to you, and you laugh when you hear lewis squealing with joy. "mate, you have got to be proud of that. what an awesome drive."

lewis has tears in his voice when he replies, and you can't tell if he's breathing heavily because of the race or because of the fact that he just equalled michael schumacher's record for seven world titles. "thank you so much, guys! woo! that's for all the kids out there that dream the impossible. you can do it too, man. i believe in you guys. thank you so much, everyone, for your support." sebastian is the first person to congratulate him, running over in parc fermé after pulling off his own helmet, brushing away a scarlet team kit-clad ferrari employee trying to bring him to the weigh station in favor of kneeling just in front of the halo, reaching his hand through, and clasping it tightly with lewis' own. when he manages to climb out of the car and run over to the crowd of mercedes employees waiting for him, he's absorbed by arms and hands patting him on the back, jumping up and down with glee. you're hanging back in the crowd and doing your best to avoid the cameras, but when lewis pulls away from the giant hug and spots you, wearing his colors supporting his team, he's struck by an abrupt realization--one he's been deliberately avoiding admitting to himself for months, instead opting to shift his focus to any other topic.

yeah.

he's in love with you.

the love we make is poison, it's like my only vice

you don't see him again until after the podium ceremony. he stands between sebastian and sergio, and the crowd roars when he steps out onto the platform, the words "seven-time world champion" ringing in your ears as the british national anthem begins to play. you giggle when you notice that the wrong digital flags hang above sergio and sebastian's heads despite the drivers standing on the correct steps, and you're pretty sure it's a laugh to stop yourself from crying because if you stop smiling you will cry.

after he's handed the trophy, he steps forward off of the podium and tosses it in the air as the crowd below cheers. following the remaining three trophies being handed to their respective recipients, champagne sprays, the toreador march plays, and you couldn't be happier. as soon as lewis steps off the podium, you're the first person he looks for, but he's herded towards the media pen where he's held captive for the next hour, but all he wants to do is get back to you and celebrate his victory. when he does find you, hours later, you're curled into a ball on his couch, a pile of teal fabric and your hair splayed out behind you, and lewis is pretty sure his heart melts.

he sets his phone down on the massage table next to your hijab and squats in front of the couch, laying a gentle hand on your shoulder and shaking slightly. despite the only light in the room being the glow from the light outside the door, your eyes still briefly struggle to adjust to it, and lewis has to hold your hands to stop you from rubbing at them- your eyeliner looks especially perfect today.

"hey there, seven-time world champion," you murmur, sitting up and taking his face in your hands. "how was media?"

"agonizingly slow, as always. but i'm here with you now, and that's what matters." you smile, leaning in to kiss him softly, and lewis gladly accepts, kissing you softly. all too soon, though, he remembers the realization he had after the race, and pulls back, a pout finding your lips in response. "can we talk about something?" your heart rate spikes upon hearing the words, and lewis must see how your eyebrows rise slightly and your lips part in confusion, because he's quick to quell your anxieties. "it's nothing bad, don't worry. it's just... weird to think about this conversation."

"i've got time," you reply, patting the spot next to you on the couch and shifting so that you're looking directly at him when he takes his seat. "what's on your mind?"

lewis hesitates, his eyes shifting uneasily and his hands fidgeting in his lap. on instinct, you reach forward and take his hands in yours, stopping him from picking at his nails the way he does when he's nervous. "i don't really know why i haven't asked you this before, and it's really weird saying this out loud because i don't think i've ever had to do this, but do you... do you want to go out on a proper date?"

you're a bit gobsmacked, if you're being entirely honest. of all the things you'd expected him to say, that was probably the last thing on your list. your jaw drops open a bit, and lewis looks like he's about to backpedal, but your reflexes, in this one instance, are faster. "i'd love to, lewis." relief immediately floods his face, and you laugh, watching as every tense muscle in his body releases and he exhales a dramatic sigh of relief.

"oh, thank god. i don't know what i would've done if you'd said no."

"lewis, are you crazy? why would i ever say no?" you lower your voice just slightly, still aware of the open door, and, despite most of the team having already returned to their hotels, some people are still milling about, and you don't exactly want the entire paddock hearing what you're about to say. "not only are you the most kind and attentive person i've ever met, you're incredibly attractive, and i'd be lying if i said that the sex with you hasn't been the best in my entire life." lewis laughs, leaning forward and resting his head on your knuckles where they still clutch his hands.

"how does dinner sound?" he sits up again, still smiling brightly.

"dinner sounds lovely. i'm not sure when we'll be in the same area next, though."

"why not tonight?"

"i'm hardly dressed for getting dinner with the lewis hamilton," you begin, but lewis cuts you off with a kiss.

"you look stunning. i couldn't outshine you if i tried." it's your turn to hide your face in your hands, a dumb, teenager-in-love smile spreading across your face. "let me shower and get dressed, and then we'll head out?" you nod, and lewis leans forward to kiss you quickly before standing and heading towards the door to his bathroom.

you're wearing nothing but your perfume it's one hell of a view

"you're absolutely beautiful." you aren't sure how many times lewis has murmured those words in your ear since you left the mercedes motorhome, but this time, it's your chance to say it. you've both removed every article of clothing you wore out to dinner, your abaya and hijab abandoned somewhere on the floor and, dropped between them somewhere, lie lewis' shirt and slacks.

when he pushes into you, your mouth falls open in a breathy moan that lewis swallows greedily, his lips a comforting touch on your own, and your arms wrap around his broad shoulders to hold him as close as possible. his thrusts are slow and deliberate, pressing against every spot deep inside of you that makes you see stars. "you like it deep like that?"

the only response you're able to form is a whiny "yeah" that just sounds downright pathetic to your ears.

lewis tucks his head into the crook of your neck, mouthing at the sensitive skin there, kissing and licking softly, letting his teeth occasionally graze gently. you're engulfed in the smell of his cologne, a delicate mix of rose, cumin, and cedarwood that you wish you could bathe in. his thrusts take a slow pace, one that has your orgasm creeping up on you slowly but surely, and when it hits you, your fingers dig into his shoulders as you cum with a cry of his name on your lips, the faint sting of tears in your eyes.

the next morning, you're curled up against lewis' side in his jet, looking out onto istanbul as you fly out of the beautiful city. roscoe's head is laid in your lap, and your fingers idly scratch along his head. if dogs purred, roscoe would be doing just that. lewis' left hand holds your right, his thumb gently running along your own, and your head rests in the crook between his neck and shoulder.

for the first time in a week, you feel peaceful. you don't have to keep up appearances for anyone, you don't have to worry about running into any cameras, and you can just... exist. the fact that lewis is by your side, his form protective over you, only brings you further comfort.

it's you who speaks up first. "what're you thinking about?"

"hm?"

"you've got something on your mind. you need to talk about it?"

"just thinking about you."

"what about me?"

"will you be my partner?"

your kiss against his lips gives him a very enthusiastic answer that he can only hope to assume means yes. when you part, your cheeks burning from smiling and tears stinging your waterline, you laugh lightly.

"you made me an offer i can't refuse. i got it bad for you, baby."

and that's a wrap! i hope you guys liked the story <3 as always, all my love to every single one of you that stuck around to see this through. i know i'm over a month late on this final chapter but it took me forever to find an ending that i actually liked. thank you for reading and pls pls check out my other stories.

all my best,

stella

[justlookfrightened]

Old dogs and new tricks

Prompt fill from @goddess47: MooMaw comes to visit Jack and Bitty

Lorraine Phelps settled back into her seat and sighed.

She was on the plane. The first part of her journey was done.

It hadn’t been so bad, really. Suzanne had driven her to the airport in Atlanta, parked and walked her into the airport, made sure her new suitcase got checked, escorted her all the way to the security line.

“I wish you’d let me get a gate pass so I could stay with you,” Suzanne fussed. “Or arranged a wheelchair.”

“I’ll be fine,” Lorraine had rejoined. “I’m not a child, and I’m not decrepit.”

Not yet, anyway.

This trip to Providence was an adventure for Lorraine, her first time in years on an airplane, her first time ever flying by herself.

When Dicky had traveled to Madison for her “surprise” 75th birthday party, the gift had been a huge box, a box that turned out to contain a new suitcase, one of the ones with wheels on the bottom and a smaller bag inside, and a picture of an airplane.

“Well, this is lovely,” Lorraine had said to her favorite grandson. Yes, he was her favorite, not that she’d ever admit it to anyone. But all those hours they’d spent in the kitchen together … it was like their own flavors melded and complemented one another. “But I don’t know —”

And Dicky had cut her off, because of course he knew what she was going to say.

“The suitcase isn’t the present, Moomaw,” he’d said. “The present is … me ’n’ Jack want you to come to Providence to visit. We didn’t get flights yet, because we have to decide when is the best time and all, but we want you to come stay with us. And this way you can’t say that you don’t have a bag to pack.”

“As if I would!” Lorraine had said.

But truth be told, she might have.

She knew plenty of people traveled all the time, flew all over the country, all over the world even. Jack with his team — he must be flying two, three, even four times a week. Even Dicky had flown back and forth from college after the first year, for breaks too, and Suzanne and Rick flew to visit him even now.

They all knew how to do it, though, with their tickets on their phones and showing identification in the security lines, and understanding what to leave in their bags and take out before they went through the machine.

She shouldn’t have worried.

Dicky had sent videos showing what the screening area was like at Hartsfield, and all kinds of explanations.

“If you’re 75, you don’t have to take your shoes off, and you can leave your sweater on to go through the metal detector,” he’d said in an email. “You don’t have to worry about a laptop or tablet, so just make sure you don’t have anything liquid in your carryon. We can get any toiletries you need here, and you can put your makeup in your checked bag. Otherwise, liquids need to be in small containers and fit in one small plastic bag, which you might or might not have to take out of your carryon.”

As it turned out, Lorraine didn’t even need a carryon. Her purse was large enough for her wallet and phone, a magazine, a paperback book, lipstick and some chewing gum (recommended by Dicky for takeoff and landing).

And it turned out that being a 5-foot-nothing grandmother type with a cloud of white hair meant that the security people wanted nothing more than to help her on her way, with one even coming over to her after she collected her bag to point her towards the correct gate.

Then the first-class (first class!) ticket Dicky and Jack sent meant that she was escorted aboard the flight early, and all she had to do was sit and look out the window and sip the water they gave her.

She texted Dicky: On the plane! Everything is lovely! See you when I get there!

Coach passengers, most of them laden down with roller bags or backpacks and food and pillows and whatnot, were still shuffling past her seat when Dicky replied, “Great! I’ll be at baggage claim when you get here!”

Lorraine carefully put her phone into airplane mode — she’d never had to do that before — before tucking it into her purse and pulling out the magazine. She was too excited to focus on her book.

She spent the flight alternating between reading and looking out the window, enjoying a quite tasty smoked chicken salad. They didn’t have sweet tea; Lorraine toyed with the idea of having a glass of wine, but decided it wouldn’t be a good idea. There was too much she had to pay attention to today. But she did indulge in a Coke.

When the plane landed, she waited while most of the people behind her on the plane bumped and jostled their way out. Once she got her phone reconnected, she found a text from Dicky telling her what baggage carousel to look for.

On my way! she texted back, then stood to wait for a break in the traffic in the aisle.

“Can I help you?” the nice flight attendant asked. “Is there someone meeting you at the gate?”

“No, my grandson is at baggage claim,” Lorraine said. “I’ll be fine. Just follow the signs, right?”

It turned out to be as simple as following the people. Dicky was standing at the bottom of the escalator, all but vibrating as he craned his neck to look for her. As soon as he caught sight of her, Dicky gave her a broad smile and a little wave.

“How was your flight?” he asked as soon as the escalator deposited her on the ground floor. “No trouble? You don’t have anything besides your purse?”

“My suitcase should be coming,” she said.

“I mean, besides that? Do you want to sit down while I wait for it? I know what it looks like.”

“I can wait with you,” Lorraine said. “It feels good to stand after sitting on the plane.”

When the purple case came, Dicky picked it up and rolled it towards the exit.

“I’m not parked too far away,” he said.

The ride in Dicky’s little red car started with a long time in a tunnel, then a long time on an interstate through suburban subdivisions and then finally some woodland and fields. It could have been driving out of Atlanta, except the dirt was a different color, and the leaves were different.

Before she would have thought it possible, they were back in suburbs, then getting off the interstate onto city streets.

The whole time, Bitty prattled about everything they could do in the week Lorraine was spending in Providence. He was full of museums and restaurants and farmer’s markets and parks in a way that sounded, frankly, exhausting.

“So,” Dicky finally said, turning the car into a driveway that led to a garage under a high-rise, “any of that sound good to you?”

“It all sounds wonderful,” Lorraine said. “But I didn’t come to see Providence. I came to see you. And, of course, Jack.”

“He’s home by now,” Dicky said. “He had a meeting this morning about some sponsorship things.”

Dicky pulled into a numbered spot and once again took Lorraine’s suitcase, leading her towards an elevator where he pressed the button for the top floor.

“Wait until you see the view,” he said.

Lorraine smiled, because she already had the view she wanted.

Jack, as promised, was in the condo, all solicitousness.

“Bits made some sweet tea this morning,” he said as soon as she was fairly in the door. “Can I pour you a glass? Are you hungry?”

“I ate just fine on the plane,” Lorraine said. “But yes, some sweet tea would be lovely. Let me go freshen up, then some tea, And then maybe a rest?”

“Of course,” Dicky said. “I’m sorry — I should have thought. The bathroom is here —” he opened the first door in the hallway off the kitchen “ — and your room is right next door. I’ll put your suitcase in there.”

Once the door closed on her in the bathroom, Lorraine let out a deep sigh. This was the first time since Suzanne picked her up that she’d been alone, truly alone, and it was a relief. But she knew she only had a couple of minutes before Dicky would get worried about her in here.

That was one of the things no one ever warned you about when you got old. She’d lived alone for years now, and quite liked her own company. Suzanne called most days, of course, and Judy came around, and Lorraine had an active social life, what with church and her book group, but most of the time she saw other people on her own terms.

But then when she did spend time with family, they worried if she spent too long in the bathroom or wanted to go off on her own for a while.

She couldn’t blame them, really. She’d lost Walker years ago now, and no one had expected him to pass when he did. They worried over her. And she did have more aches and pains, not that she complained.

Lorraine washed her hands and refreshed her lipstick before going back to the main living area, able to appreciate the wide windows with a view over the city. Dicky and Jack were in the kitchen, a large tiled area that was separated from the dining room by a counter with high chairs. The dining room wasn’t really separated at all from the living room, except by the furniture that made the use of each area obvious.

Dicky and Jack were speaking in low voices, and Dicky stopped as soon as he saw her. Jack offered her the glass of tea he’d poured while Dicky picked up a plate of cookies and gestured towards the sofa.

“How’s everyone in Madison?” he asked as they settled in.

Lorraine passed along news and greetings — Judy’s oldest boy’s wife was pregnant, and the younger one had dropped out of Georgia Tech and started working as a mechanic, and gotten engaged to his high school sweetheart.

“Your Aunt Judy isn’t thrilled, I can tell you that,” she said. “But she is going on about what a lovely wedding it will be, especially in front of your mother.”

“MooMaw, you know Jack and I are getting married up here,” Dicky said. “I know Mama wants a wedding in Georgia, but that would be a huge mess. Everyone is nice to my face when I’m there, but I know they’re still talking behind my back about me marrying Jack, and why would I want to do that to myself? Never mind that Jack’s folks are in Montreal, and most of our friends are here.”

“Oh, I don’t disagree,” MooMaw said. “I think you made the right decision. I just wanted to let you know.”

“So I wouldn’t be surprised when Mama brings it up again?” Dicky asked. “I do think that this way the only relatives who’ll come will be the ones who really want to. You’re coming, right?”

“You couldn’t keep me away,” MooMaw said. “Especially now that I know how easy the flight is. I suppose I’ll have to travel with your mother and father.”

“I was thinking you would,” Bitty said. “You don’t want to?”

“To tell you the truth, I kind of like first class,” MooMaw said. “Even though you shouldn’t have.”

“Of course we should have,” Jack said. “We can fly you all up first-class for the wedding.”

“Jack —” Dicky said.

“What?” Jack said. “It’s not that much. We could charter a private plane for your relatives if you want —”

“Jack. We are not chartering a private plane.”

Lorraine hid her smile behind a cookie. Her Dicky had found a good one. What was it her mother had told her when she brought Walker home? It would be just as easy to fall in love with a rich man?

Walker had never been rich, but they’d done all right. They’d both taught school, Lorraine in the primary grades and Walker at the high school, until the girls came along, and then Lorraine stayed home. Walker had worked a series of second jobs in the summer and side jobs all year, and they’d never wanted for anything.

Now Suzanne’s Rick made near as much as the high school principal as the football coach, so they were fine. But it wasn’t “we’ll just charter a plane” money. Or “top-floor condo with a view of the city money” either.

Still, Jack didn’t strike her as spoiled. He had a good head on his shoulders, and he loved Dicky. That was obvious from the first time she saw the two of them together.

“So,” Dicky said, obviously changing the subject. “Do you want to go out for dinner tonight? Or go do anything this afternoon?”

“I think I’d like to have a lie-down,” Lorraine said. “For at least a while. If y’all don’t want to cook, we could go out — but maybe just for a bite? And then tomorrow, if you’re not busy, Dicky, you could show me around the neighborhood?”

“We don’t mind cooking,” Jack answered. “We have some steaks and some chicken we can grill, if that sounds all right to you?”

“And tomorrow we’ll hit up the market,” Dicky said. “You don’t mind being a special guest on my vlog? But maybe after we go to the farmer’s market Saturday. Jack has meetings tomorrow, but he’s free Friday — we thought we’d go to Newport and maybe take the ferry to Jamestown or Block Island?”

“That all sounds fine,” Lorraine said.

Jack stood as she got to her feet, and she smiled at the manners his parents had clearly instilled in him.

“I’m fine,” she said. “Just a little worn out.”

The visit proceeded more or less as Lorraine expected, with Dicky planning daily outings and events, which Lorraine enjoyed immensely — especially ones like the ferry, where she could sit down — and Jack joining them when he was able.

She and Dicky also baked and cooked together, both on camera and off; she sampled foods including stuffed clams and lobster rolls; and she and Jack started an ongoing penny-a-point series of gin rummy games, mostly out on the terrace while Dicky was busy on the computer.

Jack turned out to be a worthy competitor.

The surprise of the visit, and a pleasant one, was the way Jack warmed up to her. She’d obviously liked the boy from the beginning for his devotion to Dicky if nothing else. Now that they had more time together, she came to like his sly sense of humor, the way he observed the world and even the way he helped Dicky moderate his impulses to try to do everything all at once.

Dicky had told her that Jack suffered from anxiety and sometimes had panic attacks, although she didn’t see anything like that during her week in Rhode Island. She hoped that meant he was comfortable with her. He was comfortable enough, at any rate, to mention going to therapy, which she supposed was a good thing.

Would probably be a good thing for Dicky too, if she was honest. God knew the boy had a rough enough time growing up, and he always had been a bit of a whirlwind. Maybe those two things weren’t related, but you never knew.

“So,” Dicky said, when he drove her to the airport for her flight home. “When do you want to come back? If you come during the season I can bring you to one of Jack’s games — I can send you the schedule and maybe you want to pick out a weekend with a day game?”

“I couldn’t ask for —”

“You’re not asking, I’m inviting,” Dicky said. “Actually, it was Jack’s idea. If you want Mama and Coach to come with you, I can try —”

“No, that’s fine,” Lorraine said. “I’d like very much to come.”

After all, she thought, as she got in the line for security, this was something she knew how to do now.

[igotanidea]

No strings attached (1) : Jason Todd x plus-size!reader

Summary: Madison was Jason's stalker and he was tired. When Y/N moved into the neighbourhood he saw that as an opportunity to get rid of the baggage. Accidental meeting led to something more than friend, never a relationship though. He was not into tail, surely not, right? So why sudden change of behaviour when she pushed him away? And why would she push him away in the first place?!

Warnings: not in this chapter, but definitely smut and angst in the next ones. I'll post individual warnings in each chapter

***

„Why the fuck can’t you just leave me alone?” Jason sighed deeply leaning onto the doorframe of the apartment next to his. Honestly he had no idea what was happening to him lately. Maybe it was the effect of getting back to Gotham, but he became more depressed than before. Guess being back from the death and realizing your family replaced you does such things to people. Of course, there was his hole Red Hood persona, but Jason? Jason Todd was insecure, sensitive and in desperate need of someone to love. And someone who would love him back. However, all those traits were skillfully covered by sarcasm, edgelord attitude and harsh behavior. So why wasn’t he able to just tell this girl to fuck off and leave him alone? Why couldn’t he say something mean, which will left her offended and disappear from his life.

He just couldn’t and it was really getting on his nerves.

“But Jason….” the girl whined “why can’t you see it?”

“See what exactly?” he raised an eyebrow

“We are just perfect for each other!” she squealed and almost jumped into his arms in an attempt to hug him “Come on, just give this a chance!”

“Please, go away, Madison.”

“You remembered my name!”

“Of course I remembered your name. How could I not?” he rubbed his forehead “you left like a hundred notes with your name and number in my mailbox. And sticky notes on my bike. And you tormented my ….’ He hesitated, the word brother, not getting thought his mouth “nevermind. I told you, I am not interested.”

“You just don’t know what you’re missing, Jaybird….”

“Stop calling me that! I hate it! Who …. Who the fuck taught you this nickname!?” now she actually managed to anger him. Maybe it was good, maybe for the first time in a while he would be able to take some direct action and get rid of that stalker of a girl.  

“I got my ways.” She smiled mischievously “nothing ever gets lost in the Internet and I got just the right tools to dig deep.”

“Listen up, Madison….”

“Oh, I am listening. Extremely carefully.” She took a step towards him and he immediately flinched. Cornered by a girl, fucking great. Grayson would never let him live this down. “Come on, Jason, let me in….” she cooed, her hand tracing up his arms towards his shoulder “you remember how much fun we had last time….”

“It was one time! One fucking time and it was a mistake!”

“The kind you want to keep repeating?”

“What the fu…..” he started, but another female voice joined the conversation successfully cutting him off. A very annoyed female voice.

“I’m sorry, but could you two take this conversation, elsewhere? You are kind of blocking the door to my apartment and I would love to take this off.” She pointed towards the heavy backpack she was wearing.

Oh, right. There have been a lot of talk in the building about a possible new tenant. Guess she was the one. And the timing was just perfect for Jason, who immediately jumped into the occasion.

“Baby!” he almost screamed and both girls looked at him with wide eyes. Madison in surprise, bordering shock, the other one with “what-the-fuck” expression, probably wondering if he was mental. So much of a good first impression “you are finally here!” he continued, hugging the girl lightly to not startle her.

“What the …..?” she hissed into his ear, but before she could finish the sentence he squeezed her tighter, almost getting a kick in the groin.

“Come on, just play along with me for a minute.” Jason whispered, so that only she could here “I need to get rid of her, I’ll buy you a wine or whatever, just help the neighbor out.”

“You’ll owe me much more than just a wine if you keep your hands where they are now.”

Oh, shit. Only now, he realized that his right palm was definitely way to low on her back. But damn, the girl got curves in all the right places and he was just a man.

“Sorry.” He mumbled and pulled away, acting like they knew each other for eternity “Why didn’t you call me, princess? I told you to do it the second you get in town! I can’t believe you carried all this weight by yourself!”

“I just wanted to surprise you…, em…, honey.”

“You most definitely did.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Hold right there.” Madison came in between them and pushed the other girl away slightly “who the fuck are you?”

“She’s my girlfriend.” Jason blurted, hoping his new neighbor would really play along.

“GIRLFRIEND!?”

“Yeah, um, hi, I’m Y/N. Nice to…..”

“Did you know you’re boyfriend is cheating on you, sunshine? No wonder, though.” She gave Y/N a look over  “You should really lose some weight, sunshine. Will do you good. ”

“I’m sorry, what….?”

“Hey! You have no right to talk to her like that!”

“Sure not. but for some reason you choose me over her multiple times….”

“ONCE!”

“Whatever, Jaybrid. If you ever get bored with her, again, you know where to find me. I’m not giving up on you, baby” Madison raised onto her tiptoes and kissed his cheek briefly. Jason almost didn’t stop himself from wiping it off his face. “as for you, girlfriend” she almost hissed the last word “I don’t; think this is going to last long. Too bad for you.” her vicious laugh filled the whole staircase “love you Jaybird, call me!”

And leaving just a thread of perfume she was  gone. Not that she left furious Jason and absolutely confused Y/N behind.

“I’m sorry about ….” Jason turned around, ready to do some explanation, but much to his disappointment, the only sound he heard was clicking on the key in a keyhole. From inside.  “Hey, come on, Y/n! Open up!”

“Go away, you freak!”

“Let me at least apologize face to face, not through the door!” a moment of silence on her part gave him unreasonable hope.

“Apology accepted, now move out of my door or I’ll come at you!” if only she knew who she was threatening….

“I promised you a wine for helping me, remember?”

“I don’t care! If you don’t leave in ten seconds I’m gonna call the police!”

“Hate to break it to you, princess, but it’s Gotham. I’m the best chances at protection you have. Or you can always call upon Batman, but I don’t see that being successful.” Jason scoffed, starting to walk back and forth.

“Oh, yeah, right. That really sounds exciting. Meeting the big, bad bat in person.” Her voice reverberated somehow clearer and closer than before and when he raised his gaze realized she actually opened the door and was now standing right in front of him.

Shit, she was pretty with her h/c hair, flowing around her face, a bit fuzzy because of shitty Gotham weather, shiny e/c eyes and pouty lips. She might have been a bit on the heavier side, but it only added to her charm and fire that she showed before by putting on the little display.

She was beautiful and even tiredness of the journey couldn’t hide that.

“Hi.” Jason whispered, a little taken aback and filled with guilt of dragging her into his mess.

“What the fuck was that?” she sighed deeply “Look, Jason, I am exhausted. I had a long journey and as much as I would love to take you up on that wine offer I had no power in me to do that. So how about we just forget about this whole mess and say farewell to each other, hm? I have no interest in interfering in your personal life, especially with the girl who called me fat the second she laid eyes on me.”

“Don’t you want to know your handsome neighbor better?” he smirked and realized that even though it just slipped through, there was a chance that his old self was getting back to life. Was it because of her?

“Nah, not really. I think I’ve seen enough. And like I said, being back in Gotham sucks, but what can a girl do, right? Life sucks as well sometimes.” She shrugged and started closing the door

“Wait!” he put a feet in, before she managed to actually do it.

“What now?”

“Are you from around here?”

“Born Gothamite. Glad you can’t tell it just by looking at me. Now, I really want to go to sleep, if you don’t mind…..” she yawned and rubbed her eyes in the cutest child-like manner, making him feel to many things. Too many dangerous things.....

‘Right, sorry. I’ll leave you to it. Good night, Y/N.”

“Yeah, night, crazy boy.”

She already had a nickname for him.

He definitely wasn’t going to let this acquaintance end up at this….

next part ->->->

[cyb-by-lang]

Cascade (part 4)

And here we have the internship beginning.

(Kei notes some divergences from what happened in Shell Game in her narration as we go. For the most part, these can be attributed to having way less time to meet up with her teammates and get them acclimated to Japan.)

Sorry, Ingenium.

After saying goodbye to the other students at the Musutafu train station, neither Kei or Iida talked during the trip to Hosu City. 

While it wasn’t that uncommon for Kei to zone out completely on public transit, Iida would’ve said something out of politeness at the very least. There wasn’t that much of a crowd on the late morning train compared to either rush hour. They’d even both managed to find seats rather than clutching the overhead handles or the various vertical handholds. 

Instead, Kei dug a book out of her non-regulation backpack and read with her forearms leaning on her costume’s carry case. Every once in a while, she’d either shoot a deadly glare at someone trying to approach the more-recognizable Iida or look at her classmate in concern. The former scared off interlopers, while the latter had no apparent effect. 

Iida just sat there, like a super-tense robot. 

Kei wasn’t even as close to him as Midoriya and Uraraka were, so directly asking how Iida felt…didn’t quite work, in her head. She didn’t have the kind of rapport where she could just say what was on her mind. Or punch it out of him and remain friends after. That was a Gai thing. 

And we would not want that. 

Though guess being genuinely me could still go worse. With a sigh, Kei turned her attention back to her light novel. Hopefully, some fictional violence would take her mind off some of the impending actual violence for a while. 

Before she knew it, they were walking out into bright sunshine in a city Kei had patrolled once. Just not as herself.

Manual, the Normal Hero, turned out to be a plain-faced man with a generic ocean theme to his costume. His visored helmet even had a fin top, though nothing functional. Practical white boots, yellow gloves, and a skintight shirt divided evenly between blue and white rounded out the look. He greeted his case-toting interns with a smile and a wave and didn’t seem at all awkward about it. Manual didn’t seem to mind that Iida’s behavior and countenance was a little terse or that Kei tried to stay in Iida’s shadow all the way from the train station to his pro agency. 

While Kei’s counterfeit Quirk was stronger than his by orders of magnitude, Manual was really no weaker than the average Kiri-nin. Like most shinobi, he relied on water already present in his environment to do his work, but in a city, he was never that far from a fire hydrant. More importantly, operating in an urban environment usually gave him a lot of pro hero allies within shouting distance. 

For all intents and purposes, he was an ordinary pro hero with ordinary responsibilities in a city with a serious serial killer infestation. 

Kei felt kind of bad for him, because both of his interns brought ulterior motives along with their literal baggage. Not bad enough to confess to anything, of course, but the thought lingered.

“Well, now that you’ve both arrived safely, let’s get you situated.” Manual didn’t have the same kind of winning smile as, say, All Might, but he didn’t really need it. He beckoned them to follow him into the building. “To cut down on the commute somewhat, my agency will provide room and board for the week. We also have locker rooms so you can get changed quickly for our first patrol. Meal breaks may vary a little depending on what’s happening in the field, but we’ll take good care of you.” 

“Thank you, Manual-sensei,” Iida managed with a third of his usual bombast.  Still, he bowed. 

Kei clasped both hands over her costume case and mirrored him. “We’ll be sure to learn a lot from you this week, Manual-sensei.” 

“I have no doubt!” 

Kei’s borrowed room was smaller than her apartment’s bedroom, but it didn’t need to really be more than a cot and bathroom access to make her happy. Manual’s agency even had on-site laundry service, so the backpack she’d brought along would suffice for the entire week. Locking the door behind her, she quickly stripped out of her UA uniform and made the change to her “hero” costume. 

Unlike some hero students who a) thought out their requests and b) chose a company that could take criticism, Kei dreaded looking at what she’d be wearing for most of this week.  Even now, the design was a short, sleeveless kimono in dark blue wave patterns, long (unarmored) gloves that reached her biceps and only covered one finger apiece. It’d taken a round of angry revision notes to even get ultra-lightweight armor incorporated into the torso keep her vital organs covered. 

Maybe they’d only given ground because Kei destroyed the first iteration “by accident” during the USJ incident. She’d probably never know. It fell on the cot with a faint rattle, though, so at least the nano-whatever weave chainmail component was still there. 

Might as well get it over with. Kei took a deep breath and checked on the rest of the costume. 

While the boots included shinguards, the designers went with a tabi look for the actual shoe component. The pants appeared to be basically skintight swimming trunks, probably because her listed Quirk incorporated so much water manipulation. And for some fucking reason, there was an obi with a massive bow on the back, trailing behind her as she walked. Kei was going to trip and eat pavement because of that thing someday. 

Overall, what Kei pulled out of the case had barely been changed. She just got an extra belt with some pockets for stowing things like utility knives and little adhesive bandages for civilian boo-boos. 

When Kei inevitably did an about-face and started her career of villainy as Cascade, the City Drowner, she’d start with the support company and knock their building down brick by brick. Yes, a safer bet would be to go to UA’s Support Department and demand revisions from people who weren’t so obstinate, but it would be so satisfying. Vindictively. 

Still, she put it on. Including the hitai-ate that wasn’t Konoha’s. And the makeup to downplay her scar. The goal here was to appear as normal as possible—as a hero hopeful—to anyone observing her and not rock any boats. Certainly not literal ones, either. No matter how much looking at her reflection in the provided mirror felt wrong. 

“All right.” Kei clapped her hands together to shock herself awake. She closed her costume case and took a deep breath. “I can do this.” 

Kei emerged from her temporary quarters feeling as awkward as she had during the Sports Festival, but no longer concealed by her official gym uniform and a whole crowd of similarly-dressed kids. There was no more camouflage to be had. 

“Ah, Gekkō-san, right on time.” Manual got up from his desk and waved. “Once Iida-kun is ready to go, we can take on your first patrol as young hero-hopefuls.” 

“Thanks, Manual-sensei.” Kei crossed her arms as they settled in to wait for Iida in the agency’s lobby. It didn’t really help cover her discomfort, but it did make her feel slightly better. 

“Hm, that reminds me—what’s your hero name? I don’t remember seeing it on your paperwork.” 

“Oh. It’s, um, Cascade. The Mist Hero.” Ugh, I sound like such a fake. Kei managed to mutter a rather lackluster explanation involving deadlines, not really enunciating any of it. 

Manual gave her a thumbs-up likely meant to inspire confidence in the downtrodden.  “That’s all right, Gekkō-san. I’ll just be sure to use it so you can get used to how it feels. I’m sure you’ll live up to the aspirations embodied by that name!” 

More like live down to them. Heroes like Manual were so painfully earnest it made Kei’s hair want to stand on end. What did she do with that? “That’s…nice of you to say…”

“Well, here’s one more nice thing then: I think your hero costume looks good.” 

Kei winced. She felt her whole body lean into that scrap of honesty and hated it just a little. 

“I take it you don’t?” 

“…No, Manual-sensei. It doesn’t feel like me.” Because it wasn’t. Not really. 

“Maybe one of the goals you can work on for this internship can involve that, then.” Manual suggested it like it wasn’t a big deal. “Feeling comfortable with yourself.” 

To be fair, it probably wouldn’t be an important issue once Kei got into an actual fight. Most of the distractions faded away once her blood was up and there was someone who needed a beatdown. 

But in the meantime? Uuuuuugh. 

Thankfully, there was a shiny and chrome option right there. Manual also noticed, then waved, “Oh, Iida-kun! Over here.” 

Iida’s full-on Ingenium look was so much more complicated—visually and emotionally—and storied than Kei’s ongoing fight with support companies. He got to look like either a sentai villain or a turbo mecha, and his armor theoretically deflected attacks before he had to see if they’d bounce of his bones. It was one of the reasons that Iida was completely jacked, apparently. Besides, well, the whole running lifestyle. His hero outfit also came with a helmet that almost entirely concealed his face—except for his eyes—and made his voice echo in a simultaneously cool and kinda creepy way. 

Iida really should’ve taken a better internship somewhere else. Anywhere else. 

“Manual-sensei, I’m ready for duty,” Iida said firmly, despite Kei’s doubts. He was so serious about this that he didn’t even swing his arms for emphasis. “Please lead the way.” 

“Of course. Come along, you two.” 

Patrol as a concept was…fine. 

Mostly boring. 

Kei didn’t exactly mind walking all over cities. A lot of what Hosu citizens wanted out of their local heroes was a token showing. If that meant they also got help taking in their laundry or rescuing cats from trees, so much the better. She did a lot of the same things in Konoha when just starting out as an adorable little genin. There was little expectation of violence in broad daylight. Even petty criminals—those stubborn or uncreative enough to strike without any stealth consideration—were lying low for the moment. 

Basically, the point was deterrence. Though the Hero Killer had earned that title, he didn’t attack groups of heroes. No, he hunted solo operators. Or maybe just whoever separated from the pack, regardless of specifics. Now the city was crawling with potential fights and potential victims. 

Kei mostly hoped Iida didn’t plan to shove his way into the ring. When Ingenium was attacked, he’d been running ahead of his sidekicks and fought a guy specialized in close combat in a blind alleyway. Obito barely managed to get him to the hospital afterward, and if not for Kakashi’s tracking abilities, they might never have found him at all. From what Kei’s teammates said about it, there was a real chance Iida Senior would never get the full use of his left arm back. And the engine in it was probably beyond repair. 

“We’ll mostly be patrolling the local area so you can get a feel for how this works,” Manual said, living up to his name. “Later, we’ll branch out.” 

“Yes, Manual-sensei!” 

Still, Kei did miss running across rooftops with her friends. Her job today, though, was to stay firmly bound by gravity and societal expectations. And not hunt down Stain like the slippery bastard he was. 

So, Kei patrolled. Mostly, this entailed following Manual like a duckling while making sure Iida didn’t stray. Though that last part wasn’t said aloud. 

Broken up by meals, breaks, and gentle encouragement from their pro mentor, the first day passed peacefully. Almost too peacefully for Kei to sleep soundly that night. 

But the next day was similar, despite her worries. The absolute highlight of the entire eight-hour stretch was when Manual asked her to create water for him to manipulate and put out a car that had hit a light pole and caught fire. Iida managed to keep the victims calm while alerting emergency services, who then had to cut the driver out of the vehicle. Overall, it was a good deed and only ruined progress during rush hour for twenty minutes more than usual. 

And then, the third day. Honestly, Kei would’ve called it superstition if trouble had waited one more day into their internship, but it wasn’t to be.

On the third day, the patrol shift split between a morning and afternoon set. While Manual did lead Kei and Iida around until lunch, the next few hours after that involved a little bit of training and a lot of paperwork. According to Manual, almost everything pro heroes were responsible for involved forms in triplicate, and they’d be lucky if computers got involved at all. A lot of the smaller agencies loved their carbon paper. Even snagging the time for a nap amid the flurry of bureaucracy didn’t really improve Kei’s opinion of the whole thing. 

Suffice to say that when it was time to head out just before sunset, Kei was happy to see the sky again.

“We’ll be patrolling Kyoto a little later tonight,” Manual explained as they went. “Sorry this is so monotonous.” 

“No, it’s better this way,” Iida replied. 

Kei nodded along, taking a moment to yawn and stretch before a potential third night of nothing much. 

Instead of just continuing to walk until their feet all fell off, Manual drew up short and turned toward Iida. An unusually serious look was on his face. “Hey, Iida-kun. This is kind of hard to ask, but you’re after the Hero Killer, aren’t you?”

Iida startled. “How did you…?”

Manual’s expression went sheepish and self-deprecating laugh popped out of him. “I couldn’t think of any other reason you’d come to my agency.” Then his brain seemed to catch up with his mouth. “I mean, don’t get me wrong. I’m glad you did, but…you shouldn’t be pursuing personal grudges.” 

Good thing someone wants to talk about that. 

“We heroes don’t have the authority to arrest people or punish them. The only reason we’re allowed to use our Quirks is because of the regulations put on them,” Manual pointed out. 

…Though that part’s still bullshit. 

“That’s why, no matter what their reason might be, a hero must not use their Quirk for themselves.” Manual actually glared at Iida. “If a pro hero used their powers solely for their own ends, it would be a very serious crime.” 

Iida lowered his head just the slightest bit, as though shamed. Just a bit. 

Conscious of the awkward atmosphere, Kei coughed to remind them both that she was still present. 

With that tiny reminder, Manual’s seriousness cracked. Using the kind of choppy hand gestures that Iida normally did, he stumbled his way through his attempt to downplay how serious he’d been. “I’m not saying the Hero Killer isn’t incredibly guilty! You just seem like the really earnest type, you know? I’d hate for you to focus on one goal and ignore everything else.” 

Like Iida doesn’t have tunnel vision fit for a train. 

“Thank you,” Iida said, giving nothing away. “I appreciate your concern.” 

Yeah, that wasn’t an actual concession. That was a very careful sidestep. 

“Oh, it’s fine as long as you get what I’m saying.” Manual turned to lead them onward. “So, we good?” 

He totally missed the way Iida’s fists clenched at his sides, the tension in his shoulders, or the weight still dragging him down. Or, if he did notice, Manual didn’t have the tools necessary to deal with Iida’s bellyful of vengeance before the Hero Killer finally put in an appearance. 

Kei tapped Iida’s armor with her knuckles as she passed, since he was falling a little bit behind. 

“Gekkō-san, what is it?” 

“Let me know before you do something reckless,” Kei told him, pitching her voice carefully enough that Manual’s helmet wouldn’t let him catch it. “Don’t just run off.” 

Iida didn’t say anything in reply. It was like he couldn’t acknowledge her concern without exploding, and thus needed to keep his focus entirely on putting one foot in front of the other. If it made him rude, maybe he’d be able to apologize for it later. When he felt better. 

But Iida also didn’t notice the tracking seal she'd just pasted to his black bodysuit, which Kei figured made up for that. 

[babydollmarauders]

LAST KISS — NICO HISCHIER

nico hischier x fem!reader

part of the Speak Now Fic List

summary: in which y/n reminisces on she and Nico’s relationship and wonders how it all came to an end when she still loves him so much

notes: lots of flashbacks, not a lot of dialogue

the carpeted floor does nothing to ease the numbness of my butt from sitting there for so long.

my back is pressed against the side of my bed, my head tilted back and my eyes glued to the ceiling, fighting back tears.

the alarm clock that sits on my nightstand, lights up the room; 1:58am displayed in bright red.

how is it that at this time, just three months ago, i was happy?

how is it that i remember that night so clearly?

*** 3 MONTHS AGO ***

my cheeks ache from smiling, my leg slung over my boyfriend’s as he holds me close. his arms are wrapped around my waist, one hand drawing shapes into my back.

our alarm clock reads 1:58am, but he only got back from his roadie about forty-five minutes ago.

“and then Dawson bet Jack fifty dollars that he could kick the ball into the rafters.” Nico whispers, his thick accent soothing my racing heart.

“did he?”

“no, he kicked it up high but it bounced off of one of the beams and ended up hitting him in the head.” i giggle, already imagining the scenario happening in my head. “i can laugh now, but i was worried he had a concussion.”

Nico joins me in laughter, tightening his grip on me. my hand lays flat across his chest, and i can feel his heartbeat pick up.

“i love you.” i whisper, craning my neck to nudge my nose against his.

“ich liebe dich mehr, schatzi.”

*** PRESENT ***

tears roll down my cheeks. my heart feels like it’s being torn, my chest constricting like someone is crumpling it like an old receipt.

how could he have told me he loved me, when he left so soon after?

how could he leave me so easily? like i was nothing to him.

why did he leave? i thought we were doing so well.

i thought the end of the hockey season would bring on new adventures, not the end of us.

now i’m left picking up the pieces of me that he carelessly threw down when he told me we were over. when he went back to Switzerland and told me not to bother visiting.

i thought we would have a repeat of last summer, the best summer i’ve ever had, but i guess that’s gone now.

*** JULY 9TH, 2022 ***

the plane bumps as it touches down, causing me to jolt in my seat.

eight hours on the plane, too excited and nervous to sleep a wink, and now i’m ready to be able to move and reunite with my boyfriend.

i sit idly in my seat, my carry-on backpack sitting in my lap, as i wait to be able to leave; and as soon as i can, i’m fast walking off the plane.

Nico said he would meet me at baggage claim, and with the unfamiliarity of a foreign airport, it takes me much longer than i had hoped to find baggage claim.

but as soon as i round the corner and spot my boyfriend, i take off running. my sneakers squeak against the tiled floors, and he looks up from his phone, quickly pocketing it and opening his arms to envelope me in a hug.

my head nestles on his chest, right against his pounding heart, and my arms wrap securely around his waist while his fold over my shoulders. i melt into his touch, savoring the feeling of being in his arms again. his heartbeat echoes through my ears, soothing me further.

“i missed you.” he mumbles into my hair, pressing his lips to my scalp.

“i missed you more.”

we stand there in silence, watching the bags go around the little carousel until mine finally comes into view. the black hard shell suitcase covered in stickers is hard to miss, and Nico finally lets me go in order to step forward and grab it for me.

“c’mon, i want you to meet my family.” his arm wraps around my shoulder, pulling me into his side as we exit the airport.

i can smell the rain that’s falling freshly on the pavement, taking in a deep breath, and Nico smiles down at me, his brows threaded together.

“i like the smell. it’s different here; smells cleaner.” he chuckles at my words, shaking his head. “or i’m just happier here, ‘cause i’m with you.”

his eyes scrunch as he grins widely, showing off his teeth.

“yeah, i’m happier with you too.”

*** PRESENT ***

i rock on the floor, tilting forward slightly with my legs criss-crossed. my arms are crossed over my chest in an ‘x’, my hands fisting the fabric of his forgotten soft black t-shirt that adorns my body.

the tears are falling harder now, my throat closing as my breaths catch, a broken sob of his name falling from my lips.

how could he do this to me?

i met his family.

he met mine. despite knowing how guarded i am with choosing who to introduce to them.

he convinced me we were forever.

*** MAY 2022 ***

“and you’re sure you’re okay with attending this?” i question for the millionth time, standing in front of the mirror as i put my earrings in.

“yes, schatzi. i’m sure.” Nico chuckles, wrapping his arms around my waist as he comes and stands behind me. “i want to meet your family. i want to meet the people who raised my beautiful, kindhearted girlfriend.”

i sigh, locking eyes with him in the mirror. a small smile dances upon my lips when he scrunches his nose at me through the reflection.

“i just don’t want them to scare you off.” i admit, my hands gently resting on his arms that encircle me. “they can be a lot, and ya know, they’re hockey fans so they’ll probably talk your ear off about this past season and i just- i love you, i don’t want them to run you away from me.”

Nico’s lips ghost against my neck, pressing featherlight kisses across my skin, before he rests his chin upon my shoulder. he looks at me softly in the mirror, but i avoid his gaze until he abruptly spins me around.

his hands cup my face, forcing me to look into his big brown eyes.

“they will not scare me off.” he assures me, leaning his forehead against mine. “i love you, and your family cannot change that. they can talk to me about hockey every time i see them for the rest of our lives, but they can’t run me off.”

for the rest of our lives.

“i love you so much.” i lean forward, standing on my tiptoes to lay a kiss on his lips.

my nerves are eased for most of the time until the reception. we arrive to my cousin, Lindsay’s wedding just before the ceremony begins, effectively avoiding my parents meeting Nico.

but once the reception begins, there’s no evading it any longer. my body tenses as my father walks over to Nico and i’s table.

“little bird!” my face flushes at the childhood nickname, allowing my father to wrap me up in a hug, my mother quickly taking his place once we part.

my dad’s eyes stray over to my boyfriend, widening slightly but keeping his cool. “and who’s this, little bird?”

“mom, dad; this is my boyfriend, Nico.” i introduce, watching with baited breath as my father shakes Nico’s hand.

“nice, firm grip ya got there, Nico.” my dad nods approvingly, “say, ya play hockey? ya look familiar.”

my mother and i share a glance at his unsubtle way of questioning, but whereas she wears a smile, my face is one of fear. but my fear melts away when my boyfriend just laughs.

“i’m just messing with you.” my dad slaps Nico on the back. “i’m a Devils fan, born and raised.”

he continues talking, but i can no longer hear their conversation as they walk away towards the open bar.

“i’d say that went well.” my mom sighs, turning back towards me. “what do you say we get some champagne. you look like you need it.”

it’s not even an hour later that Nico has become the life of the party. my rowdy, hockey invested family have all flocked to him. even Lindsay and her now husband, the one’s this day is supposed to be about, are stood around our table, listening intently to what my boyfriend has to say about playing in the NHL.

i’m stood beside Nico, as we had given up our seats to my younger cousins, just waiting for them all to stop questioning him.

“hey Nico, what’s it like being captain?” my little cousin asks, and i can’t help but roll my eyes as my boyfriend answers him. Nico catches my eye, smiling down at me and pulling me close into his side.

“i love it. it’s hard, you have to answer questions from interviewers after hard losses, but it can also be very fun. it’s very rewarding.” he explains.

i let out a sigh, my mood severely deflating, until Nico speaks up again.

“if you guys will excuse me, i wanna have a dance with my girlfriend before the night ends.” he winks at the table full of my family members before leading me to the dance floor.

he snakes his arms around my waist, pulling me flush against him as my arms lock around his neck, resting on his shoulders.

“i like your family.” he tells me.

“you do?”

he nods, beginning to sway us side to side. “yeah, they’re nice, and passionate about hockey. i see where you get it from now.”

i chuckle, nodding along. “that would be my dad’s doing.”

he laughs, as i close my eyes and lay my head upon his chest.

though i’m not usually one for dancing in public, i do it with him.

for him.

*** PRESENT ***

my heart aches, and in my mind, i beg for him to come home.

to tell me he was just joking.

that he loves me and still wants to spend the rest of our lives together.

i beg for him to come waltzing back towards me after a game, his hands in his pockets as he grins at me leaning against his car.

i beg for him to come back and spend another night listening to me rant, until he finally decides he’s had enough of my unimportant rambles and shuts me up with a kiss.

my phone dings upon my nightstand, right next to the alarm clock that now reads 2:34am, and i scramble for it, in hopes that it’s him.

and in a way, it is. an instagram notification is displayed across my screen, letting me know that Nico has posted a new post.

i click into it, ignoring the tears that now splatter upon my screen as i see how happy he looks.

how happy he looks without me.

i scroll through the photo carousel, staring at photos of Nico and his brother and sister, a wide smile on his face. a photo of him in front of a scenic mountain, his teeth shown off in a grin. a photo of him swimming.

i have to wonder how it got to this point.

how i went from waking up before the sun did, watching him sleep peacefully beside me; to watching his life in pictures. being delegated to asking our mutual friends how he is, because i can no longer just text him to ask.

how i went from laying almost entirely on top of him, feeling his chest rise and fall with his deep breaths; to feeling forgotten in his life. like the two years we were together meant nothing to him.

it’s as if i can feel myself being erased from his life; from his mind.

but the worst part of that i can’t hate him. i love him too much to hold any hate in my heart for him.

rather than wishing the worst upon him, i only hope that he has a wonderful life.

and that maybe, on a beautiful day, he’ll see something so small, so minuscule, like the sun shining through the clouds, or a pink sunset, which he knows i love so much, and that it’ll remind him of me. that he’ll realize how good i was to him. that he’ll regret leaving. that he’ll wish he had stayed with me.

[heartfullofleeches]

At this point, I believe that C.C will secretly follow you and "accidentally" bump into you if you go on a vacation without inviting him.

Stepping off your flight, you wait at the baggage claim for your belongings. You felt sorta bad for leaving the cotton haired menace behind, but a little "me-time" was needed if his existence was to become a permanent factor in your life. Spirits high, they come crashing and burning down with the drilling of a gasp turned squeal in your ear.

"Oh. My. God- Babe, that you?"

You play ignorant as stiletto heels rapidly tap against the floor in your direction. You glance at the exit. Maybe you didn't need your bags. Before you can take a single step, your stalker ambushes you in a hug from behind; jumping on your back with a giggle of happiness before steadying himself on his feet and lifting you in the air.

"It really is you! I'd recognize your cute ass in any crowd, but I had to be sure. What a coincidence that you and I would end up at the same place, am I right?"

C.C lets you with a kiss to your shoulder. You face the demon with an unamused look at his attire. Sunglass atop his head, sleeveless crop top and swin tank bottoms. You knew this motherfucker wasn't getting his hair and nails done at midnight for nothing. He brings with him a backpack and two suitcases, but you knew for sure that he already had some paid off suckers handling his other bags. Your name is tapped to one of them which C.C quickly tears off once he catches you eyeing it.

"What are you doing here, C.C?"

The incubus pouts. "Aw, Babe, I'm just doing the same thing you are. It's been a while since I took a vacation too. I guess it's just fate that we took one at the same time."

"You're entire life is a vacation."

"Moving on, we better get to the hotel and check in. I was looking through your emails and just so happen to notice that your original reservation got cancel. Real shame, but you can bunk with me! I got us a nice place right next to a beach and a couple's spa."

"Are there at least two beds?"

C.C covers his mouth as he laughs. "You're so funny, baby. You could become a comedian or something - but I really don't want that talent wasted on someone else....."

"Let's get going!" He kisses your cheek, hooking an arm around yours and dragging you away as your suitcase rolls out.

[bichitodibuja]

▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀

Deep inside a small town in the north of Spain lays hidden an academy, which name, despite being Spanish, is “Cherrific Sunflower Academy”. Only the smartest and most special students get the chance to study there.

Our protagonist was luck struck, however.

Rain was a normal student, though his great memory has achieved them nothing but the best grades in his class- despite being quite the knucklehead.

Rain was the emo-gothic kind that made them stand out in the crowd.

They were part of a DID system, along side ‘Society’(as he liked to be called). They were polar opposites of each other, while Rain was quiet, shy and sometimes optimistic, Society was the jokester, arrogant and confident type. As much as Rain recognised Society’s job within the system and appreciated what he did for the both of them, they still thought he was kind of annoying.

Rain was ecstatic, he had been accepted in the Academy, not even Society could ruin her mood, he was finally ready! After a week that had gone by so slowly it felt like it had been a month long, everything was ready for their new adventure.

They arrived to the train station where she would be taken towards their exciting destiny.

He had meticulously chosen her clothes the night before; the blue sweater with the embroidered cloud on the chest, the checkered black and white skirt, blue and black striped tights and their trusty converse; everything was blue, it was their favourite colour after all, so much so his hair is blue as well.

She carried his backpack and two suitcases, and was very much lost, as much as he was excited and nervous to find their train.

After running around for a while and asking a couple of people he finally found it, rushing inside to leave his baggage in its pertinent place.

Once the whole ordeal is over, he sat down, letting out a big sigh of relief while grabbing her MP3. It had been a chore to find the train, but now she could put his headphones on and forget of the world around them.

Or so he thought.

‘What are you doing?’

Society’s annoying tone rang through his ears, making them sigh once more, trying to ignore them into shutting up.

It obviously didn’t work, it never did.

‘I was going to listen to some music, maybe even try to sleep a bit.’ Rain whispered as a response, she didn’t want anyone to think he was crazy.

Society and him had found out really early on after finding out they were a system that communicating with each other by talking out loud was better for the both of them.

‘Damn bitch, you’re a walking emo stereotype.’ Society snorted out, chuckling to himself.

Rain rolled his eyes and put his earphones on, tunning in some MCR for the trip, slowly falling asleep as the train started.

Five hours of a trip later, Rain woke up confused and disoriented. It took them a couple minutes to regain her composure, stretching her arms while he sat up.

The train had stopped twenty minutes ago and he was the only passenger still around. He grabbed their stuff feeling a bit dumb and rushed to the exit like a bat out of hell.

Once they were out of the station he found herself in front of the forest that hid the Academy.

“This is going to be a long day.” He thought after yawning and groaning.

He felt like had been walking the entire day, they could’ve sworn she had swallowed at least three of four spiderwebs by accident and they had to fight against so many branches. He had lost some of those fights, not that she’d admit to it anyways.

But when she arrived to the Academy, it almost felt like it had been worth it. Almost.

They were a mess. The bits of spiderwebs on her hair and clothes, the small branches and all the dirt and dust from the forest would take forever to clean.

“This is my favourite sweater too.” He thought.

Rain stepped inside the building, finally. She looked around the entrance, maybe expecting someone to show them around or welcome her at the very least, but everyone was way too busy getting to wherever they had to be to greet the new emo guy that looked like she had escaped from the set of Man vs. Wild.

‘Whatever,’ he mumbled, ‘I’ll find my way around.’

After thinking about it for a few seconds, though, it was for the best that no one focused on them, he hated being the center of attention.

With a newfound relief, they spotted the map of the school. Thanks to their great memory, they managed to memorise it quite fast.

She scanned it for a second and found the dorm area.

He was staying in room 313. Being in Spain that meant he would be laughed at relentlessly.

They got upstairs to the third floor, and then walked through a long, empty hallway to get to his bedroom’s door. She carefully pushed it open and slouched against it after having closed it.

He gets settled in quite quickly. As much as you could consider ‘settling in somewhere’ when he was just throwing his stuff around the room.

Once he was done, she decided to check the bathroom, he could use some cleaning after all.

The bathroom was cramped, or ‘cosy’, as Rain had tried to convince themselves it was, but it did the job just fine. He removed all the bits of spiderweb and tiny branches from himself and then threw them away in the tiny trashcan near the sink.

She got undressed and left the clothes in a corner so he could wash their face.

He removed her makeup and looked at himself in the mirror.

“Oh how cute,” he thought, “panda eyes, because of the make up, silly.”

She giggled to himself and cleaned their face properly, leaving the bathroom in his underwear, getting one of their suitcases and grabbing a big shirt from it.

He put it in and tied their hair up in a ponytail so they could began undoing their baggage, putting everything in place for real this time.

The room was actually okay, a good size with a private bathroom and one of those bunk beds with a small desk, shelf, chair and small closet.

After putting everything away, settling her books on the shelf, dressing the bed with his own sheets and all the gist, Rain laid down on the bed.

‘So, what do you think?’ He asked out loud.

‘Could be worse, I guess.’ Society answered.

‘Yeah…’ He sighed, they could be a bit more supportive, couldn’t hurt.

‘Now’s when the fun begins.’ She heard him chuckling, making Rain raise an eyebrow.

‘The fun? What’s the fun part?’ He questioned, crossing their arms.

‘Yeah, dumbass, the fun part, seeing you try to socialize and fail miserably at it.’ He cackled loudly.

‘Ugh! You’re the worst! I swear that-’

A soft knock knock was heard in the door, making Rain stand up immediately and open it.

After it was opened, a couple of figures was revealed;

One was tall, her blonde hair was short and she had freckles all over her face, the other one was more of a standard height, brown, curly hair tied in a messy bun, greyish-blueish eyes and had a small beauty spot above her lip.

‘Hi newbie!’ The blonde one greeted her. ‘I’m Tere, and this is Patri, and we came to give you your super duper exclusive tour!’ She explained in a way-too-excited tone.

‘Shhh, no need for yelling, we’re right in front of them.’ The other girl, Patri, said, she seemed way quieter than Tere.

‘Yeah, sorry, welp! What do you say, erm..’

‘Rain.’

‘Rain! Do you want to come with us?’ Tere asked with a big smile in her face.

Rain nodded, letting out a small laugh. He put some shorts on, tied her shoes, untied their hair and left the room, closing the door behind them.

The two girls showed him around, Tere pointed to the most interesting places, and Patri added more information wherever it was needed. After a long and tiring tour around the Academy, the three of them settle down in a table on the cafeteria to have a nice talk.

‘Hey Rain,’ Tere caught her attention, ‘have you heard about the legend of the Mary Sue?’

‘Oh God are you still blabbering about that?!’ Patri sighed, resting her head on her hands.

‘It’s fun! Plus, it could be true, we don’t know for sure.’

‘Whatever you say.’ Patri mumbled.

Rain seemed curious, and so Tere started the story.

‘So apparently a few years back there was this student here named Mary Sue, and it’s said that she was the best and people loved her, basically she was the most popular girl in school, but then, one day, she got lost on the forest following a supernatural event, or whatever, and people say you can hear her voice in stormy nights.’

Once she was over, Tere looked at Rain, who had a frightened expression in their face.

‘Woah, there goes the off chance of me going back into the forest, that sounds so scary!’

‘It’s, like, a legend, so don’t think about it too much.’ Patri added, rolling her eyes.

Tere’s expression changed from “Are you scared about my horror story yet?” to “What’s your issue?” while looking at Patri, visibly offended that she had changed the atmosphere from her little show.

A group of students walked in the cafeteria, all of them wearing eccentric clothing and colourful hair.

‘Who’s that?’ Rain asked, pointing towards the group with their head.

‘Oh? Them? People call them “constellation”, I think.’ Patri answered, crossing her arms over her chest. ‘They’re popular, people love them, ugh! I can’t stand them at all!’

‘Totally, I’m so jealous of them.’ Tere mumbled.

Rain nodded slightly, her eyes stuck on the group with admiration, he really liked their style, and their colourful hair was really cool.

‘Honestly I think they’re a bit weird.’ Patri said, putting her hand over her chest and shrugging her shoulders.

‘Hm? Why?’ Rain asked, finally looking back at the two of them.

‘From what I’ve heard they’re supernatural beings with powers- or something.’ Tere answered, taking a bite of whatever she had ordered before, Rain wasn’t really paying attention.

‘I think it’s all bullshit, not really realistic is it?’

‘You’re so boring Patri, always taking the fun from stuff.’ Tere huffed.

‘I’m just being realistic!’

‘What else can you tell me about them, Tere?’ Rain asked, their eyes following Constellation around once again.

‘Oh yeah,’ she began talking, pointing to every member as she described them, ‘Ángelica, they say she’s an angel, he’s really good at music and is the best dancer in school. The twins are Candy and Lolly, supposedly they’re both alicorns? Candy is the best at sports and Lolly is smarter, pony’s in the debate club. Kitty is the one with cat ears and fur, cat’s this mix between an anthropomorphic cat and a zombie, nya doesn’t talk, honestly miau is kinda cute. Then we have Neon, they’re the cool-skater kind, they’re also a boxer and has great gymnastic abilities. Sam, ugh, Sam is a very rude demon, always being sarcastic and mysterious, you get the gist, he’s really into occultism and some say they do satanic ritual thingies in the forest, but I don’t know how true that is.’

Rain nodded, quite a bit surprised about the whole group, very much out of the norm, he thought they were cool. He would love to be one of them. She looked at them once more, but then noticed a girl sitting in the corner of the cafeteria. She wasn’t really that noticeable, which kinda made Rain feel intrigued by her, he pointed to her and asked Tere;

‘What about her?’

‘Him? That’s Ann Smith, or something like that, she popped out one day, I don’t think I’ve ever talked to her, uhm, Patri?’ She answered and looked at her friend.

‘That’s it, basically, people don’t really close to them, they say she’s boring, so boring that you’ll fall asleep talking to her.’

They looked at each other and then at Rain, who simply nodded.

First day in the academy and Rain had not only made friends, but he had also learned about the school’s legend, seen the cool group and heard about the least cool person around. She didn’t tend to forget people like that easily anyways.

next chapter>>

[davycoquette]

the summer of our discontent

June, 1996

Ruck took the stairs slowly with his cigarette clenched between his teeth. At the bottom, he shifted his gig bag and backpack on his shoulder and stared into the wet morning fog. 

His life unfurled ahead of him; a flat, unbending, and featureless road.

There was no sidewalk, so he walked in the overgrown bluegrass. He headed west, toward the Styx River, because why the fuck not? It felt as if he had been borne into this world just then, disconnected from the brief and meaningless past before Decatur. He had nothing now but his baggage, which guided him like a migratory instinct toward one of the last places he had been besides home.

The fog simmered away in the heat and he sat on the curb at Crossroads eating a cold gas station breakfast pizza between sips of Grapico. The sun tanned the back of his neck and drops of sweat fell from his jaw onto the sandy asphalt.

At the intersection a man in a sweat-yellowed undershirt that clung to his ribs stopped him to ask for something. His voice was a copperhead hiss and Ruck eyed the calluses on his upturned palms.

“I cain’t understand you,” he said, and left the man mumbling where the four paths met.

In Hurricane he reached the edge of the earth and the air was heavy with salt and damp. He watched the Spanish moss on the cypress trees swing over the Tensaw River then on impulse thumbed his way into the back of a pickup that came shuddering down Bayou Road.

The driver was an old man with eyes as yellow as his few teeth, and his wife, aged indeterminably between forty and seventy, asked Ruck if he didn’t want out before they merged onto 65. He addressed her through the open back glass, and told her no, he’d better sit tight.

At sunset he tilted his head back to gaze up at the weathering steel arches of the Dolly Parton Bridge, then closed his eyes and breathed in the cloying wetland stench.

It was dark when they let him off at the edge of Creola, and he walked south to the La Quinta to book a room with his lawn-keeping money.

His clothes peeled audibly off his skin and he scrubbed them with a bar of handsoap in the bathroom sink after a long shower. He draped them over the rusted balcony railing and smoked a cigarette while he watched one treefrog fuck another one on the fake stucco wall. Voices carried down from the balcony above his, and Ruck left the sliding door open when he went in to drop his towel and fall into bed.

Close to nine in the morning he woke, removed a treefrog from the curtain, fetched his clothes from the balcony, and crushed Adderall on the little table next to the TV set. He got dressed and headed down to the lobby, where he fixed himself coffee and a waffle while his teeth chattered and the blood threatened to burst out of his veins.

Inspired, he walked down to the truck stop after breakfast with the previous day’s clothes souring in his backpack. He wandered the lot in the heatwaves and an old trucker leaned his head out his cab window and said, “You’re ‘bout the meanest lookin’ lizard I ever seen.”

Ruck hauled himself up on the passenger side step to goad the man into a fight, but the Yorkshire terrier in the seat jumped up and bit him the moment his fingers hooked over the edge of the window and the fire was doused from his blood. He dropped a few coins in the payphone outside and summoned a cab while sucking the joint of his finger.

Mobile was a short ride south of the truck stop, but the fare was twenty bucks he couldn’t afford to spend. Outside a musty music store at the fringe of the business district, he set up in the shadow of a live oak growing from the sidewalk and earned a couple bucks playing some Waylon Jennings and Johnny Cash. A kid from the University wanted Freebird and Ruck played and sang a while, but the young man rode off on his bike half the song in and the street cleared out.Ruck picked up a late lunch from a mom and pop oyster bar, and sat reading the free classifieds he picked up from a stand outside. There wasn’t much of anything — except that the Greater Gulf State Fair was hiring. On closer inspection, they wanted interns from the college — but he couldn’t see the harm in paying a visit, anyway. Surely the damn fair didn’t intend to run a background check, and anyway, his attention had been good and grabbed by the logo of the cowboy astride a bronc printed in the ad.

[boo8008]

Three Months - Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Fem!Reader Chapter 01: Quadriller

Prologue | Chapter 01: Quadriller | Chapter 02: Mince

Series Summery: Its been one year since The Bear's soft open, and with everything running smoothly, Carmen's lost in his thoughts, until the final table of the night is seated.

Warnings: angst | fluff | ghosting mention | mentions of suicide | language | mental health | pining | unrequited love????? | substances (alc & weed) | overdose | yelling | grief | descriptions of panic attacks | eventual smut | new writer trying to write good

Chapter Summery: Carmen arrives in New York, happy to get away from the disaster of one Berzatto Family Christmas. You and carmen however both seem to be too nervous to talk to each other…for now. 

Quadriller (v.) to make criss-cross lines on the surface of food, as part of food presentation

Word Count: 2,821

My Notes bb: I’m sorry its so late tonight but I kept going down rabbit holes on information about actual food journalism and I also noticed I have a habit of explaining a lot and putting in random details that I think are important or cool but again this is my first Fanfiction I'm actually sharing so feedback is welcome. I will tell you now that nothing much happens this chapter save for reader and Carmy being introduced, but I do have a plan on that front its just again I'm overthinking stuff lol. Anyways I hope you all enjoy!

2019 (January) 

Carmen:

It was peaceful in the kitchen as Donna cooked over the stove, flipping pancakes and frying bacon as she smoked. Carmen, Natalie, and Mikey were sitting at the table as they all joked and talked about something or another. Donna placed the food on the table and they all dug in, each getting a small stack of pancakes and some bacon. Carmen was looking up at Mikey as he poured the syrup, laughing at whatever he was saying. 

As he looked down he was confused, written in syrup, “Fuck You Carmen” was on top of the pancakes. 

Carmen looked up feeling panicked, only to see the fork stuck atop the plate of cannoli. He looked around to see the far end of the table flipped over and a car that had crashed through the front room. Mikey was yelling at his mom and a horn was blaring, not loud enough to cover the infinite sounds of a million timers going off behind him, along with a smoke alarm. When he turned around to make them stop all he saw was black billowing smoke coming from the kitchen. 

Carmen jumped back to reality as the stewardess lightly shook him. Almost as soon as the plane lifted off the tarmac at Chicago O’Hare International Airport he was out like a light. He spent every second sense Christmas Eve beyond stressed and anxious. He was thankful Michelle and Stevie had agreed to let him come stay with them in New York after the new year. 

He hoped they hadn't changed their mind as he crossed into the baggage claim area, only to be greeted by Michelle and Stevie, who was holding a sign saying “BEAR-zatto” with a poorly done drawing of what Carmen thinks is a bear. He chuckled at the gaudy neon pink and glittery sign, happy they went so far as to let him come, let alone pick him up and make a sign.

“Oh there he is, Carmen!” Michelle called, waving him over after finally seeing him. “We were starting to think you bailed on us. How are you? How was your flight? Everything go okay?” She asked, now hugging him before pulling back to look at his face.

“Good, yea, fine, the flight was-the flight was good I slept through most of it,” Carmen said, still hazy with sleep as he rubbed the side of his face. 

“Glad to hear it! Beats our flight back. It felt like it was just crying babies and turbulence; couldn't sleep once,” Stevie chimed in, pulling Carm into an awkward side hug thanks to the just-barely-too-big-to-be-comfortable sign and Carmen’s duffle bag and backpack. An affirmative ‘hm’ was all Carmen could manage, unsure how to respond. Lucky for him, Michelle loves to talk and knew how to keep the conversation going.

“So which of these bags is yours?” she asked as the carousel began spinning and (somewhat violently) ejecting bags. “And how do you like your sign? Stevie’s friend made it; she's kinda like his family's Richie but a bit more-”

“Normal?” Stevie finished. 

“Exactly, yea, she thinks of that type of shit a lot,” Michelle continued. “She thought it would be a cute thing I guess, said something about how helpful it would be to find us sense we’d stick out and more welcoming than that one.” She gestured in the direction Carmy came from, where he passed a sign with standard corporate text that read ‘WELCOME TO NEW YORK’ and a flat drawing of the city. 

Carm was only half listening as Michelle raved on about how the girl did cutesy homemade things all the time and began to ponder why with Stevie, the two knowing the chatter didn’t really interest Carmy as more than background noise. He was on the lookout for his bag which held his prized knifes and chefs whites, just about everything else fit in his beat up duffle and backpack. He would have preferred to keep them with him at all times in an airport just to know they didn't get ruined or damaged in anyway during their transport. But he could also understand why the TSA would say to not bring knifes on a crowded, compact tube that floats in the sky. As soon as he spotted the black metallic cased bag carmen stepped and forward and grabbed it, checking the lock on the side as he stood next to his cousin. 

“Jesus Carmen what do you have in there, fucking launch codes?” Michelle asked, seeing the overprotective suitcase. 

“My knifes,” was all Carmen mumbled in response hoping it would do. Michelle just shook her head while Stevie nodded, both in disbelief at how weird he was about his tools.

“Anyways, as I was saying,” Michelle began, turning to lead the trio out to their car. “She's nice, and she's making us dinner tonight so don't be a dick. She's not a chef but god damn does she make a good baked chicken parm.”

You: 

Waking up already today felt nervous. You only had work and dinner with Stevie and Michelle and whoever-the-fuck that you couldn’t remember the name of right now but the thought of work was mixing with it. Having to meet new people was one thing that you saw as dreadful and anxiety inducing; who else could you need to talk to outside of work besides Stevie and Michelle? And having to schedule and deal with interviews with busy high end chefs was another thing. A thing where the problem mostly came when you tried to get things explained in simpler terms than the hoity-toity French or Italian words they chose. Sure you knew what quadriller was but not everyone knew what it meant. 

You could understand where they were coming from though in some cases. Mainly the Michelin star worthy ones who put so much pressure on themselves and the chefs under them to deliver perfection for an expensive dish made with the best ingredients. From what you could tell they mainly did it for the people that truly and deeply loved and enjoyed food and would save up to eat at such high end restaurants. It all led to them feeling drained at the end of the day, when the last thing they wanted to do was to explain something they knew so well they’d forgotten it was a name for something. 

Luckily today all you had to do was schedule and write a few more paragraphs on your Top Food Trends of 2018 article for your editor to see. You were still working on it and it needed a better name but that wasn't a priority right now, it was mainly getting the bulk of it done and written in words that were more than bullet points and shortened words. And you got off early enough that you had time to run home and hop through the shower before headed to the grocery store on your way to Stevie and Michelle’s. It was the first meal for the new year of your bi-weekly dinners and you knew they probably didn't have much to cook with sense getting back from their Chicago Christmas Trip. Normally Michelle would have stories about someone named Donna doing something crazy and while it was a little funny, when you gave it a seconds thought it made you sad for her family and her that she ended up the way she did. It was something you gotten drunk and emotional talking about with her and she could see your point but that's as much as you could remember of that conversation, besides asking her what the fuck seven fishes had to do with Christmas. 

You picked up all the ingredients you would need for chicken parmesan, garlic bread and a tub of gelato, Michelle always had some wine that would go perfectly with whatever pasta so you didn't worry about that. Hopefully the sign you made had gotten Michelle’s cousin’s attention and gotten them out of the airport in a timely manner before traffic hit so you could get a start on dinner as soon as you got there. They had given you a key a year ago so you could get in and start on dinner on days when they were running late, which was often, but you didn't mind as long as you got your fill on non-work related human interaction for the next two weeks. 

As you brought in your load of groceries, you saw you were right as far as the low-stocked kitchen. You connected to their bluetooth speakers and started a podcast you'd been meaning to catch up on and got to work. You'd comment on some parts to yourself and got lost in thought on the topic they were discussing and in no time you were putting almost everything in the oven, the bread could wait until 8 minuets before so it was al ready at the same time and the gelato was already in the freezer. 

It all seemed perfectly timed as your podcast ended and you were about to start another episode as you heard the front door open.

“God it smells so good!” you could hear Michelle call from the front door. You heard Stevie talking to someone and the sound of suitcase wheels and baggage moving through the front door. Michelle rounded the corner still in her coat and pulled you into a hug. “How are you? How was your week?”

“Fine, not a lot happening in the office so…” you trailed off as you hugged her back. “Got off early enough to shower before I got here.” She pulled back, finally taking off her coat as she headed towards the wine cabinet and Stevie rounded the corner with a beat up duffle bag slung over his shoulder and the neon pink sign you made. 

“Hey,” he greeted happily, followed by your name and as best a wave he could manage with a heavy duffle bag on him. “Let me put these down in the guest room and we’ll come actually say hi.” He jet pass the kitchen eager to get the bag off his shoulder and get his coat off and was quickly followed by the third person you still couldn't remember the name of. Cameron? Cory? Conner? Either way he gave you a vague nod of acknowledgement as he rushed pass you seemingly faster than Stevie. He had on a thick wool coat and a baseball cap, but besides that you didn't get a good look at him.

“So should we do the chianti or the pinot noir?” Michelle asked using her mocking tone on the fancy words, bringing your attention back to her as she held up the two bottles. 

“Chianti,” you chose. “I like the label more, its prettier.”

“That's one way to choose wine.” she said. She came back over to your side and pulled out the bottle opener as you grabbed the glasses. “Also I'm apologizing now if Carmen’s an asshole about dinner but it runs in the family.”

“Its cool, can’t be worse than Stephen…or you.”

“Oh fuck off,” she said with a smile, pouring the wine. “Who was he again?”

“The guy who wanted to be a ‘chef’ and narrated the whole time I made dinner and couldn't tell me what was wrong with the food besides ‘you just didn't do it right’,” you mocked his dumb voice as you remembered the date. “I mean I know I’m no Gordon Ramsey but I know what I’m doing in general.”

“Right that guy, Jesus your taste in people sucks,” she smiled as she slid the glass to you. 

“Yea yea,” you said, taking a sip of your wine as you looked at the timer on the oven and went to put the bread in the oven. “I’d rather have actual input from someone than that shit though.”

“What shit?” Stevie asked walking back into the kitchen, finally relieved of the duffle.

“Vague shit,” Michelle said, vaguely. 

“The best kind of shit,” Stevie pulled you into a hug as he finally said a proper hello to you. He turned some to the guy who entered earlier, Carmen you now knew. “This is Carmen, he's a chef, the one I was telling you about with the Noma and stuff.”

“Right, yea, hi,” you greeted, introducing yourself even though Stevie just did it for you, you'd cringe about it later. This is why you don't like meeting new people.

“Hi, your-your the journalist right?” Carmen stuck his hand out to shake yours, and now that he was right in front of you you got a good look at him. Crystalline blue eyes and dirty blonde hair that was all mess and curls, he looked tired and anxious. Even his clothing said so; a long sleeve white shirt pushed up to his elbows and jeans both of which seemed rumpled from the flight. You did take note of his tattoos, a snail on his forearm, and a Pyrex measuring cup with the world on the other, you saw on the hand shaking yours the SOU on his fingers.

“Yea food and stuff,” you said, bringing your attention back to his face. All around he was handsome but you could sense the same nerves you had on him. It was a relief when Stevie came back from putting his coat away asking how your Christmas was, saving you both from an awkward conversation. 

“Not bad,” you responded. “My parents went to Arkansas for family or whatever and said their sending me some stuff and I got to buy myself a nice dress and no one bothered me over the holiday, an all round a success in my book.”

Just then the oven went off, and you took up Carmen's mumbled offer to get the heavier pan with the chicken and pasta while you grabbed the bread and plates, deciding to come back for the utensils and cheese. Michelle took charge of hers and Carmen's glasses sitting them across from each other as Stevie took his own and the bottle. You had to admit, it felt nice with everyone helping. You came back to the table before realizing you left you own glass, and that you would be sitting next to Carmen and would definitely need it to talk to the stranger. 

Finally returning and looking to the table before sitting down you did one last check that everything was there; napkins, plates, forks all checked. The other three were already digging in as Michelle whispered something to carmen that sounded a lot like ‘don't be a dick’. You took one last second and turned on a relaxing playlist for the meal on a low volume and sat down.

“So,” you started. “How was your guys’s Christmas?”

“Shitty.”

“Awful.” 

Stevie just frowned and shook his head in response as the other two responded in unison.

“That bad, huh?” you asked, finally serving yourself. Michelle avoided by chugging her wine and Carmen did the same by stuffing his mouth. 

“I think its better if we don't talk about it,” Stevie said breaking the silence.

The rest of the meal passed well enough though and everyone seemed to like the gelato with the meal. Carmen didn't talk much, too stuck in his own head thinking about how he had to start looking for a job ASAP. What didn't help were the thoughts of how pretty you looked when he walked in, and especially now that he was closer seated next to you. Your hair and dress styled perfectly with some better suited shoes for the slippery winter weather outside. He quickly talked himself out of pursuing anything with you though, having the small bit of sense to not bring you into his fucked up personal life full of anxiety and stress and pepto. He didn't even know what to say to you now. How would he know what to say on a date? He knew you knew something about food but wasn't sure what exactly it was you knew. What if it was just something to pay the bills and you didn't actually like being a journalist on food? There were too many unknowns for him to be comfortable with anything other than small agreements and answers that were as short as possible whenever he was asked something, and he noticed you doing the same thing. 

You did your best to not be awkward with Carmen but you both had a wall put up to keep the newcomer out. If it weren't for Stevie and Michelle talking about their plane rides and new years eve stories your pretty sure it would be silent between the two of you. They tried to get you both involved but it was clear enough that wasn't going to happen… not tonight at least.

[justapoet]

these roads are changing me (but they all lead back to you)

Honestly, it hadn't been in her plans to have Percy with her in her crisis-induced impromptu trip. It hadn't even been in her plans to leave New York, much less the United States — but she found that very little made sense and very few made plans when in a complete, absolute hell of a burnout from which she couldn't actually run away. She could try. And she could flee the country. Or, Annabeth's first move after finding old letters she'd written to no one was to get on a plane to another country. Or rather, it was telling Percy she'd do that — and, so, her solo, breakdown-induced trip suddenly had a partner. Through letters, tears, and spending someone else's money, she would soon find out that fleeing home wasn't quite an option when the heart in which she lived inside was beating in the chest right beside hers.

read on Ao3

to those who ask

      The turbulence and the sharp inhale beside her were what took Annabeth's attention out of the book she had in her hands.

A mess of blonde curls was lifted from her shoulders, and one of his hands gripped her arm while he tried to understand what was going on. Annabeth adjusted her posture on her own seat, watching carefully as the pair of blue eyes tried to assess the situation they were currently in.

"You still drool in your sleep," she said, just because it was something worth mentioning.

He blinked his eyes slowly, yawning and adjusting his posture to the seat as she'd done a few seconds before.

"Hm," he groaned, never really alert after waking up. Percy rotated his neck, the previous position being quite cruel on his spine, his hand still gripping her arm as tightly as he could not to hurt her. "Wha' happened?" he mumbled.

"Turbulence," she explained, eyes back on the book, then, and moving her arm as to slide their hands together. The pilot had said it'd be a turbulent part about fifteen seconds before Percy woke up, and she knew her best friend enough to know he'd need some lifeline for his mind's sake. "We're fine. You can go back to sleep, Seaweed Brain," she assured him, squeezing his fingers.

"No, no, I—" he said, sleepy, and the loud wind echoed in the plane. Percy closed his eyes shut. "I'm fine, I'm fine," he tried to lie. His voice was shaky and a bit strained, and Annabeth tried to squeeze his hand even tighter. "I'm fine."

They'd been flying for the past four hours or so, on a plane destined to Brussels, Belgium, with nothing but a small baggage, backpacks, Sally's wishes of 'good luck', and their personal belongings. It had been the first flight with vacant seats they could board, and there was no planning whatsoever other than getting to the airport and buying something to eat.

Honestly, it hadn't been in her plans to have Percy with her in her crisis-induced impromptu trip. It hadn't even been in her plans to leave New York, much less the United States — but she found that very little made sense and very few made plans when in a complete, absolute hell of a burnout from which she couldn't actually run away.

She could try, though, and she could absolutely flee the country.

So, when Annabeth knocked on Percy's door to tell him, Sally and Paul that she'd be traveling for God-knows-how-long, to God-knows-where and alone, she hadn't expected Percy to get up, rush to his room and ask her to wait a minute in a muffled yell.

But it was how the moment went, after all: as the three of them processed what she'd said and her best friend read her like he'd always do, probably figuring out she wasn't exactly fine and was physically running and getting far from her problems and daily life, he blinked at her, gathering his thoughts. Sally and Paul had a matching look of concern in their faces, and Annabeth wanted to take back every word she spent the last five minutes speaking.

Then, the next second had Percy moving fast as he rushed to his bedroom, took a suitcase — where he threw shirts, pants, hoodies in —, a backpack — which he filled with personal hygiene items, phone charger, earphones, his wallet and a laptop —, and a pair of shoes he didn't even bother to lace before he was stealing her words and telling his mother and stepfather that he and Annabeth were making a trip to God-knows-where, for God-knows how long.

Both Sally and Paul had, somehow, agreed. They didn't even bat an eye to the absolute whirlwind of information they'd both just dumped on them. And Annabeth was far too stunned to even consider denying Percy's offer (it wasn't exactly an offer, it turned out).

Paul had smiled, sincere as it always was, and offered the two of them a hug. Sally spent three minutes asking Percy if he'd thrown everything he'd need in the suitcase and backpack, and did the very same thing to Annabeth — who had a bigger luggage and a very oversized backpack — before rushing to the kitchen and coming back with four blue cookies for each to eat before leaving the country.

The woman had then kissed both their foreheads and told Percy to take the card his father had gifted him when he was sixteen, that he kept hidden in his bedside table. He obliged, never being one to doubt or disobey his mother, and rushed back inside, coming back with a smile, placing a kiss on Sally's head and taking Annabeth's hand in his.

An uber ride and a swipe of his — very rich, Annabeth remembered — father's card later, they were boarding a plane with a destination in another continent.

With the slightest detail that Percy was scared of planes.

Terrified, actually.

Which made the boarding a little (a lot) harder, for Percy was clearly fighting a panic attack while they approached the actual plane through the glass-hallways, his face growing pale and scared, and his eyes widening while his breath got shallow and faster. Annabeth held his hand as tightly as she could, offering a thousand times for them to just get back and give it up and stay in the country instead. They'd figure something else to do. She could freak out in Central Park. In Boston. Washington. Austin, even. Anywhere they could get to in-land.

But he had denied profusely, shaking his head and failing majestically in pretending he wasn't losing his cool as much as he was. Percy gripped her hand like a lifeline, doing everything in his power to not fall apart or literally fall to his shaking knees as they approached the airplane slowly. Annabeth whispered reassurances as much as she could, the guilt weighing in her chest while the blue eyes she loved so much widened more and more.

"Percy? We really don't have to do this," she said again, still a few people away from handing their tickets. "You don't have to do this."

"It's okay, Wise Girl," he had told her yet again. "I can do it, I promise. Besides," he tried to shrug, and it wasn't as relaxed as he planned it to look. "You'll be with me. I'll be alright."

She arched an eyebrow.

"Let me do this, okay?" he had requested, and the determination on his face told her that arguing and backtracking would be a losing battle at this point. His stubbornness was something she had gotten used to after knowing him for so long, but it didn't mean it wouldn't bother her from time to time.

So, if that was a losing battle, Annabeth decided that letting the guilt creep through her veins as the line moved again was something that she could definitely make happen. Choosing an airport had not been the smartest idea she'd ever had, even if she was freaking her brains out when she'd decided to fly instead of fighting against the same old demons she'd always faced.

Literally. She didn't think that was what the saying meant all the while.

"And don't you dare go blaming yourself," Percy's voice was closer, now, and she snapped his head towards him to find his face a few inches from hers. He had an arched eyebrow, a smug smile on his pretty face and both his hands behind his back as he bent his body to match her height. "I can see the gears turning inside your head, Chase. Cut the power," he added, teasing, but Annabeth could hear the truthness in his tone.

So, as the fully grown adult she was, Annabeth rolled her eyes, and crossed her arms over her chest. Percy's smile was cheeky, and his pout was ridiculous(ly cute, her brain wanted to supply) as he tilted his head to the side just a bit, pretending to be sad about her display of dissatisfaction.

He looked so much like a baby seal it was actually hilarious.

"Annabeth," he called, dragging the last syllables on much like a small child. "Annie," he said again, dragging on the nickname just the same, and Annabeth shook her head. The line moved, then, and she could see just how tense Percy had gotten beside her, his smile fading and his eyes turning panicked once again. Silently, she thanked God that people were too busy paying attention to themselves, their luggage, kids, and the angle of pictures for Instagram; one look at Percy's face, right then, and anyone would believe they were walking to their death trap.

Annabeth looked at his face, and then put her phone on her back pocket, taking her passport and ticket on the other hand so she could slip her now free palm into Percy's, who had his fingers tightly closed in a fist. She squeezed his hand as soon as she could wrap their fingers together, and looked at him with the smallest of smiles.

Percy smiled back, even if it was weak and watery.

"Alright," he said, taking a deep breath and holding it for a few seconds before exhaling it long and loud. "Alright, just a few hours."

"And I'll be right there," Annabeth said, knowing it didn't mean much against a machine flying around the world, but it meant enough to settle him down for a while. Percy's smile was a little more genuine, then, and they walked again as the line moved one more time, now only two people away from boarding.

Finding their seats was easy, and Annabeth slipped into the window seat before Percy panicked about it. Despite wanting to watch the outside as the plane took off, and being a complete fan of clouds, she closed it as soon as she sat down, much more worried about making Percy as comfortable and safe as she could manage to in a circumstance out of her control (now that they were already there) than seeing how high they were with her own eyes.

And after they took off, Percy seemed to have relaxed. He had muffling earphones on, his seatbelt much tighter than needed around him, and a neck-pillow so he could try to fall asleep in the following hours of being on air. At some point, he'd managed to succumb to Morpheus' realm, though his pillow of choice had been Annabeth's shoulder — and things had been going fairly smoothly, with her reading her book and Percy drooling on her shoulder, until the pilot had announced a path of mild turbulence.

"The pilot said it won't be long," she said, watching his face closely. "We should be fine in a few minutes," Annabeth tried to assure him. Percy gulped, and nodded quickly.

"Yeah, okay," he said. "God, I hate Dumont," Percy added, and Annabeth didn't hold back a snort.

"Of course, you'd know the name of the Aviation's father," she said, rather fondly. "Now, why would you?"

"Needed someone to hate," he replied, and she laughed again. "Like, dude was brilliant. But did he really need to create death traps?"

Annabeth arched an eyebrow.

"One could say the exact same thing about any old dude that chose to explore another field that is not the earth," she argued. "Or the earth, even. Cars and motorcycles, for one."

"Yeah, okay; but in those, at least, we're in control. Most of the time. And we're not bound to fall to our imminent death just because there are clouds and a little rain," Percy grumbled, and Annabeth pressed her lips together.

"We're not bound to fall to our imminent death, Seaweed Brain," she stage-whispered. "And that's also debatable."

"Yeah, you're not gonna convince me of that in this lifetime," he shot back, and closed his eyes at another particularly strong shaking. It wasn't something to worry about, honestly, to anyone who wasn't afraid of flying, but Annabeth imagined that, for him, the impression was that the plane was breaking apart. "How long until we land?"

"About three hours," she said, her voice soft as she tried to weaken the blow she knew it'd have on him. "Think you can fall asleep again?"

Percy seemed to whimper.

"Can we avoid the word 'fall' until I'm entirely sure we won't be dying today?" he requested, that spooked expression still haunting his beautiful features. Annabeth wished, more than anything, that she could get her hands on Time itself and make it go faster.

"Sorry," she said. "Think you can sleep again?"

"Hardly," he shook his head. "Too aware of being in the middle of the clouds," he muttered, inhaling deeply to try and calm himself down. Annabeth's heart ached.

"Want to watch a movie, then?" she offered, and Percy took a few seconds to understand her words when the plane seemed to shake again. She tightened her grip on his hand as he did the same, the hold a bit too strong, but not enough for her to complain.

"You're reading," he said.

"And I can stop," she spoke back. "Besides, the words did start dancing around the page already. Been making too much effort," Annabeth said, closing the book over her lap and taking her phone from her pocket.

She handed it to him, and Percy opened his eyes again.

"Pick one," she said, smiling, and Percy's hand was trembling when he took the device from her hand. "One that we haven't rewatched a thousand times with Estelle already, please," she added, and it got a weak chuckle out of his lips. Annabeth smiled.

"Can it be one we have watched two thousand times already?" he asked, and Annabeth laughed sweetly at him.

"Yes, Seaweed Brain," she told him. "We can watch Finding Nemo."

Percy's face lit up, though it was still strained by the fear that consumed his nerves and thoughts. It would take his head off of it, at least, to watch something he already knew the lines of and always looked like he was watching it for the first time — Sally had told her that he would smile exactly the same from the very first time she had put the movie on.

It was adorable, honestly, and it made Annabeth's heart melt inside his chest. There was a genuinity to him that was so particular and so pure despite the dark stains in his past that it was impossible not to admire the man he had become — so sweet and loyal and carefree. Someone who would part the ocean in two for those he loved, cross hell with bare feet, challenge the heavens alone and never once look back at it with regret.

Someone who would get on a plane just because his best friend had gone absolutely insane and needed to physically leave her life behind for a while.

"Do you have your earphones?" he asked her, already finding the movie she had downloaded in her phone a long time before. Annabeth nodded, reaching for the earphones in her pocket and handing it to him. "C'mere," he called, lifting the armrest after plugging the earphones to the phone, lifting one arm to invite her closer.

Annabeth smiled, taking one side of the earphones and snuggling closer to Percy, who circled his arm around her shoulders. She rested her head against his shoulder, and Percy tilted his to rest it against her hair, smiling happily while the movie started on the small screen he had put over the small table in front of his seat.

Annabeth smiled, glad that Percy would be distracted soon enough and, against his allegations, would soon fall asleep on top of her.

Dory hadn't even appeared when his breathing evened out.

✉

"We're finding a cruise to go back to North-America," was the first thing Percy said when they stepped inside the International Airport in Brussels, leaning into Annabeth as if processing his feet were stepping back on-land. His eyes were closed as his head rested against hers, and Annabeth couldn't help letting go of her luggage and taking her hand to rest on the back of his head, close to his nape, scratching it softly as she tangled her fingers in his curls.

"You good?" she asked, and Percy nodded, swallowing dry and taking a deep breath. He leaned in to her touch still on his head, careful and caring. "Want to sit down?"

"Just give me a minute," he mumbled softly, and Annabeth knew he meant his legs were too unsteady for him to risk another step. She hummed in agreement, and moved her feet slightly to make sure her body was steady enough on the ground in case Percy needed her to take more of his weight.

The shock of being on-air would've caught up to him at some point, and she was grateful it happened when they were already safe back on the ground. Percy hated being the center of attention, and had it happened in the airplane still, it would've been hard not to attract eyes and more noise and more people standing close to the two of them. Annabeth waited, listening carefully to his attempts to calm down his breathing, scratching his scalp to ground him some more to reality.

"Sorry," he said, and Annabeth quickly shook her head.

"Thank you for doing this for me," she shot back, her voice low and earnest. "I'm sorry I didn't think it through before heading to the airport. I should've known better," she apologized, watching as he, too, shook his head, dismissing her words.

"I agreed to it," Percy retorted. "And I'd do it again. Just not— not anytime in the next few months."

She arched an eyebrow.

"Months?" she asked. Percy was thankful for the change of direction in the conversation — he'd happily ignore that he'd been on a floating abomination, thousands of feet out of the ground, for an ungodly amount of hours. He'd completely ignore it forever, or else he'd freak out and start crying while hiding in a bathroom cabin inside an unknown airport in another country, in another continent.

"Why, of course. How else would we see all there is to see in this continent?" Percy asked, still breathless. "There is food to taste and sights to see and museums with stolen things from other people's cultures and pasts to pretend I'm interested in while you're loving every minute of it," he laughed, still a bit breathless, and Annabeth couldn't help but follow along.

The sound made her heart leap, and the smile grew on her face.

"Oh, please," she said, pretending to be bored by his words. "It's long past the time you pretended not to like museums, Seaweed Brain."

"Shh, don't go spilling my secrets just because we're in unknown territory," he whispered-yelled, pretending to be alarmed. "You said that the secret would die with you, Wise Girl," Percy pouted, and Annabeth rolled her eyes.

An adorable sight, really. But with the intent to bother her, regardless.

"Child," she groaned, and Percy gasped, pretending to be offended. "Estelle is more mature than you are, Seaweed Brain," she said, her teasing tone not going unnoticed, but being purposefully ignored by the blue-eyed man.

"She threw a tantrum over Ariel not remaining a mermaid!" he said, and Annabeth scoffed.

"You took her side," she said. "And you picked up a fight with an old lady over whether or not the general in Mulan is bisexual."

"Li Shang," he corrected her, and Annabeth laughed. "And he is! Maybe not bisexual, alright; but definitely not straight," he argued.

"Alright, Seaweed Brain, alright," she said. "You should've shown her your PowerPoint slideshow on the topic, really. It'd be a losing battle."

"For who?" he asked.

"Whom. Me," Annabeth replied, a side-smile on her face. "And Sally, who was desperately wondering how to send you to your father right then so he'd be the one to deal with whatever the situation was."

Percy gasped. Again.

"Excuse me?" he said, way more dramatically than needed. "Dad would've definitely taken my side."

"Yeah, because Tristan would have sided with the old lady."

"Yeah, because he's an asshole of a brother," Percy huffed.

"No. He only sides against you on Disney-related matters because you chose a Christmas family-party to show everyone another PowerPoint presentation arguing why he was actually Triton, Ariel's father and Prince of the Seas," Annabeth told him.

Percy moved his hand as if trying to express a point. He nodded his head along with it, and Annabeth pressed her lips together, bracing herself for whatever he was about to say.

"Annabeth, put a beard and a fishtail on the man and he is Ariel's father," Percy said. "I wait to this day the moment dad will come and say that he's actually Poseidon and I'm a half-blood prince of Atlantis who is more than invited to spend the summers under the sea because he breathes underwater."

Annabeth barked out some laughter.

"Alright, Mia Thermopolis. And I'm Athena's daughter," she rolled her eyes.

Percy blinked.

"You are," he said, as if she wasn't joking.

Annabeth laughed more.

"Athena the Greek goddess, Seaweed Brain. Not Athena, the 'fabulous' architect," she quoted the adjective, rolling her eyes.

Percy blinked, as if analyzing what she had just said. And Annabeth knew just where that would lead them.

"Holy shit," Percy said, and Annabeth promptly protested. "Annabeth, that makes so much sense."

"No, we're not going down that road," she said. Percy started to speak again. "Nope, no way. My mother is perfectly mortal and perfectly human and that's that," she said. Percy narrowed his eyes. "As is your father, Percy; get over yourself."

"Oh, please; I'm being perfectly logical!" he exclaimed, and Annabeth sighed. She wasn't really bothered — she didn't think those little quarrels, or any silly discussion they ever had would ever get a tired sigh out of her. "Annabeth," he dragged the last syllable, and she laughed.

"No, you aren't. You hardly ever are. Especially in these kinds of circumstances," she said, gesturing around. Percy gasped. She rolled her eyes fondly. "Are you alright?" her tone shifted, now softer and a lot more concerned about him.

They'd been standing in the same place for a while, close to a wall and out of the crowds that moved with bags and carts and hurry. Percy was leaning on her, still, and Annabeth didn't mind it one bit — the closeness soothed her soul and, to some extent, his relief after the despair made her, too, feel incredibly relieved about being back with her feet on the ground. She had never been afraid of heights, and much less of airplanes, but she could sympathize with Percy's despair while they were so far among the clouds.

"I'll probably take some sleep for me to completely stop shaking," he laughed. "But I think I can walk now."

Annabeth studied his expression, still shaken and slightly tired, and nodded firmly in response. Percy smiled at her, still not completely feeling like it, and grabbed the suitcase with the hand that wasn't snaking under Annabeth's elbow to take her arm.

"Let's find our way out?" he asked, tugging her arm a bit so she could hold a bit tighter to her own suitcase. Annabeth smiled, following his laid-back pace as they all but danced around the incredible amount of people around them, and feeling the nerve-wrecking feeling of adventure — some might say 'anxiety' — bubble up in her stomach with impressive speed.

She didn't quite know how to explain, but it was a feeling she was quite familiar with. It'd come in the mornings when she knew her routine would be different from the usual thing she always did, or when something in her day and life was so completely out of the ordinary. A white feeling on the pit of her stomach, even though she knew it didn't make much sense to describe it like that; uncomfortable, but not enough to make her recoil and want to bolt. Instead, it would sometimes make her nauseous and want to regret each one of her choices.

She didn't, though; she didn't get the time to. Percy was babbling on over something he had just seen happening, his easy-going way of living being so, so welcomed to break the straining thoughts in her head that would lead her to buy the next available seat back to the United States. His hand was in hers, now, and she held onto him as for dear life — if because of the crowds or the need to feel attached to reality, somehow, Annabeth didn't really know.

They only stopped when they reached the doors that would take them outside of the airport, and Percy connected to the place's Wi-Fi so he could search for hotels and try to book an immediate reservation. While he did so with a smile on his face and an unquietness to him that highlighted to her just how excited he was to be there, Annabeth took her time to look around, watching as people came in and went out and their lives moved on right past her.

It was a funny thing to think about, though not such a good rabbit hole to wander down — how people were their own minds, their own people, and had their own lives. They were in the same place as her, seeing things through their own eyes and feeling their own feelings and knowing of their own battles and worries; it would, sometimes, freak her out just to imagine and realize the absolute uniqueness and worthlessness of each soul attached to a still walking body over the Earth.

It made her dizzy to think about just how much everything that meant so much to her meant nothing in the big scheme of things. Her dreams and fears and hopes weren't a single thing, and all the big feelings she battled were just as insignificant — the world kept moving on, as it would long, long after her body wasn't walking over the planet anymore, and nothing she ever did, ever hoped, ever loved would matter at all.

A dangerous thought to spiral upon in the middle of an airport, for sure, but something she couldn't help thinking because she was in the middle of an international airport in international territory because she freaked the fuck out. And she didn't need to, because, perhaps, her stress was completely pointless considering that nothing will ever last—

"Alright, found one," Percy said, smiling brightly and turning his phone to her, dragging Annabeth abruptly out of her thoughts. "I mean, dad found one."

Annabeth frowned.

"Your dad?"

"He was tracking our flight," her best friend said, looking at her a bit sheepishly. "He knows I freak out and always keeps track if I ever need to be on a plane," he admitted, and Annabeth smiled affectionately at the blue-eyed man. Sweet, really, and it did come in handy in moments like those.

"That's sweet of him," she spoke, and Percy smiled softly.

"Yeah," he agreed. "It helps to know he knows where I am. Even if he couldn't do anything in the worst-case scenario," he shrugged. Annabeth smiled. "He booked a hotel and just sent me the address.

"Should we trust his taste for accommodations?" Annabeth asked.

"It's a five star hotel," Percy said, seeming impressed himself with whatever he was looking at on his phone.

Annabeth blinked.

"Excuse me?" she exclaimed, a bit more high-pitched than intended. Percy turned his head to look at her, his expression now filled with confusion. "A luxury hotel? Percy, no," she said, and her best friend tilted his head to the side.

"What?" he asked. "It's already paid. We have a few days, and he said we could extend it if we want to," he explained. Annabeth nearly gagged in her shock.

"It's too fucking much?" she said. "A luxury hotel! How am I supposed to pay it back—"

"Oh, oh, oh; wait. What?" Percy interrupted her, now turning his body fully around to face Annabeth. "Pay it back? Are you crazy?"

She widened her eyes.

"Are you?!" she said. "Percy, paying for my ticket was already expensive, and now this—"

"What makes you think you'll have to pay anything back?" he asked, and his face was the complete definition of bewilderment.

read the rest on Ao3

[4funblr]

Recently waiting to deplane while traveling for work a man barged his way past me as I attempted to enter the isle and retrieve my bag from the overhead compartment.

If you’ve ever flown you know it’s just common courtesy to wait your turn and deplane in an orderly fashion. However this guy was unable to wait his turn and bounced his backpack off of me as he hurriedly rushed past me.

Frustrating yes, did I want to say something, yes, but I gave him the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps he had a connection to make or had sound reason for his impatient hasty exit.

Upon reaching baggage claim who do I find myself standing next to but the man who seemed unable to wait his turn. I intentionally stood next to him waiting for our bags to arrive. This felt like offering him a second chance for him to explain his reasoning behind his rude actions or even to acknowledge it wasn’t cool.

Yet nothing, he seemed to not even notice me or give any care to his earlier actions. Still I opted to take the high road and say nothing…just not worth my energy. As everyone collected their bags and headed on their way the baggage claim area emptied and I was left standing next to this person as my last bag came around the carousel and I pulled it off the track.

With no more bags on the return, the man in a giant hurry began to walk around looking for a bag that didn’t show up. I stood for a moment and watched as the frustration on his face became visible and he looked around in confusion. I walked away from the return leaving him alone, bagless and delayed in his hurried ventures. Ironically the LAST one to be able to get on his way.

Seems karma caught up with you quite quickly my friend even in your hurried state.

[corroded-hellfire]

Hello and congrats on 2k followers! Could I request reader from Offline Meeting visiting Steve in Hawkins?

Thank you for the request! I hope you enjoy it! And I have to thank @inourtownofhawkins and @munson-blurbs for their help (and friendship) 💕

In the same universe as Offline Meeting

Words: 3.9k

Your knee had been jumping up and down the whole flight. The poor man who was sitting next to you must hate you. But even playing on your Nintendo Switch for the entire flight wasn’t enough to keep your nerves in check. Questions that had been playing on repeat for the past three months since you last saw Steve have stuck in the forefront of your mind, refusing to be shaken loose. 

Did he miss me as much as I missed him? Was us sleeping together a one-time thing? Has he just kept flirting with me online to be nice? What if there’s not a spark when you’re together this time? What if he’s met someone else? Someone who lives near him and who he can see more often?

The plane bounces as it touches down at the Indianapolis airport, but your hands are gripping your armrests because of entirely different nerves. Following the other passengers off the plane, your fingers worry over your backpack straps, mind still going in circles. As you step out of the plane and into the airport, you switch your phone out of airplane mode. Slipping it back into your pocket, you figure everything that you missed will pop up while you use the bathroom. 

But when you check your phone on the way to baggage claim, there’s nothing from Steve. You decide to shoot him a text.

Landed! On my way to baggage claim!

No response. This isn’t helping your nerves. Eyes hoping to land on his beautiful head of brown hair, you walk slowly to the luggage carousel. With no sight of a familiar face, you check your phone again, it digging into your hand from how tightly you’re holding it. Still nothing from Steve. The loud blare of the alarm, alerting passengers that the baggage was starting to come out makes you jump. 

“You okay?”

There’s a guy standing next to you, maybe a few years older than you. He’s raising an eyebrow at you, and you realize he must’ve seen you get startled. 

“Yeah,” you say, nodding your head and hooking your thumbs in your backpack straps. The urge to look around for Steve is strong, but you’re also aware you’re a young girl alone in an airport in an unfamiliar town. It’s best to act like everything is fine, like nothing is wrong. Even if as every second ticks by you feel closer to throwing up.

A familiar purple bag comes around the corner on the conveyor belt and you step forward and pull it off. Okay. Now you had your bag and according to your phone, no messages from Steve. Fingers tightening over the plastic handle, you drag your suitcase over to a bench and take a seat. Staring at your phone and willing it to light up doesn’t work, so you unlock it and press on Steve’s name. The phone rings as you hold it up to your ear, leg bouncing up and down once again. Quickly, Steve’s voice telling you to leave a message sounds, and you bite your lip hard enough for it to bleed.

“Uh, hi,” you say into the phone. “So, I haven’t heard from you. And I’ve got my bag and don’t see you anywhere. So, uh, yeah. Call me back, I guess?”

Ending the call and lowering the phone back to your lap, you feel a tear leak from your eye. You quickly wipe it away, not wanting to be seen crying or vulnerable. 

“Uh, not to sound like a broken record, but you okay?” 

The man who was standing next to you at the baggage claim was now standing next to the bench you’re sitting on. His large brown eyes remind you of Steve’s and you can’t help the sniffle that escapes you. 

“M’fine,” you say, but you know it wouldn’t even convince a newborn.

“You, uh,” the man says, shoving the hand that wasn’t holding his bag into the pocket of his black jeans. “Need something? Can I help?”

“No, thanks,” you say, giving him a shy smile. 

“Look,” the man says with a sigh. He shakes his head and the long brown curls that frame his face shake with the motion. “I’m not trying to be a weirdo or anything. Just don’t want to leave you here alone like this. Doesn’t seem right. Do you want me to wait with you?”

“Oh,” you say, finger tapping against the back of your phone. The guy seems genuine, but you’re still skeptical. When you see the security guard station not twenty feet from you though, you figure it should be fine. “Sure. I guess that’s okay.”

As soon as the man sits down next to you, Steve bursts through the doors, out of breath and face flushed. His eyes are scanning the whole baggage claim area, but his gaze finally settles on you. The look of relief on his face quickly changes to irritation when he sees the guy sitting next to you.

“Steve,” you say in relief, standing up as he walks over to you. 

“I am so, so sorry,” Steve says as he pulls you into a hug. It may have been months since you’ve seen him, but his scent is still familiar and calming. “There was traffic, and I spilled my coffee all over my phone, so it’s busted and I even tried to find a pay phone but apparently they don’t make them anymore.” 

Pulling back, you give Steve an understanding smile. “It’s okay. I was scared out of my mind, but it’s okay now.”

“No, it’s not,” Steve says with a frown.

Before you can answer, you hear the man from the bench clearing his throat behind you.

“I’ll just, uh…” he trails off. You spin around to give him a grateful smile.

“Thank you. For being so kind. Really, I appreciate it,” you tell him.

“No problem,” he says. He glances at Steve, then back to you and gives you a wave – his silver rings catching the fluorescent lights above. 

When you turn back to face Steve, he’s watching the guy walk away, a soft glare thrown his way.

“Hey,” you say, poking him in the chest. “What’s with the scowl?” 

“What did he want?” Steve asks, looking back at you.

“Guess he could tell I was anxious,” you say with a shrug. “Just offered to wait with me.” 

“Uh huh,” Steve says skeptically, and a smirk slowly spreads on your face. 

“Steve, are you jealous?”

He scoffs, but his cheeks turn red, betraying his guilt. 

“That’s adorable,” you coo, and Steve rolls his eyes. 

“Anyway, back to my apologies,” he says, grabbing the handle of your suitcase from you. His other hand slips into yours and the butterflies you feel whenever Steve compliments you over the phone feel like they’ve multiplied as you lace your fingers together. 

“You really spilled coffee all over your phone?” you ask with a laugh.

“Yes,” Steve huffs. “At least I work at an Apple Store so that’ll make life easier.”

He takes you to his car and hefts your suitcase into the trunk. When you slip into the passenger's seat the smell of coffee permeates the air and you can’t help but giggle. His phone is sitting in the cup holder that’s not housing an empty coffee cup, and when you tap on the screen, it stays black.

“What, didn’t believe me?” Steve says as he starts the car.

“Oh, I did,” you say, putting the phone down. “Just wanted to make sure you didn’t just accidentally forget how to turn your phone on.”

Steve reaches over and squeezes at your thigh, fingers digging in to tickle you. A barking laugh escapes from your throat, squirming around in the seat and trying to push Steve’s hand away.

“Steve! Jesus, if you spilled coffee on your phone in traffic before, you’re going to get us killed now!”

He scoops your hand up in his and presses a kiss to the back of it.

“I’m sorry.” He looks over at you as he pulls up to a red light. “And I really am sorry I made you anxious.”

“I know,” you say, rubbing your thumb over the back of his hand. 

It’s a little over an hour until you’re driving past a sign that says, “Welcome to Hawkins.” Instead of driving straight to his place, Steve decides to take you on a little tour of the town. 

“Right there is where I fell off my bike and skinned my knee when I was ten. If you look closely, you can still see the bloodstain in the dirt.”

“If we make a left down here, we’ll end up at Skull Rock. That’s where I touched my first boobie. But don’t worry, yours are way better.”

“Oh, that’s the grocery store down there. They had to start putting locks on the freezers because someone kept coming in and stealing boxes of Eggos.”

“That’s Family Video, probably the last place to rent movies left in the country. Robin and I used to work there before the Apple Store opened and she got a job as a tour guide at the zoo.”

Over the course of the months you’ve known Steve – which was coming up on a year since you’d first met in the game – he’s often mentioned Robin. That she’s his best friend and at one point were even toying with the idea of getting an apartment together. You’ve known you don’t have the right to be jealous, but maybe asking about her couldn’t hurt?

“Robin, huh?” you say, trying to sound as casual as possible. “Do I get to meet her on this trip?”

“Yeah,” Steve says. “Her classes are done just like yours are, so as long as she’s not working, she’ll be free. Unless she’s got a date.”

“Oh?” Your interest is now piqued. “She has a boyfriend?”

Steve laughs and you frown, confused at the outburst.

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “Robin would rather stick her head in a lion’s mouth than date a man. No, Vickie is her girlfriend.”

“Oh,” you say, and the relief must be evident in your voice.

“Why?” Steve asks, shooting you a smirk. “Are you jealous now?”

“Okay,” you say, feeling yourself getting flustered. “Totally different circumstances. Robin is your best friend. You talk about her all the time, and she lives in the same town as you. Definitely reasons to be jealous. But you? You were jealous because a cute guy sat next to me at the airport.”

“So, he was cute, was he?” Steve asks, raising his eyebrows. 

“Oh my God,” you say, holding your face in your hands. “Yes, Steve, he was cute but you’re sexy. Is that it? Is that what you want to hear?”

The shrug he gives may be nonchalant, but the self-satisfied smirk on his face is anything but. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you say with a fond eye roll as Steve parks his car in front of a large apartment building. 

“Here we are,” Steve says, cutting the engine. 

He carries your suitcase up to his apartment on the third floor and unlocks the door. He ushers you in first before following in with your luggage. 

“Oh!” You gasp, startling Steve. “I get to finally meet sweet little Link!”

The gray tabby cat in question jumps up on the coffee table, little pink nose twitching in your direction. 

“Hello, sweetie,” you say as you kneel on the floor next to him. “Aren’t you just the most adorable little boy?”

Link starts to purr as you scratch right between his ears.

“He loves to be held,” Steve says, much to your delight. You scoop up the little fur baby in your arms and follow Steve down the hall to the spare bedroom. It’s usually used as Steve’s “office” where he keeps his gaming setup. But there’s a full-sized air mattress all neatly made up with pretty blue sheets in the corner, just for you. 

Steve sets your suitcase down near the bed and turns to you with hands on his hips.

“We didn’t really talk about where you’d want to sleep, so I just figured I’d give you options.”

“Where do you want me to sleep?” you ask with a smirk, cuddling Link to your chest. 

“Is that even a question?” Steve asks, eyes practically popping out of his head. “With me, duh.”

Link wiggles in your arms so you set him down on Steve’s gaming chair, where he happily cleans himself.

“Wanna sleep with me, huh?” You walk towards Steve and rest your hands on his chest.

“Course I do,” he says, wrapping his arms around your waist. 

This is the first intimate moment the two of you have had since seeing each other again. Steve brushes his nose against yours before leaning down to press his lips to yours. You fist his soft cotton shirt in your hands as he pulls your body up against his. One hand comes up to cup your jaw as he traces his tongue over your top lip. Instantly parting them for him, Steve doesn’t hesitate. The kiss is passionate and tender, and, quite literally, breathtaking. The need for air forces you to pull apart, but Steve rests his forehead against yours as you catch your breath. 

“My room?” Steve asks quietly, to which you nod in agreement. His lips attach to your neck as he tugs you along with him, out of the room and down the hall. But your worries keep coming back to you, not even letting you enjoy this moment with Steve. 

What if this is all he wanted? Why he invited you here? What if you’re just a long distance booty call? The thoughts clog your mind until you can barely register Steve pulling you down next to him on the bed. 

“Wait,” you say, closing your eyes and pressing a hand against his chest. 

“What’s wrong?” You open your eyes to see Steve’s face pinched up in concern. He cares for you. It’s obvious. But these nagging thoughts won’t let you be.

“I guess I’m just feeling a little anxious again,” you say. 

“About this?” Steve says, gesturing to his bed. “We’ve done it before, you know. A lot.” There’s a smirk on his face at that last part, which makes a smile creep onto your own.

“No, I know,” you say. “I’m not nervous to have sex with you. I want it. I just…I don’t know, it’s like my brain won’t shut up.”

“Why?” He reaches up and tucks a lock of hair behind your ear. “What’s your mind saying to you?”

Letting out a sigh, you try to figure out how to turn your jumbled up thoughts into coherent sentences. 

“It’s just a lot of doubt, I guess.” You start to fidget with your fingers in your lap, avoiding his gaze.

Steve gently tilts your head up so you can look at him. “Doubt about what, baby?”

“Me? You? Us?” You rub your hands over your face, releasing a groan full of pent up tension. “My brain’s being a traitor by whispering that maybe you only wanted me to come here to have sex. That I’m some long term booty call or something.”

The sadness on Steve’s face breaks your heart, and you wish you could explain to him it’s not you who is thinking these things, it’s the anxieties. He’s been nothing but wonderful to you and you feel like you’re sitting on his bed saying that you think all he cares about is sex. But it’s not true. Deep in your heart you know it’s not. 

“You don’t really think that, do you?” Steve asks in a soft, quiet voice. 

“No,” you admit. “I think you care about me.”

“I do. A lot.” Steve slowly reaches forward and takes your hand in his. “I’m not going to lie to you, yeah, I’ve definitely been looking forward to us having sex. But I’ve also been looking forward to holding your hand. Kissing you. Laughing with you. Just talking with you.”

“I’ve been looking forward to all of that, too,” you tell him. “Just wanna be with you.”

“Yeah,” Steve says, the warm smile on his face melting your heart. “Me too.”

“I don’t know why I was worried,” you tell him as you lay back on his bed. He shrugs before laying down next to you. 

“We can’t always help how we feel, babe.” He lifts his arm to you, and you waste no time in curling up against his chest. He’s so warm when you place your hand over his heart, feeling the dull thud. Steve brings you so much comfort and safety, just by tucking you into his side.

“I like this, too,” Steve says. “Just laying with you.”

“Yeah,” you agree. “It’s relaxing.”

He leans in and presses a soft kiss to your lips. His next words are whispered and you’re not sure if it’s because this is a tender moment, or Steve is nervous.

“You’re my girl, yeah? Like, you want to be?”

The question sends a thrill through your spine.

“I would love that. Yeah, I wanna be your girl.”

Steve’s smile is priceless, and you can’t resist pressing your mouth against his. 

“I do have one more surprise for you today,” Steve says, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“And what’s that?” 

“You up for meeting some rowdy rugrats today?”

Pushing yourself up on an elbow so you can see him better face to face, you stare at Steve with wide eyes.

“You want me to meet…the kids?” This is big. This is bigger than just meeting his best friend or his parents that he never talks to. These kids mean the absolute world to him and the fact that he wants to introduce you to them fills you with a certain giddiness. 

“Of course,” Steve says, like he didn’t suggest something that means so much you might cry. “They haven’t stopped asking questions about you. Probably because I can’t stop talking about you.”

A flush comes to your face at his words, and you lean in for another kiss. 

“I’d love to meet them,” you say.

“They’ll be here this evening with pizza,” he tells you. “And get ready. Because they’re crazy.”

Steve’s right, they are crazy. But it’s in the best way possible. The six kids bring three pizzas with them, but with five guys? You’re not sure they brought enough. 

Dustin is the first to introduce himself and you instantly see why he’s Steve’s favorite. He’s effortlessly charming and it’s clear he has a big heart filled with so much love. El is the next to become your friend. She’s quiet, but she takes to you right away, asking you questions about school and living in Florida. Will, you think to yourself, is the sweetest boy alive. The hug he gives you makes you feel instantly one of the gang. 

Lucas comes over to introduce himself and he keeps fumbling over his words. You give him a smile, not sure what’s going on, but it somehow manages to make him further unable to speak. 

“Holy shit,” Steve comes up behind you to whisper in your ear. “Think he just fell in love with my girl.”

“But doesn’t he-.”

“Uh huh,” Steve cuts you off. “And she’s right there.”

The redhead, Max, rolls her eyes at her boyfriend and shoves him out of the way so she can say hello to you.

“It’s cool that there’s another girl around here who games,” she says. 

“You’re a gamer?” you ask. 

“Yeah. Not to the extent you and Steve are, but I like it.”

“She can’t beat me,” Mike says, walking up to the two of you with a smirk. 

“We play different games, dimwit. Try playing me in one of mine and I’ll obliterate you.”

“Well, learn how to defeat the monsters in Mall Madness and we’ll do it,” Mike says.

“Mall Madness? I love that game,” you say.

“Is that so?” Mike asks, raising his eyebrows. 

“It is.”

“Alright,” he says with a smug grin. “You, me, let’s do it.”

Steve laughs as he walks past the two of you.

“Dude, she’s going to slaughter you.”

“Bring it on,” Mike says.

Steve hooks up the correct gaming console to the larger television in the living room, so it was more comfortable for everyone. He tosses each you and Mike a controller where you both sit on the couch. Once he’s satisfied with having the console taken care of, he scoots back on the carpet so his back is resting against the couch, right between your knees. Seeing your foot on the carpet so close to his hand, Steve can’t help but give the top a little pinch. 

“Such a menace,” you say to him.

“We ready?” Mike asks. 

“Let’s go,” you affirm. 

The game starts up and it’s pretty even in the beginning. Both of your players are collecting the supplies you’ll need before entering the level that takes place in the food court. A giant, spider-looking red monster crashes through the mall, leaving only you and Mike to defend the helpless shoppers. It’s not long before you overtake Mike, his avatar quickly losing strength while yours is striking the monster in its most vulnerable areas. You’re just about to end it when Mike calls out.

“Steve, help me out here!”

There’s a pause, where Steve is probably thinking of what to do, before turning his head and sinking his teeth lightly into your calf.

“Ow, what the hell?” you ask through laughter.

“Get a room!” Dustin shouts from somewhere to the side of you. 

“Shit, Mike’s getting up!” Lucas calls to you. “Use the chair!”

“Aren’t you supposed to be on my side?” Mike asks, irritation clear in his voice.

“He has other priorities tonight,” Max says, raising her eyebrow at her boyfriend. He gives her a sheepish look in return, knowing he’s been caught having a crush on Steve’s girl. “I am right here, you know.”

She’s not mad, though. She sounds more teasing than anything. 

With Lucas’s assistance, you’re able to defeat the monster right as Mike’s life meter stops blinking.

“Shit,” Mike says, slamming the controller down in his lap. “I’m getting food.”

He drops the controller onto the coffee table and gets up to go into the kitchen. Steve takes the opportunity to steal Mike’s previous spot on the couch, right next to you.

Steve slips his arm around you and both of you lean back against the plush couch.

“So?” Steve asks in a hushed voice. “What do you think?”

“I think they’re all great,” you tell him honestly. “I think I’m gonna adopt Will.”

Steve chuckles. “As long as it’s not Dustin. His adoption papers have already been filed with my attorney.”

You giggle and lean in to press your lips against his. “I like being a part of this.”

“Of what?” Steve asks.

“This,” you say, gesturing all around you. “Spending time with you and your favorite people. Your family, basically. It’s nice.”

“Good,” Steve says as he pulls you into his lap. “Because you’re stuck with me. All of us now, really. Part of our crazy gang.”

“Sounds perfect to me.”

Steve’s smile is enough to make you swoon, so it’s a good thing he’s holding onto you. He leans in and presses a firm but tender kiss to your lips.

[bathomet-writes]

ba-dum-tss

summary: You and Leo had a lot of secrets, feelings and thoughts kept to yourselves. When Leo crashes your band's performance, it's about time for the both of you to face the music.

relationship: Leo x F!reader

warnings: romantic, fluff, humor, mutual pining, almost kissing, sfw

word count: 5,477

author's note: here’s @/el-chiste’s request!! this one a lot of fun to write! (songlist if u wanna listen along: abacab, one of these nights, superstar)

“Hey, what are those?” 

Leo’s hand reaches over your shoulder to fiddle with the drum sticks you were practicing with. 

“Ehh, y’know. Chopsticks from lunch.” You lie.

Leo’s eye ridge raised in suspicion. Your placating chuckle did nothing to help your case. Quickly, you stow them back in your backpack. 

After a moment, Leo shrugs.

“Oh, like to play fake-drums with and stuff? I get it,” He smiled. 

With a small pat on the head, Leo turned to leave the living room. You were both the only ones in the lair at the moment, a very strange occurrence. But everybody else was out doing their own thing, meeting up with other friends and the like. 

It was weird being alone with Leo, even though you two were practically each other's best friends. Well, you thought you were. Leo had many friends (acquaintances, frenemies, same thing) and you could count with only a couple of fingers the number of friends you had. Outside of the turtles of course, they were in their own league. 

You didn’t know where exactly you stood in his circle. It certainly didn’t feel like you were his BBF, he knew far too many more interesting people for that. You didn’t have any matching friendship bracelets or that many photos together that didn’t include his brothers. You didn’t need all those sentimental things, but…sometimes you wonder about how Leo felt about you. 

You had secrets, what self-respecting person didn’t? But there were just some things you couldn’t tell anyone about, not even Leo. 

Did he have secrets? Would he tell them to you, tell you things meant only for you? 

“Yeah, right.” You blush, shaking your head to yourself. What a dumb thought. 

As you finish getting all your stuff together, you become a little more aware of the time. It was nearly 7 PM, and you needed to head out. Tonight was also a busy night for you. 

You thought about asking Leo to come with you. Well, not like, with you with you. Just to come to the same place you just happened to be at! When you casually tried to ask about his plans, he was pretty cagey.

“Nah, I got a bunch of stuff to do tonight! Planning, strategizing, all that junk. I don’t wanna bore you with the details.”

He waves you off with an awkward smile plastered on his face. The one he always pulled when you knew he was lying. Despite being the ‘face man’ he didn’t really know how to use it to his advantage. 

“Fair enough. See ya, I guess.” You call out to him as you walk away.

“Yup, I will see you.” 

His tone makes you falter for a moment. It was tinged with something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. You turn back around, and he stammers trying to recover. 

“Later! I will see you later. Not too much later though!” He shoots finger guns at you, his brow starting to glisten with sweat. “Because that’s how friendship works.”

Your steely frown drops seeing him so spectacularly fail at being smooth. With a throaty laugh, you finally leave. 

“If you insist!”

You hear his own raucous laughter echo against the old walls of the subway tunnels as you make your way back up to the surface. You can’t help the small smile that lingers listening to his voice, even from so far away. That guy was such an anomaly to you, and he really shouldn’t be. 

Leo was…Leo. And you were you. Two people who have a lot of shared history and hung out a lot. You were pals, amigos, thick as thieves. It was simple, and you could leave all your complicated emotional baggage out of it. Whenever you saw his face, those red crescent moons that you secretly really liked, your pesky lovey-dovey thoughts went away. The thoughts about whether or not you actually liked Leo as anything other than a friend. 

You reach into your bag and feel around for your face mask. There, it was hidden away in the side pocket. You exhale a shaky breath and sling your back over your shoulder.

“Almost forgot it last time,” you chuckle. 

There were just some things Leo couldn’t know about. You’re true thoughts and feelings about him, that went without saying. But there was one other tiny thing nobody else knew about. 

You throw open the doors to the dive bar, making your way to the back. It wasn’t too packed yet, but it would be. Hopefully. 

“Yo!” Your lead guitarist salutes you, tuning their instrument whilst helping the others get set up. 

“We’re gonna do a quick sound check. Help me with these fuckin’ wires…”

You toss your bag down next to your drum set and help your keyboardist untangle herself from all amp cords. She gives you a thankful tongue-blep when you untie the last one. 

“Thanks boss.”

“Anytime,” you smile. “And where’s Gavin? I told him to be here early.”

“Maybe he left his bass at his mom’s house again.” 

The three of you cackle to yourselves. Your bassist was always a little late anyway. Checking the time, you notice that it’s nearly curtain. 

“Let’s just soundcheck anyway, drum up a crowd?”

You pull out your sticks and do a little twirl with them to punctuate your clever pun. Maybe you and Leo had a lot more in common than you’d care to admit. 

“Ugh, not the drum puns.”

“Yes, the drum puns. I’m on a roll.”

You do a quick drumroll for good measure. The others playfully flip you off and shout obscenities. You relent and drop the jokes for now, pulling your mask from your backpack.

Your band went back and forth on what kind of face coverings you should all wear. For the sake of anonymity of course, but also because so many other cool bands had their members wear masks. You tried those cheap, plastic halloween masks, which just made you all look incredibly creepy. There were those light-up Daft Punk helmets. They looked cooler, but they made it too hard to see and your playing suffered for it. 

Eventually you all settled on choosing your own masks, with no regard to coolness or thematic cohesion. Once you secure your medical mask on your face, the others follow suit. You look up and see a gas mask and a surprisingly elaborate fursuit head, complete with LED eyes that wink at you.

“I know I literally said ‘do your own thing’ but this is a little much, even for me. What kind of cover band are we supposed to be?”

Gas Mask adjusts the strap of their guitar with a huff. “I look like a badass, I don’t know about you guys…”

“Hey! Do you know how much this wolf head cost me?” Her cutesy eyes go angry as she switches on her keyboard. “Just you wait, the crowd’s gonna love this.”

Over at the bar, you see the manager who booked you give you a hand signal indicating that it was almost time to start. You nod, lifting your drumsticks above your head.

“Whatever, at least we’ll sound good.”

With a loud gap, you hit them together. “A-one, a-two, and a half—!”

—

“Phew, that could have gone better.” Leo wipes his brow as you finally walk out of earshot. He almost let it slip.

Quietly, he pulls out the folded-up flier he snatched from your backpack promoting your band’s performance tonight. Leo was absolutely ecstatic when he managed to confirm his suspicions. 

“You little devil, you! What kind of double life are you leading?”

Leo had an inkling you’d been hiding something from him for a while. You were a terrible liar, and even worse at hiding the evidence. Didn’t you know he would sneak through your belongings when you weren’t in the room? It really was more your fault than his. 

He didn’t really know what it was you were keeping secret from him, but being the lead singer and drummer for a cover band was not the first on his list. 

The drumsticks? C’mon, you were better than that, right? And he’s definitely heard you sing to yourself when you thought nobody was around. And you sang really well! Why wouldn’t you want to brag about the fact that you were in a band?

Not to brag to himself, but Leo almost thought you were harboring some kind of crush, with how weirdly closed-off you’ve been acting around him lately. 

With a scoff, Leo tosses his mask tails off of his shoulder. “Of course not. Don’t be weird, Leon.”

You were his best friend. His pal, his amigo! He wouldn’t even dream of assuming you had feelings for him. He perished the thought as he readied his human disguise. It was just a bomber jacket and some nice pants, but he felt like he was going undercover anyway. He wouldn’t miss your show for the world.

“I wonder what else I don’t know about…? I wouldn’t lie to someone’s face like that.”

Leo didn’t lie, he just…changed the truth. Yeah, that’s it. 

“I’ll just pop in, have some drinks, maybe pick up someone cute at the bar, and I’ll meander over to the back and listen to a few songs. It’s a public event, anybody could waltz right in!”

Leo looked himself over in the mirror with a smug grin before giving the final touches. A dash of cologne behind the ears. Earholes? Turtle anatomy was weird. 

“You got this!” He flashes a winning smile at himself before turning on his heel. 

After a brisk walk up to the surface, Leo zeroed in on the map on his phone. Was this really the place? He looks back on the flier to confirm the address.

“Yup, right here…”

He glances up at the sign and neon lights of the bar. It looked like one of those small, hole-in-the-wall joints that was hidden away from most onlookers. Only well-informed locals and aficionados would know where to find this place. Leo was pleasantly surprised that he managed to find it, but it was practically right next to the lair. Go figure.

Leo looked around curiously. Shouldn’t there usually be bouncers at the door? Or a line of people at least? The place was kind of a ghost town at the moment. 

“The night’s still young.” He shrugs. 

He did a deep inhale and exhale. There were probably a bunch of people inside, plenty of cover for him to go unnoticed.

Walking in, Leo took a second to survey the area. It was a relatively small establishment, but it looked even bigger due to the lack of patrons. A couple of regulars at the bar, some older folks sitting at the various booths and tables. And at the back was the main attraction. 

Leo stared at the small stage set up near the back of the room, next to the bathroom of all places. He didn’t even bother to go up and order a drink, simply planting himself at a table. It was far enough away from the stage but close enough for him to get a good look at you. 

You sat at the large drum kit grooving along to the intro of your first song. Leo didn’t really recognize it at first. He hoped nobody was looking at him Shazam-ing the music. Quietly, he makes a new playlist on his phone for him to study later. Currently, you were playing Genesis’ “Abacab.”

Slowly, Leo begins to bob his head along with the beat. Looking around the room, nobody else seemed to be enthusiastic, occasionally offering a polite clap or two when you finished up a song. He almost gasps, feeling offended on your behalf. 

“Jeez, does anyone in this place have a pulse?��� He smirks, taking a look at the menu. 

Thankfully, this place had a fancy mobile-order setup that allowed Leo to simply place his order online. A plate of nachos did sound pretty good to him right now. 

He puts the menu back to set his attention back on you and your band. Strangely, there were only three of you. He could have sworn there was a fourth member?

Suddenly, someone bumps Leo’s chair. A frazzled-looking human dude nearly trips, clutching onto an instrument case for dear life. 

“HOLY–”

With lightning-fast reflexes, Leo shoots his hand out and grabs him just before he could land on the floor and crush whatever he was holding. 

“Woah-ho,” Leo chuckles. “Let me help you with that.”

He lifts the poor guy up and helps dust him off a bit. He was a little scraggly, but he bounced on his heels when he saw who had just helped him up. 

“Thanks, I almost destroyed my bass. My mom woulda killed me! Wait–”

He takes a step back and eyes Leo up and down. Preparing for the inevitable scream of surprise, Leo’s shoulders tense up. It wasn’t really a regular occurrence anymore, but he just came to involuntarily pull away whenever humans gave him a once over like that. 

“You’re–!” The bassist gasps. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” 

“You’re one of those turtles that beat the Kraang, right? You gotta be shitting me,” He laughs, moving around Leo. 

Oh. That wasn’t the reaction he was expecting. It was a little awkward being ogled, but he just couldn’t resist appeasing a fan. 

“You have a keen eye. But I’m not here to sign autographs, no. Just enjoying the band.” Leo gestures over to the back. 

“Oh…my god. You’re here to listen to us? You– Ahh!” The bassist goes absolutely giddy, pulling at Leo’s arm. 

“You gotta come meet the guys! I mean, after the whole–”

Once the band wraps up “Abacab,” Leo watches as you and your friends hit the last notes. It’s met with some scattered applause across the room, a pitiful sound. 

“Speaking of which, I should probably get up there! But stick around, the band would love to meet you. If that’s not too much trouble?”

“Oh, uh…sure! No problem.”

Leo gives the bassist a warm smile before sitting back down. He was just close enough to the lights from the stage that he worries you might be able to see him. To his relief, you pass him over completely. 

“Gavin, get your ass up here this minute!” You shout. “We had to play a bass-less song, and you know how I feel about Phil Collins.”

Leo chuckles watching you go back and forth with your bandmates, playfully arguing and getting Gavin plugged in. After a minute or two of squabbling, you get back into a more professional stance. You stand up and adjust the cymbals before addressing the meager crowd. 

“Thank you, thank you. Here’s one of our favorites. Hope you enjoy.”

The sharp feedback from the mic screeches, getting everyone’s attention. Leo notices your slightly annoyed expression, even beneath the fabric of your mask. He knew you were this close to throwing a drumstick or something. It felt a little voyeuristic looking at you out in the wild like this, but it was fascinating to him. He gives you some enthusiastic claps to try and rile up the room. 

“Yeah! Woo-hoo!” He shouts. 

“This guy!” The guitarist points blindly into the crowd. 

The low lighting in the bar and the stage lights made it almost impossible to make out faces in the audience, but the band was still able to hear well enough. Good thing too, Leo almost wanted to get a front row seat for the next song. 

Gavin’s hands slide up the neck of the bass as he plays the intro to “One of These Nights” by the Eagles. Leo makes sure to add it to his playlist later. But now, his attention was focused squarely on you. With bated breath, Leo mirrors your almost stiff posture as the intro plays.

Then your mouth opens. Leo’s eyes go wide, filled to the brim with stars. 

“One of these nights

One of these crazy old nights

We're gonna find out, pretty mama

What turns on your lights.”

Your voice was good, Leo knew that much. But he had no idea how much power you held. Your melodic crooning was enough to hypnotize him. It was of a slightly lower register than he was expecting, but maybe it was because this was you actually performing before a crowd and not within the privacy of your shower.

Not that he listened to you in the shower! It was only the one time, and he was looking for a towel. Leo quickly pushed away the memory to listen to the lyrics. 

“The full moon is calling, the fever is high

And the wicked wind whispers and moans

You got your demons and you got desires

Well, I got a few of my own.”

It wasn’t like you knew Leo was in the room, or that you were singing to someone in particular. Your cadence and roll of your head made you seem even more alluring. Like you secretly knew someone was watching you just beyond your field of vision. 

Your band members jump in with the chorus, harmonizing with you. You all fit together musically, even with your voices, in a way that only comes from playing together so much. Your sound felt so natural, so lived-in. Leo found it breathtaking. 

“Ooh, someone to be kind to

In between the dark and the light

Ooh, coming right behind you

Swear I'm gonna find you one of these nights.”

Oh, he had to find these eagle guys and shake them by the hand. This shit was immaculate, it was pure poetry! After you all finish, Leo practically scrapes his chair sitting up. With thunderous applause, he whoops and whistles your praises. 

“Yeah! That’s what I’m talkin’ about!” He purses his lips and lets out a loud whistle. 

You blink and look out into the crowd. Whoever that was sure was enjoy ing your music, so you motion to your band to give them a little bow. It feels a bit silly, but the rest of the patrons start to join in and give you all even more applause. 

It was actually quite humbling. You’ve never had big turnouts for your shows and even less enthusiasm, so you’re thankful to whoever started the clapping. 

His voice was somewhat familiar. Probably just the nerves getting to you though. Now you actually had an audience. You grab at the microphone after you get a quick drink from your water bottle. 

“Thank you all! Yeah!”

You falter, wanting to go on. You didn’t really like to vamp too much. Not that you had stage-fright anymore, it was just awkward talking to a room of only 10 or so people. But for some reason it didn’t feel so weird. The room felt more supportive, almost eager to hear what you had to say. 

“We’re going to switch over to our last song for a second, so I’ll just–” You tug the mic off of the stand and get up to walk to the front of the stage. “I’ll fill the time.”

You cover your eyes to shield yourself from the light, looking out into the crowd. It’s been a while since you’ve checked but it looks like there were more bodies in here than before. There were double– no, triple the people?

“Wow, look at all you out there. I don’t usually do these kinds of things, but I just wanted to get a quick look. It gets lonely at the drums back there.”

Scanning the room, you watch as people continue to shuffle in and fill the empty chairs. You tug at your mask, all of the sudden feeling a little nervous. 

“I, uh…I guess I just wanted to say that this’ll be our last one. Karen Carpenter is sort of my inspiration for wanting to play drums. And to sing. And to form a band, I guess.” You look back at your bandmates and chuckle along with them. They each give you a nod to tell you that they’re ready, so you had better wrap it up. 

“Anyway, here’s ‘Wonderwall.’” You spin around before looking back at the audience, hearing a few laughs. “Just kidding, could you imagine?”

The crowd dies down as you make your way to the drums again. You place the mic back into the stand and take one last breath to steady yourself. 

For a moment, you consider just starting the song like normal. But you feel a little more emboldened. 

“This is for that one guy I know who I kinda like-like so don’t tell him,” You whisper, half-jokingly. 

Like clockwork, your sticks hit the drums and your feet move the pedals. Like you’ve done so many times before. The pre-recorded backing instrumental kicks in from the laptop you all hooked into the speakers earlier, offering a much more rich sound. Only the best for the Carpenters’ version of “Superstar.”

For the next four minutes or so, you pour your entire soul into your mouth and hands. It’s somewhat of a muscle memory at this point, but you make sure to consciously lace your voice with a little more elegance and beauty. You really wanted to sell the song, the lyrics resonated with you in a way you couldn’t deny. It was for Leo, how you felt about Leo. Sure, the words sort of clearly spell out how much the singer loves someone, and the song was a little more saccharine for your taste. 

It felt cheesy to admit, but that’s how you felt about him. Against your better judgment. You loved him, you really did. 

Down in the audience, Leo felt his chest seize up with emotion. He was fully invested in every lyric, every subtle lilt in your voice. You weren’t a half-bad drummer either, moving so fluidly between the snare and the cymbals. Eventually, all the sounds of the room fell away as Leo stared shamelessly at you. 

All that unspoken awkwardness was laid bare for him to see. It was a bittersweet mix of intimacy and inherent loneliness that came from a person hiding their true feelings away for so long. Leo, unfortunately, knew it all too well. Better than you’d ever know. 

Leo heard it every time the song switched between the melancholic minor-key verses and the happier major-key chorus. It was just like how he felt about you. He drifted between the triumphant, familiar memories you two shared, to the ones that weren’t so pleasant. It was just how life was, he supposed. Good and bad, light and dark. Suddenly music made so much more sense to him hearing it from you. It really was the language anyone could understand, it said things too hard for people to say normally. 

And if that’s the way you needed to express yourself, Leo was behind you all the way. He could feel a tear begin to form in the corner of his eye, but it never fell. His eyes just glistened in a profoundly manly way that others were surely jealous of. Before he knew it, the song was over and the larger crowd stood up from their seats to applaud you. 

Leo just sat there, stewing in his own conflicted emotions. You deserved all the applause and the accolades and then some, but right now he couldn’t move. His limbs felt numb, mindlessly munching on the nachos the waitress set down a couple of minutes ago. They didn’t taste like anything, and his hearing was starting to go as well. His senses dulled looking at how happy you were up there. 

You walk up and stand next to your band members and give one final big bow, like the end of a play. All you needed was someone to toss a flower or a pair of panties up at you. Leo had neither, so he’d just have to congratulate you some other way. 

“Guys? Did we just kill that show?” You pull the others into a side hug, beaming at all of them. 

“Fuck yeah, we did!” The wolf head gives you a happy pixelated smile. 

“We slayed!” Your guitarist pulls off their gas mask to reveal their flushed face, grinning ear to ear. 

“I can’t believe it!” Gavin yells, leaning into your hug. “And you’re never gonna guess who was in the audience.”

Still riding off the residual adrenaline, you chuckle into his shoulder. “Some fancy talent scout or something? That’s why you were late I bet.”

“Nope! It was one of those turtle dudes, the blue one. He said he’d meet with us after the–”

With a swift hand, you cover Gavin’s mouth and drag him over to your drum kit. Maybe it wouldn’t look like you were trying to throttle him as the rest of you packed up your instruments. 

Through gritted teeth, you stare daggers into his eyes. “Don’t pull my chain.”

Gavin shakes his head, completely oblivious to your internal plight. “He’s at that table over there. See?”

He points over to the bar, the lights having since changed to give you a better look at the whole room. You strain your eyes to search around for any suspiciously green-looking individuals. Leo was nowhere in sight, making you somehow even more worried. 

“Huh? I guess he had to go do hero work or something. Damn,” he sighs, moving to unplug his bass. “That’s too bad, I bet you would have liked him.”

Gavin looks back at you after finding his guitar case. Only, you weren’t there. You had disappeared. 

“What the…?”

–

You didn’t even bother disassembling your drum kit. Your bandmates/groupies would just have to handle that. All you were concerned with right now was finding Leo. You tore ass through the bar, looking around desperately for him. Considering the place was a lot more crowded now, it was a struggle just to move around. Like a maniac, you quickly make your way to the doors. The crisp night air was sobering, and your head was on a swivel. 

“Leo!” You cup your hands together. “Leonardo!” 

You never used any of the turtles’ full names unless you were in serious trouble. You rip off your face mask and toss it on the ground. 

“Leo?” You pant, searching for the nearest subway entrance. Maybe he went back to the lair? What was he doing at the bar anyway? Was he there to make fun of you, poke fun at the fact that you liked to sing about your mushy feelings and junk? Your cheeks go bright red thinking of all the teasing you would most surely receive now. 

You cut a corner and sprint back to the lair. You couldn’t rest until you knew for sure Leo was still in his room strategizing like he said he would tonight. He was a sneaky son of a bitch though, and you knew in your gut that he probably found you out. Your eyes prickle with tears just thinking about it.��

Before you can get too emotional, you feel someone tug at your collar and pull you into the alleyway to your left. 

“OOF–!”

Your back slams into the brick wall behind you. A hand immediately covers your mouth, muffling your screams. 

“Hey, it’s okay! It’s just me.” Leo shushes you, still holding the top of your shirt and your mouth.

Your eyebrows lower threateningly. He had better let go of you soon, because you had some things to say. 

“Mmmph–!” You struggle against his hands, your cheeks growing hotter. “Leo–!”

“I know,” He sighs, pressing his hand even firmer against you. “I know, okay?”

You stop and look into his eyes. Your gaze is unfaltering, and it catches Leo a bit off guard too. You gulp and wait for him to continue. 

“Okay, I’m just going to get it all out. I’m sorry for lying to you, I’m sorry for sneaking into your show without you knowing, but you know what? I’m not sorry!”

Leo smirks, eyes wandering away from yours. “I’m not, and you wanna know why?”

You shake your head a bit. You really would like to know why he wasn’t sorry for listening to the most embarrassing display of affection you think that’s ever existed. 

“Because you’re amazing. I mean it, you’re like…the best singer I’ve ever seen. I haven’t seen a lot, but still!”

After a moment of staring into his face, you feel your chest begin to tighten. Mostly from the lack of oxygen, but also from the warm emotions bubbling up. You gasp and claw at Leo’s hands before he finally lets you go. 

You cough and wheeze, clutching at your chest. It’s mostly exaggerated, but you smile to yourself watching Leo try and console you. 

“Sorry! Sorry, I forgot.” He chuckles. 

“Keep going,” you sputter. “Because I know you have more to say.”

Leo smirks at you before putting his hands on your shoulders. He knew he was a bit of a chatterbox, but he did have more to say, coincidentally. He just didn’t know how to say it. 

“I just…I’m finding it hard to–”

He swallows dryly, collecting his thoughts.

“You’re usually so verbose, I can barely get you to shut up.” You huff, batting at his hands. 

His eyes narrow. “Just give me a second, okay? I don’t wanna mess this up.”

You suddenly stop. You wish you could look him in the eye, but you found yourself strangely bashful. Leo knew when to be silly and when to be serious. Sometimes it was a little jarring hearing his voice get so low and quiet. What exactly was he afraid of messing up?

After a couple of seconds of silence, you will yourself to meet his gaze. “It’s okay.”

You hope he hears your subtle insinuation. It was you giving him the permission he was looking for after all. Leo looks back up and bites his lower lip a bit. 

“I don’t know how to say it…” He admits, a blush coloring his cheeks. 

Immediately, you understand what he means. There were just some things too powerful for words, even too powerful for one conversation to encompass. You felt a new kind of connection blooming between you two. 

“You don’t have to say anything, if you don’t want to.” You shrug, a smile tugging at your lips. 

Without thinking, you inch a little bit closer to his face, your breaths colliding with one another. Getting a closer look at him, you’re reminded of just how hot Leo was. You didn’t know if you had the courage to say it yet, but your cheeks flush a deeper shade just looking at him. 

Leo’s eyes sparkle again, looking down at you. Normally, this would be the moment the two leads would lock lips, confirming their unspoken love for one another. But those two weren’t you, he just didn’t feel like he deserved to steal a kiss. It was such an intimate moment, and it should be between two people who loved one another. 

But, Leo did love you. And according to your songs, you apparently loved him too. So what was the problem?

Before you let yourself get too close, you pull away and look back up into his eyes. There was still some lingering hesitation there and you didn’t want to overstep. Maybe now wasn’t the best time to smooch. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to–” You whisper. 

“No, it’s fine. I wanted to…”

Leo’s eyes go wide with the sudden realization that he also wanted to kiss you just now. You two stare at one another before breaking out into a light chuckle. Before long, the chuckles devolve into full-on laughter. Then cackling. Leo grabs ahold of your shoulders even tighter and you fall back against the wall. 

“This was–” You wheeze. 

“Fun. I had a fun time. I want to see all your shows now.”

You catch your breath and leaf your fingers through your hair. “I mean, we’re not that good. Maybe you just got caught up in the moment.”

Leo’s mouth lifts back up into a warm smile, his face markings crinkling. You wouldn’t rush into things, but you could at least give him one measly compliment. For being so uncharacteristically normal about everything. He could have one more secret, at least for tonight. 

“Your crescent moons, the ones on your face? I like them a lot. I don’t think I ever told you that.”

His eyes go even wider at your sweet admission. It almost made Leo confess to you right then and there. But for now, he just laid his head into your shoulder. He needed to hide away his blush that threatened to outshine the red of his markings. 

“Let’s pick this back up another time, huh?” He chuckles into your neck. 

“Yeah. I have another show next week.” 

taglist: @saspas-corner

[ilyasorokinn]

can i request anything with kooch-man? literally anything? thanks! <3

ONE WEEK

this was inspired by this tiktok i saw, so that's that. also, this is dedicated to bestie @pyotrkochetkov because i love everything you do and you're so slay. plus, you love pyotr too, so it felt right. hope katie and everyone else enjoys :)

pyotr got the call that he had been recalled and sent up to the play with the canes in the middle of a date. so, you grabbed the waitress, got your check and rushed home.

you watched him from the bed as he packed all his things quickly and frantically. he almost looked like a headless chicken, "is that everything?" he asked, looking up at you.

"did you get your suit shoes?" he nodded, "regular shoes?" he nodded again, "all right, i think you're all good." you plastered on a smile that he could see right through.

"one week. come on, we can do it." he made his way over to you and hugged you, "then we'll see each other, and you'll get to see me start!" he exclaimed happily.

"i know, my ticket has already been purchased, but a week is a long time." you frowned. with raanta injured and out, pyotr was, obviously, called up but wasn't scheduled to start for another week.

"a week's nothing." before you moved to chicago, you and pyotr were doing long distance and often went months without seeing each other but long distance is never easy.

you pulled away and flashed him another smile, "we should get going, or else you're gonna miss your flight." you grabbed your keys and made your way out to the car, leaving pyotr to carry his bags and load them into the car.

the entire drive to the airport, he kept his eye on you. you looked sad and he couldn't blame you. he was sad himself.

when you pulled up to the curb, neither of you moved. you just sat there, "we got this." he repeated, squeezing your hand.

"i know. we got this." you nodded, before getting out and popping the trunk.

he met you in the back and you both unloaded his bags before stepping onto the curb in front of the airport door.

"i'll see you really soon," he told you, cupping your face in his hands.

"i know." you smiled sadly, "i'm gonna miss you."

"i'm gonna miss you, too," he mumbled, almost folding in half so he could shove his face into your neck.

"i'm so proud of you." you kissed the side of his head, "so proud."

you felt him smile into your neck, "wouldn't be here without you."

"well, i think you still could've gotten here, but i'll take some of the credit." you joked, pulling him away so you could cup his face, "i love you. so much."

"i love you, too." he leaned down and kissed you and when you pulled away, he kissed you again, then kissed all around your face, making you laugh.

"all right, i get it." you pushed him away, which made him laugh, "see you in a week."

"one week. i'll be at the airport for you," he told you, slinging his backpack over his shoulder, pulling up the handle of his suitcase then slinging his stick bag over his shoulder.

"i love you!" you called after him.

"i love you, too!" he waved and blew you another kiss.

a week and a couple days later, you landed in carolina and were walking towards baggage claim to get your bag when you spotted a familiar face with your suitcase and a single piece of paper with your name neatly on it.

you quickened your pace before you were in front of him, and you jumped into his arms, "i missed you so much, p."

"missed you, too." he squeezed you a little.

taylor's 2.5k celly!

[writing-all-over-the-place]

Jackson & Clayton Fic

(my gf's OC and my OC)

Part 2

Unedited

Word Count: 715

Jackson- 

After another short round of hangover puke, a shower with the new soap (the wrong soap, someone is getting fired), getting dressed, and then combing through my shoulder-length, blonde, curls, I’m finally ready to go. One more look in the mirror, adjusting the jett-black, Versace button up, and the silver chain that matched the silver lined diamonds in my ears. Then, out my bedroom door. 

A swift walk through the dark wood floor and art lined hallway, down the spiral stairs, across our small sitting area, past the kitchen and dining room, then down the hallway to our Main living space. An open arch revealed people lining each edge of the room. 

I walked in and greeted every single person who greeted me. A few more followed in through the entryway. I made my way along the edges of the room, trying to avoid the crowd. My mother spotted me and called me over to stand with her and my father. As soon as I got close enough the vague small talk started; 

“How was France?”

“You look quite nice.” 

“Quite an heir, lovely for your family.” 

“How is your Girlfriend?” 

Almost as if on cue, There she was. Pin straight, deep ginger hair, slim, Black cocktail dress, and white heels to match the pearls, and Walking tall. “There she is.” My father gestured, “Hello Luisa, darling how are you?” She wrapped her arm around mine, and continued the conversation while I smiled, blocked out whatever they’d been talking about, and wishing he had a glass of Scotch.  

Clayton-

I fell asleep quickly, having convinced myself that I’d have a better experience if I was well rested. The bike ride to the metro (is that what it’s called?) was uphill most of the way. I woke up with the sunrise at 5 something and showered in the cold water and the same bar of soap. that was staying here, I didn’t know how that worked with an airplane but I didn’t think they’d appreciate a bar of soap just in one of the pockets.

I made it to the airport and walked my bike inside and followed the signs towards the place that was identified on my ticket. An older lady with an official looking uniform behind the desk told me that I could in fact get my bike checked. She gave me a tag for my backpack, put a label on my bike and put it on a moving belt behind her and directed me to the security line. I got through it with a few side glances but nothing of note. I looked through the stores as I walked to my gate and goodness are these things expensive. A pastry that we sell at the store was triple the price, what kind of scam is that? The flight leaves at 9 AM and is 7 hours long.

The airplane is surprisingly comfortable, and I settle into my seat and take out my worn down copy of Ulysses, the spine barely holding together and many tea stains on it. I’ve read the book quite a few times. It and two other books had been left behind by a random customer when I was 13 or 14, and when they hadn’t come back after months, I had claimed them as my own. The two other books had little interest to me but I had grown attached to this copy of Ulysses. I didn’t really understand it until my third read through, considering I probably read at the same level as I did in 7th grade, seeing as I haven’t gone to school since then.

The airplane was very cold and one of the flight attendants gave me a scratchy blue blanket but it was better than nothing. She came by later and gave me a hot cup of water because she ran out of tea bags.

The plane landing was quite uncomfortable, seeing as I was woken from a nap sitting upright which is way more uncomfortable than I thought it would be.

I walked myself through the aisle and followed the crowd of people towards the baggage claim. There was my bike, in the Special Items section, with a popped tire, but other than that it made it to New York with me. 

[thetorturerwrites]

Entrapped

Summary: "You cannot trap this man. You come with more baggage than a Coach outlet store." You paused, exasperated as was often the case with Lottie. "You can’t keep doing this to people. To us."

"I’m sure I don’t know what you mean." She shooed you away with an airy wave of her too-thin hand. "Now, go. Flip will be here any minute."

“Colorado it is, I guess…” you muttered as Lottie shut the door in your face. “Fucking hell…”

C/N: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT; rape/non-con; extremely dubious consent; age difference; Flip is a bad bad man; seriously: beware

A/N: You should not read this, but if you do, remember where you are and what we do here.

December 26

"Mom, you can’t do this."

The hotel dinette was dim, lit only by the handful of candles Lottie strategically placed atop the counters and the micro-sized table. There were two place settings, two tapered candles, two Dollar-store napkins folded into perfect hearts. Two, two, two because that was the goal. Lottie did not invite you to tonight’s festivities, and you watched with sad eyes as she flitted about, fussing with making this dingy hotel room 'romantic.'

There wasn't much in the way of belongings to show that people stayed here. Between the two of you, your things consisted only of three suitcases, your backpack, and a laptop case housing your six-year-old machine with a fan so loud it sounded like snoring. It was almost comical, but Lottie ridiculously ensured she made the bed and closed the bathroom door to hide away the evidence of, you know, existing as a human. She also ensured there was nothing to be seen of you or your shared past.

Lottie was 15 when you were born, a baby with a baby. She didn't like to be called mom because, with you 20, she was barely 35. 'That makes us more like sisters, anyway,' she often said. Having a child so young meant she never learned how to make adult decisions, and you both had been running from the consequences of her childish decisions for years now. 

"Lottie!"

She’d ignored you the first time because you called her mom. Playing her game, you raised your voice and smacked the table until she looked at you, exasperation and anxiety at war in her eyes. 

"You cannot trap this man. You come with more baggage than a Coach outlet store." You paused, exasperated as was often the case with Lottie. "You can’t keep doing this to people. To us."

To me.

She sniffed, pretending to be offended. Pausing in front of the black glass oven door, she touched up her lipstick before straightening her back, arrogant and far too assured of her plan.

"I’m sure I don’t know what you mean." She shooed you away with an airy wave of her too-thin hand. "Now, go. Flip will be here any minute."

Flip Zimmerman. Ten years Lottie's senior, extraordinarily handsome, and, God knows how, enamored with the creature your mother pretended to be. 

At the door, you stopped again, turning to implore her with a last look that she not do what she was planning, but she only gave you her brightest fake smile. A heavy sigh weighed your shoulders down because there was no talking her out of it.

“Colorado it is, I guess…” you muttered as Lottie shut the door in your face. “Fucking hell…”

December 28

He said yes.

There was no earthly reason for him to say yes. You and your mom had no money, no future. Nothing but a black-and-blue history and a chemo-trail of heartbreak stretching back as far as you could remember.

But he did, and you believed the only reason he did is because Lottie lied about everything. She lied about the number of husbands she’d had. Lied about why - and HOW - you ended up here in Colorado. Lied about her health. About fucking all of it. And no matter how much you wanted your mom to be alright, you simply couldn’t let the man fucking marry her under false pretenses, which is why you stood outside the building fidgeting, fighting yourself over whether you should go in and talk to him.

Honesty won out over fidelity, and you trudged inside. At the counter, you felt the first prick of tears because this was the sort of betrayal for which Lottie may never forgive you.

"Detective Zimmerman, please."

Your voice was deflated, hollow to match your spirit. You were about to sign away any chance your mother had to make a fresh start here in Colorado. You sunk down onto the rickety bench to wait, picking at your cuticles anxiously and kicking at the linoleum with your scruffy combat boots. Each moment you waited felt interminably long, and you grew more and more nauseated with each tick of the too-loud clock. Your brain screamed that you should run, leave here and let everything happen the way Lottie wanted, but your limbs were leaden. All but soldered to the damn floor.

“Hey, kid.” 

So lost in your thoughts, his smooth voice made you jump. You swiveled your head to meet his gaze and hugged yourself, feeling smaller already. You expected this to end badly, but just how badly you didn't know yet.

Flip stood to one side, holding open the small gate that pretended to keep people out here from going in there. He cocked his head slightly, showing that you should follow him through. You stood on wobbly legs and expelled a dubious breath. There was no turning back now. He led you through the maze of desks and into one of the interrogation rooms, pausing at the threshold to unplug the video camera affixed to the ceiling corner.

“For privacy,” he offered with an amiable smile before sliding onto the corner of the steel desk. “What’s up?”

A thousand words jumbled around inside your head. You struggled to pick one way to start even though you knew you stood there staring at the man your mother tricked into an engagement as though you were the perpetrator instead of she.

Was it hot in here? Your hands retreated into the over-sized sleeves of your hoodie as though hiding as much of yourself as possible would smooth things over.

“Youcantmarrymymomsheliedtoyouimsosorry…”

It all came out in one breath, words smashed together nonsensically. Wincing, you closed your eyes and leaned away from Flip, your body physically ready for him to explode. You knew from experience that angry men did bad things. You expected shouting, cursing, maybe some shoot the messenger. You weren’t expecting him to chuckle.

He fucking chuckled.

Round-eyed, you gasped as he stood, gaze trailing up, up, up. Flip Zimmerman wasn’t small. He was the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome in a way that made your insides tumble. If you were honest with yourself, jealousy colored some of your reluctance at letting Lottie trap him, though you'd die before admitting it. He was spectacular and beautiful, and he smoldered in that perfect way that would make a rational person forget their morals. He was whip smart, saw too much, and seemed to understand everything without hardly any effort at all.

And on top of all of it, he was a fucking cop. The same goddamn sort you’d spent years avoiding. And now, Lottie wanted to hitch her wagon - and yours - to one? No, thank you.

He wasn’t just dangerously good looking. He was dangerous, period.

"I know," he said.

When he inched closer, you thought he would reach out to touch your shoulder, to offer some sort of comfort. Instead, he kept moving forward at you, crowding you backwards until you bumped into the wall. 

"What?!" Shock crept over your face, furrowing your brow in confusion. You blinked rapidly to make your brain work better.

“Let's see if you're as stupid as she is, hm?"

The moment his voice dropped into deadly, your stomach followed it off the cliff and fell to your ankles. You didn’t realize you shook your head nonono until his gigantic hand snatched your chin to a halt.

“I don't understand,” you whispered, tongue thick and lips dry. “I knew she was planning to ask you, and I tried to stop her. I wanted you to kn–”

The hand gripping your chin slid up over your mouth, forcing your head against the concrete with a thump. Suddenly, you weren’t baring your soul to a caring individual. No, the reality was an angry bear trapped you, and there was no escape. His knee slid between yours, pinning you in place and sending your heart rate skyrocketing. 

"If I already know about Lottie, and I agreed to marry her anyway, it suggests that I want something. Doesn't it?"

You whimpered against his hand because none of this was right. Lottie thought she'd tricked him into being her salvation, but the truth was Flip understood the game all along. Twisting in his grip, you struggled to swing your head out from under his hand. You wanted to say you’d leave. You’d drag Lottie out of this town by the hair if it came to it.

"S'this how you always dress?"

Flip tilted his head to further take in your attire. You wished you'd worn anything in your suitcase other than this. Well-worn black combat boots, bare legs, black denim shorts, and a threadbare navy blue hoodie with peeling white letters made you feel too young, too much like a delinquent looking for a handout. His thick index finger trailed up the outside of your thigh, from knee to shorts hem, and he smirked as the muscles in your leg tensed.

“I’ll marry Lottie. I’ll take care of her, make sure she gets all the treatment she needs. I’ll even handle that pesky mafia ex-husband. I’ll handle all of it. Isn’t that what you want?” 

Using his hand on your mouth as a control, he forced you to nod. Your eyes watered over, making him blurry. Your guts twisted, sending acid shrapnel into your throat and making you heave beneath Flip's sweaty palm. You knew what he was going to say. It was obvious by the way he pinned you to the wall with his hips, trapping you with his broad body.

“You know what I want, don't you?” 

He paused for dramatic effect, and you hated him for it. He dangled everything you wanted in front of you like a goddamn golden carrot, and you felt like the biggest fool in all of Colorado for believing he was a good man about to be duped. Your face must have telegraphed it because he brushed his thumb across your cheekbone. 

"Hm. Not as dumb as you look."

He ate up the last bit of space between your face and his until you felt his coffee breath on the bridge of your nose. 

"Anywhere, anytime, every time I want." 

He punctuated the words by squeezing your mouth so hard a sharp cry erupted only to be properly muzzled by his oppressive mitt. Dread morphed into outright terror. No part of you believed Flip felt anything toward you besides lust and greed. You doubted he even liked you. Fuck, you’d settle for some sort of obsession, but this wasn't so simple as obsession. Flip wanted to own you. It was sadistic dominance through and through. Whore yourself out for him and maybe Lottie would live a little longer.

What choice did you have?

January 1

Flip married Lottie at the sparse courthouse downtown at three o'clock on New Year's Day. While the Justice of the Peace said a few words about how lucky they were to find love so swiftly, he placed a plain gold band on Lottie’s finger. Then, paperwork. You acted as the goddamn witness, signing right there next to his and hers in recognition of both this sham marriage and your own very real entrapment. All while you felt his glittering hazel eyes on you. 

Saying yes to him wasn't a choice. It was a foregone conclusion, and he'd known it from the minute you walked into the station house. He held all the cards from the first day. Resentment had roiled in your belly as you pieced it together in that grungy interrogation room, but you agreed. He was unlikely to be kind to you. Men with power liked to wield it, and he had all the power here. Every time he spoke to you, it flexed like a muscle.

After the ‘wedding,’ Flip treated you and Lottie to dinner at the nicest restaurant in town, followed by ice cream and a walk through downtown. He even held her hand, pausing from time to time to brush his knuckles along her jawline. He played the part of a considerate, doting partner so well it made you angry - angry because Lottie had just won the fucking lottery. 

At your expense.

Lottie's plan worked, though not the way she intended, and all she had to do now was live out her golden years on the porch while this handsome, compassionate husband doted on her but harassed you in the same house. Wallowing in your misery in the middle of dinner, you chewed on the ugly fat that, regardless of what you knew about Flip, she would do exactly that. You snorted aloud, drawing their attention - fucking hell, your parents. Flip’s mouth pursed into displeasure. His thick brow cocked over a decidedly displeased gaze.

“Shit. Sorry.” You frowned, more at the situation than yourself.

"Y’ok, Puddin'?"

Of course, she used that goddamn name. In front of him. In public. The nickname you hated since you were a kid and asked her a million times to stop using. Lottie was svelte, though less so these days, but you were soft. It was something she never made peace with - that you were her child and looked nothing like her, that your body type wasn't one she could be proud of. Biting back an argument you'd never win, you told yourself it was not that she was a terrible parent; rather, she simply wasn’t a particularly good one. 

You had no ready answer, though.

I’m ok, but I’m scared that your new husband is going to fuck me into pieces. Yeah, Lottie, I’m peachy-keen; I’m a little anxious because I don’t know when my hooking contract begins. Is it tonight? Tomorrow? Maybe you could get your fella to give me the details on that, m’kay?

Instead, you swallowed down bile and chased it with ice water.

“Yeah, I’m ok. Sorry.”

Following the lovers’ stroll, Flip drove you and Lottie back to the hotel to collect your things, even pitching in to carry the suitcases back to his Bronco as though he were the knight in shining armor and not the goddamn villain. 

At his place, Flip pointed you to your room at the end of the hall, next door to a puny, pea green bathroom. Hoping to be inconspicuous, you checked the doorknob for a lock, but you had less than no luck because though there was a lock, Flip caught you testing it and shook his head imperceptibly. A warning. Chattering obliviously, Lottie confirmed they would share the master bedroom on the second floor. Eyes trailing to the stairs, you realized you never asked Lottie if she’d slept with Flip, and now, you never wanted to know.

Ever.

Mashing your lips together, you stood stone silent in the hallway. Maybe if they kept talking, this nightmare wouldn’t truly begin. But your body, tight from nerves, was exhausted, and you yawned loud enough to crack your jaw. For the second time tonight, all eyes were on you. It was an incredibly uncomfortable place to be. Tutting about how sleepy you must be after such a big day, Lottie rushed over and folded you into a weak embrace. She never was one for hugs, but this was part of the package she had to keep selling.

"Everything is fine." She murmured it as quietly as she could before turning and letting Flip lead her towards the stairs. She was three up before you realized Flip wasn’t following her.

“Go on up,” he said with a warmth you wouldn’t assume him capable. “I’ll be right there. Gotta show the kid where the car's parked.”

Too soon, she was gone, and he was right there, heating the cooler air with nothing more than his proximity. The further he leaned in, the further you leaned away until your back pressed against the wall, too similar to your last meeting for comfort. Front to front, there wasn't enough room in this microscopic hallway for you to not touch him. Panic took over, and your eyes scanned the same two feet of ceiling and floor again and again, looking for an escape.

“The car is in the garage next to mine. Be at the station at noon tomorrow.”

He pushed keys into your hand, but you weren’t paying attention - not even a bit. The stress of the last few days, the agitation from the way his broad shoulders kept you penned, crept into your bones, making room for a fatigue unlike any you’d known. And you'd known your fair share of dead ass tired. Your glassy eyes drifted, missing the way his hand shot out lightning fast. Cutting through your delirium, thick fingers tightened around your neck. Adrenaline surged as he lifted you onto the tips of your toes. The keys clattered to the ground when you wrapped both hands around his wrist in an absurd effort to stop him from choking you out.

“You are fucking stupid, aren't you?” It wasn't only his tone that changed. Now, he talked to you like you were a simpleton, which you might truly be. “Tomorrow, you’ll drive the car to the station for lunch, yes? Lunch is at noon. That’s what time human beings eat lunch. Yes? You will be there at noon. Say it.”

His fingers eased slightly, allowing you an unsteady breath before wheezing out the words he wanted.

“Lunch. Noon.”

Finally, sweet Jesus, finally, he let you go. You fell back into the room, hitting your ass on the floor and rubbing at your affronted neck. He kicked the car keys at you before pulling the door closed. Dazed and drained, you sat right there, right where you fell, until you heard his footsteps retreat. He stomp, stomp, stomped upstairs in his loud boots and closed the door to the master bedroom.

God, if you had to hear them fucking, you didn’t know what you’d do. Throw yourself off a bridge tomorrow, perhaps.

January 2

The last time you looked at the clock, it was 3:47 a.m.

Despite your weariness, nerves kept you awake far into the night. The effects of Flip’s manhandling didn’t wear off until close to midnight, and after that, you sat vigil, staring at the door and expecting him to burst through it. You listened for movement upstairs, footsteps in the hall. You watched the doorknob in your room, the one you locked even though he might murder you for it, until you couldn’t see it clearly anymore. As long as he didn't test the knob, you told yourself it would be fine. He'd be gone to work before they could reasonably expect you to face the day, but rationalizing it and believing it were two very different things.

No, it wasn’t so much that you fell asleep; your body simply shut down on its own. You didn’t decide to rest. Your brain said watch; your body said sleep. You didn’t even dream.

You woke to the crashing sound of a kicked in door. You shouted and tried to leap from the bed, but your assailant was too quick, too nimble for such a goddamn giant. Flip grabbed you by the neck and threw you onto the bed. His giant hands dug bruises into your arm and leg as he flipped you onto your stomach. A knee in the center of your back kept you in place as he ripped your flimsy tank top and panties away as though they were tissue paper. You flailed, trying to find some kind of balance to get your head out of the cotton blanket so you could breathe.

When you finally managed a gulp of air, it was only because he switched from pinning you down to crowding behind you. He caged your legs in place with his jean-clad knees on either side of your thighs. Shoving a pillow beneath your pelvis, he planted his palm between your shoulder blades to hold you in place again. You didn’t scream until you heard the buckle of his belt come loose.

"Flip! No, no! I'm sorry! Lottie! Help!"

Within 30 seconds, two things happened that would change your life forever. The first was that the meaty paw on your back moved upwards, palm curving along your scalp, fingers threading into the hair. He used that new leverage to press your face further down into the mattress, cutting off both your screams and your air supply. The second was that Flip’s cock, hard and unforgiving, forced its way into your body, gouging and stabbing at you with no regard for your readiness.

You howled as the tender flesh gave way to his violence. No part of your body was a match to his sheer size. Hysteria took over. You yelled yourself hoarse. Spasms rocked your lungs. You couldn't tell the difference between a lurching cough and a breath anymore until your body nearly inhaled the fabric you lay upon. 

“Tried to be nice to you.” He grunted, shoving more of his iron dick into your tightness, having to work to make room for himself there. “Was gonna ease you into it a little at a time.” Your screams and sobs seemed to excite him further because his hum broke through your fugue and launched you into thrashing again. “But you’re too fucking stupid to do things the right way; so, here we are.”

At last, his pelvis pushed flush against your ass. His fingers dug into your hip so roughly you could feel his nails gouging dirty trenches. They, and the already blooming bruises, would be the first of many marks you’d wear for Flip, no doubt. You gave up flailing backwards at him and clawed at the bed as though you could get away through it, a wounded and frightened animal under the thumb of a malicious predator.

Your only saving grace was oxygen deprivation. You started to not notice how he withdrew nearly completely only to slam his way back home, through a wetness that was certainly blood. You started to not notice the way he slapped your jiggling ass hard enough to raise a print in seconds. You were gone to the encroaching blackness, light-headed enough to think that maybe you actually  were the stupidest person on the planet. More so than even Lottie. 

Unconsciousness wasn’t a respite he allowed you for long, however. You snapped back into yourself, still caught beneath the monster, still stuffed to the very brim by his missile cock, still practically scalped by the ruthless grip he had of your hair. He controlled whether you got to breathe by which way he turned that handle. The only difference was that he now hovered over you. His free palm lay above your head, bracing himself on the mattress - the mattress that shook from the force of his thrusts as he fucked into you relentlessly.

“Rules.”

His hips rammed forward, punching what scant oxygen you got right back out of your chest. When you tried to look up at him, to plead for your life or some other such nonsense, your eyes crossed, making you dizzy. You squeezed them shut tight, matching the way you pressed your lips together to keep from screaming some more.

"When I say come, you come. And you are never late. Say you understand."

His words were smooth - like he wasn’t currently sawing your cunt in two. Your throat felt as though you’d swallowed the whole Sahara desert, but you forced it to work, raspy and broken.

"I un-der-stand."

He hummed again, and for a good, long moment, his pace kicked up into a frenzy.  Your pussy had finally caught up to his invasion, lengthening fully to allow him all the way in, and he took full advantage. You bounced off the bed only to be plowed back down into it.

"Never lock this door again."

Sweat dampened your skin from crown to toes, the muscles overworked and the chemicals overtaxed from horror and assault. You could hear your blood rushing through your veins, your brain pounding in time to your pulse. Could a person go into shock slowly? Your fingertips and toes tingled, and your jaws ached from how valiantly you tried to keep your shit together.

"Flip," you croaked, unable to stop yourself from crying again. "Please." It was idiotic to tell him he was hurting you. Hurting you was the point, but survival instincts are strong, and your mouth carried right on blabbering. "Too much. Please stop."

You didn’t think it was possible for his cock to get larger or more adept at plundering your wounded pussy for everything it had, but somehow, it was. He growled at your begging, licking up a bead of sweat from your temple. Pedal to the floor, his piston hips never slowed. His cock never wavered. 

“This is your life now.” His malevolent words tickled the shell of your ear. “If you don't want to be raped every day, I suggest you learn the rules. Am I understood, Puddin'?" He drew the last word out, and you knew Lottie told him you hated it.

You crumbled. There was nothing for it. He put words to what this was, and it crushed you. Assault. Rape. Punishment. 

You’d either behave for him, give him what he wanted, or this would be the consequence. This and the fact he’d leave Lottie to her own devices. Ignoring your latest round of sobs and hiccups, Flip released his hold of your hair to slither that arm beneath you. Rigid fingers wrapped around your throat, constricting your air in a much more intimate fashion. He tilted your head to the left, baring the column of your throat for him to lick a fat stripe up, enjoying the way it trembled as you broke down. 

“That’s it.” He huffed in your ear, hips losing their rhythm and becoming erratic. “Keep crying for me."

A car door slammed out in front of the house, and you froze. Both your salvation and your humiliation lie right on the other side of the front door. Your fingers curled into fists, and you unconsciously wiggled beneath your tormentor. Flip wasn't phased in the least. The only sign he gave that he cared Lottie was right out there was that he switched from ramming himself into you roughshod to pushing in as far as he could and rocking against your ass. Deep, deep inside you, the head of his cock brushed against your bruised cervix, eliciting an unwelcome shiver. Keys jangled in the lock, and you were certain Lottie would walk in on her brand-new husband sunk to the hilt inside of his brand-new step-daughter.

At the last conceivable second, Flip mashed his mouth against your bare shoulder, teeth finding purchase in the skin, and groaned with satisfaction as his weaponized cock emptied into your battered cunt.

By the time Lottie’s voice floated through the house - Helloooo? Anybody home? - Flip was off you, clothes righted. He darted out of your room, pulling the door shut behind him with a near silent click. You listened as he called out that he was in the living room before you pulled the pillow he’d nearly suffocated you with over your head to muffle their conversation.

You curled into a ball, willing sleep to come take you again. You deserved it after all that, didn’t you? Your fingers searched for the clock, setting an alarm so that maybe tomorrow would be better than today.

Before you passed out, you spied a scrap of paper on the nightstand where you'd left Flip's keys last night. The words made you want to vomit, cementing the fact that you were well and truly up shit creek no matter what you did. 

Took the car to do some shopping. Will be back by the time Flip's home. (Hopefully. Ha!) -Lottie