#i need to draw them all the time < guy whose wrists hurt so so so bad

[yameoto]

TOP TEN BENEFITS. JORDAN, CATE, ANDRE.

synopsis ; you and godolkin's finest go out for some fun, just like any other night. little do you know, is that they have a little more in store for you than just partying.

oh. also, you're luke's girlfriend—not like that's going to stop them.

✗ warnings ; dark!jordan, dark!cate, dark!andre, cnc, dubcon, intox, foursome, cheating, strap-fucking. wc ; 1.9k

DISTANTLY, you can hear voices. you're not sure, really; your head's all dizzy and groggy, and your mouth is so dry you wonder if you’ve been chewing on cement. god.. you really can’t remember anything. how strong were those drinks?

"we sure about this, guys?" comes a voice, echoing on the outskirts of your mind. it's familiar. masculine.. or feminine? you really can't tell—not in this state, at least.

"of course we're sure." someone else interjects, gruffer, this time, clearly masculine. it sounds a lot like.. andre..?

"i mean, look at her," whispers another, voices so low—like they're trying not to wake you. this one's higher, more feminine and— oh that's definitely cate. "how could we not?"

how could they not what? nothing makes sense—not in your foggy, hungover brain at least; one that you're becoming increasingly suspicious is addled by something stronger than shots. but that can't be right—you hadn't blown lines with the others, had you? no, you definitely hadn't. so why does your head hurt so fucking much?

"guys..?" you mumble, trying to sit up on what you distantly realise is a bed, the edges of your vision still blurry. as it adjusts, you're met with the sight of jordan, andre and cate all standing over you, eyes strangely lidded, gleaming. "shit— she's up," jordan hisses, grip on your thigh tightening, and its then that you realise your skirt is gone—the entire stretch of your legs exposed to the three of them.

"fuck," cate sighs, lips drawing into a pout as you feel her hand, bare hand, hover over your other thigh, head jerking up to face the others with a frown on her lips. "should i do it again?"

"no," jordan and andre hiss in unison, exchanging a meaningful look as their fingers twitch, restless. "c'mon, you know you want her awake for this."

"awake for what?" you grumble, head throbbing far too much for you to wrap your head around the conversation. "i'm too hungover for this." you swing your legs off the edge of the bed, reaching for your discarded skirt before two pairs of her hands shoot out to stop you. your vision swims, and with a disconcerting lurch you realise you're so fucked-up you can't even tell whose is who's.

"you won't need that." jordan mutters, breath hot against your cheek as they curl their hand around your wrist, dragging it firmly into their lap. what the fuck?

"sorry about the skirt," cate hums affirmatively, eyes drifting to the poor, ripped thing on the floor and you swear you see the beginnings of a smirk curl her lips "someone got a little excited."

"hey—" andre puts his hands up, not looking too sorry at all. in fact, he looks like he's barely restraining a grin. "don't act like you two weren't drooling—"

"touché." jordan interjects, eyes rolling yet looking entirely too pleased with themselves as they play with your hand in their lap, inching it up their own thigh. “you look better without it, doll.”

"warm her up, jordan." cate's eyes flash, gaze boring into the sight of you, splayed against the pillows, and you resist the urge to whimper.

"don't tell me what to do," jordan grumbles, but there's a grin stretching at their lips and you almost wonder if cate used her powers with the speed in which they comply. their loose grip on your wrist becomes inordinately tight as they deftly undo their belt, dragging their pants and boxers down in one, swift move.

oh, fuck.

"hold on— i—" you splutter, stupidly, glancing between the three of them and jordan's throbbing, leaking cock. it gently bobs into your hand; head pink, glistening with pre-cum and you just want to—wait, what?

you're dating luke. you're dating luke. a spike of panic sends you twisting, surprisingly lucid for a moment as you attempt tugging your wrists away—to no avail, of course. top ten ranking aside; you don't stand a chance against three supes, especially not the three of them.

"hey— shh." jordan catches you, eyes flashing for a moment as they slowly, ever so slowly, guide your hand back to their cock—grunting when your fingers limply wrap around their tip. "fuck, that's it.." they groan, head tilting back. jesus fucking christ.

you don't even realise it when andre drags your panties down your thighs—and your flush only deepens at how fucking wet you are. that has to be the high, right? there's no way—why else would your cunt be dripping into the goddamn sheets, like that? for three of your friends? boyfriend absent from the room, no less. a feeble, embarrassed whine falls from your lips, as three hungry pairs of eyes have no shame in hiding how much they want to fucking devour you.

"look at you, so fucking wet." ande’s voice comes a deep rumble, belt unbuckling with a click as he inches closer. his hands slide over your thighs as he moves over, all the way, and you make another strained noise as his cock hits your belly.

"i think it's cute." cate hums, eyes glimmering as she leans across the bedspread, hands wrapping around the base of andre's eager, bobbing cock and directing it towards your splayed legs. andre’s basically fucking trembling with restless need, cate’s own breaths shallowing, picking up the pace. "luke ever get you this wet?"

your teeth tuck into your bottom lip, eyes squeezing shut because god, luke.. what the hell are you doing here? it feels like betrayal. it is betrayal—they need to stop—this is wrong—

you whine, making a choking noise as jordan’s grasp on your wrist steels enough to snap bone. you want to say; luke—? yes—he fucking has—i think—but you find you barely have the strength to moan, let alone protest.

“nah, i don’t think so.” jordan smirks, smug, as if they know exactly what’s going through your head as their hand guides yours; forcibly pumping your hand along their length. their frustrated growls of pleasure are enough to make you blush—let alone the feeling of andre’s hands roughly shoving your legs apart, spreading your folds open with two of his fingers. you whine, quivering, glazed pupils meeting his.

"fuck, luke's gonna kill us—" andre grunts once he finally rams into you, audibly groaning as you slam into the blankets with each thrust, inciting the most strangled little cries from your throat. it’s so much—you can’t help but thrash a little, under his touch. cate lets out a displeased hum, though at his words or his roughness you can't tell.

"what luke won't know won't hurt him." jordan counters from the other side of you, lips twisting into a grin as they bite into your shoulder, still moving your hands in thrusts along their length.

they keep shifting—each time you're distracted by cate or andre the feeling of their cock twitching under your hands changes to fingers sinking into sloppy, wet heat. it's ridiculous how hot it makes you, just jacking them off—but it’s not like you have any room to comment with andre thrusting into you like an animal, snarls coming out of his mouth as each movement sends you reeling with white-hot, carnal pleasure.

"move, you brute." cate interrupts, voice cutting through the blinding, purely instinctual pleasure of andre pumping you full like a rutting dog. her eyes glitter with an annoyance that give way to barely-restrained lust, and in your sex-drugs-cate induced haze (you're still not quite sure which it is, yet), you faintly register the plastic in her hand; long, thick, pink and fuck— is that a strap?

"not yet, cate, i'm almost done—" andre cuts himself with a guttural, bestial moan as his cock rams into you, again. you can feel it twitching inside of you; hear his breaths growing shallower as he grips your hips, so tight they might bruise. "oh, fuck—!" he groans loudly as he comes, thick, hot seed filling you up, hips still thrusting as he crams as much of his load into you as he possibly can. it takes a beat before he reluctantly pulls out, chest heaving.

"fuck, you felt so good," he groans, hands clumsily tugging you forward for a kiss before he's promptly pushed off before your lips can touch. "about fucking time." cate grunts, voice sharp, weight of andre on top of you replaced by two long, toned legs swinging on either side of your body, cate's hands running over that fucking strap at her hips. her lips curl into a smirk as your eyes—still glassy from andre's force—blink blearily up at her. you’re still so dazed, so adorable. she leans down to cup your chin. "you're such a pretty little thing," she murmurs, thumb brushing against your bottom lip, gaze darkening as she begins to prise your mouth open, gleam in her eyes giving away to sheer, unadulterated lust.

"open wide." she whispers, and that's the only pre-empt you get before you're choking on silicone, her hips bucking forward as she shoves herself into your mouth. her hands tighten in your hair, jerking you forward so that the entire length forces itself down your throat. tears spring to your eyes. you feel jordon's hands getting rougher as they use you to fuck themselves, teeth digging into your skin to muffle their own whines while your own, keening “mmfs—!” peter out to soft, quiet whimpers.

"you're so good for us," jordan moans, burying your fingers hilt-deep into their cunt, walls pulsing desperately around you. "so fucking good," cate assents with a breathy, pleasured groan of her own, back snapping as if it were her own cock that you’re gagging around. from behind her, andre’s hands are wrapped around himself, moving furiously as he arches over the bed. “you have no idea how long we’ve wanted this.” he hisses, one hand madly jerking himself off to the sight of cate fucking your face like she owns you, the other tangling in your hair. cate audibly moans, bucking into you further with a sharp inhale. "wish i could come in you for real." she mumbles, fingers running along your jaw as you splutter around plastic. she smiles, tilts her head up to look at jordon as they mutter something unintelligible, her thrusts increasing in pace, fucking your throat so raw, so good. "jordan's got something special to give you." she murmurs, voice honey sweet, hand dancing up your cheek.

you can hardly gargle a response through the strap in your mouth—but you don't have to. not when, with a resounding moan, all questions are answered with jordan promptly shooting their load all over your face, thick, hot strings of cum leaking around the edges of the strap and seeping into your mouth. they both groan, jordan slumping into your side with soft, intermittent pants.

"god.." they mutter into the crook of your neck, cate's thrusts slowing as she starts to loosen her grip on your hair; though not stopping, never stopping. "you're ours." jordan grunts, gripping your thigh with sudden, overwhelming intensity while cate continues jerking the strap down your throat, smile tugging at her lips. “ours." she echoes, voice soft—almost gentle if you didn’t know any better. she leans down, hand stretching out; smearing jordan's cum across your cheek in one, long, clean swipe. "fucking ours."

poor, poor luke.

[fineprintedsunsets]

ᴄʟᴜʙ ᴋɪssᴇs

Synopsis: Kasey has just broken up with her boyfriend, while at a bar nursing her wounds she meets two brothers, and one of them offers her a deal.

*wrote this on a writing high, not promising good content*

Word Count: 3.1k

!Trigger Warnings!

-loki (should be an automatic warning)

-dirty!talk

-heavily centered around addiction 

-mentions of self harm

-mentions of alcoholism

-sexual content

-insta!love

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : 

Blinding Lights- The Weeknd

1:35 ───ㅇ───── 3:47

This was the worst, sitting here nursing a bottle of god knows what because of some douchebag. The music draws on as sweaty bodies dance under color-changing lights. The DJ’s fingers worked on his turntable, stomping his foot to the beat.

I sit here at the bar of Tipsy Owl Night Club, staring at the Dj in my shimmering gown that is way too uncomfortable, and drinking my fourth shot. Of what? I have no fucking clue. I and my boyfriend of 5 fucking years broke up. Why? Because the dumbass was cheating on me.

It hurts more than I care to share. I hate cheaters, I hate lairs. I hate fucking people. Ian hurt me so much when I came home to her in our bed. I have no idea who she was, but I do not blame the woman. She sent me flowers and apologized thousands of times in my Instagram dm’s. All of which I’ve ignored. Not because I’m petty, or because it’s her fault. I just can't face that situation yet, and what were 3 years alcoholically sober, has now been flushed down the drain.

Because of some guy.

“Kasey!” I dip my head, almost banging my head against the bar top in agitation. Sydney and some guy I don’t know stomp over to me, sliding into the empty bar stool by my side.

“Yes?” I manage to grit out, turning to face her. She reeks of alcohol, and her top is slipping away from her breast. I briefly look up to the guy I have yet to be introduced to. I hope he’s not her new piece of ass because he can’t keep his eyes off mine.

Fucking prick.

“This is Joseph!” Sydney manages to scream over the loud music, causing my ears to ring louder in my head.

I contain the sudden urge to roll my eyes, instead just muttering “Cool.” “Dance with us.” Sydney smiles, her fingers reaching for my wrist but I pull away, downing my shot and adjusting the front of my dress.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” I shout over the music, smelling the sticky scent of sweat in the air and the constant glimmer of bedazzling outfits.

She groans, “Ugh. Your no fun.” The look is quickly replaced when she grabs Joseph, whose eyes have still not left my body, and begins to grind against him. Sydney thought and I quote, “This is exactly what I needed.” Maybe it’s what she needed because she’s blackfaced drunk while I’m making my way to the club's bathroom, wanting to puke my guts out.

I don’t get drunk easily, and I’ve only had 3 shots. I think, anyway. The music gets farther away as I make my way through the bodies, it is now just a steady beat of drums, and the lights still obscure my vision. Green dances in front of me, and red glimmers to my side. I hate flashing lights.

I hurry my way through the line, before smacking right into someone's chest.

“Watch it, asshole,” I mutter, but he does the exact opposite, he pulls me by the wrist and shoves me against a wall. My back groans as it meets bricks, and his fingers bit into my wrist. What the actual fuck? I’m irritated, lonely, and just begging to punch some drunk douchebag in the face tonight. Although I was hoping it was Joseph, he will have to do.

“Let go!” I try to wiggle my way out of his hold, I can smell him. It’s a smell I indulge in for a moment. He smells sober.

What is he doing here then?

I push him off, pulling my wrist around his neck and forcing my knee into his stomach. A little lady like me knows self-defense, buddy. The man stumbles, but crowds me again, planting both his arms on either side of my head.

“Your drunk.” He scans my face, I can barely see his own features. Just his jawline and his long blonde locks, I want to twirl my fingers in it for some reason. The music is ringing in my ears now, although it’s farther away. He’s attractive, just not exactly my type.

“I’m buzzed,” I reply, knowing damn well this guy is right. I don’t get drunk easily, but I know I had more than three shots. I can hear his accent through my thickening thoughts. The world is coming down around me, and if it wasn’t for him, I would be face to face with concrete right about now.

“Let’s go, Thor, we don’t have time for this.” Another man grumbles I can’t see him but his voice is husky like he’s losing it.

“She’s drunk, brother.”

“It's a club, and she’s from Midgard, they’re always drunk.” The man detests the one holding me up against the wall, who I’ve now learned his name is Thor. Odd name. I’m in my head, the world a blur of music and lights. I must look ridiculous, but I have no urge to move out of his eyesight.

“Somethings different about her.”

“Let’s go, Thor!” His brother rushes him, grabbing his back. He does not go, he stays with me. Why? I have no idea. For all I know these are my murderers, planning to get me alone. But I feel it too. I feel safe against his arms. Or maybe I’m too drunk and would find comfort in about anything. I catch a glimpse of his brothe behind him, trying to pull him away from him, and I’m almost winded. His raven hair, his sharp jawline, his rich accent.

He’s hot.

The loud noise of his brother's voice causes me to fall, and although it feels like an eternity the man lifts me up before my ass meets the floor, holding me to him.

“ You don’t need another midguardian toy.” The brother yells, but the music is getting farther away now. And the lights are removing themselves from my vision. I feel as if I’m flying, and when I look down,

All I see are stars.

𖤍 I awake with a pounding headache. My legs ache, my breath reeks of alcohol, and the lights are burning my eyes. There’s a new rush in my veins, one I’m all too familiar with. The need for alcohol. And then it comes rushing back. Ian, the brothers, Sydney and Joseph, and of course, Relapse.

I fucking relapsed.

It feels like I’m rolling poison over my tongue, and yet I still crave it. Fuck. I need it. I roll out of the large bed, my eyes half-lidded to shield me from the harsh lights overhead. Two doors sit on either side of the mattress. I go to the golden one on my right, and sure enough, it leads me to a bathroom.

“Thank god.” I seem to mutter while shedding my dress and undergarments while turning on the warm water. A shower is just what I need, but I know the cravings will start soon. Where the hell is Sydney? Did I see Stars last night? My mind is cleared of thoughts when the steam reaches my nose, and the sound of running water calms my nerves.

For now.

I relish in the steam, the water coating my aching muscles, my scared calves, and my aching core. Everything seems so unreal, paired with the fact that I have no idea where I am. It’s scary and although I’m not proud to say, I’ve been in these situations before. I’m addicted to many things, not just alcohol.

I finish in the shower, not using any of the products stationed inside. It be a bit weird. I reach for a towel, grab the silk cloth, and step out of the running water, turning it off. I wrap it around my body and walk back into the room I woke up in. Except now a regular white t-shirt and boxer shorts layout for me.

A tingle runs up my spine, how did I not notice anyone come in? My headache pounds against my skull as I get dressed, discarding the towel in the laundry bin just outside the shower. The room is large, and most of the decor is gold.

Beauty and The Beast have to live here somewhere.

I grab my phone from the pocket of my dress, seeing missed calls from both Ian and Sydney. Both of which I have no desire to answer.

I clutch the screen to my chest and open the second door on the other side of my mattress. The hallways are long stone paths, marked with engraved columns on each side. A large emblem sits in the middle, a black mask with horns. The building is large, and the air smells nothing like Chicago. It smells…pure.

Fresh. Unpolluted.

I walk around for what has to be minutes, trying to push back the bile rising in my throat. I know the feeling, I know how it feels to crave what I want to push away. I come to two large doors, with guards stationed outside of them. They too wear golden masks with horns, just like the emblem. They are dressed in fancy leathers, and suddenly I feel unnerved.

Where am I? I must ask it aloud because the doors open before me and the guards usher me inside. Two men stand just inside, a large chair made out of pure gold stands several feet behind them. I recognize their hair from the party. These are the brothers. The one with long blonde hair, and the other with shoulder-length raven hair, who also happened to be the one who referred to me as a ‘toy’.

“Hello.” Thor, which I’ve guessed is the blonde one smiles at me. He wears the same leathers as the guards and a large hammer sat just at his feet. Loki doesn’t greet me, instead, he roams me with his eyes, and suddenly I’m all too aware of how the boxers ride up my ass. But unlike Joseph’s gaze, his is anything but unwanted. He doesn’t make me feel that way, anyhow.

“Welcome to Asgard.”

I say nothing, I stand there in my t-shirt, picking at my skin, fidgeting. The more I stand around, the more I feel it. I need alcohol or something to keep my mind off of it. The two men look at me and suddenly I feel smaller than I am.

“Perfect” Loki states with an eye roll, “You’ve brought an addict into Asgard.” I ball my fist at my sides, closing my eyes and twisting my neck. I need to get out of here before I turn to another addiction of mine that is more painful than drinking.

“Loki.” His brother warns he takes a step toward me but I retreat. “What is your name?”

I grab onto my shoulder sleeve, twisting it in my fingers. “K-” My tongue rolls as I fight to stay focused, “Kasey.” I finish, a shiver coursing through my back.

“Kasey, Do you struggle with addiction?” Thor’s voice is calm, reminding me of my old AA meeting counselor. She always spoke to me as If I were a wild animal waiting to attack. In truth, I sort of was.

“Yes.” I begin, noticing my fingers are starting to shake. My wrist are scared, and they can see that quite notably. The ugly pink scars of past pain marking the flesh. I hide my arms behind my back, suddenly ashamed. I’ve never been a fucking coward but in front of two men with fancy leather outfits? It seems I am.

“Can I ask-”

“Oh for god's sake, She’s a midguardian imbecile. Can you return her to the hell she crawled out of?” Loki mumbles, rolling his pretty green eyes back into his head. Green eyes I would now like to see turn red.

He looks at me like I’m a weak child, and it only makes me angry. I am not that, and I never will be that.

“What did you say?” It takes all my remaining energy to say those words, shooting daggers at Thor’s brother.

“Misguardian imbecile.” Loki pops his words, flicking his tongue to intimidate me. My mind blanks, and I realize I’m moving. My fist is out, wanting to take a swing at that stupid fucking face.

Loki catches my wrist, spinning me around so we're back to back. I can hear his breathing, and feel his muscled torso against my skin.

“Loki. Let her go.” Thor reaches out to grab me, but I’m spinning away from him. I realize I’m in an entirely different room, my head pounding even faster at Loki’s trick. How did he do that? We are now in a larger room, one marked with green and gold things. It must be his room.

“Listen to me, lamb.” Loki starts, coming behind me, his breath coating the shell of my ear. My heart pumps in my chest, threatening to burst.

“I know what you crave. I’d even go as far to say my cravings are quite aligned with your own.-” He pauses his accent husky, demanding. “Let me offer you a distraction, and you can offer my salvation.”

I spin around and look into his eyes, I know what he’s offering. But what am I offering in return? All he said was salvation. I nod, signaling to him that I agree. If I can’t drink, and I can’t cut, I may as well let someone else have control. When our eyes meet, and he picks me up with gentle hands it feels like I’ve just signed a deal with a horned devil.

𖤍 Loki places me on his bed, I sink into his sheets, gripping the white material as he kisses up my thighs. I hate this, I’m having sex with someone I barely know. But if this is what it comes to, then I must.

Anything to avoid drinking.

He connects our lips together in a long kiss. I melt into him, my heart beating. I’ve never felt what I’m feeling now with anyone. I tangle my fingers into his hair, feeling the soft strands curl around my bones. He looks at me like he wants to devour my body, and he does just that. Loki’s mouth trails everywhere, my shoulders, my inner thighs, my collarbone.

He’s making me forget.

My clothes are gone with a snap of his fingers, but I’m too high on his scent to care. I have no idea how he’s doing it, or if all of this is real, but I feel him, and right now all I want to do is melt into his body.

Loki snaps his leather off, and I’m almost overcome with relief, I had no idea how to take those off. Not that I was trying to figure it out..

He flips us so I’m straddling him, I can feel his erection against me, tenting his boxers.

“You looked so pretty in my boxers, but this is much better.” I tense. Those were his? I rock back on his cock on impulse, seeing him wince. Loki’s hands go to my hips, stopping me from moving.

“Are you ready for it?” I nod, bucking again. I haven’t been warmed up yet and I know it’s going to hurt like a bitch, but I’ve never wanted something as much as I have now. It’s such an odd feeling.

He acted as if he detested me the moment I stepped before him, but right now? Right now he’s acting as if I’m the most precious thing he’s ever laid eyes on. Maybe it was part of the imaginary contract I signed. His shorts disappear, and his cock lays against his stomach, already dripping with pre-cum.

Another snap, my under garments are gone, disappearing somewhere on the floor. I would be convinced I’m hallucinating, but it feels so real.

“Go ahead, take my cock.” Loki says, a smile playing on his lips. He’s so cocky, but I seem to love it. I do what he says, gripping the base of him to line it up with my entrance. I don’t push down on him yet and he doesn’t thrust.

“I feel like I’ve known you my entire life,” I mutter, locking my blue eyes with his green ones, pushing down to accommodate his length. He groans, his hands stilling on my hips. Tears threaten to burst out from my eyes lids as I feel the stretch his cock gives me. My pussy clenching, trying to take more of him. Loki looks up at me, as he grips my hips again and I nod.

He thrust into my cunt, causing me to shoot forward with pain.

“Look at me.” He demands, and I do. I look into his eyes as he thrust into me until I’m moaning. I feel my cravings begin to disperse, and somehow it feels as if he’s making them.

“Look as I thrust into your hungry cunt.” Loki growls, snaking a hand up my stomach to grasp at one of my breasts, playing with the nipple. I moan at the sensation, seeing his eyes light up.

“Fuck, Loki.” I buck onto him as his cock fucks into me, filling me with pain and pleasure alike. Loki grabs the back of my head, bringing my chin to rest on his shoulder, burying my face in the mattress.

“He’s never made it feel like this, but I will-” He thrust again, his voice loud and hot in my ear, “I will show you what it feels like to be cherished by a god.” I feel closer to an orgasm than I have in years.

How the hell does he know about Ian?

I push it away, feeling him guide my hips with one hand, while molding his other to the back of my scalp, holding me in place. I wiggle, wanting to feel more.

“Beg for it.” He mutters, groaning as he pumps into my pussy. It feels otherworldly, heavenly. I feel like a god sitting on top of a mountain.

“Fuck me harder.” I whimper, sounding needy.

“Beg.” Loki growls, as I cry into his sheets, a string of salvia collecting in my mouth.

“Please, fuck me harder.” I cry out again as he does just that, his pace speeds up as he drills into me, and before I know it my orgasm is cresting for the second time this afternoon.

“That's it, come on my cock, lamb.” Loki’s words push me over the edge as he thrusts speed up, chasing his own high. I feel as if I’m in wonderland everything is oblivious around me as I recede into waves of pleasure.

I don’t know who he is, but he made sex feel like a pleasure again. And I haven't felt pleasure in 14 years.

[be-gay-do-heists]

OKAY finally finished with eliot hand pain hurt/comfort fic, and i couldn’t actually decide whether i preferred it in second or third person POV. this is the version with the third person POV, otherwise nothing is different from the other version !

------

Contrary to what the four crazy people he spent his time risking his life for nowadays thought, Eliot didn’t like the pain.

There was nothing cleansing about it, nothing satisfactory. A ringing hit to his jaw didn’t feel like penance. The actual protection aspect was a different story. Standing like a wall between your people and danger, there was nothing that made Eliot’s ribs ache with pleasure like that; a wall didn’t feel, didn’t think, it was just an immutable fact. He was an immutable fact. The problem was that the wall-as-Eliot, or perhaps the Eliot-as-wall, had to become human again sometime after the last man went down and the last dollar bill was stuffed into a duffel. To hurt was human, and not just to hurt but to remember the wound long, long after, for it to live in your knees and wrists and between the vertebrae in your spine. Some days— and this was a product of how long after a job it had been, how hard he had pushed—some days were worse than others. The fact that some days the first sound out of his mouth wasn’t even a groan, but a whine, or worse the half-awake pleading for please please make it stop i’ll do anything just make it stop—

No, Eliot didn’t like the pain.

Comparatively, today was a good day. Today, he could get out of bed. His head and body were blessedly in agreement that it was in his best interests to swing his twinging knees to the side of the mattress, push himself up onto legs that were sore but stable, with arms that shook only slightly. But compared to Eliot’s best days, the ones where except for the old shoulder injury which would never let him forget it and the scar on his hip that put a falter in his giddy-up in all kinds of weather, the days on which except for those he sometimes even forgot the pain, this didn’t hold a candle. Today his hands were so beat and weak that the ache radiated up to his mid-forearm, settled into him all familiar-like and made its home in him.

In the bathroom, Eliot used his wrist to turn on the faucet and stuck his mouth under the water to drink. Holding a cup was off the agenda. His morning routine was interspersed with winces, not unusual for his post-job bathroom adventures, and if it took Eliot longer to shimmy on the sweats he knew he wouldn’t be getting out of today, it made him appreciate the comfort of wearing them a little more.

Going handless was fine until he was face to face with the fridge, and resisting the urge to growl at it, like that would solve anything. Taking a deep breath, he put a hand on the stainless steel handle, testing his grip. A light flex had Eliot drawing it back like the metal had burned him, like someone had snapped a tight clothespin onto each ligament. He took a moment to pace a couple steps, let out a loud but cathartic expletive, and then wedge his hand between the handle and the door so he could open the fridge with his elbow strength. The feeling of triumph behind his collarbone faded quickly as the hitter scanned its contents and realized there was nothing he wanted to eat, or at least nothing he wanted to hold and eat. The thought of grasping a fork brought another growl to his throat, and he slammed the fridge door to stomp to the couch and throw himself down, cradling his hands in his lap.

Eliot knew the drill: in an hour, he would grit his teeth and get to up to try and fumble open his bottle of painkillers, and if he succeeded, he would wait another hour for them to truly kick in so he could handle the tv remote, put on whatever game was on, and vegetate on the couch until further notice. The phone he had left on the nightstand rang loudly, fully audible from the other room, blaring out the chorus to “Macho Man” that Hardison had put as his ringtone and Eliot hadn’t figured out how to get rid of yet. If it was important, whoever it was would call again, so he ignored it. His ire rose when the same noise sang out from the bedroom a couple minutes later, a bit-off groan escaping from his clenched teeth as he levered himself up to get to it as fast as he could, awkwardly accepting the call and maneuvering the phone between his shoulder and ear. “What?”

“Man, we haven’t heard from you since we split yesterday, I thought we were gonna get a beer downstairs last night?”

He rubbed his eyes with his wrist, frustrated that he had forgotten he was supposed to get together with Hardison the night before. Getting home, washing the sweat and blood off, and falling into bed had seemed like the only goal in his mind. “Look, sorry, I’ve been busy. And if this ain’t important, you—“

“Bullshit. Absolute bullshit, you’re using your tough-guy, bullshit voice. And you actually apologized, so something is double wrong.”

Eliot snarled. “I don’t have— Hardison, I don’t know what you’re talking about, just leave me alone.”

“Too late, we’re already at your place.”

Before he could open his mouth, his doorbell rang, drawing a groan from him. If he was correct about who the “we” was, it seemed silly to even ring it. His suspicions were confirmed thirty seconds later as the door clicked open anyways and Parker and Hardison came in, having the decency to at least look slightly sheepish. Eliot had already moved back to the couch, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. “Make yourself at home, why don’t you,” he growled.

“Excuse us for being worried about your wellbeing, Mr. Suffer-In-Silence,” Hardison scoffed.

Parker leapt onto the couch cushion next to him. “We thought you might have been captured by ninjas.”

“You would know if I had been captured by ninjas,” Eliot muttered. “It’s a very dis— look, you’ve seen that I’m not kidnapped, it’s our day off, can you please leave and let me rest.”

“You still owe us a hangout from last night!” Parker chirped. “Don’t worry, we won’t stay long.” She vaulted back over the couch to go rummage through his snack cabinets, getting into the granola bin by the sound of it. Eliot made a note to restock it before she came back next.

When he next opened his eyes, Hardison was lightly sitting on his coffee table, looking at the hands still resting in the hitter’s lap. “What’s up with your hands, Eliot?”

Eliot’s first instinct was to deflect. He trusted his team, sure, but this was different. They weren’t supposed to know that he had these days. That he wasn’t invulnerable. “Nothing’s wrong with them, stop sitting on my coffee table.”

“Mhm mhm, sure,” Hardison said. “Go like this for me?” He wiggled his fingers in a “hey sailor” kind of fashion. Before Eliot could tell him just what he thought about that, Parker’s ponytail swung into the side of his face, the thief reaching down to poke one of his hands faster than he could stop her.

By the time Eliot was able to refocus and pull himself back from the whiteout of pain, Parker and Hardison were looking at him with open concern, the hacker leaning back slightly, a little pale. Eliot thought he might have howled; he wasn’t sure. Both his hands were clenched tightly to his chest, wrists together, arms outward, wishbone shaped. He felt just as brittle as one, with their stares on him. He summoned the anger from his throat, the only weapon at his disposal (only half-expecting that it would work, always defenseless when it came to their prodding).

“Can you leave me the hell alone now?”

Hardison looked at him, taking his time formulating his thoughts, but it was Parker who spoke. “Nope.” Eliot turned to her where she was perched on the couch. “You get hurt taking care of us. Now you let us take care of you.”

Eliot looked at Hardison pleadingly, hoping he at least would take pity on him and let him wallow by himself. The hitter wanted to hide like the trap-escaped, half-dead badger whose den he had accidentally put his foot into half a lifetime ago in the Italian Alps, earning him an earful of hissing that scared the shit out of him. He wondered if he seemed as belligerent as that now.

Hardison just shrugged and smiled gently. “Hey, you heard the woman.” He leaned forward slightly, just enough in Eliot’s space to let him feel his warm presence without crowding. “Couldn’t get rid of us if you tried.”

He didn’t want to try, was the thing. It was only that it wasn’t their job to take care of him. It was his to take care of them. They just seemed to be wholly unaware of this.

“You taken anything for those yet?” Hardison asked, pointing at his hands. He hummed at Eliot’s slight head shake. “Thought so. Which ones?”

“White bottle, red pills. Only need a half,” Eliot mumbled, slouching. Parker was already up and heading to the bathroom.

“We need to get something you can actually open when this happens, some kind of spring-loaded catch maybe,” Hardison mused. “Alright, let me see them.” He patted his legs, frowning at Eliot’s growl. “C’mon, none of that. I know they hurt, I’ll be really, really gentle. I won’t even touch without asking.”

Eliot looked him in the eye for the sincerity he already knew would be there, the eagerness to help that (damn him) was one of his favorite traits of Hardison’s. Hesitantly, he extended his hands, rolling his eyes at the hacker scooting forward to offer his knees to rest them on.

“I assume you got antiseptic and ointment on these knuckles already, so totally disregarding those, even though it sucks. Nothing broken?”

“No, just. Aches. Like a son of a bitch. Can’t make a damn fist. Happens sometimes.”

Parker bounded back in, armed with a glass of water and half a pill in her open hand. “So no jobs for a while. Easy, I’ll tell Nate. Open up.” With a scowl, Eliot took the medication from her fingers with his teeth (gently, gently), and let her raise the glass to his lips, nearly choking as she tipped it a little eagerly, and choking for real when Hardison said, “Whoa, woman, let him swallow.”

“It’s not just the last job, Park, it’s jobs two years ago, or five, or ten,” Eliot managed, once he had his breath back. “Part of the package that comes with the lifestyle. It just happens sometimes, don’t matter what schedule we’re on.”

She frowned. “Still. We shouldn’t be doing jobs if you’re hurt. Nate should know that.”

Hardison leaned forward a little more while he was distracted trying to find the right response to that, that they wouldn’t be doing any jobs at all if that were the case, that Nate trusted him to get the job done no matter what, reaching out to his forearm and stopping just a hair’s breadth shy of touching. The hitter froze, and Hardison did too, meeting his eyes. “It’s ok. I’m just trying something out. Is it alright if I touch you here?” At his tiniest of nods, the hacker placed his fingertips on his arm, rubbing circles so lightly that Eliot almost couldn’t feel it. “Let me know where it starts to hurt, okay?” Hardison applied the slightest pressure as he added his other hand and lightly started rubbing down his forearm. When he got to his wrist, Eliot couldn’t help the strangled noise that partly escaped through his nose, high and strained. Hardison moved away from there immediately, going back to tracing soothing, gentle patterns. “You’re ok, you’re ok. I can work with this, no problem. Where do you keep your hot pads, man?”

“Bathroom, lower right drawer,” Eliot grit out. Parker was zipping off to get it and warm it up before he could even process. Hardison applied a little more pressure with his fingertips, rubbing the meat of his forearm. Eliot breathed out long and slow at how good it felt once the initial ache had ebbed.

“I want to try giving you a hand massage, but I don’t wanna hurt you more than it would help,” Hardison said, pausing slightly. “You up for it? I’m not gonna pressure you either way.”

Eliot’s thoughts stuttered, and then bolted in different directions. The feeling that he didn’t deserve this, that this was too much to ask, which had been simmering this whole time leapt to life again. It joined with the wounded, snarling animal part of him that still wanted to hide, burrow down with the covers over his head until his pain faded into the muted background noise of the world. He didn’t even know if a hand massage would work, might make the pain worse.

But it might be nice, a small, hopeful part of him murmured. Eliot couldn’t remember the last time he had been offered something like this, let alone the last time he had taken the person up. If there was anyone he trusted to do it, if there was anyone he wanted to receive it from, it was these two. How could he refuse them even he wasn’t fully on board with what they were suggesting?

“Sure, just…” Eliot said as Parker returned with the hot pad, pausing from tossing it hand to hand like a hot potato to fix her stare on him. He licked his lips, swallowed around a dry throat. “Just be gentle.”

“I will,” Hardison said earnestly, taking the hot pad from Parker to gently maneuver it under Eliot’s hands, resting on his knees. Eliot tensed slightly as the thief leapt up onto the back of the couch, perching above his head, but otherwise relaxed as the warmth of the hot pad started to loosen the ache in his hands. Hardison started where he had before, applying the slightest pressure to the hitter’s forearm. Parker ran her fingertips lightly through his hair, humming.

“Your hair is kinda wonky,” she said, fingers catching on a tangle. Eliot winced.

“That’s what happens when you go to bed without brushing it properly, you know that,” he grumbled, breath hitching as her fingertips grazed his scalp. His breath stuttered again as Hardison’s hands started working towards the sore meat of his wrist. Eliot’s hand began to shake.

“It’s ok baby, I got you,” Hardison murmured under his breath, more soothing sound than words. Eliot cracked open an eye to see him looking between his hands and his phone, playing a video where it was propped on his thigh.

“Man, are you watching hand massage tutorials right now?” he gritted out, doing a poor job of masking his genuine amusement with frustrated disbelief.

The hacker tapped his index finger against Eliot’s arm lightly. “I’ve been watching videos dude; think you’re so slick, tryna hide your hand pain from me. I just wanna make sure I get it right in real time.”

Parker’s fingers running through Eliot’s hair more boldly silenced any follow-up thoughts he had, mind going fuzzy with how good it felt. Without thinking, he insistently pushed his head up further into her touch, making her laugh. The sound reverberated in his chest, leaving him longing to hear it again. Instead a half-whine left his throat as Hardison probed the bottom of Eliot’s palm, the ache drawing him back to full awareness.

The hacker backed off for a moment. “Sorry, sorry. You still cool to keep going?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Eliot breathed shakily.

“Just tell me if there’s anyplace else that needs to be handled more delicately, or you don’t want me going at all,” Hardison said, putting his clever hands to Eliot’s again and taking up his gentle, slow pace. Parker’s fingers had paused in his hair a second, but went back to running through it again, scratching his scalp on every other pass.

Slowly, slowly, the vice of pain on Eliot’s hands started to dissipate, bone by bone, finger by finger. He don’t know how long he sat there in a haze, as Hardison and Parker patiently touched him, fixated on the single task of caring for him. The thought made the tender space behind his breastbone twinge. When he surfaced from the half-asleep contentment of their efforts, the television was on, Star Trek playing at the lowest volume. Eliot grunted, lifting his head from the couch to look at the two of them sitting beside him, grinning at his movements. Hardison’s warm hand was still in his, but instead of massaging he was just holding it softly.

“Hey sleepy,” teased Parker, throwing herself over Hardison to get closer and forcing an “Oof!” out of him.

Eliot looked down to his hands, flexing one experimentally, in disbelief at how the ache had faded to an almost imperceptible hum. With the other he tightened his fingers around Hardison’s hand, moving his thumb lightly over his.

“Hey,” Eliot simply said back, a real smile rising to his lips.

[mminttae]

Clandestine | 02

-> Pairing : Jeon Jungkook x reader

-> Genre : tattoo!artist Jungkook, mafia! JJK,mafia au, bloody!missions, slight violence, got secrets they can't tell, angst, romance, Jungkook's part time job is flirting, sad (backstory), Y/N is strong!

-> Summary : who would have known that just doing a part time job at a night club would lead you to the tattoo artist Jeon Jungkook's messed up world. One letter related to the secret comes out of your mouth you'll be laying in Jungkook's arms but alive or not, that's not guaranteed...

-> Word Count : 4.286 K ( A/N: I’m increasing words )

-> T/W body language, killing, curse words and intimacy are included in the story (you may read if you're comfortable with these)

Part : 2

<< previous chap

.・゜-: ✧ :-playlist -: ✧ :-゜・．

Jungkook's mouth opened and closed like a goldfish. Even if me saying that line didn't flatten him enough I knew the nickname did as it always have been doing. It was clearly visible that he didn't expect me to be this bold suddenly. But he being himself smirked after a couple of seconds as his hand snaked up to grab my wrist pulling me more closer "Sure princess.. Do you want to go to the trip now? " His tongue rolling over his bottom lip as his piercing doe eyes holding so many thoughts looked at my lips then to my eyes.

"I don't want to interrupt but the trip has to be postponed "Jimin interferes in the moment, his eyes narrowed and only looking at me as if scared that the younger guy would throw him out if he locked eyes with his. Making a 'tch' sound Jungkook raises his eyebrows at Jimin in a manner that reads he's asking why postpone. I yeet his hand which was holding my wrist and get off from the table clearing my throat while fixing the skirt and apron. Jungkook clearly disappointed for not being able to hear my answer gets up from the seat while putting the black leather jacket around his shoulders. Jimin and Taehyung following him gets up too grabbing their bags. Jungkook walked up to me while fixing his bangs with his index finger.

"Gotta go princess a client's waiting" Nodding I proceeded to walk away but I could hear Jungkook saying with a sad dramatic tone. "Atleast act that you don't want me to go". I'm afraid I won't be able to because I myself don't know what this client of yours gonna do if you don't go on time. Is the person waiting even a client or not? Knitting my eyebrows I look back only to meet with strangers taking up the seat. The three tall mesmerizing men with inks on their body not to be seen anywhere. I don't know what's going on in that foolish yet extremely clever brain of yours but...

Be careful Mr. Artbook..

End of YOUR POV

Mid summer yet the night breeze is able to run shivers down your spine. Not a single soul in sight.

10 at night maybe the shopkeepers closed down the shutters and went to bed. Not many shops here in this area to even begin with. The only workshop's bell which rings here is the Jeon's Tattoo corner which has been ringing from the morning today , seemed to have stopped in the evening but now making its sound again. "Argh I should really break down this bell "

With an annoyed expression the black haired guy opens the drawers searching for a fresh towel. The tall man who just entered the shop walked past the desk table, turning the door knob and allowing himself inside the cozy room. His loud footsteps on the wooden floor telling Jungkook that the guest has arrived.

"Where were you? I waited here for five minutes then went inside the nearby plant store to kill time"

Taking off the long coat the tall silver haired guy walks up to the chair positioned in the middle of the room beside the various tools. "Sorry hyung, Taehyung and Jimin wanted a new tattoo so went to hear out their designs"

Jungkook says, eyebrows knitted while he fishes out the stencil of the beautiful clematis he has drawn beforehand of the leader's arrival. Smiling to himself he walks up to the seated boss whose like a big brother to him, he puts the stencil aside. Taking out a black rubber band from his pocket he takes his hair and ties it up to a small ponytail before taking out a drawer full of tattoo needles and inks. "Heard that Yoongi started boxing classes with you"

The older male speaks as his lip corners slowly moves upwards. Jungkook giving out a laugh says, "Yea Yoongi hyung be moving like a turtle. "

The thought of his hyung boxing and whining that it's hard is enough to make the little one giggle. Taking out a small wooden stool with one hand as the other one was holding the tattoo gun, Jungkook sits himself beside the strong looking man who rolls up his shirt's sleeves revealing all the different type of arts and words of different languages tattooed on his arm.

"Need chewing gum?"

The younger one asks at the thought that it might hurt but the older one replies plainly that he's fine after all his skin had been coming in contact with this gun for a long time now. Jungkook nods before resting the needle on the free space on the top of the man's biceps before starting to draw on it, the awestrucking clematis. "Was thinking of getting a lip piercing but not being able to get it cuz of the adults in the house"

The man says while his dimples makes visits to his cheeks.

"The exact same reason why am postponing on getting an eyebrow piercing"

Jungkook replies as he carefully moves the tattoo gun sideways on the man's bicep.

"So when are you planning on telling your sister?"

He asks as the silver haired guy closes his eyes once realizing what Jungkook meant.

"When the time's right.. "

He replies, slowly opening his eyes his gaze meeting the ceiling.

"But first we need to pinpoint Mr. Choi's location"

Replying with a small and quiet yes Jungkook draws the details on the flower carefully.

"Seokjin has been checking the cctvs regularly and the only thing he found was the black hyundai stopping at a night club at exactly 7pm every Tuesday and Wednesday"

"What's the night club's name? "

Jungkook asks as he draws on the small leaves.

"Hell's night club"

With just the mention of the night club's name Jungkook's hand stops moving as his eyes widened. "Isn't that the club you often visit with the others? "

The silver haired man asks making Jungkook quietly nod his head. If the most feared mafia in the country slash his team's biggest rival had been going to the exact same club at the exact same time as his how come he never saw the familiar old man's face? He thought.

What kind of person does the man disguise him as that even Jimin who encountered him multiple times doesn't notice. "You should be careful and try to see your clients faces carefully and see if they match that old fart's face or not"

Jungkook humming a response continued on giving the clematis it's final touch. Finishing the tattoo he removes the gun making the silver haired man sit up straight and fix his shirt.

"You know what to do right?"

Jungkook asks referring to putting on Vaseline ointment on the tattoo and stuffs. The older guy nods while fetching his coat. "I'll get going then. Thanks for the tattoo kook"

Jungkook simply nods his mind stuck in a different topic. Putting the equipments away and tidying up the towels as the older guy leaves the shop and disappears into the darkness of the night in the empty alleyway, Jungkook couldn't help but think about what you were up to. His mind stitching up different negative thoughts together.

"If Mr. Choi is really going to that club then he must have seen Y/N always talking to us..... What if he does something to her? " Jungkook asks to himself and the next thing he does is take his bag, turn off the lights, lock the doors and run off to meet you.

• -

"I'll be off then"

Bowing politely you take hold of the two big disposable bags and huff out a breathe when you realize how heavy both of them were. Kicking the back staff door with your leg open the first thing you see is Jeon Jungkook leaning on the wall infront. His hair tied up in a small ponytail, a bag hung around his shoulder and inked hands resting inside his jeans pockets. His eyes falls on your hands holding the disposable garbage bags, sighing he walks up to you.

"I thought your job was to serve and take orders not bring out garbages" You looked down at the bags in your hands while saying, "I was coming out anyways it's no biggie"

You flashed him a small smile but his eyes looked worried and his face tensed. You wondered what happened but didn't dare to ask thinking that he will only answer with 'none of your business' . Yes Jeon Jungkook unknowingly says harsh things without thinking when he's tensed. Jungkook takes the garbage bags from your hands and put it beside the door when his eyes lands on your right hand which was bandaged. His eyes widen and he quickly took your right hand examining it while asking

"How did this happen? Are you okay? "

Embarrassed you put your hand away from his warm ones and answer while smiling, not making eye contact

"It's okay I'm fine these kind of injuries are meant to happen if you work in a bar." Jungkook not convinced took your hand again now keeping it infront of him not letting you pull it back. His eyebrows knitted . "You were totally fine this evening tell me what happened". Chewing on your bottom lip you look down, fiddling with the hem of your shirt.

"Y/N tell me what happened.." Jungkook says once again this time his voice laced with concern as his hands caressed your hair. You were actually a bit taken aback at how the always dominant voice of Jungkook is making its way to you in a concerned and soft way.

"A drunk guy harshly pulled my hand wanting me to sit beside him but I fought back and he suddenly let go of me making me loose my balance at hit the edge of the glass table behind and that's how I got this"

You say while looking at your bandaged hand which was now resting in jungkook's warm palm. He softly held your injured hand and lower down a bit to meet your height. Looking at your eyes he said

"Tell me who did this. Tell me who did this to you I'm gonna fucking kill him"

In a calm soft voice but the last part obviously didn't come out in a soft way. You laughed and pushed him a bit away from you. "It's okay am fine don't overreact he was drunk" But Jungkook not buying the answer walked closer to you and again with a serious tone asked you . "Tell me how he looked like"

Knowing that he won't let go of the topic unless you give him a proper answer you sigh, rolling your eyes while describing the drunk man you happened to meet inside the club. "He had small eyes , a sharp nose and dark stubble on his face and.." You trailed off thinking what else did the man have but Jungkook interrupted asking in a quick manner

"Did he have any sort of tattoo on his wrist? " Replaying the moment inside your head you widen your eyes a bit and nod your head, "Yea he did.. Was that a crown? A crown maybe"

Exactly knowing who that drunk man you encountered was Jungkook's chest sank at the thought that the old man touched you with his dirty hands. Gulping down the saliva that formed in his mouth he without thinking pulled you to his chest engulfing you in a hug. He wasn't sure why he felt like protecting you but he wanted to . He wasn't supposed to feel this way now that he set his mind on the plan his brain made up on the way here but..he did. He wanted to make sure you were safe.

Widening your eyes at how Jungkook suddenly hugged you, your mind went blank. There's no doubt in how fast your heart was beating. To be honest to yourself you were actually frightened when that man tried touching you in an ill manner but now being in Jungkook's arms you felt safe. You felt safe when he was around. Jungkook's arms around you got tighter as he nuzzled his face in the crook of your neck.

So this is how you gonna play it Mr. Choi

He thinks.

•-

Flashback 5 weeks back

Stretching your arms you give out a small yawn before grabbing the books from the table and making your way out of the auditorium. Walking while looking at your  surroundings you didn't notice the tall man standing infront of you. Too immersed in the same old paintings hanging on the walls you hit something hard making the copies and books in your hands fall down. Without looking up at the person you bumped into you quickly said 'sorry' while kneeling down to pick up your supplies. The tall gentleman kneeled down too helping you with picking up your stationerys. You got up, the man following you soon. This time facing the guy properly as both of you made eye contact you were about to say thank you when your voice abruptly decided to not come out.

The man had soft long black hair .The kind of hair you would want to play with all day. His baby doe eyes staring at you, his lips parted. The oversized hoodie he was wearing made him the grizzly huggable bear image more.

As your eyes scanned him from head to toe, your lips a bit parted, the guy not being able to control his laughter at how cute you looked when your eyes went big as if you saw something really interesting and you'd like to study that thing more, he gave out small giggles making you quickly close your mouth and look at him. Noticing how every students in tha hall were staring at both of you, you shifted your weight from one leg to another leg uncomfortably. But the guy's Adorable bunny smile didn't go out of your notice. His eyes wrinkled as he tilted his face and asked you softly

"You okay? "

Blinking couple of times you nodded your head making him shyly scratch his nape and mumble 'thank god'. Your lips automatically curved up when your eyes landed on the ID card hung around his neck

"Jeon Jungkook"

Once realization hit you that you were now standing infront of your college's hearthrob while looking like a whole mess which you didn't care about that much until you bumped into him, your cheeks got tinted in a light blush. Pulling your lips in you tilted your head a bit to the side making your baby hairs fall over your face.

"Hey kook!"

A loud deep voice entered the ears of the people standing in the hall making them turn their heads to the two seniors waving their hands at Jungkook's direction, a big wide smile plastered know their face. Jungkook takes out his bracelet covered wrist from his pocket and waves at them. Jimin running towards us and wrapping his arm around the tall guy's shoulders he notices me and flashes me a smile

"Hey Y/N"

Waving your sweater paw at him as a hey you smiled. You met Jimin and Taehyung a couple of times before in some group works with seniors. You not really interested in gossips of the college noticed just a few days ago that Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung and Jeon Jungkook are the well known hot trio of this college.

"Y/N.."

Jungkook repeats your name to himself before looking at you once again , smiling while saying

"Sweet name"

His sweet honey voice saying your name was enough to melt you. If it was any other guy right now you would have simply said thank you for helping you pick up the books and walk away without saying anything but surprisingly Jeon Jungkook made you stop. "I'm hungry didn't have breakfast this morning" Taehyung whines while holding his tummy earning a slap on his head from Jimin. "we are going for lunch wanna join us? "

Jungkook asks you making you widen your eyes at the sudden invitation and Jungkook earning some smirks from the seniors beside him, Jimin elbowing his arm while wiggling his eyebrows. Jungkook simply rolled his eyes at his hyungs before looking at you for a reply. You glancing at your silver wrist watch said "I would love to but I should get going. I have some stuffs to do"

Jungkook quietly nods his head before flashing you a smile.

Is he always smiling?

You thought noticing that he had been smiling since the moment both of you met. "Y/N's always studying hard"

Taehyung says earning a nod from Jimin making you shyly scratch your nape.

The Brunnete haired approached you giving you a pat on your shoulder before saying "Study well but don't forget to have lunch okay? "

You flashed him a smile while nodding. Jungkook waving his hands at you as a 'bye' walked past you with the two boys. You looked back at three of them noticing that two of them were wearing hoodies and one of them were wearing full sleeved tees.

It's so hot these days why are they wearing hoodies on top of tees?

Shaking your head you quickened your pace and quickly got out of the college grounds. Walking to the bus stand while looking around at the cozy coffee shops on the streets you keep glancing at your watch from time to time to make sure that you're going on time or not.

Now here's a secret about you that no one knows

You're a student at an art college but you are also a student at a law school. Your father runs the family business of electronics. Yes the electronics company ranking the second best in the country out of all the other electronic companies, which he wants to hand over to your big brother after he retires. Your mother always wanted a child of her to be a sculptor. Borning late in the family with the talent of art you were forced to study this subject whereas you were interested in prosecution, catching criminals and stuffs. What you were most interested in were being a mafia or an assassin but you gave up on those dreams and decided to study law. Your parents only giving their all attention and care to their first born, didn't care about you that much. The only thing they wanted from you was becoming a great sculptor and bringing praise to your family.

After nights of confusion and judgement you decided to study in the law school that you got admitted, secretly with the money your grandparents left you. Your grandparents left some money for you and your brother before passing away and thankfully they were enough to pay for your study books expenses. But maintaining time for your law school as well as the art school was hard but you managed to make time after dropping off from some extra courses of the art college without telling your parents. But it was hectic. Your college hours starts from 7 am. And you have classes till 9am then a break at 9:15 am to 10:30 due to dropping off from some extra class. Your law classes starts from 9:30 so during the break you quickly leave the grounds and head off to the law classes. Then you return to the art college at 10:20 when it's a break at your law school. Then once again when it's a lunch break at the art school you head off to the law school while munching on some snacks, obviously not getting time to have proper lunch. And when it comes to events you had to make up excuses at the law school for not attending as your parents would obviously not skip their daughter's presentations.

It would be more hectic from today cuz you just applied to a job at a night club. There's a course for learning shooting at the law school but you don't have enough money to pay for that so it's time to earn some money.

•••

Stretching your arms while getting up from the seat you had been sitting on straight for 2 hours, you give a yawn before taking out a scrunchie and putting your hair up. All the classes for the day are done. Putting the back pack around your shoulder you bow at the teacher before leaving the school premises. Walking inside the bus and sitting on one of the seat you take out your phone and start typing to your mother , 'Mom I'll be late tonight as I got some extra lessons. Don't worry for me and you don't have to send car I'll come by bus'

"No one's gonna worry about me though"

You say to yourself while letting out a small laugh and looking out at the window. Everything vanishing from your sight at a fast pace as the vehicle picks up its speed upon seeing the empty road. Some of the street lights flickering due to not being fixed for several days now. You take out the 'guideline' paper of the bar you're gonna work in from backpack, going through the structure of the building in your mind and remembering all the rules explained to you yesterday when you went to apply for the job. This night club only seemed to be safe for you to work in now. By safe means you would have no worries of the common students who spends time in bars and clubs to see you. If anyone recognizes you then it's game over. Plus the pay is high too.

The phone screen lighting up as a notification popped up you unlocked the phone before seeing from whom the text is from.

Bro: heard you're coming late at night should I pick you up from the way while coming home?

"Geez already told him?"

You say to yourself once realizing that your mom told your brother to pick up but your brother being nice asked if you want to be picked up first or not. Smiling at his text before typing your reply It's ok you don't have to come. The office is far away from my college anyways. Get home safely.

Waiting for a few minutes to see his reply which you didn't get you turned off your phone and put it inside your bag. Looking out from the window thinking why he didn't reply when he saw your text whereas usually he would try to come pick you up, being the 'protective' brother. You got down from the bus as soon as the bus came to its stop. You walked for a few more minutes from the bus stop till arriving at your destination.

Hell's night club

•••

It's been only five minutes of you serving drinks but you're already tired. How can a human body and mind work for 13 hours straight without any rest. You did mess up some tables a couple of times for which you were now getting a scolding from the manager. You looking down bowing slightly while your hands in front of you.

"Miss Lee Y/N did you properly see the table numbers today? "

The old man asks to which you nod. "Then why are you messing up? " He asks in a raised voice making you flinch and quickly mumble a sorry. You lift your head up a bit to see the old man sighing while pinching his forehead, clearly visible that he's angry. "I'm letting you go as this is your first time don't make mistakes anymore"

He says making you bow and say

"Thank you"

He looked around trying to see if any waitresses are free. Sighing at how there's no one free without counting you he gave you a look before handing you a tray of various kinds of drinks. "Take this to table no. 14. And  do not  make any mistakes. They are regulars here I don't want them gone" Nodding at him you set off to find this table no. 14 . Noticing how your skirt got up a bit you tried pulling the skirt a bit down with one hand as the other one was holding the tray, you quickly withdraw your hand without fixing the skirt upon seeing the tray tremble in one hand. Quickly holding the tray in place and scanning if any drinks were spilled, you sigh in relief. You looked back to only lock eyes with the manager . He staring straight at you with his cold eyes. You gave a small awkward smile and walked towards table 14.

The table no. 14 seemed to be surrounded by many big men. All had some sort of tattoos on them. A familiar man sitting in the middle holding a pen and scribbling something on a notebook. His inked arms full on display as the silver earrings were still being able to shine despite the dullness in the scene. His long bangs falling before his eyes not letting anyone see the face beneath it.

You quietly approached the table and when you raised your eyes from the ground to the man sitting in the middle, your legs automatic came to a halt and your breath hitched.

Jeon Jungkook right there was sitting. The table in front occupied with various weapons and him sitting like a whole five course meal, fingers playing with the dangly earrings

This is totally not what I expected

[youngbeezer]

hi!! can I please request something?

going to a lake house, maybe friends to lovers with bowen byram?

thank you! 💗.

A/N: HI IM SO SORRY THIS LITERALLY TOOK 4 EVER!!! i was having such bad writer's block with also zero motivation, but i eventually put a little something together and i hope whoever requested this first off actually sees this bc seriously its been a good month of this sitting in my inbox but also i hope you like it :)

Word Count: 2940

Warning(s): kinda angsty in beginning, curse words, ends fluffy !!!

masterlist || join my taglist

These next few days is either going to turn out to be the best week of the summer, or the most awkward week of the summer...

I’m currently stuck in a car surrounded by couples on our way to a lake house in Colorado. Somehow I ended up being lumped into this chaotic group of professional hockey players and their drop-dead gorgeous significant others.

About a year ago at my local salon, I just so happened to be seated right next to a woman named Grace, who I immediately hit it off with. We became fast friends and are now basically inseparable at this point. Her boyfriend just so happens to play hockey for the Colorado Avalanche, Cale Makar. Now I have also grown quite close with Cale as well, since I am always at their shared apartment for Grace. At this point Cale is basically third wheeling us, instead of it being the other way around. Therefore I was also always invited to team parties and get-togethers, which prompted more friendships with most of the guys on the team and their respective partners.

Someone I have surprisingly grown super close with is Bowen Byram. As soon as Cale introduced us two, his blue eyes and raspy voice immediately drew me in. Straight away we bonded over common interests and that night we talked for almost three hours. After that, we were thick as thieves. So thick that recently I have come to the realization that I have caught major feelings for him along the way.

It has only been a few weeks since I have come to this realization and it has already started to affect our relationship. I definitely started to ignore Bowen a little bit when I first figured out my feelings because I was scared he would somehow find out or I would just end up blurting it out at some point. And the last thing I want is for my silly feelings to ruin such a great friendship.

Thus why this week can either turn out to be the best or the worst.

I’ve decided that at some point during this trip I need to confess my feelings for Bowen. He’s also seemed to notice the shift in my attitude towards him. I have become more closed off and not as touchy as we used to be. Bowen and I are both very touchy/feely types of people. So what seemed like just some harmless cuddling and play wrestling with each other, to me did very little to quell down my feelings.

For example, this morning when we were packing up the cars for the trip a group of us are taking to Tyson Jost’s lakehouse, Bowen went to wrap his arms around my middle from the back and I subconsciously flinched away at his touch. I know he definitely noticed my mood shift from the defiant pout that was resting on his face. After that I did what I do best, and ran away to the other car that was driving up and basically begged Nate to switch seats with me.

Which now leads to my current thoughts. The entire car ride up I have been contemplating on ways I could tell him, but each scenario just ended up with him telling me that he doesn’t feel the same, and our friendship essentially being over. Obviously I was just overthinking just a little, but I’ve never been stuck in a situation like this before-- and now we are going to be stuck in a lake house together for an entire week, so I am going to be forced to face this situation whether I want to or not.

“Yo. Earth to y/n?” Tyson draws, trying to gain my attention. I snap out of my thoughts as soon as I hear my name, and bring my gaze to the rearview mirror to meet Tyson’s questioning look. “We’re here.” He announces.

Susanna, Mikko’s girlfriend, adds on, “You alright? You seemed kind of out of it the entire car ride.”

I shake my head to try and clear my thoughts and notice that we are indeed here at the lake house we will be staying at for the next week. I clear my dried up throat before croaking out a weak, “Yeah, I’m fine. Just don’t like long car rides.”

Both of them nod, content with my answer and exit the car to join Mikko in unloading all of the luggage from the trunk. I take a few more moments to fully get my head together after dealing with all my jumbled thoughts throughout the entire three hour car ride.

Jumping out of the car, the first thing I see is Bowen letting out a yawn and stretching out. As his arms raise over his head, some of his shirt rises up with it and immediately my eyes are drawn to the small portion of skin and v-line that is in front of me. Bowen then notices my presence and makes eye contact with me, giving me one of his adorable little smiles. I advert my gaze as quickly as I can so my obvious ogling isn’t as obvious and go to finally retrieve my luggage.

Yeah this was gonna be a long week.

…

After everyone got pretty much all settled into their rooms, we all ended up coming back together to sit around the firepit to chat and enjoy some drinks. For this trip that Tyson orchestrated there are in total ten people staying in the house. Me, Tyson, obviously since it’s his house; Bowen, Cale, Grace, Alex Newhook, Mikko and his girlfriend Susanna, and lastly Nate and his supposed new girl who will be joining us later on in the week.

Apparently a group of the guys and their partners have been taking trips together at the end of the hockey season for a while now, and since growing closer with the team this year, I graciously got an invite.

Since it was getting later and a little bit more chilly, I grabbed a random sweatshirt that I saw already laying around in the living room before making my way outside to join everyone by the firepit. Getting closer I noticed that the only seat available just so happened to be next to Bowen.

Cale and Grace give each other a not so inconspicuous knowing look when they see me approaching. As soon as I sit down, a question is being thrown at me.

“Whose sweatshirt is that y/n?” Cale brings everyone's attention to me with a growing smirk on his face.

“I don’t know, I just found it in the living room.” I give Cale a questioning glare, trying to figure what his endgame is right now.

“It’s mine.” I hear that same raspy voice that I love and know so well. I feel my face start heating up at the idea of wearing Bowen’s sweatshirt. Am I wearing his name on my back right now, and I just didn’t even think to check earlier?

“Oh, uh. Sorry, I can give it back to you, if you want it.” I stumble out, now feeling awkward and a little embarrassed about how flustered I am getting over a simple sweatshirt.

Bowen gives me a little smile before replying back, “Nah, it’s fine. It looks better on you anyway.”

I clear my throat and stumble out an awkward ‘thanks’ at Bowen and then turn my attention to Grace right next to me so I don’t embarrass myself even more. What I don’t see though is the way Bowen's face immediately falls when I turn my back on him.

…

Around midnight is when everyone started to make their way back inside the house to start getting ready for bed. I was mindlessly scrolling through my social media, so I didn’t notice that mostly everyone had already gone inside.

“Y/n.” I look up at the mention of my name to notice that Bowen and I are the only ones left outside.

Also noticing the intense gaze I am receiving from Bowen, I quickly gather my things and stumble out, “Oh my gosh I didn’t notice everyone left already. I should head inside as well.”

Bowen is quicker though because he grabs ahold of my wrist, halting me in place before I make my very obvious escape.

“Hold on, please. Can you please talk to me?” Bowen pleads out.

“What do you mean? We’ve been talking all night.” I countered, trying one last time to get out of this conversation.

“We’ve been talking as a group all night yeah, but you couldn’t even make eye contact with me. You know what I mean. What’s been going on? Did I do something?” Bowen frowned.

At that moment I felt so guilty. I’ve been so focused on trying to ignore my feelings that I have developed that I ended up pushing my best friend away and hurting him in the process. I close my eyes and let out a deep breath. I knew I would eventually have to have this talk with Bowen during this week, but I just didn’t expect it to be on the very first night.

“Okay. Yeah, let’s talk.”

I lead the way down to the dock overlooking the lake and sit down to dangle my feet into the water. I know for a fact that Grace and Cale realized that we both haven’t come in behind them, so they are most likely snooping by the backdoor wondering what we are doing.

Bowen joins me, after slipping his shoes off and dangling his feet in as well.

“What’s been going on y/n?” Bowen asks again.

“I-I think I’m in love with you.” I blurt out. I can feel my heartbeat pounding in my ears as I await any type of response from Bowen. Taking a peek over at him, I see the pure shock on his face. Probably wasn’t the best idea to start off the conversation with that.

Taking his silence as a bad sign, I start spewing out whatever I can to try and calm the anxiety coursing through my veins. “I-I think I have known for a while and I just tried to ignore it, I guess. But then I realized that I was just pushing you away, an-and I never wanted to do that. Our friendship means that absolute world to me, and I would hate myself if anything I did, or-or my stupid feelings jeaporized that.” At some point during my little rant, a few tears escaped. I turn my head away as I try to hold back on a full on sob breaking loose.

“You think?” He eventually breaks the silence.

Confusedly, I turned my head back around and let out a strangled, “Huh?” I see the corners of Bowen’s mouth start curving up into a tiny smile, confusing me even more.

“You said, you think you’re in love with me.” He pointed out.

My eyebrows raise in question and I give him a little shrug, prompting him to elaborate more.

“Well… I’m pretty damn sure I’m in love with you.” Bowen softly declared.

My breath catches in my throat and my mouth turns as dry as the Sahara Desert. Those were definitely not the words I was expecting to come out of his mouth. He chuckles at my surprised face and scooches a little closer to my body to wipe a stray tear on my cheek.

“Are you serious?” I whisper out.

“Of course.” He whispered just as softly back to me as his head inched closer to mine.

My heart pounds in my chest as Bowen’s hand comes up to cradle my cheek. All of our pent up feelings and emotions that we both have been too afraid to admit all come crashing together as our lips finally meet. He kissed me gently, almost carefully, but after all this time gentleness was not what I wanted right now. Bowen let out a low groan as I pulled him flush against my body, my fists bunching up the collar of his shirt.

Before this could go any further, we both pull away breathlessly, basking in what truly just happened-- just now realizing how much our relationship is about to change.

“Fuck.” Bowen breathed out, running his hands over his face. “If I knew that was what it was like to kiss you I would’ve blurted out my feelings the day I met you.”

My ears perk up at his last few words and it seems like he also realizes what he just admitted, as his cheeks immediately turn a rosy color.

“You’ve liked me for that long?” I bashfully question.

Bowen runs his fingers through his hair and blows out a breath of air before answering, “Yeah, I-I mean… yeah I have.” He stumbles out, awkwardly letting out a laugh.

I lean my head on his shoulder and connect our hands, feeling super content and never wanting this moment to end. We take a moment to just sit on the dock-- with our feet hanging in the water, hands intertwined; and bask in the feeling of finally letting our feelings out into the open.

“You know everyone in that house is going to have a field day when they find out.” Bowen mumbles against my shoulder, before leaving a lingering kiss on the exposed skin.

“Oh I wouldn’t be surprised if they all had a bet going or something.” I chimed. I raise my head that had previously been resting on Bowen’s shoulder back up to look at him, and see that he is already smiling at me. “What?” I drawled, feeling my cheeks heating up under his gaze.

“You wanna sleep in my bed tonight?” He asked hesitantly.

My cheeks now feel on fire as I ponder on how I want to go about this. I raise my eyebrows up at him in question as I ponder out, “Do you want me in your bed tonight?”

Bowen gives me an almost incredulous look as he voiced, “Of course I want you in my bed.”

I just give him a simple nod and push my body up in a standing position, reaching out my hand to prompt Bowen to join me. “Okay, let’s go.”

Bowen immediately shoots up from his sitting position, clinging onto my hand as we make our way back up the yard to the sliding glass doors of the lake house. Just as I predicted earlier, Cale and Grace were totally snooping. Actually, the entire house was snooping. Everyone was gathered in the kitchen trying to act casual as we walked in, but as soon as they noticed our conjoined hands, all hell broke loose.

“I fucking knew it!”

“Aw you guys look so cute.”

“Bout time.”

“Ha! Nate, you owe me fifty bucks.”

I looked over at Bowen with an unimpressed look, “Told you they probably had a bet going on.” Meanwhile Bowen has an incredulous look coating his face watching his friends freak out over his newfound relationship. Instead of questioning our oddball friends, Bowen just simply shakes his head, letting out a little chuckle.

“Alright I’m heading up, I can’t deal with these idiots right now.” Bowen gives me a quick peck on the lips before announcing his departure for the night. Most of the others also start making their way up to their respective rooms for bed, the guys putting on a show of making kissy noises and making a few chirps as they follow Bowen up the stairs.

Grace joins me by the counter, making a show of wiggling her eyebrows at me. I’m smiling like an idiot as Cale also joins us, chuckling at my lovesick expression.

“You’re welcome.” Cale smirked.

I scrunch my face up in confusion as I question him back, “For what?”

“For introducing you two, duh.” Cale teased. Grace smacks him on the arm with a tut, making a show of rolling her eyes at her boyfriend. “Alright, seriously I am happy for you guys though.” He eventually relents.

My cheeks heat up from the attention but also from the thought of Bowen and I’s new relationship. Grace grabs me by the shoulders and starts pushing me in the direction of the staircase.

“Obviously I’m happy for you too. All I’ve wanted is the best for you and I think Bowen is just that. And with that being said, go get your mans!” She sends me off with a quick smack on my ass. I giggle the whole way up the stairs on the way into Bowen’s [now our] room feeling extremely giddy and content.

When I enter the room, all the lights except for the bathroom are already off, and it looks like Bowen is already settled into bed. So, I quickly do my night time routine and change into my pajamas before making my way over to the bed I will now be sharing for the week.

Bowen is awaiting me with his arms wide open, which I happily cuddle into the second I am under the covers. He buries his head into my neck, leaving featherlight kisses here and there.

“I love you.” Bowen mumbles into my neck. I card my fingers through his hair and kiss the top of his head as I mumble back those same words, in complete awe over how fast my life has changed in one night. We both knew that we would eventually be together, it just took a little time and a trip to Tyson Jost’s lakehouse for us to figure it out. This week will definitely be one for the books.

Taglist: @barzysandmarnersbitch @handwrittenheroes @hockeyplayerstories @barzy-xoxo @gnemgn @joelsfarabees

Tagging some mutuals as well so this doesnt flop,,,

@2manytabsopen @bb-nhlqueen7 @frederikanderson @simon-edvinsson @coltonndach @carepriceisgoodathockey @lovereadinghockeyy @pettypeteys @kentjohnsons @joekellys @mattybenierss

[theboredwritertm]

"Oh, darling, everybody sees how you look at him" fic request with Din/reader! (Please and thank you :3)

Everyone Knows

A/N: Another request done and dusted. I’ve been getting some new prompt lists ready for when I open requests back up again (not sure what tumblr etiquette is for compiling a masterlist using other people’s prompt-lists, but I’m considering doing something like that), but I still have about 4 or 5 fics to finish off before then!

Rating: PG?

Pairing: Din Djarin x ForceSensitive!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of death, a bit of alcohol, that’s about it. 

Word Count:  4500 (Me, failing to keep a story under 2k words? It’s more likely than you think)

Summary: After taking on the krayt dragon together, you’re forced to confront your feelings for Din (with a little help from everyone’s favorite marshal).   

***

The monster was unlike anything you’d ever seen before.

There’d been times aboard the Crest, when there were still thousands of miles to go between stops, that you’d sit by Din, giving him your rapt attention as he’d recount one of his many stories about a particularly terrifying beast he’d encountered. Not that he would ever call them terrifying – the man had a will of steel when it came to facing these kinds of things. And on this occasion, in the middle of the Tatooine desert, things would prove no different. 

Only this time he had you.

You were still coming into your abilities, not really sure what they meant or the true extent of what you were capable of, and amazingly enough you found you were learning a lot from watching the Child. For instance, before he came along, you had never known you could heal people. A simple experiment with Din had proven this to be true enough – the man was prone to injury in his line of work – and though it had taken a lot of concentration, enough that you were sweating by the end, it got you wondering just what other miracles your hands could perform.

Now, standing beside Din and the man who had introduced himself to you both as Cobb Vanth, you stared down into the dragon’s lair and found yourself hoping those powers might come in handy.

“So, how’re we drawin’ this thing out?” Cobb asks.

You glance back at the dozens of townsfolk and Tuskens around you, sensing their uneasiness as they shuffle from foot to foot and cast occasional apprehensive glances in the direction of the danger and you’re surprised to see a couple of the Raiders step forward. Considering how well their peoples’ last attempt to draw out the beast had gone, you hadn’t expected any of them to be so willing to approach the pit again. 

Cobb glances over at them and cocks his head in immediate acceptance. Given his past troubles with their people, he can’t say he’s overly concerned over the prospect of losing a few more of them.

But you’ve never been one to stand by and watch people get hurt.

“No, wait.” The words leave your mouth automatically. Up until this point, you’d been feeling completely useless. Din had been keeping an even closer watch on you than usual since a stunt you had pulled back on Nevarro; one that had involved your unpredictable powers and the dozens of stormtroopers who’d had him cornered. Though he had come out of the situation a lot worse for wear than you had, he’d been hovering over you, keeping you a safe distance from any action ever since. You were starting to get sick of being kept on the sidelines. “I can do it,” you say. 

The Tuskens turn to look back at you, not able to understand what you’ve said, but sensing a potential change of plans, then their attention is drawn to the Mandalorian beside you as he quickly dashes their hopes. 

“No,” comes Din’s clear, expected response.

You turn to him. “I can handle this.”

“No. You’re staying where you are.”

You gaze at him for just a moment, anger starting to bubble in the pit of your stomach, before turning around and striding down the tall dune, towards the gaping mouth of the empty saarlac pit. You know better than to argue – you don’t have the time right now, but every time you did, he managed to use it as a way to distract you. You wouldn’t give him that opportunity now. You’d already made up your mind.

You feel the air stir as his hand shoots out to grab you, but you’re too quick; one of the things that’s managed to keep you alive this long, but now maybe the very thing that’s going to get you killed. 

“Dank Farrik!”

Cobb glances between the man beside him and your retreating form, attempting to hold back a smirk. In the short couple of days that he’s known you both, he’s already witnessed at least three separate arguments, none of which seemed to get either of you anywhere. He didn’t see this one going the big guy’s way, either.  

The modulator seems to amplify the frustration in Din’s voice, but you ignore it. You were more than capable of looking out for yourself, as you had proven to him numerous times now, and whatever problem he had with that was his own – you weren’t about to let his fears hold you back. Yet, as you draw closer to the yawning darkness, your heart begins to thud in your chest. For the first time, you feel the enormity of this creature, and you’ve never felt so small in your life. 

You sense him approach before you hear him. That was one advantage you’d always had over Din; he could never sneak up on you.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m tired of watching everyone else do everything,” you say, finally coming to a stop, your gaze still trained forward, “I want to play my part. I need to play my part.”

“No, you need to stay safe.” His words sound threatening despite their context, but you ignore him once more. This time he does grab you, catching you around the forearm as you raise your hands in the direction of the cave. “Stop!”You’re tempted to use your powers to throw him off, but you can feel how much he means it and you’re struck with a sudden guilt. He cares. That’s all there is to it. 

“Please, let me do this.” You stare up into his helmet and feel him gazing back, considering things. His fingers loosen from your wrist. 

“Fine. But I’m staying with you.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” you reply, not bothering to hide your bitterness at the constant babysitting – though, if you’re being honest, you do feel better with him by your side.

You raise your hands again and close your eyes, focusing on the low hum of energy around you. You don’t feel it at first, but then its as if you’ve suddenly locked onto a connection – plugged yourself into an electric charge – and everything suddenly feels heightened. Everything feels more. You draw on from that, concentrating on the pit of darkness before you, then you push forward with your mind, reaching out. In the darkness, something stirs.

“What is it?” Din asks, as if he’s sensed the sudden change.

“I feel it,” you reply, eyes still closed, your brow now marked with a frown. 

He stares down at you and you finally open your eyes to meet his gaze (as much as you can through the helmet) but before either of you can say anything, a low rumbling begins to emit from the ground.

It had worked. 

And it was heading right for you. 

You’ll admit that, as much you���d wanted to play your part in this, you hadn’t really considered what came next once you did manage to draw the thing out. So now, as you watch the sand shift and begin to rise a hundred or so feet in front of you, you find yourself rooted to the spot. 

It’s Din who moves first.

Your hands had come up again, all you can think to do to hold the beast off, then suddenly a strong arm is wrapping around your waist and you’re being propelled into the air. You glance down just in time to see the enormous mouth erupt from the ground where you had just been standing.

This time, you don’t argue. You clutch onto him, air whipping through your hair, thankful that he’s just as stubborn as you are.

When you finally land, he sets you on your feet and quickly glances down to make sure you’re alright. You give him a quick nod, sensing the question in his gaze, and then he takes off again to rejoin the action. It takes you a moment to regain your balance, and you still feel the ghost of his arm around your waist, but when you glance back you find that he’s set you down by the landspeeder, with the Child. He’s put you back at the kids’ table. 

You give a frustrated growl and the baby blinks curiously at you, eyes full of wonder. He’s just happy to be here, close to someone he likes. You offer a reassuring stroke over his little head, then turn to stalk back down the dunes; back towards the rest of the group whose lives apparently don’t mean as much to Din, since he’s more them happy for them to join in despite them having little-to-no fighting experience. You’re not about to sit back and watch them all die. 

As the dragon bursts out of the sand once more, the Tuskens and townsfolk begin firing harpoons into its side – a desperate attempt to keep it in place – and you watch as it wrenches itself free with a simple shake of its body. There’s no way this plan is going to work.

When you arrive back by Din’s side, he simply looks at you, not even bothering to admonish you, knowing it’s not going to get him anywhere at this point anyway. But as you look at him, a silent warning to not push you aside again, he sees you’ve got that same look in your eyes now as you had back on Nevarro. And it worries him. 

You move off together as a unit as the dragon begins its assault, firing with everything you’ve got to get its attention – in your case, your trusty blaster pistol – stopping only when it opens its jaws wide and proceeds to spit boiling acid down onto anyone within its reach. You watch in horror as people are disintegrated before your eyes.

A massive explosion beneath it distracts it long enough for any survivors to get clear of its path, and the creature suddenly dives.

You wait, watching for any sign that it’s coming back up, but the smoking landscape is silent and still. Yet, something doesn’t feel right.

“I don’t think it’s dead,” Cobb says, voicing your concern, and you exchange worried glances.

“Me neither,” Din replies. His grip tightens on his blaster, waiting.

Then suddenly, up on the mountain, the creature bursts forth once more. It opens its mouth wide and you glance down at the people in its path about to be annihilated. You can’t watch this happen again. Moving as fast as your feet can carry you, you rush down towards them, shoving them aside with a powerful force-push seconds before the acid hits the sand, clearing them of its path just in time – leaving you in a tricky predicament. You’ve caught its attention now – and you have nowhere to go.

You catch the sound of jetpacks as Cobb and Din land either side of you, weapons raised and ready to come to your defense.

“Get back!” Din barks at you, and you find you have no choice but to listen to him. Failing to do so now, even just to prove a point, and you’re certain you’d be the dragon’s next meal. You’d pick your hill to die on one day, but this just wasn’t it. 

Din and Cobb take off into the air again, firing their weapons to draw the dragon’s attention away and give you time to escape. It works. The dragon, furious from the sudden new assault, turns and comes after them, spraying up sand as it whips its massive body in the new direction.  

As you watch them draw it further away, you can’t help but wonder what the plan is, since the original one has long fallen apart. They can’t keep drawing it away forever. Now that you have minute to breath, you look around for a way to help, and spot the explosives-laden bantha that had been led down as bait. It looks like it would rather be anywhere else and, hell, you don’t blame it, but glancing between it and the massive monster that currently has its sights set on the one man who never failed to put himself in the path of danger for you, you think maybe it was time to return the favor and finish this once and for all.

So, you grab the bellowing, hairy animal by its halter and do something stupid.

You start yelling. And waving your arms. And when that fails to grab the dragon’s attention, you start firing your weapon. Taking your odd behavior as some kind of cue, the townsfolk closest to you begin firing, too, and finally the dragon turns to face this latest assault, drawn to the movement of your waving arms and the scent wafting from the bantha. 

You spot the two armored men, now free of the dragon’s attention, flying up from the mountain before one in particular makes a sudden beeline in your direction. You can practically feel Din’s wrath radiating off of him before he even gets close, and it’s like the bantha can, too, as it begins to protest and pull against its rope. Or maybe it’s the giant monster coming to swallow it whole that has it so skittish.  Either way, you feel like an ass as you try to calm it down, knowing the only reason you’re doing so is to keep it in place long enough to be eaten.

You’re grateful to have the marshal land behind you first as Din drops down in front, poised to lose his absolute mind at you for your reckless behavior, but finding the situation momentarily put on-hold as Cobb asks to no one in particular, “Now what?”

Din’s staring at you, gaze heavy, burning, and humiliating all in one, but he doesn’t have time to berate you as the dragon breaks from a nearby dune. “I have an idea,” he says, and before either you or Cobb can ask what that is, he shoves you into the marshal’s arms and sets off the man’s jetpack, sending you both careening up and away from the dragon’s path – and leaving him right in the middle of it. 

You had come to suspect that you were in pretty deep with Din Djarin, ever since he had first rescued you many years ago, but watching him disappear into the enormous jaws of the krayt dragon was a lesson you had never asked for in how you really felt about him. Even as everyone around you falls into a stunned silence, your ears begin to buzz and you have to fight to keep your footing, absently leaning against Cobb for support as the energy drains from your legs. Cobb reaches for you but misses as you collapse down onto the sand by his feet. Your throat starts to tighten. Everything feels hazy. 

This can’t be it. This can’t be the way it happens. 

Then the beast erupts from the sand once more and you spot a familiar shape fly out of its roaring mouth. 

Your heart leaps into your throat. Suddenly, you can breathe again. Then you’re back on your feet and racing towards him.

The huge blast that follows knocks you back and you hold an arm across your eyes to protect them from the cloud of sand billowing from the site of the explosion, but even that’s not enough to stop you as you keep your sights trained on the metal armor glistening in the hot sun. 

When you finally reach Din, you stand for a moment looking at him, then a sound escapes you halfway between a sob and shout, and you shove him – hard. He stumbles backwards but remains on his feet.

“What the hell were you thinking?” You don’t think you’ve ever been this angry in your life. Fury radiates from every cell in your body, and still Din just stares at you. Then you hug him. Neither of you are expecting it, and his body stiffens immediately in surprise, but when you feel him relax and one of his arms comes up to wrap around you in return, everything suddenly feels right again. You couldn’t care less that he’s covered in gross dragon goo and that it’s probably getting all over your clothes, or that there’s a crowd of onlookers witnessing this moment between you – all you care about is the fact that he’s here, that he’s still alive. 

A cheer erupts behind you as you part, and it’s not for you and Din, but for the smoking remains of the dragon nearby, and it’s soon joined by the howls of the Tuskens as they raise their weapons in victory. 

It’s over. It’s done. And as you look up at Din, you can think of many things worth celebrating.

***

And celebrate, you do. 

As much as he had wanted to make a quiet exit once he had collected his promised armor from Cobb, you had managed to convince Din to stay in Mos Pelgo just a little longer for the revelries. It had been a long time since you’d stayed anywhere close to civilization, let alone had a good reason to celebrate; and though you’d grown used to the comfortable silence of the Razor Crest, there’s some comfort in being surrounded by happy, chattering people for once, instead of the lonely vacuum of space.

Cobb had asked you back personally for a couple of drinks at the bar, and though the invitation had been extended to both of you, Din had failed to take it that way. In hindsight, you suppose your initial run-in with Cobb is to blame for this sudden standoffish behavior, since your contribution to convincing the man to hand over the beskar had involved you telling him that the helmet was ‘a waste on a face like his’. You guess that comment hadn’t sat too well with Din, but it had just sort of slipped out. What could you say? The guy was a looker. Yet even now, as Cobb glances over at your table from the bar, offering a warm, friendly smile in your direction, you find yourself distracted. 

You look around and finally spot Din. He’d been radiating quiet irritation since arriving back, and stands now in the furthest corner of the room, watching the festivities with what you imagined was a sulky expression beneath the helmet. The Child sits by his feet, on the sandy floor, playing with something round and shiny, completely absorbed in his own little world.

“I take it Mandalorian’s aren’t much for parties,” Cobb comments as he finally reaches your side with drinks, breaking you from you trance. He sits down beside you and slides one of the glasses of bright-blue liquid your way.

“What do you mean?” you ask.

He nods over towards Din whose gaze is currently burning into you, and you shift uncomfortably trying to find somewhere else to direct your attention, unsure why you don’t just look at Cobb. You realize why when your eyes shift back to him and the feeling of being watched intensifies. 

“Him?” you reply, trying to sound casual, now hyperaware that Din is currently reading every detail of this interaction, “Oh, he usually just prefers the quiet, you know? Not really the social type. He’s only here because I asked.”

“Just watching over his girl, huh?” Cobb teases, taking a swig of his spotchka.

“His gir—What are talking about?”

He frowns before giving you a knowing look, then risks a quick, pointed glance towards Din, who he’s noticed hasn’t turned his gaze away from you for longer than a few seconds the entire evening. 

“We’re just friends,” you tell him, even if that label doesn’t feel quite right to you. “It’s not like that.” You take a mouthful of drink just to give yourself something to do, and wince at the unexpected bitterness. When you glance back over at Din, your cheeks heat up a little when you realize he’s still looking back. You finally drop your gaze away, reassuring yourself that the weird feeling you’ve suddenly gotten in your stomach is just the alcohol taking affect, but when you look back at Cobb you catch him smirking at you. 

“We’re friends,” you repeat, wondering who you’re trying to convince now, since Cobb seems pretty damn decided on the matter. “Colleagues, you know. We’ve just been through a lot together.” You frown as he chuckles. “What?”

“I did not just spend two days listening to the two of you bicker like an old married couple, to hear you say that you two are ‘just friends’.”

“I don’t know what to tell you. I guess I just don’t look at him that way.”

“Oh, darlin’, everybody sees how you look at him.”

You think back to the desert, to your arms wrapping around him like he might disappear again at any moment; to the arm that had pulled you closer and squeezed you in return. 

You take another gulp of spotchka to calm the fluttering feeling in your belly, and shoot a quick glance over to see if he’s still looking at you.

But he’s gone.

Panic floods over you.

You look around the room, hoping you don’t look as desperate as you suddenly feel, when Cobb nudges you. You look back at him and he nods to the door, where you just manage to catch a flash of cape and armor and Din disappears through it into the night.

Cobb smiles. “Go on. Go talk to the guy. I’ll still be here if you want another drink. If not, I hope we meet again someday.” He tips his glass towards you and you nod, managing a brief smile of appreciation as you stand. 

Your legs feel heavy as you walk towards the exit. It’s dark outside – almost pitch black aside from a scattering of light coming through a few windows, and the few fires burning outside to keep people warm on the cold desert night – and you breathe a sigh of relief as you spot Din still standing out on the road. It looks like the kid is giving him some trouble, his fussy cries reaching your ears easily in the quiet. He settles as soon as he sees you, though, and Din turns to see what has the ability to calm him so quickly. 

Of course, it’s you, he thinks. He should have known – you have the same effect on him.

“Hey,” you greet, still fighting back these unexplained nerves as you approach him. You’d known him for years, spent a lot of time in his company, and been through a lot together, but it’s the first time you feel nervous around him.

“Hey,” he replies simply, “I was just heading to take him back to the ship.” He pauses like he’s weighing up what he wants to say next, then adds, “When should I expect you back?”

“Back?”

“I can meet you there in the morning if that’s more suitable.” 

He’s acting weird, and though you know exactly why, you can’t help but frown at the bitterness in his tone. He’s trying to keep it cool and calm around the kid. You wonder what he’d be saying instead if it was just the two of you. 

“Why would you do that? Why would—” You hate what he’s implying, but you need him to say it, to admit why it’s a problem for him – to know if Cobb’s right. “Where am I supposed to be in all of this?”

You stare at him, the question written on your furrowed brow, wondering if he has the guts to admit the accusation outright. 

He looks back towards the bar and then back at you, cocking his helmet as if he’s expecting you to be the one to make the confession, even if there is a low rage bubbling away inside of him at the thought of it. He thinks back to the desert, to the feeling of your arms wrapped around him, to the way his own arm had come up instinctually to hold you closer, and he thinks of how much he wants that again.

“I’m coming back to the ship,” you tell him.

“Don’t do that on my account,” he replies, and you swear he says things like that just to piss you off. 

Before you can formulate a response, he turns away and starts walking towards his borrowed landspeeder. The Child looks back at you over his shoulder and stretches his little arms towards you with a cry, but Din ignores it.

You almost shout his name, forgetting for a moment where you are, and instead splutter out an awkward ‘Mando!’, which you haven’t called him in over a year; not since he entrusted you with his true name. He stops and slowly turns back. By now the kid is wriggling and fussing so much in his arms that he has to put him down, and the little one immediately heads towards you, reaching up to be held. You scoop him up and Din watches as the kid coos happily and buries his face in your hair. He’d thought they were leaving without you, Din realizes, and he can’t help but wonder if the kid’s picked up on his own emotions too – at his own distress at the thought of leaving you behind. 

He watches you for a moment as you soothe the Child, observing the tender way you fuss over him, and feels guilt start to creep over him.

“I am doing it on your account,” you tell him firmly, after a moment, finally looking back at him again, and his helmet tilts slightly as he stares back at you. You screw up your face like you hate the idea of having to say the next words out loud, but you do anyway for his sake. “I’m not interested in the marshal.”

He makes a non-committal noise like he either doesn’t believe you or he’s pretending it’s not a big deal, and you roll your eyes, turning your attention back to the kid. 

You wonder what you can say, how you’re going to make him understand what you’re feeling, because you can’t go back to the ship like this – things can’t just keep on going how they have been, with the arguments and all these unspoken words that are causing them. So, you step forward, closing the gap between the two of you as you rest a hand against his chest plate to get his attention. 

Din stares down at you, heart thumping as he tries to read your expression and figure out what you’re going to say before you say it, hoping he’ll be less caught off guard this way.

You reach up to the back of his helmet, guiding him down towards you, muttering, “Come here, you idiot.” Then you press your forehead to the cold beskar of his helmet and find a way to tell him.

“Where you go, I go.”

He seems to understand that well enough. 

[blackmissfrizzle]

Angel’s Girl

Characters: Angel Reyes x black!reader

Summary: Angel wants everyone to know you’re his girl. Also, part of a request from @brownsugarcoffy​/  Hi! I don't know if your taking any request, but I saw this picture of this necklace with Angel on it. I was wondering if you would write a imagine of Angel Reyes giving the reader a necklace with his name to claiming her as his old lady and now Angel now wants to only see her wearing his name as they make love. I really adore your writing and know you will do it justice. ❤

Warnings: A lil angst, a lil smut, a whole lotta fluff and cheesiness. 

Here’s more of my work or if you would like to be notified here’s my taglist

At some point, you and Angel knew you had a forever kind of love. The kind of love where you get tattoos expressing that love. When it was your two-year anniversary, he propositioned the idea.

He showed you the sketches he drew of your name. He was so excited, that it physically hurt you to burst his bubble. “Angel, I love you, but there’s no way I’m getting your name tattooed on me.” Angel grabbed you by the back of your neck and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I know, mi dulce. You’re too practical for that, so that’s why I drew you these.”

Moving his page of his drawing of your name Angel revealed a sheet of paper full of angel wings drawings. The one in the center, immediately caught your attention. “That one! That’s the one!”

“Yeah? You like it?” He asked nervously. Angel had only shown his drawings to you and EZ. He was too insecure to share them with to anyone else.

“Duh! And I’ll get ‘em on my fingers and go like this,” you flicked your wrist. “And tell them my super amazingly talented boyfriend drew them.”

“Handsome. Your super amazingly talented handsome boyfriend.”

“Oh, how could I forget!?” You smacked your forehead. “It’s okay, I forgive you.” He kissed your temple and listened to you plan when you and he would get the tattoos while he rubbed the ring finger you flicked at him earlier, thinking how well it would look with an engagement ring.

--

Angel just loved how you showed off your tattoos. Or better yet how you explained the meaning behind them. Club hang arounds? You flaunted that shit and in the next breath you threatened to punch them dead in the face if they ever disrespect you by flirting with Angel. Dudes hitting on you at the bar? You shot them down with the quickness and told them you only belonged to one person and fluttered your fingers like you were already married.

But one day the tattoos weren’t enough. Angel didn’t know what it was, but he knew he needed something else to say you’re his. An engagement ring was out of the question because he had yet to find the perfect one. Luckily, one day he stumbled onto a heart locket that had his name engraved in it and he knew that was it. That would show everyone you were his old lady.

When he brought the necklace to you, you were automatically in love, but you also had to tease him. He was practically going all caveman on you when he requested you always wear it. “Damn Angel, I might as well get your name tattooed on my forehead.”

“Angel!” You hit him as he was seriously mulling over the idea. “I’m just kidding, querdia. We want to take attention away from your big ole forehead not bring more to it.”

--

With your forgetful self, one day you forgot to put your necklace back on after the gym. That didn’t sit well with Angel, especially since you and him weren’t on the best of terms.

“Where the fuck is your necklace, Y/N?”

“In the car. I forgot to put it back on.” You set down your gym bag, went into the kitchen and got you a bottle of water.

“You forgot? Didn’t I tell you to keep it on at all times?” His insecurities were flaring up, driving him to be crazily possessive.

“Angel, I’m not your damn property! When you get that through your thick ass skull give me a call!” And with that you ran out the door with him calling after you was cut off by you slamming the door and running into your car.

That’s how you ended up at the bar, listening to some lame pickup lines.

“Angel, that’s a pretty name.”  The guy pointed to your necklace.

Soon as you decided you were going to the bar you put the necklace back on. “It is.” You replied in a monotone voice, keeping your eyes straight ahead. He didn’t take the hint that you were not interested and continued to talk to you.

When you raised your glass to take a sip, he noticed your tattoos and made some corny joke. Somehow, he kept going even though that was like the fifth joke you didn’t laugh at.

From afar Angel was watching the interaction partly amused and partly jealous. He wanted you to tell the guy get lost, but he could clearly see your annoyance and it was funny to him. He decided he’ll let it go on for a little while longer to let you suffer some more unless it got out of hand.

“So, Angel what’s a beautiful girl like you doing here alone?” The stranger was about to put his hand on your thigh, but he finally picked up on some social cues and stopped himself. “I was enjoying my drink and my name’s not Angel.”

“What? It says it right there.” He pointed to your locket. Oh, this man was dumber than you thought. “Doesn’t mean it’s my name.”

“Then whose name is it?” He got defensive, he didn’t appreciate being made a fool of.

“Her boyfriend’s.” Angel finally decided to intervene when he saw the guy become agitated.

The sleazebag was about to be Billy badass, but then he saw Angel’s kutte and became a stuttering mess. “Sor-so-so-sor-sorry man, I didn’t know she was your girl. My bad.” He didn’t even give Angel time to threaten him. He ran off afraid of what could happen.

“Took you long enough off.” Halfway through your one-sided conversation with your unwanted suitor you saw Angel’s reflection through the bar’s mirror. “You knew I was here? Why didn’t you stop him?”

“I thought you would.”

Angel took your glass and drunk the rest of your drink. “Nah, it was too much fun seeing you suffer.”

“Asshole!” You playfully shoved Angel.

He started to laugh but it eventually died down. “I’m sorry, querida.”

“For being an asshole at home or being one here?”

“At home. That shit here was too funny.” He backed away before you could hit him again. “Seriously though, I’m sorry. I don’t think of you as my property. Yeah this,” Angel moved in closer to grab your necklace, “it means you’re my girl, but the deeper meaner is that you own my heart.”

“So that means I’m not your whore you can fuck however and whenever you want?” You asked with a smirk.

“Check, please!”

—

Angel had you twisted up like some damn pretzel, but you loved it. As soon as you got home, he got on his knees and made you cum three times with his mouth and he would’ve gone for the fourth if you didn’t beg him to fuck you.

“Shit! Who’s pussy is this?” Angel was pounding into you, his eyes were focused on your locket swinging against your neck. “It’s yours Daddy!”

“Damn right it is.” He took your left hand and sucked your ring finger. With his hand he took a hold of your neck. “And next time some little bitch tried talking to you, you shit that shit down. You understand me?”

“Yes, daddy,” you whimpered with tears streaming down your face. Angel was too good at this. You could feel another orgasm mounting up and it felt like it would be the most powerful of all.

Angel noticed you trying to hold back your orgasm because he didn’t give you the permission to cum. “Good girl.” He praised you, leaning forward until your foreheads met. “Daddy’s making you feel good?”

“Yes,” you nodded your head, “You’re so big, I can feel you deep in my tummy.”

He pressed a hand to your stomach. “You’re right, princesa. I’m deep in them guts. But can you do me a favor baby girl?”

“Anything for you.” Angel smiled against your neck. “Cum all over daddy’s cock.” And just like that you did. You screamed Angel’s name at the top of your lungs almost drowning out his own shouts of pleasure.

After that thorough round you wanted to bundle up and go to sleep but Angel made you get up. “Hygiene over comfortability,” he said.

As you went to use the restroom, he changed the sheets and started the bath. Just before you joined him in the tub, he handed you your shower cap. It was blissful silence as you two cleaned up.

Again, Angel was rubbing in your left ring finger. Ever since you got the tattoo there, he’s been obsessed, but he never gave the same attention to your middle finger with the other angel wing.

“Angel?”

“Yes, querida?”

“Why do you keep a hand on my ring finger?”

“Man, I thought you were the smart one of us two.” You splashed some water his way and he quickly apologized knowing you could start a splash war like nothing.

He brought up said finger to his lips and kissed it. “Because I can’t stop imagining how good it’ll look with a ring on it.”

His answer appeased you which led you to your conditions of your proposal. Angel listened eagerly and ingrained each requirement in his head. There was no way he was gonna mess this up.

--

He hadn’t been shopping for it, he just accidentally stumbled on it while at the mall. Weeks later, Angel finally found the perfect engagement ring for you. He was so excited that he planned to propose that night, but your nails weren’t done and one of your requirements were to make sure your nails weren’t ‘raggedy’ as you would put it.

Then another couple of weeks later the opportunity presented itself. You were on your lunch break and you came to the clubhouse to spend it with him and the guys. Your mouth was full of tacos like chipmunk cheeks while you yelled ‘No fucking way!’ at Coco and Angel thought there was no one he rather spend the rest of his days with.

He did a quick check of your nails and they still look good from the day before. Yeah there were people around, but it was people you and him consider family. Your hair was done, and you had a nice outfit on, so all the boxes were checked.

“Querida,” he called out to you to stop you from arguing with Coco.

“Yeah babe?” You turned to him and found him on one knee. “Oh my god!” You jumped up and started wiggling around doing some weird celebratory dance.

The guys turned to see what was happening and they all cracked a smile. “About damn time.” Coco slapped the back of Angel’s shoulders. The rest of the Mayans came out with their guns out when they heard your screams, but quickly put them away when they saw what was happening.

Each time Angel tried to say something you would just squeal and continue dancing, not giving him a chance to get one-word in. “Prospect, get her.” Bishop ordered, seeing how uncomfortable Angel was getting from kneeling on the gravel.

EZ wrapped one arm around your shoulders and the other over your mouth. “I know you’re excited to be my sister-in-law, but you can’t say yes if he can’t ask the question. So, can you be quiet and be still?” You nodded your head fervently and EZ released you.

“Thanks, bro.” Angel cleared his throat before looking at you. He was getting nervous again, but then he saw how you had to contain your excitement and he was overwhelmed with love again. “You know I’m not good with words and shit, but I’ll try. You’re my everything, Y/N. You’re my first thought in the morning and my last thought at night. I honestly can’t think of my life without you because it would be too depressing. God, I hope this isn’t too corny, but here it goes: what’s the point of an angel if there’s no heaven? So, with that being said, Y/N, will you marry me?”

“Yes!” Angel was lucky he started to stand up because you tackled him once he slid the ring on. He was attacked with kisses all over his face and he wondered how could he had been worried about you saying no at all.

“You know you’re gonna be stuck with me forever, right?”

“Yeah, I’m perfectly fine with that. What’s the point of heaven if I don’t have my Angel with me?” Forever with Angel sounded like paradise and you couldn’t wait.

Tagging: @tomhardydallasstarsgirl​ @sadeyesgf​ @woahitslucyylu​ @starrynite7114​ @angelreyesgirl​ @blessedboo​ @ourlittlesecretsoveragain​ @sambucky8​ @mygirlrenee​ @ljstraightnochaser​ @my-rosegold-soul​ @angrythingstarlight​ @richonne4life​ @brattyfics​ @lovebennycolon​ @langiinspirations​ @chibsytelford​ @trulysuccubus​ @spookys-girl​ @brownsugarcoffy​ @thesandbeneathmytoes​ @fvckthisbxtchup​ @theartisticqueen​

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Hot Mess

Prompt: Hi, so I really flippin love your writing style and I was wondering if you could write a fic of the sides just flirting(mainly Janus because we all know he's the best flirter) with each other, like in (Un)wanted chapter 1 where Janus was flustering Virgil really badly, that sort of thing. Could be DLAMP or DLAMPR I don't mind. You don't have too I was just wondering... Thanks either way!

First off, thank you so much for the prompt! Second...

Listen. Everything is awful and I don’t understand how flirting works. Ever. Actually, you know what, no. No one understands what flirting is. There have been so many fucking tests run and no one can ever tell who is flirting ever. It’s bullshit. Everything is bullshit and I’ve never understood a damn thing in my entire life and I’m sure as hell not about to start now. So.

That being said, here. 

Read on Ao3

Pairings: yes. LAMP, DLAMP, DLAMPR. 

Warnings: sympathetic janus & remus

Word Count: 5884

If you ask anyone whose fault is it that everyone, for some reason, starting flirting with each other, they’ll blame Janus. Even Janus. He knows what he did. It’s his fault.

Anyway, there are a few things that are a given. Everyone flirts with everyone, with the one exception of Roman and Remus. They’re brothers. It doesn’t work. Anything else is fair game. Are they being serious? Who knows. Probably. Maybe. Keeping anything straight around the Mindscape is complicated enough, for obvious reasons.

 Doesn’t mean there can’t be some level of trying to keep track of what’s bound to happen at some point.

 Patton’s flirting is both the least obvious and the most obvious. It’s super cheesy pick up lines delivered completely genuinely and the sweetest pet-names ever. But the problem is that’s not too different from how he normally is. For some reason, the Dad Coaxing Tone™ is the worst and he knows it. He doesn’t flirt nearly as often as some of the others do and he’s surprisingly sweet about it. It normally just makes them kind of giggly and slightly redder than normal. Always comes with hugs, which is never something to complain about. Cheeky comments and cheeky smiles that leave them second-guessing everything that just happened. And, of course, by the time they’re just about finished wrapping their heads around what just happened, he’s back with another line and here they go again.

 Roman.

 Jesus. Fucking. Christ.

 They should have expected this because his job is romance but fucking hell.

 His way of showing love is through poking fun at things so…all the teasing. All of it. Not just verbal teasing, even though that in itself is enough to make everyone melt into puddles, but he gets close. Like, sneak-up-and-hug-you-from-behind kind of close. Or he’ll just stand really close with a smirk as he teases them, waiting for them to give in and run into his arms. Or he’ll crowd them against the wall. Or the counter. Someone probably dared him to do this—or not, because, again, it’s Roman—but he definitely pinned Logan to the wall and didn’t let up until his grip on Logan’s wrists were the only thing keeping him standing. Also, super gushy pet-names. Like, super gushy. Like Patton, very fond of telling them how cute they are, including asking them why they’re hiding such a cute face, come on, he wants to see how adorable they are. With Janus and Logan, he makes his voice lower, taking advantage of how close that lets him get. Dramatic monologues or sneaking up and dipping them are a must. He goes full Disney Prince and doesn’t let up until they can’t even ramble anymore, smiling down at their bright red cheeks. With the others, he makes his voice very sweet, soft, and gentle. He gets right in their faces so they can’t go anywhere and riles them up until they’re a melted squirmy mess. It’s not uncommon to find someone—normally Patton or Virgil— an absolute puddle with Roman beaming, just twisting them round and round his finger. Merciless and shameless flirt. Roman is the actual worst and they all love him.

  Virgil is affectionately known as The Meme Flirter. No prizes for guessing who came up with that. He picks one nickname for each of them and just peppers it into conversation with a wink and a smirk. The master of timing. He doesn’t need to spend ages winding them up, he just picks the right moment and they’re covering their faces and squirming. Also uses the technique of being close but not close enough to touch. Sometimes he’ll team up with Roman or Logan and just be there all ‘you know he’s right’ when they look to him for help, or engage in conversation with whoever else is flirting about how red they’re getting, or how much they’re squirming. Or he’ll engage in flirt competitions. He’s way more confident about it than they ever anticipate and it always catches them off guard. He keeps an eye on them though, because he knows the others (especially Roman) can get carried away. “You don’t wanna break ‘em, do you?”

 (They do sometimes but shh.)

 For Logan, infodumping is the actual best way of expressing affection and you will not convince him otherwise. He’ll research topics so they can talk about them together if they want but if you think that is it then boy howdy you are wrong. This guy keeps notebooks on the best way to fluster each and every one of the Sides, okay. He knows his shit. He infodumps about them too, phrasing compliments as provable facts. Will pretend to be confused about why they’re getting so flustered, he’s just telling them the truth, why are you so red? It would be convincing if he weren’t purposefully making his voice as low as it can go and smirking. Also a teasy bastard. He will just ask them to do things he knows they can’t help doing when they get flustered, especially with Patton or Janus. He’s asked Janus to squee for him more often than he would like. (Liar.) Or they’ll be protesting and telling them to knock it off and he’ll just point out that ‘no one is holding you. Nor are we blocking any exits. By all means, if you wish to leave, then you may.’ Knowing perfectly well they’re puddles and puddles can’t move. But then ‘oh, you must not want to leave.’ ‘Accidental’ touches make it worse, as well as nonchalantly adding in pet-names. He’s the one who figured out that pet-names make them melt, by the way. Also figured out that firmer touches help ground them, so he offers them a deal sometimes. If they like, they can come and cuddle with him while he flirts. It gives them an excuse to cuddle and a place to hide, but that does mean he’s murmuring right into their ears. It’s a double-edged sword. When he teams up with Roman they are the worst, especially when they agree that it’s necessary to reestablish emotional stability. Or they’re bored, snickering when poor Virgil bolts out of the room from too much blush. Virgil will run away if it gets to be too much, he’s got that built into his whole deal as anxiety, but Janus…forget about it. That team-up definitely has overwhelmed the poor thing multiple times. You can’t freeze with these predators, they’ll eat you alive. They definitely teased and flirted with him until he burst into tears one time, it was…an experience.

 “Enough!”

 Roman pauses, midway through some dramatic gesture, faltering at the crack in Janus’s voice. Logan glances at him before looking back at Janus, his hands still pressed hard to his face, his shoulders tense. He takes a small step forward and tilts his head.

 “Janus?”

 He calls his name softly until he lowers his hands, unable to stop the comforting noise when he sees the tears on his cheeks. Beside him, Roman inhales sharply, only to make a noise of protest when he immediately covers his face again.

 “Janus,” he says, dropping the flirty persona immediately, “may I touch you?”

  Please say yes, please.

 He nods. Logan reaches out, gently covering his hands to coax them away, clutching them tightly.

 “Too much?” Janus nods. “My apologies, it was not my intention to overwhelm you.”

 “Nor mine, little snake,” Roman says quietly.

 “I know.”

 “Would you like us to stay,” Logan asks gently, giving his hands a squeeze, “or leave you alone?”

 Janus shuffles, his mouth drawing tight and his hands tensing. Logan is content to wait patiently for him to make up his mind, but Roman seems to have other ideas.

 “Oh dear,” he murmurs, stepping a little closer, “we really overdid it this time, didn’t we, darling?”

 “I said enough,” Janus mumbles.

 “I know, I know, I’m done,” he assures, reaching out to tenderly wipe his cheek, “I promise. Oh, oh you poor thing…”

 “Roman,” Logan chides gently, “I don’t think…”

 He trails off when Janus frees one of his hands, tentatively reaching out for Roman. Roman swoops in, gathering him into a hug so tight his fingers whiten from his grip on him. As Logan watches, Roman tilts his head slightly, beginning to pepper kisses along the side of his face.

 “I don’t understand,” he says quietly, “how…how is this not more overwhelming?”

 “I think you’re going to have to wait to ask him that, Specs,” Roman murmurs, “because I don’t know that either.”

 “Then how did you know it would work?”

 Roman looks up at him, sadness coloring his gaze. “Because a different face told me it would.”

  Ah.

 “I’m right here,” Roman says softly, rocking Janus in his arms, “I’m right here, little snake. I won’t let anything hurt you.”

 Janus all but slumps into Roman’s embrace, his head tucking neatly against his shoulder as he presses more kisses to his face.

 “I have you, alright? I’m not going to hurt you, you know I’m not.” Roman adjusts his grip. “It’s just like we always do, hmm? I rile you up and then you come here and I cuddle you right back down.”

 He pulls back to gently catch another tear with his thumb. “Just pushed a bit too far this time, hmm?”

  I rile you up and cuddle you back down.

  Like we always do.

  I’m not going to hurt you, you know I’m not.

 “I understand,” Logan breathes, “I understand now.”

 “Understand what?”

 “What’s happening.” Logan steps forward, gently resting his hands on the part of Janus’s back not covered by Roman’s arms. “And how I can help.”

 “By all means then,” Roman says, “tell us.”

 “Janus is…not accustomed to receiving compliments,” Logan begins, lightly hushing Janus’s noise of protest.

“It’s true, little snake,” Roman says.

 “Yes, and we will work on that,” Logan promises, “but that does make it easy to blindside or disarm him with comments of that nature. Hence…”

 He motions between the three of them.

 “You’re not used to experiencing affection like this,” he continues softly, “and especially not through flirting or playful teasing, which is why it doesn’t take much effort on our parts to fluster you.”

 Janus makes another noise of protest and he shushes him gently.

 “I’m not trying to tease, Janus, I promise,” he murmurs, “but it doesn’t, does it? It makes you uncomfortable because you don’t understand it, not really, so you don’t know what to expect next. We have not exactly been…forthcoming with affection in the past, have we?”

 Janus nods hesitantly.

 “This, however,” Logan continues, leaning a little more of his weight onto his hands, “is a form of affection you understand very well.”

 He steps a little closer, rubbing firm circles into Janus’s back.

 “You are a very heat-sensitive person,” he says, “and you understand how to give and receive affection in this language, so to speak. When one of us touches you while we are teasing or flirting with you, it heightens the loss of control you feel because it’s something that should be familiar, but it’s being used in an unfamiliar way.”

 “But when it’s like this,” Logan continues, leaning closer, “it’s calming. Grounding. Especially after you’ve just been in a state of higher stress. You know what we mean by it.”

 “When I put my hand on your shoulder or your back,” he murmurs, shifting his weight further onto his hands, “you know it means I’m here, right here, and I’m not going anywhere. When Roman kisses you—“ Logan smiles when Roman uses that as an excuse to press another kiss to Janus’s forehead— “you know it means he cares about you, that he won’t let anything hurt you.”

 “Look at our resident genius over here,” Roman says, leaning over to peck Logan’s cheek too, smirking when it brings a flush to his face, “aww, Logan, feeling left out?”

 “No,” Logan replies stiffly, ignoring the growing smirk on Roman’s face, “and even if I were, we have more pressing matters to deal with.”

 “No, no,” Janus mumbles, “I’m good now, I can leave, it can be Logan’s turn.”

 Roman raises his eyebrows. ‘Are you gonna let that go?’

 Logan will most certainly not.

 “I can assure you,” he rumbles into Janus’s ear, “I am perfectly satisfied with our roles as they currently stand.”

 Roman chuckles when Janus squirms in his grip.

 “After all,” Logan continues, “we have just established that this can be quite the cathartic experience for you, it wouldn’t do at all to interrupt it before it is complete.”

 “Did you just…create a scientific excuse to do this in the name of maintaining emotional stability?”

 Logan smirks. “Perhaps.”

 “You know better than to try and argue with Logan about science,” Roman adds.

 Janus swats at them half-heartedly but doesn’t protest when Roman lets him go a few moments later, pressing one last kiss to his forehead and leaving. Logan taps him gently on the shoulder.

 “Am I correct, Janus?”

 “Yeah,” he mumbles, a little red still on his cheeks, “you’re right.”

 “Good.” Logan reaches out and slides the tissue box closer. “And…thank you.”

 He looks up, confused. “For what?”

 Logan smiles. “For telling us it was too much, and for letting us help.”

 That’s the first time Logan’s able to determine exactly how best to help one of them calm down, especially after one of them is incredibly flustered. The first time he implements it is under…slightly different circumstances.

 He’s not quite sure how Virgil and Roman talked him into playing Truth Or Dare, but here he is, on the couch, Roman sprawled across the floor, Virgil perched on the back. So far he’s had to cover his ears from Roman belting the third Disney medley in an hour and he has several questions for Remus about where his good clipboard is. Then it’s Virgil’s turn again and he picks dare.

 “Are you sure, My Chemically Imbalanced Romance?” Roman asks.

 “Just hit me with it, Princey.”

 Roman taps his fingers against his chin, glancing around. His eyes land on a spot over Logan’s shoulder and he grins. Logan follows his gaze and sees Janus in the kitchen.

 “I dare you,” Roman announced, “to flirt with Patton for two minutes.”

 Virgil snorts. “That’s it?”

 Roman just sweeps his arm dramatically. “Your dare awaits.”

 Virgil shrugs, getting up off the couch and making his way to the kitchen. The instant he’s almost there, Roman scrambles up, jumping onto the couch next to Logan, almost landing on top of him, hooking his chin over the back.

 Logan raises an eyebrow. “Comfortable?”

 “Shush, Pocket Protector,” Roman says, flapping a hand, “and get your timer out.”

 Logan rolls his eyes, checking his watch and watching Virgil lean on the counter, propping his chin on his hand.

 “Hey there, cutie.”

 Patton startles, whirling around to see Virgil. “Hey! Wow, you scared me, uh, yeah, hi there!”

 “Sorry,” Virgil smiles, not sounding the least bit sorry, “can’t help it. You look like a cute little bunny when you’re startled.”

 “Oh, god, not this,” Patton mutters, turning around, his face already starting to flush.

Virgil grins, his tongue between his teeth as Patton tries to go back to what he was doing. “You just make it too easy, cutie.”

 “I do not!”

 The grin turns feral. “Then why don’t you turn around and show me that pretty face?”

 “Nope. No thank you. I’m going to stay over here.”

 “Why, afraid of proving me right?”

 “No.”

 “Then come on, cutie,” Virgil says, tilting his head, “turn around.”

 Patton leans his head back, sighing before turning around and spreading his arms. “Happy?”

 “Mm.” Virgil grins. “You’ve got such pretty eyes, Patton.”

 He stutters, his face already turning red. “Oh my god. Stop!”

 “Can’t help it cutie,” Virgil says, waggling his eyebrows and chuckling when Patton covers his face, “I’ve been dared to do this for two minutes!”

 “Good to know,” Patton squeaks, “that this is only happening because it’s mandatory.”

 “Aw, don’t be like that, cutie, you know I’ll flirt with you anyway.”

 “That is not what I meant!”

 Virgil only laughs harder. “You might wanna pace yourself, cutie, you’ve still got…”

 He trails off, looking at Logan. Logan checks his watch.

 “One minute and twelve seconds.”

 “One minute and twelve seconds left,” Virgil finishes, propping himself back up on the counter, “so…”

 The sight is entertaining, Logan has to admit. Patton goes bright and flushed, his eyes squeezing shut, mumbling little things to himself and trying not to whine every time Virgil opens his mouth.

 “Aw,” Virgil teases when he breaks and tries to bite down on his knuckle, “don’t muffle yourself, cutie.”

 “Goodness, you need to stop.”

 “I want your voice on my playlist, it’s so pretty.”

 “Why?”

 “I just said.” Virgil props his chin on his hand again. “It’s so pretty.”

 “No, why are you doing this?”

 Virgil smirks. “Because you’re so pretty.”

 And with that, Patton’s reduced to another blushy panic with plenty of muttered comments and Virgil’s standing there, grinning. It’s refreshing, seeing Virgil so confident, so sure of himself. It looks good on him.

 And, of course, Patton is objectively adorable.

 The scene is so captivating, in fact, that Logan glances down at his watch only to realize the two minutes have expired.

 “Time,” he calls, much to Patton’s relief.

 “Thank goodness.”

 “Aw,” Virgil pouts, “you’ll hurt my feelings, cutie.”

 “Nope. No more.” Patton points a stern finger at him, the effect slightly undone by his pink cheeks and the fact that he’s obviously fighting a smile. “You get out.”

 Virgil just winks and saunters back to the couch.

 “Stellar performance, Dark and Stormy,” Roman declares, giving Virgil a round of applause, “truly excellent.”

 “Well done,” Logan says, “that was quite the display of self-confidence.”

 Virgil just lifts a shoulder and lets it drop. “Eh. Easy dare. My turn now, right?”

 “Indeed.”

 Virgil narrows his eyes, glancing between the two of them. “Princey. Truth or dare?”

 “Dare,” Roman answers immediately, “what kind of prince would I be if I turned down a challenge?”

 Virgil smirks. “Alright, then. You have two minutes to make Patton redder than I did.”

 “Done.”

“Virgil,” Logan chides lightly as Roman prances off toward the kitchen.

 “Relax,” Virgil says, settling in to watch, “it’s not like he’s gonna hurt him.”

 “No, he’s just going to fluster him with the end goal of rendering him inarticulate.”

 Virgil smirks. “Exactly. Now shut up and watch.”

 “Oh, Addie,” Roman calls, smirking at the way Patton startles.

 “Oh, um, hey, Roman, um, what do you want?”

 “I just want to talk to you, Patton.”

 “Oh goodness,” Patton mumbles, already covering his face as Roman crowds him against the counter, “don’t say my name like that, that’s really mean!”

 Roman’s eyes gleam. “Dearest, if you wanted me to call you pet names instead, you only had to ask, my sweet, I’m more than happy to oblige.”

 “No!”

 Roman just smirks, bracing his hands on either side of him. “No? Then what should I call you, gorgeous?”

 Any reply is too muffled for Logan to hear. Virgil snickers as Roman sighs dramatically.

 “Fine, I’ll just have to call you by your lovely, lovely name.” He leans forward to try and peer through the gaps in his fingers. “Almost as lovely as you.”

 He chuckles when Patton whines again, spluttering like a fish out of water. “You’re so cute when you’re at a loss for words.”

 “What do you want?”

 “Oh, I was dared to make you redder than Virgil did.”

 “Why?”

 “Because you’re absolutely stunning, darling,” Roman answers easily, “and it’s stunningly easy to flirt with you.”

 “It is not!”

 Virgil snorts and Logan raises an eyebrow. Roman’s smirk widens.

 “Of course is it, cutie pie,” he coos, “all I have to do is this.”

 “N-no, don’t do that,” Patton stammers, trying to cover his face with a dish towel, only for Roman to catch his hands and effortlessly pull them out of the way, lacing their fingers together and holding them against the counter.

 “What’s the problem, sweetie?” He gently blows a strand of hair out of Patton’s face. “Is it just that I’m…right here? Talking like this to you? Is that it, honey?”

 “Mmm!”

 “Hmm?” Roman tilts his head. “What’s that, cutie?”

 “It’s not even flirting,” Patton manages, still looking as if he’s trying to sink into the counter.

 “I’m not even saying anything, cutie,” Roman coos, “and there’s nothing I enjoy better than being able to render you speechless like this.”

 Logan has to admit, Roman’s teasing is enough to make him shift on the couch, a slight flush rising unbidden to his face. Judging by the way Virgil starts fiddling with the strings on his hoodie, he’s not immune to it either.

 It really should not be that much of a surprise that Roman is one of the most proficient flirters in the Mindscape. Romance, passion, and desire all fall under his purview. And yet, here they all are, slowly growing more and more flustered.

 “Okay,” Virgil mutters just loud enough for Logan to hear, “Princey’s getting me and he’s not even trying.”

 “I concur.” Logan adjusts his tie and glances at his watch. “Thirty seconds.”

 “Come on.” Roman tugs gently at the towel in Patton’s hands. “You have to show me your cute little face, otherwise I won’t know if the dare’s over yet!”

 He finally manages to get the towel away from him and gasps, quickly reaching out to cup his cheeks before he can cover his face again. “Oh, just look at you, you’re even cuter up close!”

  “R-Roman!”

 “Yes, cutie pie?”

 “Let me go!”

 “Go where,” Roman murmurs, pushing Patton gently against the counter, “can you think of anywhere better to be than right here, in my arms, while I tease you silly? Hmm? You’re not even trying to get away, sunshine.”

 “Time.”

 Roman chuckles, stepping back, perching his hands on his hips. “What do you think, redder than Virgil’s go?”

 “Hmm,” Virgil hums, leaning over the back of the couch, “dunno. Can’t see his face from here.”

 “I’m mad at you,” Patton mutters, already covering his face.

 “Aw, no,” Roman purrs, “no you aren’t. Come on, gorgeous, if you don’t show us your face, I’ll just have to do it again!”

 “No.” Patton forces his hands down, making Roman chuckle again. Sure enough, his face is beet red, covering his skin with such intensity that for a moment, Logan worries. Then Virgil snorts.

 “Aww, he’s so cute!”

 “I know, isn’t he?”

 “Oh my goodness.”

 “Virgil,” Logan chides lightly.

 “You’re no fun, teach,” Virgil says, waving a hand, but he concedes. “Yeah, alright, Princey. You win.”

 Roman bows, sweeping his hand in a wide arc, before taking one of Patton’s hands and pressing a kiss to the back of it.

 “Thank you, sunshine.” With a wink, he strides back to the couch and sits down triumphantly. “That was fun!”

 His eyes widen when he sees Logan adjust his glasses nervously and Virgil quickly flips up his hood.

 “Don’t tell me that you got flustered too,” he teases, reaching up to poke Logan’s arm.

 “Enough,” Logan says quickly, “your turn to ask.”

 For a moment, he braces himself for Roman to not, indeed, agree, but then Roman simply pouts and tilts his head up.

 “Logan, dare or dare?”

 Logan blinks. “That is not the game, Roman.”

 “Yeah, but you’re the only one who hasn’t done a dare yet, so…” Roman shrugs. “Dare or dare?”

 “It seems pointless for me to choose between two of the same options,” Logan sighs, “but I will select ‘dare.’”

 Roman tilts his head this way and that, considering Logan. Then he grins.

 “I don’t think it’s fair if we leave Logan out,” he says to Virgil, “do you?”

 “Oh, goodness, hasn’t Patton had enough?”

 Virgil narrows his eyes at him. “So you don’t wanna have a turn?”

 Logan fiddles with his watch. “…I didn’t say that.”

 “Marvelous!” Roman claps his hands. “Oh, don’t be so shy, Logan!”

 “We know you’ve got notebooks full of ways to fluster us, L,” Virgil adds, “you’re good at it, okay?”

 Logan is quite proud of his ability to flirt, although how the others know about his research is a worrying question.

 “So,” Roman says cheerfully, “you have two minutes, but you have a harder job than we did.”

 Logan frowns and Roman’s grin widens.

 “You have two minutes to make Patton melt.”

 “Oh, Logan’s screwed,” Virgil chortles, tugging at his hoodie strings, “he’s so wound up right now.”

 Well.

 Logan gets up, adjusts his tie, and heads for the kitchen, ignoring the way Roman and Virgil scramble up onto the couch to watch.

 Patton’s leaning over the counter, pressing his hand to his forehead. He glances up when Logan enters the kitchen and pauses. Contrary to his previous statement, he doesn’t look upset or angry, simply exhausted.

 “You too, hmm?”

 “I’m afraid so.”

 Patton groans, letting his head drop onto the counter. “Did I do something? Or are you all just bored?”

 “We’re bored,” Virgil shouts, “and you’re cute!”

 “Shh, it’s not your turn anymore!”

 “Shut up, Princey.”

 Logan rolls his eyes fondly, stepping closer. Patton straightens up, waving a hand.

 “Go on. Just get it over with.”

 “And I thought Roman was dramatic,” Logan remarks dryly, “but I am not keeping you here. If you truly wish to leave…”

 He gestures toward the stairs. Patton glances between him and the stairs.

 “…really?”

 “By all means,” Logan says, lowering his voice and leaning against the wall to demonstrate he had no intentions of moving, “be my guest.”

 He watches, carefully keeping his face blank, as Patton starts to edge around the counter. He eyes the little bit of space he’s left and he can see the moment he realizes it’s not enough.

 “Okay,” he says, “I’m gonna go now.”

 “I know.” Logan tilts his head and smiles. “I’m not stopping you.”

 He stops out of his reach and stares at the gap again. One more little push, then.

 “You know…” Logan adjusts his glasses and looks Patton up and down. “You do not seem to be particularly…eager to leave, Patton.” He lets the corner of his mouth turn up into a smirk. “Could it be that…you do not wish to leave?”

 Patton takes the bait.

 As soon as Patton gets close enough, Logan hooks his foot around his ankle and blocks his exit, not bothering to hide his smirk this time. “However,” he says quietly, “I do have a task to perform.”

 “You,” Patton mumbles, closing his eyes, “are mean.”

 “Then allow me to make it up to you.” Logan moves, using his weight to push him back into the kitchen. “I have a proposition.”

 “Logan…”

 Logan smiles, leaning against the counter. “Come here.”

 “That sounds awful.” Logan raises his eyebrows. “…okay, okay, I’m coming.”

 Patton stops in front of him, his arms wrapped protectively around his waist. He does indeed look very cute.

 “Touch can be very grounding for you,” Logan says quietly, careful to keep his voice too low for Roman and Virgil to hear, “so if you like, you may cuddle with me for the duration of the two minutes.”

 “…really?”

 “Yes, really.” He holds out one hand, palm up. “Or, you may leave. I won’t stop you this time.”

 He hugs himself tighter, glancing between the stairs and Logan’s hand. He tilts his head.

 “Come here, Patton,” he murmurs.

 He takes his hand.

 He pulls Patton closer, opening his arms and letting him hug him nervously. He hugs him back, creating a little pocket of intimacy apart from the rest of the room.

 “There…” Logan leans down to whisper in his ear. “Isn’t that better? Now you have something to hold onto, something to hide your face, hmm?”

 Patton nods, his face buried in his shoulder.

 The other thing about having Patton in his arms is that he can murmur directly into his ear, which both prevents Roman and Virgil from hearing anything he’s saying and makes flustering him much, much easier. He says as much, smiling when Patton whines and tightens his grip.

 “Do you know what my dare was, Patton?” When he shakes his head, Logan reaches up to gently run his hand through his hair. “It was not, in fact, to fluster you, but to make you melt.”

 “M-melt?”

 “Yes, dear,” Logan smirks when Patton shudders involuntarily. “Do you like the pet names, little one?”

 “Logan…”

 “Shh,” he murmurs, running his hand through his hair again, “it’s quite alright, dear. Physical affection helps you relax, pet names make you feel cared for. It makes sense.

 “You are a sweetheart. No, no, don’t disagree with me,” he hushes, “you are. You care very much about how you can help other people and you do, sweetheart. It follows that having such affections be returned make you feel good.”

 He tightens his grip, cradling his head against his shoulder. “You feel good right now, don’t you, dear?”

 “…yes.”

 “Then, truly, how can you blame us for wanting to call you so many?” Logan tilts his head a little more. “You always get so flustered by it.”

 “No, I don’t…”

 “You clearly do,” he purrs, “you’re not hiding it well, dear. I can feel how warm your face is, pressed into me like that.”

 As he speaks, he feels it grow warmer still. He chuckles.

 “Oh, there’s really no need to be so embarrassed, dear,” he murmurs, “it makes complete sense. Hugs have been proven to decrease stress, reduce blood pressure, and increase the production of oxytocin.“ He smirks. “Quite the addictive drug, no?”

 Patton whines and he runs his hand slowly down his spine, pulling his hips against his.

 “You are smaller than me—“

 “Hey!”

 “—you are, which increases the feeling of protection,” he murmurs, “and safety, and thus you will relax.”

 He draws the word out with deliberate slowness, the end of it turning into a chuckle as he trembles in his hold.

 “That’s it, dear,” he says softly, “relax. Because there’s one more reason you’re going to melt for me.”

 Logan pauses, glancing up to see Roman and Virgil staring at them over the edge of the kitchen counter. He smirks and puts his mouth deliberately close to Patton’s ear.

 “You care for me, don’t you, Patton,” Logan whispers, his breath ghosting over his neck, “you do, don’t you? You care for me.”

 Patton whimpers.

 “Say it, dear,” Logan coaxes, “say you care for me?”

 “…of course I do,” comes the strangled whisper.

 “Of course you do,” he purrs, “of course you do, and here you are…wrapped up in my arms…letting me call you pet names…letting you hide your blush in the crook of  my neck…”

 He shifts one last time, making sure Roman and Virgil can see. Raising his voice slightly, he cups the back of Patton’s head protectively. He glances at his watch.

 “Ready?” He threads his fingers through the baby hairs on the back of Patton’s neck.

 “One…two…three, melt for me, dear.”

 The two minutes run out just as Patton whines and melts into a blushing little puddle in Logan’s arms.

 “Holy shit,” Logan hears Virgil mutter, “he fucking did it.”

 “I’m never underestimating him again.” Roman throws his hands up. “He did it in two minutes.”

 He tightens his grip, his nails scratching the back of his neck. “Good job, dear.”

 And if it makes him shudder and lean into him a little more, well, that’s just something else to add to the notebook.

 It’s cathartic; he can wind them up, make them all flustered, and then open his arms and cuddle them right back down, give them the reassurance of getting all worked up in a safe environment where nothing’s really gonna hurt them. Plus, if they’re too tired to protest when he peppers kisses all over them, that’s just a bonus.

 Janus—the one whose fault this is—is classic spy movie seduction. Textbook. His silver-tongue makes compliments as smooth as his scales and subtle touches that make their heads spin. Pet names, snarky comments, teasing, the lot of it. He knows they have a thing for his voice. All he has to do most of the time is get close and purr and they’re putty in his hands. Sometimes he’ll stay further away where they have nowhere to hide and just watch them squirm. Sometimes he just has to look at them a certain way and they’re gone. He is the embodiment of using the business end of your weapon to homo-erotically tilt up your opponent’s chin. Rivals Roman for how easy it is for him to make them flustered, but unlike Roman, with him, it’s a toss-up. He knows he’s a lot, and odds are, if he’s going to flirt with them, it’s more likely to be for the catharsis reason and less because they’re fun to play with. (Even though they are.) So, if he’s not having a competition with another Side or in a playful mood, he’s much gentler about it than Roman is, he’ll stop a lot sooner or pull them into his lap for cuddles. Or, like Remus, he’ll just touch them, let them hide their face in the crook of his neck, and just run his hands over them. It’s a perfect combination of grounding and flustering. Plus, warmth is good for snakes and there’s nothing warmer than a bright, flushed, flustered face. Totally doesn’t fluster people on purpose to steal their body heat.

 Remus is by far the only side where his approaches are completely different depending on who it is. Virgil is flustered very easily by his innuendos and everything, the more audacious, the better. Sometimes it resorts to the two of them having a flirt-off, the loser hiding their face while the victor cackles. Or Remus will make something that totally isn’t an innuendo into one and Virgil’s gone. For Logan, often he’ll just find him and tackle him onto the nearest surface, flopping down on top of him like a cat and listening as Patton starts verbally vomiting as he gets redder and redder. But overt sexual references make Patton and Janus really really uncomfortable, so it’s the bad kind of flustered. Instead, he’ll just find them and cuddle them and loudly explain how they are in fact the best cuddler. He finds how embarrassed they get very amusing. And if it has the side effect of summoning everyone else to a cuddle pile both because of the outrageous idea that anyone is better at cuddling than them and also free cuddles, well. Oops.

 So yeah. It’s a fucking mess.

 At least it’s a hot mess, right?

General Taglist: @frxgprince @potereregina @reddstardust @gattonero17 @iamhereforthegayshit @thefingergunsgirl @awkwardandanxiousfander @creative-lampd-liberties @djpurple3 @winterswrandomness  @iminyourfandom @bullet-tothefeels @full-of-roman-angst-trash @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind @demoniccheese83 @pattonsandershugs @el-does-photography @princeanxious  @firefinch-ember @fandomssaremysoul @im-an-anxious-wreck @crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch @enby-ralsei @unicornssunflowersandstuff @wildhorsewolf @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv @your-local-fookin-deadmeme @angels-and-dreams @averykedavra @a-ghostlight-for-roman @private-snippers @treasurechestininterweb @cricketanne @aularei @queerly-fluid-fan @compactdiscdraws @elizabutgayer @i-am-overly-complicated @annytheseal @alias290 @such-a-dumbass

If you want to be added/taken off the taglist let me know!

[littleoldrachel]

"how much did you drink?"

for the utterly wonderful @gumnut-logic who asked for how much did you drink? with virgil and scott from this prompt list. tysm my lovely 💚💚💚💚 this ran away from me a bit and i am Not Sure but i hope you still enjoy!

[if you wanna prompt me, hmu! but beware i am slooooow]

Scott slinks through the sliding doors, relishing the cooling sweat on his skin as the sky begins its raspberry ripple across the tropical island. His dawn runs are the only time he gets to really be - he loves his family with everything he has and more, but that half hour with just the consistent crunch of earth beneath his feet is his own perfect sanctuary.

And goodness knows he needs it after the past couple of days.

A flash of Alan’s terrified face as the grapple line gave way and he’d plunged -

Scott screws up his face, crumpling the image like one of Virgil’s discarded “rubbish” (read: brilliant, if rough around the edges) sketches.

Speaking of which, it’s time for Scott to do the rounds and check in on his sleeping brothers.

There’s Alan, sprawled haphazardly across the floor of his bedroom - the only sign of his near-death encounter in the careful bandaging around his forearm (“I can too still game like this, Scott, I’m not balancing the controller on my wrists??”). Gordon too, is starfished on his duvet, but beginning to stir as fractured sunlight dances across his room.

Virgil, however - most unusually - is not burritoed in blankets, which sets Scott’s choir of alarm bells ringing. He hesitates, then sighs, patching through to Thunderbird Five even as he makes his way to Virgil’s studio (also empty).

“John?” he asks quietly, because John works on an unpredictable sleep schedule that gives Scott more stress than he cares to admit, but he would like John to be sleeping right now.

“John is sleeping, Commander. May I be of service?” EOS’ voice is more than a little grating in comparison to the bird song that floats through Virgil’s open windows. Scott resists the urge to grit his teeth - he is trying, okay?

“EOS. Hi.” He rubs his chin, eyes catching on the top sketch of Virgil’s messy pile: Thunderbird One streaking across a stormy sky mid-lightning strike. “Can you tell me where Virgil is?”

“Virgil is in the hangars, where he has been for the last thirteen and a half hours,” EOS says primly.

Scott’s head snaps up, even though there’s nobody there to stare at. “What? Did he fall asleep down there?”

“No, Commander, he is very much awake.” There’s something in her tone that riles him up, a pre-rehearsed nature to it, but he deliberately sets it aside for Future Scott. He’s given a curt thanks to EOS before he’s even registered that he’s striding down to the hangars, concern driving him with a speed usually reserved for rescues.

He hears Virgil before he sees him, a loud swear and a clatter of tools as he’s rounding the corner into the workshop.

Virgil is kneeling over a workbench, picking glumly through the jumble of parts skidding across the surface. Dark brows knitted tight, skin pale beneath fluorescent white lights, a graveyard of abandoned mechanisms, drained mugs, and scraps of graph paper all around him.

"Virgil."

It comes out a little sharper than intended, slicing through the silent workshop and causing Virgil to start violently.

"Scott! What are you doing here?"

"I came to ask you the same thing?"

"I'm…" Virgil gestures vaguely at the chaotic work surface. "Fixing."

"Have you had any sleep?

Virgil frowns. "I'm fine, it's not that late yet."

Scott stares, concern steadily rising. Virgil is known for losing track of time when absorbed in a task, but only usually with his art, and only for this period of time when he's upset, working something through, or...

Only then does Scott take in the way Virgil's hands tremble around the pieces of metal in his fingers, the jittering beat of his leg like helicopter wings, and slight dampness of the unstyled waves of hair across his forehead. He blinks at Scott, squinting a little in that way that Scott knows means a killer headache is brewing.

Methodically, the Commander of International Rescue surveys the room, searching for the source of the issue. His eyes land on the culprit: a coffee-stained jug, completely drained save the dregs of coffee grounds plastering the sides of the container.

It’s a big jug.

Scott swears.

“Virg. How much did you drink?”

Virgil’s eyes dart all over, not resting for a second on Scott’s face. “I - I don’t know. I just had some whenever I got tired and now I’m-” He wrings his hands, sending metal parts spilling from his palms.

“But why? What the hell were you thinking?” Scott’s tone is chiding, too harsh, and he makes a deliberate effort to reign in the reprimand that’s rearing up inside him.

“I just... “ Virgil swallows, meeting his eyes for a moment, looking away at the disappointment there. “I just needed to understand what happened to the grapple lines. To make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

Oh, Virg.

Scott softens, Commander melting back into Protective Big Brother because he gets it. God knows he gets it. He steps towards Virgil, wraps a hand around his elbow, feels it shake beneath his touch.

But why like this, Virgil?

“For thirteen hours?”

Virgil blinks and the genuine surprise in his eyes is enough that Scott accepts that this wasn’t a deliberate act of self-destruction and that loosens the anxious knot in his chest a little.

“I didn’t mean -”

“I know.”

Virgil ducks. “I just needed to find out -”

“I know.”

Virgil bites his lip, and Scott knows the image of their littlest brother’s panicked face is stuck on repeat in his mind. Scott closes his eyes, allows the video to roll in his own head, and the pain that rips through his chest has him tugging Virgil into his arms for a hug. Big as he is, Virgil is never one to say no to a hug, and he folds himself into Scott’s chest with a sigh. Scott can still feel the tension thrumming through Virgil’s body, and he instinctively tightens his grip.

Trust Virgil to hurt himself with his bean-juice addiction. Frankly, they’re lucky this hasn’t happened before with the amount of the stuff he pours into his body.

“I know I’m not having a heart attack, but -”

“You know I love it when you begin a sentence like that -”

Virgil tries to laugh but it comes out a little shaky. "Shut it, you." He rests his head on Scott's shoulder. "My heart is going so fast it hurts. Feels like a goddamn panic attack."

“What the hell have you done to yourself?”

“Mild caffeine overdose,” Virgil’s voice comes out muffled. “Sorry.”

“Mild. Caffeine. Overdose.”

Virgil laughs again, a little surer this time and pulls back from the hug. “I’ll be okay. Just gonna feel horrible for a bit, I think.”

“You think. Let’s see if Grandma agrees.”

“No! Let her have her time away - this is - it’s stupid. I’m fine.”

Scott gives him a Look, but Virgil glowers right back.

Scott loves him, but Jesus, does he wish he could trust Virgil to be honest with him about his health.

“Don’t make me set you up in the infirmary. You know I’m not bluffing.”

The glare intensifies. “I’m fine, Scott.”

Scott resists the urge to roll his eyes with a truly Herculean effort. “I want to do a scan, just to be sure.” “Scott -”

He plays the trump card (regrets playing it at the look on Virgil’s face, but needs must). “I could have lost Allie too, Virg. Don’t make this harder than it is.”

Virgil sags. He taps his watch. “EOS?”

“Yes, Virgil?”

“Please can you pull up my vitals for my dear big brother to fret over?”

“Of course, Virgil. Though I don’t understand why you want Scott to fret, he seems grumpy en-”

“Thank you, EOS.”

A holograph flickers into view, and Scott scans them, relaxing slightly at the lack of danger. Virgil’s heart rate is too high, as expected, and he’s dehydrated and exhausted, but otherwise, he really does seem okay. Still, Scott knows how dangerous dehydration and exhaustion can be, and more to the point, so does Virgil.

“You’re a stubborn idiot, you know that, right?”

“I learned from the best.” Virgil’s smile is teasing, but he’s okay, and Scott releases the breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure, Scooter, whatever you say.” Scott glares. “Right. You’re grounded for at least a day -” To his credit, Virgil only looks a little crestfallen. “- And you’re going to rest.”

Scott can practically see the cogs turning in his brother’s mind as he seeks a loophole or way to escape, but for now, he’s going to ignore it. Another problem for Future Scott, poor guy …

“Let’s go. Up to the lounge, now.”

“I should clear up -”

“Nuh-uh. Lounge. Now.”

Virgil lets out a loud sigh, and with much griping about leaving the workshop messy for Brains, leads the way up to the lounge. Scott follows closely, eyeing how Virgil’s feet drag with exhaustion even as his fingers tap away with restless energy.

Scott deposits him on one of the couches, tosses a throw over him, and resists the urge to tuck him in, but only because -

“I’m not sick, Scott. I’m okay! This isn’t necessary,” Virgil calls after him. Scott returns seconds later, a glass full of water.

“Drink all of this. And then have these.” Scott drops two electrolyte tabs beside Virgil. “Now excuse me, but I’m going to consult a qualified medical opinion before I believe you.”

“I am a qualified medical opinion -”

“- Who hasn’t overdosed on caffeine this morning.”

Virgil scowls. “I’m never going to live this down, am I?”

*****

Scott returns with Gordon, whose concerned professionalism quickly morphs into a shit-eating grin when it becomes apparent that actually, Virgil - for all his brilliance and talent - is an idiot.

But he’s surprisingly gentle when he fetches Virgil another glass of water and suitably soothing as they take a calm stroll around the flatter paths of the island to help Virgil burn some restless energy. The waft of pancakes draws them back into the lounge where Scott has stacked up thick, fluffy pancakes that melt on their tongues and warm them inside out.

By now, Virgil is visibly less shaky, and Gordon’s concern has dissipated to the extent that he blatantly steals three pancakes off Virgil’s plate. To be fair, Virgil probably doesn’t need six pancakes, but still. It’s the principle of the matter.

Scott - bless his heart - has also queued up the latest series of the ocean documentary that Gordon and Virgil gush over, but that Scott himself finds mind-numbing. The three of them squash together on one sofa, chomping pancakes and squabbling over blankets as the sun rises on another beautiful day.

Alan strolls in, nose first and still half-asleep. “Pancakes?” he says hopefully.

He catches sight of Virgil and seems to shake himself awake immediately. “Virgil? What the hell are you doing up?”

“Language,” Scott says thickly, the effect lessened by the mouthful of pancake and chocolate spread inside it.

“What the heck,” Alan waves a dismissive hand. “It’s barely ten, Virg?”

“Tell him what you’ve gone and done,” Scott says, because damn straight is he going to hold onto this one the next time Virgil’s yelling at him for taking a stupid risk. Well, at least I can drink coffee without poisoning myself, Virgil can just hear it now. .

“I drank too much coffee,” Virgil tells the ceiling.

“Sorry, V,” Gordon says, his smile wicked. “Allie didn’t quite catch that.”

Virgil sighs. “I overdosed on caffeine,” he says loudly.

“That’s a thing?!” Alan splutters. And then he bursts out laughing and Virgil wants to glare because he’s exhausted and his head is throbbing and there’s an anxious wriggle in his chest that keeps poking at his limbs.

But he also thought for one terrible moment yesterday that he wouldn’t get to hear that laugh again. The relief is infectious.

It never takes much to set Gordon off, but cracking Scott is a true victory, because for a second, the lines around his eyes crinkle with something other than stress.

Alan sets himself up with pancakes (far too smug that he’s allowed the chocolate spread on his where Virgil was only allowed syrup), and plonks himself down on Virgil’s right, bandaged arm and all. Whilst Gordon and Alan quarrel over species of tropical fish, Scott looks over at Virgil, raising his eyebrows. Are you okay? it says.

Virgil smiles and nods.

Inevitably, Scott and Gordon are called away on a rescue, just as Alan has grown tired of the nature documentary and is demanding something more exciting. Virgil consents to the first movie Alan picks out, because he’s too busy watching Gordon fly his beloved ‘Bird away with an expert hand.

God, he’s so tired. His limbs are heavy and aching from the tension of holding them in place all night and his head pounds in beat with his too-fast heart..

He’s utterly exhausted. If only his mind could get the memo. Instead it careens between thought processes: the grapple lines, his failed calculations, the disaster zone he’s left the workshop in -

It doesn’t matter though.

Because Alan’s alive and that’s all that matters.

Alan, whose gentle hand snakes through Virgil’s hair in a tender, soothing way that plucks at the knot of anxiety in Virgil’s chest, whose ministrations are a blessed, momentary pain relief for his sore head.

*****

It’s dark when he wakes, though he doesn’t remember his overwrought brain finally giving into sleep. His limbs no longer feel like they’re spasming out of control and his head aches with a more manageable pain, but he’s still drained. On the floor next to him, Alan is snoring at the centre of a nest of blankets - at least two of which Virgil is sure were wrapped around himself before...

He raises his head to look for his water glass, and nearly jumps out of his skin at the sight of his oldest brother standing in the shadows, watching. He’s still in his uniform, which suggests Thunderbird One just docked - presumably her engines through the open patio doors are what woke him.

“What the fuck, Scott?” he hisses.

“Sorry,” Scott says, though he doesn’t sound particularly apologetic. He moves into the light, and repositions Alan so that he can rescue one of the blankets for Virgil once more. “Go back to sleep.”

“Did the rescue go okay?” Virgil asks instead, relieved at Scott’s easy nod - and relatively clean, dry appearance.

“Gordon’s heading back now, all good. And no issues with grapples today, thank God.” Scott’s voice is low but Virgil still flinches from it.

“I’m going to find out what happened, Scott, I swear -”

“I know you will.” Scott’s voice is so firm, so strong that it momentarily steals Virgil’s breath how much faith Scott has in him. "I know you’ll figure it out, Virg. But you don’t have to do it on your own. You and Brains will work on it and find a solution, John’s going to identify the person responsible, and EOS will make sure they can never do it again. But it’ll be when you haven't overdosed on caffeine. Do you understand?”

It’s the kindest of reprimands. The same kind of pleading why won’t you just take care of yourself tone that Virgil finds himself using more and more on Scott these days, but with so much understanding and love, Virgil finds himself blinking back tears.

He can only nod and Scott steps back. “I’m going to go shower. Get some rest, Virgil.”

Scott turns to leave and Virgil forces himself to muster up his barely replenished energy reserves. He snags Scott’s sleeve, “Scott - thank you.”

Scott smiles a smile that’s just them, soft and trusting and concerned. “God knows you’ve looked after me through far worse hangovers than this. But don’t you dare do this again, Virg. I mean it. Don’t make me confiscate all the coffee on the island, because you know I’ll do it if I have to.”

“I know you will.”

Scott runs a hand through Virgil’s messy waves fondly, letting his hand rest at the nape of his neck where the headache pain is regrouping. “Sleep, Virg.”

And he does.

[thebakingqueen5]

KW 2021: Height Difference

Day 1 for Kataang Week 2021 hosted by @kataang-week with the prompt Height Difference!

Links: AO3 | FF.net

Summary: Another year, another summer, another week of prompts celebrating our favorite couple. Kataang Week 2021 Day 1: Height Difference. It’s his 14th birthday and Aang is feeling frustrated. Katara wants to help and Aang confides in her about some of his insecurities.

Word Count: 2.2K

After a long day of festivities, night had finally fallen across the Fire Nation palace, and Aang and Katara were ready to head to bed and get some well-earned rest.

The couple had just finished up at the banquet and silently walked through the dimly lit halls to Aang’s room so as to not alert Katara’s overprotective brother. Though they had merely been cuddling the last few nights before sleeping, Sokka would surely throw a fit if he knew that they were sharing a room at all, hence a bit of secrecy was needed.

At last, they arrived- the third door on the right in the central wing of the palace had been designated the Avatar’s quarters since as early as Kyoshi’s time. It was a fair distance away from the rest of the bedrooms in the west wing, and it also had far more extravagant commodities with its own mini-courtyard and balcony, giving the pair plenty of space to get away from the rest of the world and simply enjoy being with each other.

“Today was fun,” Katara sighed as they finally entered the room, taking off her shoes at the entrance and immediately going towards the inviting bed.

She let herself fall onto the soft mattress, groaning softly as her limbs were finally able to relax after a long day of dancing, cooking, and celebrating for the airbender’s 14th birthday, while Aang gently closed the door with a soft thump.

“Yeah,” Aang chuckled as he joined her on the bed. He pulled some of the thin cotton sheets over them and then curled up next to her on his side.“It sure was... something.”

The waterbender shifted slightly to allow her boyfriend to rest his head in the crook of her neck and absentmindedly traced the outline of the blue arrow on his head while he closed his eyes in contentment.

“Something?” she questioned. Katara furrowed her eyebrows, her movements faltering. “Did you not have fun, Aang?”

The airbender winced when he heard the twinge of hurt in Katara’s voice. She hadn’t been trying to make it sound that way, but she had been planning the event for weeks and naturally was a little offended by the implication of his words.

“Oh. No, sweetie, I didn’t mean it that way. The party was amazing! The food, the drinks, the music, everything was spectacular. You did an amazing job, and it means a lot to me that you care so much.”

Katara let out a quiet breath of relief, resuming her gentle touches to his tattoos.

“Of course I care, sweetie. You’re my boyfriend, and I love you. That’s why if you didn’t like it, I won’t be mad, really.”

Aang tilted his head up and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek. “That wasn’t it, I promise. I just… I had  a bit on my mind today.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked him tenderly.

He sighed and buried his face in her neck. “I guess... it would be nice to get it off my chest. It’s not like anyone else would get it anyways.”

The waterbender gave him a curious look, silently encouraging him to continue.

“It’s so stupid, but I heard some nobles talking when I stepped away to get us some water. They just kept going on and on about how much of a child I was and how I’m too young and too scrawny and too short for you, and, well, they’re right!”

He turned his body away from her now frowning face and pulled the blankets snug around his body like a protective cocoon.

“You’re almost 16, Tara,” Aang murmured. “A young woman in every sense of the word. Spirits, you’re of marrying age in a month! Me? I’m just a loser kid you found washed up in an iceberg. How could I ever be deserving of you?”

“Oh, Aang…”

She shifted onto her side as well and wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her head on his back and listening to the rhythm of his breathing.

“Those nobles are utterly ridiculous. First of all, it’s only two years! What difference does two years make in the long run? It doesn’t, that’s what. My parents were four years apart and were the happiest two people in the world! A gap of two years is insignificant,” she said matter-of-factly.

“Second of all, sure we’re young, but considering that we saved the world even younger, I think it’s safe to say we’ve matured beyond our years. We’re certainly old enough to know we love each other, and that’s all that matters.”

“Doesn’t change the other part though,” Aang muttered in response. “Spirits, I’m 14 and barely the same height as you. A little shorter if we’re being honest. It’s so annoying! Why can’t I just grow up already?”

“Sweetie?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t mean for this to come off the wrong way, but why do you care about that? What difference does it make?”

The airbender remained silent for a few moments and pondered her question, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

“The monks had always taught me to judge people based on the content of their character, not their exterior, and to draw satisfaction from being self-assured, rather than care about what other people thought. And in most cases I feel like I do that pretty well, but…”

“But?”

A subtle pink tinted Aang’s cheeks and he took her hands in his, stroking the back of her hand with his thumb.

“You’re different, Katara. You’re the one I love more than anything, the one I would do anything for, the one whose opinions, thoughts, and feelings mean the world to me. You’re the most amazing person on the planet, and you deserve someone worthy of you. Look at Haru and Jet! They were both older and taller and so even something as small as noticing the height difference when we’re dancing kinda hurts. It just feels like I’m the odd one out. I know that’s silly but-”

The waterbender cut him off and shook her head.

“It’s not silly, Aang. Believe me, I’ve felt the same way more times than I’d care to admit. But, in the end, none of that matters. I love you. I chose you . You’re not just my boyfriend, you’re my best friend."

He turned back around to face her and swept her up in an embrace, mind immediately put at ease by her words.

“Plus,” she continued, “So what if you’re a little shorter than me now? You’ll grow in no time. Quite frankly, I’ll miss being taller than you when you do.”

The airbender quirked an eyebrow. “You’ll miss it?”

Katara chuckled softly and pressed a kiss to his forehead, right at the tip of his arrow.

“Yeah,” she whispered, “I will. Being able to do that, not having to look up or go on my toes trying to kiss you, I won’t be able to do all that forever. Things like kisses, hugs, they’re a lot more… accessible with our current heights.”

“Hmm,” Aang hummed. “I guess I never really thought of it like that. I still want to grow taller of course, but when you put it like that, I might miss this a little bit too.”

“Let’s not get too carried away with the future, okay?” Katara laughed. “We have our whole lives ahead of us, let’s just stay in the present- the present where I love you, and you love me, and nothing else matters.”

The airbender grinned with her, pressing his forehead gently to hers.

“I like the sound of that. Thank you, sweetie. For listening, for the reassurance, just everything. It means a lot.”

“Of course, sweetie. I’m always here.”

Katara pressed a sweet kiss to his lips and wrapped her arms around his neck as Aang returned it, pulling her closer to him. They broke apart after a few seconds and grinned like idiots at one another. There was silence, but it was comfortable. The two didn’t need words, they were just enjoying being with each other.

“It’s getting late,” the waterbender murmured after some time. “We should probably go to bed.”

“Probably,” Aang whispered back, unable to take his eyes off the angel in front of him. With a flick of his wrist, he put out the candles that had been lighting up the room and settled into his pillow as Katara drew closer to him and interlocked their fingers.

“Good night, Aang. Love you,” she said, beginning to drift off to the dream realm.

“Love you too, Tara,” the airbender yawned. “Sweet dreams.”

One year later…

“Happy birthday!” the room chorused as Aang blew out all his 15 candles.

The airbender grinned and began to cut the apple cake- an ancient recipe of the Air Nomads recreated by some of the top chefs in the Fire Nation as a gift from Zuko.

“Thanks guys!” Aang laughed. “Man, it’s crazy to think that the war has been over for a little more than two years now.”

Katara smiled and leaned up on her toes to press a kiss to his cheek.

“We’ve all done a lot of growing up. We’re older, more mature-” she gave Aang a quick look from head to toe. “ Taller .”

He chuckled, pulling her close to him and peppering kisses all over the top of her head. She was right, of course- as if triggered by their conversation that night, Aang had grown rapidly over the next year. A month later he was the same height as her, two months following he was comfortably able to rest his arm on her shoulder, and now, a year later, he towered above her with her eyebrows barely at his chin.

“Ugh,” Sokka groaned. “Give it a rest you two. The oogies are out of control! Spirits, you act like a newly wedded couple still in the honeymoon stage half the time.”

“Oh, leave them alone, Sokka,” Suki chided. “It’s his birthday! Let’s give the lovebirds some alone time. They’re just kids, they’re nowhere near that yet.”

“Yeah, haha, absolutely not,” Aang nervously laughed as the other couple exited the room. The stone pendant in his pocket began to feel like poisonous lead weighing down his vision for the hopefully not-so-distant future.

“You never know,”  the airbender heard Katara mumble, so quiet he wasn’t even sure she had actually said it. “Sometimes things will come when you least expect it.”

He stood there blankly for a moment, brain struggling to process her words and had just opened his mouth to ask her what she meant (she couldn’t possibly be talking about what he thought she was… right?) when she decided to speak up instead.

“I can’t believe you were ever nervous about staying short, sweetie,” Katara quipped, her eyebrows raised teasingly.

Aang merely blinked at the subject change, promptly concluding that the last thirty seconds were simply a figment of his imagination, and sheepishly scratched the back of his head in response to her comment.

“I guess it was kinda silly, huh,” he laughed. “Look at us now.”

The waterbender pouted, going up on the balls of her feet and craning her neck to gaze up at him. “You’re too tall for your own good. I miss when you were shorter and I didn’t have to tilt my head every time just to look at you.”

“Oh c’mon, it has its benefits.”

He gave her a quick look to warn her for what he was about to do, and with one swift motion, Katara was suddenly off the ground and in Aang’s arms bridal-style, her arms around his neck and their gazes interlocked.

The airbender touched their foreheads together and gave her a cheesy grin.

“I couldn’t do this before, now could I?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow up at her.

“No,” Katara smiled, her head tilted as she looked at him endearingly, “I suppose you couldn’t. And I certainly won’t be one to complain about you holding me more often.”

Aang laughed and carefully set her back down, hearing the growing volume of the room next to them. He quickly grabbed the two full glasses on the table and handed one to the waterbender.

“Here’s to hoping you’re the one who grows by next year so my neck isn’t always sore from looking down at you,” he said as he held his drink up.

Katara gave him a dry stare before rolling her eyes and smiling.

“Cheers.”

The two clinked their glasses and turned to face the door behind which the rest of their friends had already begun to celebrate.

“Shall we?” Aang asked as he held out his arm to her.

“We shall,” Katara responded, accepting it. “Happy birthday, Aang.”

[be-gay-do-heists]

OKAY finally finished with eliot hand pain hurt/comfort fic, and i couldn’t actually decide whether i preferred it in second or third person POV, so i’m going to put the second person POV under the cut here, and make a separate post with the other version so folks can read which they prefer. nothing is different between the two besides the POV !

------

Contrary to what the four crazy people you spent your time risking your life for nowadays thought, you didn’t like the pain.

There was nothing cleansing about it, nothing satisfactory. A ringing hit to your jaw didn’t feel like penance. The actual protection aspect was a different story. Standing like a wall between your people and danger, there was nothing that made your ribs ache with pleasure like that; a wall didn’t feel, didn’t think, it was just an immutable fact. You were an immutable fact. The problem was that the wall-as-you, or perhaps the you-as-wall, had to become human again sometime after the last man went down and the last dollar bill was stuffed into a duffel. To hurt was human, and not just to hurt but to remember the wound long, long after, for it to live in your knees and wrists and between the vertebrae in your spine. Some days— and this was a product of how long after a job it had been, how hard you had pushed—some days were worse than others. The fact that some days the first sound out of your mouth wasn’t even a groan, but a whine, or worse the half-awake pleading for please please make it stop i’ll do anything just make it stop—

No, you didn’t like the pain.

Comparatively, today was a good day. Today, you could get out of bed. Your head and body were blessedly in agreement that it was in your best interests to swing your twinging knees to the side of the mattress, push yourself up onto legs that were sore but stable, with arms that shook only slightly. But compared to your best days, the ones where except for the old shoulder injury which would never let you forget it and the scar on your hip that put a hitch in your giddy-up in all kinds of weather, the days on which except for those you sometimes even forgot the pain, this didn’t hold a candle. Today your hands were so beat and weak that the ache radiated up to your mid-forearm, settled into you all familiar-like and made its home in you.

In the bathroom, you used your wrist to turn on the faucet and stuck your mouth under the water to drink. Holding a cup was off the agenda. Your morning routine was interspersed with winces, not unusual for your post-job bathroom adventures, and if it took you longer to shimmy on the sweats you knew you wouldn’t be getting out of today, it made you appreciate the comfort of wearing them a little more.

Going handless was fine until you were face to face with the fridge, and resisting the urge to growl at it, like that would solve anything. Taking a deep breath, you put a hand on the stainless steel handle, testing your grip. A light flex had you drawing it back like the metal had burned you, like someone had snapped a tight clothespin onto each ligament. You took a moment to pace a couple steps, let out a loud but cathartic expletive, and then wedge your hand between the handle and the door so you could open the fridge with your elbow strength. The feeling of triumph behind your collarbone faded quickly as you scanned its contents and realized there was nothing you wanted to eat, or at least nothing you wanted to hold and eat. The thought of grasping a fork brought another growl to your throat, and you slammed the fridge door to stomp to the couch and throw yourself down, cradling your hands in your lap.

You knew the drill: in an hour, you would grit your teeth and get to up to try and fumble open your bottle of painkillers, and if you succeeded, you would wait another hour for them to truly kick in so you could handle the tv remote, put on whatever game was on, and vegetate on the couch until further notice. The phone you had left on your nightstand rang loudly, fully audible from the other room, blaring out the chorus to “Macho Man” that Hardison had put as your ringtone and you hadn’t figured out how to get rid of yet. If it was important, whoever it was would call again, so you ignored it. Your ire rose when the same noise sang out from the bedroom a couple minutes later, a bit-off groan escaping from your clenched teeth as you levered yourself up to get to it as fast as you could, awkwardly accepting the call and maneuvering the phone between your shoulder and ear. “What?”

“Man, we haven’t heard from you since we split yesterday, I thought we were gonna get a beer downstairs last night?”

You rubbed your eyes with your wrist, frustrated that you had forgotten you were supposed to get together with Hardison the night before. Getting home, washing the sweat and blood off, and falling into bed had seemed like the only goal in your mind. “Look, sorry, I’ve been busy. And if this ain’t important, you—“

“Bullshit. Absolute bullshit, you’re using your tough-guy, bullshit voice. And you actually apologized, so something is double wrong.”

You snarled. “I don’t have— Hardison, I don’t know what you’re talking about, just leave me alone.”

“Too late, we’re already at your place.”

Before you could open your mouth, your doorbell rang, drawing a groan from you. If you were correct about who the “we” was, it seemed stupid to even ring it. Your suspicions were confirmed thirty seconds later as the door clicked open anyways and Parker and Hardison came in, having the decency to at least look slightly sheepish. You had already moved back to the couch, tilting your head back and closing your eyes. “Make yourself at home, why don’t you,” you growled.

“Excuse us for being worried about your wellbeing, Mr. Suffer-In-Silence,” Hardison scoffed.

Parker leapt onto the couch cushion next to him. “We thought you might have been captured by ninjas.”

“You would know if I had been captured by ninjas,” you muttered. “It’s a very dis— look, you’ve seen that I’m not kidnapped, it’s our day off, can you please leave and let me rest.”

“You still owe us a hangout from last night!” Parker chirped. “Don’t worry, we won’t stay long.” She vaulted back over the couch to go rummage through your snack cabinets, getting into the granola bin by the sound of it. You made a note to restock it before she came back next.

When you next opened your eyes, Hardison was lightly sitting on your coffee table, looking at the hands still resting in your lap. “What’s up with your hands, Eliot?”

Your first instinct was to deflect. You trusted your team, sure, but this was different. They weren’t supposed to know that you had these days. That you weren’t invulnerable. “Nothing’s wrong with them, stop sitting on my coffee table.”

“Mhm mhm, sure,” Hardison said. “Go like this for me?” He wiggled his fingers in a “hey sailor” kind of fashion. Before you could tell him just what you thought about that, Parker’s ponytail swung into the side of your face, the thief reaching down to poke one of your hands faster than you could stop her.

By the time you were able to refocus and pull yourself back from the whiteout of pain, Parker and Hardison were looking at you with open concern, the hacker leaning back slightly, a little pale. You think you may have howled; you weren’t sure. Both your hands were clenched tightly to your chest, wrists together, arms outward, wishbone shaped. You felt just as brittle as one, with their stares on you. You summoned the anger from your throat, the only weapon at your disposal (only half-expecting that it would work, always defenseless when it came to their prodding).

“Can you leave me the hell alone now?”

Hardison looked at you, taking his time formulating his thoughts, but it was Parker who spoke. “Nope.” You turned to her where she was perched on the couch. “You get hurt taking care of us. Now you let us take care of you.”

You looked at Hardison pleadingly, hoping he at least would take pity on you and let you wallow by yourself. You wanted to hide like the trap-escaped, half-dead badger whose den you had accidentally put your foot into half a lifetime ago in the Italian Alps, earning you an earful of hissing that scared the hell out of you. You wonder if you seemed as belligerent now.

Hardison just shrugged and smiled gently. “Hey, you heard the woman.” He leaned forward slightly, just enough in your space to let you feel his warm presence without crowding. “Couldn’t get rid of us if you tried.”

You didn’t want to try, was the thing. It was only that it wasn’t their job to take care of you. It was yours to take care of them. They just seemed to be wholly unaware of this.

“You taken anything for those yet?” Hardison asked, pointing at your hands. He hummed at your slight head shake. “Thought so. Which ones?”

“White bottle, red pills. Only need a half,” you mumbled, slouching. Parker was already up and heading to the bathroom.

“We need to get something you can actually open when this happens, some kind of spring-loaded catch maybe,” Hardison mused. “Alright, let me see them.” He patted his legs, frowning at your growl. “C’mon, none of that. I know they hurt, I’ll be really, really gentle. I won’t even touch without asking.”

You looked him in the eye for the sincerity you already knew would be there, the eagerness to help that (damn him) was one of your favorite traits of his. Hesitantly, you extended your hands, rolling your eyes at him scooting forward to offer his knees to rest them on.

“I assume you got antiseptic and ointment on these knuckles already, so totally disregarding those, even though it sucks. Nothing broken?”

“No, just. Aches. Like a son of a bitch. Can’t make a damn fist. Happens sometimes.”

Parker bounded back in, armed with a glass of water and half a pill in her open hand. “So no jobs for a while. Easy, I’ll tell Nate. Open up.” With a scowl, you took the medication from her fingers with your teeth (gently, gently), and let her raise the glass to your lips, nearly choking as she tipped it a little eagerly, and choking for real when Hardison said, “Whoa, woman, let him swallow.”

“It’s not just the last job, Park, it’s jobs two years ago, or five, or ten,” you managed, once you had your breath back. “Part of the package that comes with the lifestyle. It just happens sometimes, don’t matter what schedule we’re on.”

She frowned. “Still. We shouldn’t be doing jobs if you’re hurt. Nate should know that.”

Hardison leaned forward a little more while you were distracted trying to find the right response to that, that you wouldn’t be doing any jobs at all if that were the case, that Nate trusted you to get the job done no matter what, reaching out to your forearm and stopping just a hair’s breadth shy of touching. You froze, and he did too, meeting your eyes. “It’s ok. I’m just trying something out. Is it alright if I touch you here?” At your tiniest of nods, the hacker placed his fingertips on your arm, rubbing circles so lightly that you almost couldn’t feel it. “Let me know where it starts to hurt, okay?” Hardison applied the slightest pressure as he added his other hand and lightly started rubbing down your forearm. When he got to your wrist, you couldn’t help the strangled noise that partly escaped through your nose, high and strained. He moved away from it immediately, going back to tracing soothing, gentle patterns. “You’re ok, you’re ok. I can work with this, no problem. Where do you keep your hot pads, man?”

“Bathroom, lower right drawer,” you grit out. Parker was zipping off to get it and warm it up before you could even process. Hardison applied a little more pressure with his fingertips, rubbing the meat of your forearm. You breathed out long and slow at how good it felt once the initial ache had ebbed.

“I want to try giving you a hand massage, but I don’t wanna hurt you more than it would help,” he said, pausing slightly. “You up for it? I’m not gonna pressure you either way.”

Your thoughts stuttered, and then bolted in different directions. The feeling that you didn’t deserve this, that this was too much to ask, which had been simmering this whole time leapt to life again. It joined with the wounded, snarling animal part of you that still wanted to hide, burrow down with the covers over your head until your pain faded into the muted background noise of the world. You didn’t even know if a hand massage would work, it might make the pain worse.

But it might be nice, a small, hopeful part of you murmured. You couldn’t remember the last time you had been offered something like this, let alone the last time you had taken the person up. If there was anyone you trusted to do it, if there was anyone you wanted to receive it from, it was these two. How could you refuse them even when your heart hoped so badly for what they were offering?

“Sure, just…” you said as Parker returned with the hot pad, pausing from tossing it hand to hand like a hot potato to fix her stare on you. You licked your lips, swallowed around a dry throat. “Just be gentle.”

“I will be,” Hardison said earnestly, taking the hot pad from Parker to gently maneuver it under your hands, resting on his knees. You tensed slightly as the thief leapt up onto the back of the couch, perching above your head, but otherwise relaxed as the warmth of the hot pad started to loosen the ache in your hands. Hardison started where he had before, applying the slightest pressure to your forearm. Parker ran her fingertips lightly through your hair, humming.

“Your hair is kinda wonky,” she said, fingers catching on a tangle. You winced.

“That’s what happens when you go to bed without brushing it properly, you know that,” you grumbled, breath hitching as her fingertips grazed your scalp. Your breath stuttered again as Hardison hands started working towards the sore meat of your wrist. Your hand began to shake.

“It’s ok baby, I got you,” Hardison murmured under his breath, more soothing sound than words. You cracked open an eye to see him looking between your hands and his phone, playing a video where it was propped on his thigh.

“Man, are you watching hand massage tutorials right now?” you gritted out, doing a poor job of masking your genuine amusement with frustrated disbelief.

He tapped his index finger against your arm lightly. “I’ve been watching videos dude; think you’re so slick, tryna hide your hand pain from me. I just wanna make sure I get it right in real time.”

Parker’s fingers running through your hair more boldly silenced any follow-up thoughts you had, your mind going fuzzy with how good it felt. Without thinking, you insistently pushed your head up further into her touch, making her laugh. The sound reverberated in your chest, leaving you longing to hear it again. Instead a half-whine left your throat as Hardison probed the bottom of your palm, the ache drawing you back to full awareness.

The hacker backed off for a moment. “Sorry, sorry, you still cool to keep going?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you breathed shakily.

“Just tell me if there’s anyplace else that needs to be handled more delicately, or you don’t want me going at all,” Hardison said, putting his clever hands to yours again and taking up his gentle, slow pace. Parker’s fingers had paused in your hair a second, but went back to running through it again, scratching your scalp on every other pass.

Slowly, slowly, the vice of pain on your hands started to dissipate, bone by bone, finger by finger. You don’t know how long you sat there in a haze, as Hardison and Parker patiently touched you, fixated on the single task of caring for you. The thought made the tender space behind your breastbone twinge. When you surfaced from the half-asleep contentment of their efforts, the television was on, Star Trek playing at the lowest volume. You grunted, lifting your head from the couch to look at them sitting beside you, grinning at your movements. Hardison’s warm hand was still in yours, but instead of massaging he was just holding it softly.

“Hey sleepy,” teased Parker, throwing herself over Hardison to get closer and forcing an “Oof!” out of him.

You looked down to your hands, flexing one experimentally, in disbelief at how the ache had faded to an almost imperceptible hum. With the other you tightened your fingers around Hardison’s hand, moving your thumb lightly over his.

“Hey,” you simply said back, a real smile rising to your lips.

[jbbarnesnnoble]

Chaos

Summary: You and Bucky Barnes are not friends. You’re partners who put up with each other, whose styles on the field clash constantly. One mission leads to a moment of vulnerability 

Features: Angst; Brief mentions of violence, mentions of past human experimentation and unknown medical issues

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Reader

Notes: This is my late submission for @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​‘s Hamifilm Lyric challenge. Time got away from me, between my dissertation and starting a new job. I’m not entirely happy with how this turned out, but it still ended up running away from me.

My prompt was chaos and bloodshed are not a solution 

Word Count: 2984

You were itching for a change. You had been cooped up in the compound for far too long after your last mission. You had broken your wrist on your last outing and had gotten shot. You had only just been cleared. It hadn’t been your fault, but Barnes would argue otherwise.You and Bucky Barnes didn’t hate each other, but you weren’t friends. You worked well together in the field, all things considered. It was why the two of you were constantly paired together. 

He had been livid after your last mission. The silence on the way back to the compound had spoken volumes. The two of you had brought Peter Parker out into the field for what was supposed to be a training mission, a low level one that was supposed to have minimal danger. The key words there were supposed to. Things had gone south the second the three of you entered the building. 

Your wrist had ended up broken after you pushed Peter to the ground when you dove in front of him. The lone operative you had yet to find had taken aim at the teenager. You took the shot for him and Barnes took out the operative. Unlike Barnes and Peter, you didn’t have a healing factor. The shot had been dangerously close to striking something vital, but hadn’t. Barnes had been able to stitch you up on the quinjet and gave you the silent treatment all the while.

It hadn’t been until later that night that the two of you got into it. Words had flown recklessly, and you were both dangerously close to crossing the point of no return with them. Steve had had to intervene to get the two of you to calm down. 

You found yourself sitting by the window, watching the snow fall outside. You had made yourself a cup of hot chocolate, fully intending to enjoy the day off from training. Even with your injury, you had still been responsible to train, doing what you could without agitating your wrist. You had finally been cleared to return to full active duty that morning, six weeks after the mission that had ended in disaster. 

You groaned when FRIDAY told you your presence was required in one of the conference rooms. So much for a relaxing Saturday morning. 

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

The mission briefing devolved quickly into an argument between you and Barnes. The two of you were put as the point people on the mission, and you had different views on how to handle it. You preferred the guns blazing approach. Loud and brash was your style when dealing with the kind of people the mission involved. You had read enough of the brief to know what you were dealing with. You never cared for the nitty gritty details, something that annoyed Barnes to no end. 

“All I’m saying is we storm the place, take out the bad guys and call it a day. Intelligence says there’s only about a dozen or so in the building. It’s a cake walk,” you said, tossing the folder down on the table. Bucky’s expression hardened as he glared at you. You refused to back down. 

“Chaos and bloodshed are not a solution. Not every plan has to end with blood on your hands,” Bucky snapped, his hands hitting the table. You recoiled. You had never seen him have this reaction before. He’d been annoyed before, sometimes a little angry, but he never looked as angry as he did in that moment. You knew he was right, but you couldn’t bring yourself to give an inch of ground. 

“Then what do you propose, oh Great One. You’ve never been one to be a pacifist before,” you replied. He glared at you. You refused to shrink back under the intensity of his gaze. 

“Did you even read the mission brief fully, Agent? There are children there. No older than Parker. Do you really want that on your hands?” he challenged. He knew you hadn’t read the full brief. You snatched the folder off the table, feeling the blood rush from your face as you saw what you had missed. A sick feeling made itself at home in the pit of your stomach. 

“Okay. We nix the guns blazing approach. But that doesn’t guarantee they won’t hurt them, or worse, use them as human shields against us,” you replied, sitting down in an empty chair, shoulders slumped. You saw his expression soften but ignored it. Now was not the time to get distracted by Barnes. You couldn’t believe you missed that detail. A sick feeling settled in your stomach. 

“We have to do this carefully. If we use the tech to our advantage, we can infiltrate without arousing suspicion,” Natasha offered. You nodded. You ran a hand over your face in frustration before you collected your thoughts, your mind moving a mile a minute as you looked over the maps FRIDAY was projecting. 

“We don’t have many options. Scott, how do you feel about some recon?” you asked. Scott was your best option. You didn’t want to risk anything going wrong. Not now that you knew there were children involved. Scott was good at moving around undetected. 

“I can do that,” he said. You glanced around the room. It was only you, Natasha, Bucky, and Scott in the room. Peter was missing. A frown settled on your face. Parker was supposed to be there. He had been there when you walked in but was no longer there. The four of you and Peter were the only ones at the compound. The others were on other missions and this one had come in urgently. You knew it had been on the radar for a while, but something had changed in the situation that triggered an immediate need for action. 

“Wait...where is Parker?” you asked. It dawned on the others that the teen was no longer in the room. You got your answer when seconds later he all but crashed through the door. 

“Sorry, sorry, Ned called. He’s stuck in Metuchen,” Peter said. Something was off about his tone. All eyes were on him, waiting for some sort of explanation. 

“Where?” Scott asked, confused. You knew where that was. Your mind was racing to put the pieces together as you took in Peter’s tense body language, the nervousness he held. You glanced at the map in front of you, the pieces coming together, before you asked the question you already knew the answer to. 

“Is he in Jersey?” you asked, brow furrowed. You knew in your gut that the kid had done something he shouldn’t have. Metuchen was where the building was you were looking to infiltrate.You saw the moment Bucky realized what you had already pieced together. 

“Peter...why is Ned in Jersey?” Bucky asked. Peter went wide eyed.

“I...well...you see...I have some new prototypes and well...you have to be in close proximity to operate them,” Peter said.

“Peter, please tell me Ned isn’t near that building,” Natasha said. 

“I could tell you that...but it’d be a lie,” Peter said, his voice trailing off. You took a deep breath before meeting Bucky’s eyes. The two of you shared a look, only breaking eye contact when Bucky spoke.

“Wheels up in five. There’s a landing zone we can use not far from where they are,” Bucky said. No one made a move.

“Let’s go people. We don’t have all day. Scott, you’re first in, get us a visual on the kids and Ned if you can,” you said.

“I didn’t say they caught him,” Peter said. You stared him down. Even if he wasn’t still nervous, a by-product of his age and his experience in the field, you knew his tells. Aside from Tony, you were one of his primary mentors. Whether it was fighting tactics or help with his history homework, Peter came to you for a lot of things. He had become your little brother in a way. 

“They caught Ned but they didn’t take his phone,” Peter admitted. A tense silence gripped the room. There was a new sense of urgency. 

“At least it seems like they’re incompetant,” Scott replied, trying to bring some levity to the situation.

“Or they want to draw us in. We need to be cautious,” Natasha said. You knew that Natasha had a point. As sloppy as they had been, there was always the risk that it was a trap. 

“We don’t know what they have. They could still figure it out, still disable any tech we use somehow. We need to be prepared for anything,” Bucky replied, glancing over at you. Everyone stood, ready to head to the jet. 

“FRIDAY, get a location on Ned’s phone. Peter, you need to tell us everything you know,” you said as you began walking out of the room and toward the hangar. 

It didn’t take long for the five of you to reach the landing zone you had designated. It wasn’t a far walk. Peter’s newest invention was a miniaturized drone. You had reviewed the footage with Bucky and Natasha en route to the landing zone. You had to admit, you had an advantage going in with the footage.

“What are you thinking?” Natasha asked.

“We still send Scott in first. Before Ned was taken, seems like the perimeter was insecure. It doesn’t seem like they were waiting for us, and it seems like they were surprised to find Ned,” you said. 

“Doesn’t mean it’s not a trap. Comms stay open. There’s a drainage pipe that leads right into the grounds. We use that as our entry point. Chaos and Parker will use their abilities to get in. Scott, you’re flying,” Bucky said. 

“Wait for your call?” you asked. 

“As soon as I call it you go,” Bucky replied. Your powers allowed you to phase through objects. You likened it to Danny Phantom. You had a heightened healing factor and super strength that came with it. Your other main power involved controlling the elements around you. There was a reason they called you Chaos. 

“Catch you on the other side,” you said as you and Peter split off. It was another ten minutes before Bucky and Natasha reached the entry point from the drainage pipe. Scott had made his way deep into the facility. You were headed right for the children and Ned. You knew there were others spread throughout the building but your priority was getting the innocent ones to safety. Natasha and Bucky would handle taking out others on their way to meet you and Peter. 

“Howdy gentlemen,” you said as you curled your hand, focusing on the task at hand. You and Peter made quick work of taking down those in your way without alerting them to your presence. It was a key to succeeding. You had read more of the file than Bucky gave you credit for. While you had missed the information on the children being held currently, you knew they were brutal when they thought someone was on to them.

“I have eyes on Ned. I don’t think they figured out he was surveilling them,” Scott’s voice came. You and Peter had entered another room, ensuring it was cleared. You saw a stack of folders and nodded your head toward them. 

“What’s this say?” Peter asked.

“It says they’re dead men walking. I thought the last of them were wiped off the earth,” you said your voice low.

“Who are they, Chaos?” he asked. 

“The reason I am the way I am. Hydra weren’t the only ones interested in recreating the serum that made Captain America. They thought children were the key. I should have known it wouldn’t be the end,” you said. It was personal, now. You tore your way through the building as your comms buzzed in your ear. By the time you reached the room where the captives were being held, you could feel the energy crackling around you. You and Peter breached the door. He made quick work of webbing the two men standing guard inside the room as you checked on the children and Ned. You broke the lock on a cabinet, finding a stash of blankets, enough for each of them, if they shared. 

“What happened?” Natasha asked as she and Bucky rounded the corner and entered the room.

“We’ll talk at the debrief. I’ve already gotten in contact with the compound. Dr. Cho is waiting for us with the entire medical staff on standby. FRIDAY will run facial recognition when we get to the jet. There’s a team enroute to secure the rest of the building and take anything we may be interested in,” you said. You were on autopilot. 

It wasn’t until late that night that the five of you gathered in the meeting room to debrief. You were still on edge.

“What the hell happened there? I thought we agreed to limit the bloodshed as much as possible. You want to tell me why Abrams is telling me there was a trail of destruction in your wake?” Bucky asked. 

“Because it’s the same organization that did this to me. The same organization that stole my childhood to try to re-create Steve. I’ll admit, I lost control. But you would have too, Barnes,” you said. 

“I didn’t realize,” he started to say before you cut him off.

“Neither did I. I thought we wiped them out years ago. Turns out we were wrong. We just drove them deeper underground instead,” you said. The rest of the debrief was uneventful. Your reports were due in forty-eight hours, though you knew yours would be done by morning. You hated dwelling on things. 

You found yourself making a cup of hot chocolate, extra marshmallows and whipped cream, before heading to the balcony that was just off of the Avengers living area. It was a post mission routine, one that helped you get out of the headspace that came with missions. The night had a slight chill to it, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You heard the door slide open a short time later. You could tell by the footsteps who it was.

“Thought I’d find you out here. You did good today,” Bucky said, sitting down in the seat beside you.

“I thought you said chaos and bloodshed were not a solution?” you asked, lowering your voice to mimic him. He cracked a smile before laughing with you joining in.

“It wasn’t. Not for entering the building. Chaos and bloodshed have a time and a place,” he replied. The two of you sat in a comfortable silence as you sipped on your hot chocolate, looking up at the sky. You were scanning the night sky for any constellations you could identify. 

“What’s on your mind?” Bucky asked. You glanced over at him.

“You ever think about how in the grand scheme of things, we’re just specks of dust floating through space? There’s worlds out there we know nothing about. And in a second, that can just disappear and the universe just moves on,” you said. 

“Where’s this coming from?” he asked. You sighed. 

“How much do you know about how I came to join the team?” you asked him. You weren’t sure you had ever talked to him about it. The relationship between the two of you was frosty, sometimes cordial, sometimes filled with angst and anger. You couldn’t recall ever having a heart to heart with him.

“I know this group we took out today had a role in you becoming who you are,” he said. 

“They told my parents they could fix me. I was sick when I was a kid...not sick, more of a medical mystery. The doctors couldn’t figure out what was wrong. MRIs, x-rays, blood tests. They ran the gamut of tests and nothing came of it. Until Dr. Westerly. Dr. Westerly came a long, had this test she could run. She told my parents the condition I had had no name but I was a perfect candidate for a clinical trial. They were desperate. It took my parents a month to realize something was wrong. I was injected with something that gave me powers. When Westerly caught on that they were suspecting something, she took me and fled. Six months. She had me for six months, running tests. SHIELD found me and brought me home. More specifically, Fury,” you explained.

“How known was this to SHIELD?” he asked.

“Not very. My father and Fury are old friends. Fury trusted very few with my rescue. Clint was on the team that got me out. Fury oversaw my training covertly because the man has never been trusting, not really. You have to earn it, it’s not just given,” you replied. 

You didn’t want to get into the details and Bucky wasn’t about to pry. You didn’t jump when his hand covered yours. Soon enough you moved closer to him, his arm moving to be around your shoulder. 

“There’s Orion,” Bucky said, gesturing toward the sky. 

“That’s always been one of my favorites,” you replied. The two of you sat comfortably for a while, pointing out constellations and other stars. You couldn’t recall every sitting and just talking to him. Under the moonlight, he looked almost ethereal. You’d be lying if you said you never found him attractive. You didn’t see him giving you the same look when you’d look away. 

You weren’t sure when it happened, but you drifted off beside him, cuddled into his side. You woke up, still outside beside him, with a thick blanket strewn across the two of you, a note attached by your hand in Natasha’s writing. You smiled as you read it, before nestling back into Bucky’s side. You’d address the elephant in the room later, content to sleep beside him as the sun rose over the horizon. 

[bbrandy2002]

Fools Rush In

Part 6

I’m participating in @wackydrabbles​ prompt 55: This is without a doubt the stupidest plan you’ve ever had. Of course, I’m in.

Book: The Royal Romance

Pairing: Liam x Riley

A/N: Thank you to my amazing bestie @burnsoslow who beta read at 2 am last night. And my prereaders @charlotteg234 and @mom2000aggie

Series Premise: With two weeks until Liam is to marry Madeleine, the guys throw him a bachelor party in Vegas. After a drunk night, he finds himself with way more than he bargained.

**MC did not exist in Liam’s social season. OC lives in Las Vegas.

Word Count: 1740

TW: Drug usage mentioned

Permanent Tags: @burnsoslow @dcbbw @ao719​ @hopefulmoonobject @texaskitten30 @drakesensworld @janezillow  @merridithsmiscellany-blog @mskaneko @loveellamae @queenjilian @sirbeepsalot @pedudley @caroldxnvxrs @jovialyouthmusic @forthebrokenheartedthings @desireepow-1986 @bebepac @kingliam2019 @lovablegranny @cordoniaqueensworld @amandablink @blueaster-blog1 @liamxs-world @choiceskatie @iaminlovewithtrr @hopelessromanticmonie @charlotteg234 @twinkleallnight @annekebbphotography @txemrn @thecordoniandiaries @alyssalauren @cordonianroyalty

Series: @princessleac1 @cordonia-continued @sanchita012 @shz256 @cordonia-gothqueen @narrytheworld @graceful-leah @mom2000aggie @queenwalton @tinkie1973 @muchkoolermk @captain-kingliamsqueen @gabesmommie1130 @cordonianprincess @cinnamonspongecake @loudbluebirdlover @liamandneca @waywardromancefantasygirl @thegreentwin​ @walker7519 

The limo pulled out of the Taco Bell parking lot onto Tropicana Avenue, headed west towards Spring Valley. In the back was one king, a former prince, and a teacher-turned-overnight-queen of a country she'd never heard of 24 hours ago. 

While the trio cruised down the bustling thoroughfare to retrieve some of Riley's belongings, Liam was on the phone with his credit card company. He was trying to figure out why his unlimited card was declined, leaving Riley to foot the bill for Leo's Nacho's Grande Box, a Triplelupa Box with extra lupa, and a Pineapple Freeze. 

Leo gulped as he scooped melted cheese and beef up with a tortilla, trying not to look too guilty. He didn't want his younger brother to know that he and Drake paid for the entire bachelor trip using Liam's card ... among other unusual expenses. However, he breathed a sigh of relief, knowing Drake had it last, and the blame could fall squarely on his shoulders.

Frustrated, Liam hung up the phone after the automated agent couldn't understand his Cordonian accent and continued to reroute his call back to the beginning. No sooner did he put his phone away than he was alerted to an incoming call. Liam glanced down to see his stepmother's name flashing boldly with each ring. There were no doubts in his mind what she wanted. Obviously, the news had reached her at the Palace.

With an anxious feeling growing in his stomach, Liam let out a heavy groan before tapping the screen. 

"Hello, Regina."

"Hello, dear." Her greeting was surprisingly warm and pleasant. "I need to know the truth; are these rumors accurate? Did your brother marry you to some strange woman?"

Liam rubbed a hand nervously across his mouth; he was in no mood for a lecture. "He did. But I don't even remember it happening."

He could hear her disappointed sigh and felt terrible that his actions caused her this much distress. Regina might not be his mother, but she had been an integral part of his life since childhood, and he didn't want to let her down.

"Is your brother with you? If so, I would appreciate speaking with him."

Liam shot a look at Leo, whose hands were covered in melty cheese and sour cream. "Uh, yeah, hang on. Let me put you on speaker." He hit the button and whispered loudly to his brother that it was Regina for him.

A broad grin appeared on Leo's face as he swallowed the last bite of food. "What's up, Mommio?"

"Leonardo Wolfschitz Rys!" Her once-gentle tone was now brittle. "I am highly disappointed in you."

His eyes widened in confusion, the grin he had on before fading instantly. "What? Why? It was Liam's idea."

"Perhaps, but did you try to stop him?"

"No. He's 27 years old," he squealed.

"Be that as it may, you're the older brother. You're supposed to know better."

Liam snorted. "That's true, Leo. You really should start setting a better example for me."

Leo narrowed his eyes, reached across Riley, who jerked back, and punched Liam in the groin, causing him to yelp. "You're such a tattletale; you got me in trouble! She was all I had left."

Liam rolled his eyes then reassured his stepmother he would meet with her when the plane landed back in Cordonia in the morning.

Staying quiet, Riley's wide-eyed stare remained fixed to the front of the limo, hands crossed in her lap. This ... this is my new family.

They made their way to Riley's townhome located within a tree-lined community scattered with homes similar to hers. 

While Riley took the shower she’d been desperate to get since waking that morning, Liam made himself at home just as she asked him to. Leo had met Old Man Burt -- Riley's elderly neighbor -- as they walked up the driveway. He begged the man to let him whittle sticks with him. The senior man thoughtfully looked at him before spitting out chewing tobacco and instructing Leo to score him a dime bag, and it would be a deal.

Leo didn’t know the man from a hole in the wall, but replied, “You know what, Burt? This is without a doubt the stupidest plan you’ve ever had. Of course, I’m in.”

Leo knew just the place and took off.

The neighborhood was quiet and serene; as Liam drummed his fingers on the leather sofa's armrest, he could almost envision a life of simplicity like this. He closed his eyes to take in all the sounds and scents not entirely unfamiliar to him but things he imagined most people took for granted:birds chirping in the windowsill, the occasional car that passed by, the screech of bicycle brakes, apple cinnamon air fresheners, and another scent he hadn't smelled in years. Craning his neck around to look out the window, he saw Leo smoking pot with the white-haired man dressed in denim overalls in the front yard. "What the hell? Dumbass."

Riley's shower took longer than he expected; feeling antsy, he rose from the sofa and walked through the home, trying to get a sense of who she was. The house was well maintained with brightly colored artwork on the walls, a nicely stocked bookshelf, shiny hardwood floors, and metal-framed photographs of different sizes assembled atop the fireplace mantle. 

Liam's eyes danced from photo to photo, studying Riley's images in a graduation gown posing with a small grinning brunette about Riley's age, her with two older gentlemen hugging in front of a Christmas tree, and a classroom of smiling kids holding up colorful drawings. 

There was one frame that laid face down.

Thinking perhaps it fell over, he gently lifted the frame to put it back in place. His brows lifted in shock.

"She's married?" 

"I was," Riley answered.

Liam whipped around with the photograph still gripped in hand, not sure what else to say. It wasn't like it was some deep, dark secret hidden from him, something that should upset him. She more than likely would have mentioned it to him at some point, considering they still hadn't had time to get to know each other. But he couldn’t shake the jealousy he felt.

"I'm sorry. I was just looking at your pictures and thought this one had been knocked over." He carefully placed it back on the mantle as Riley approached him.

Liam watched the hurt etch across her delicate features, and eyes that reflected a shattering pain as she stood face to face with her image in a flowy white gown wrapped in the arms of a man she admitted to being married to at one time.

"I … met him in my senior year of high school. We dated all through college. Had this big elaborate dream wedding after graduation. He was my best friend, my lover -- I thought he would be it forever ..." 

Liam gripped her shoulder when she paused to catch a breath, noticing the slight break in her voice. "After two years, he no longer wanted to do anything together. His excuses were always the same: working late, too tired, ‘just want to hang out with the guys tonight.’ He stopped talking to me. Quit looking at me. Stopped touching me. I think I knew in my heart what was going on, but didn't want to believe it. Then one day … I came home from work, and his closet was empty." She let out a humorless laugh. "But at least he left a strongly-worded letter detailing all my faults and where I failed him. It said he found someone better and that I didn't make him happy. He just ... didn't want me anymore." Those last words came out in whimper.

"Riley." Liam wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against him. "Sweetheart, that wasn't your fault."

Riley stepped back and swiped the tears from her cheeks. "That's why I'm doing this, Liam."

"What d’ya mean?."

"When I met Madeleine, I just knew I couldn't let you marry someone who would make you miserable too. You deserve to find someone who will make you happy."

He smiled at her. "What if that's you, Riley?"

She stood motionless for a moment, thinking about that question, then shook her head and muttered, "I don't make people happy, Liam. In the end ... they always leave me."

When Riley turned to walk away, Liam caught her wrist and drew her back. His hands flew to both sides of her face, cupping along her jaw. Their eyes studied each other; those compassionate blues cast a spell on her teary browns, engulfing the warm air surrounding both of them in want and desire. 

"I can't do this," she rasped weakly and lowered her face away from him.

Liam tilted her chin, his voice desperate and pleading. "Look at me, Riley. You can. You can. You just have to let me in."

Without a second more of hesitation, their lips collided into each other passionately.

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

Drake scowled at the envelope in his hand that bore his name in large letters. "What do you mean, I've been served? I ain't been served shit."

The smaller man prepared to explain, but the intimidating glare in Drake's eyes made him choose his words more carefully. "Mr. Walker. Sir. I'm just the messenger --"

"Then, you can take your message and ..." Drake shoved the envelope toward the man. "This fucking envelope back to where you came from. I don't have a kid or owe anyone child support."

The man backed away and looked at Maxwell to gauge whether he would protect him from his rather large, angry friend. He figured out real quickly the lanky one holding two full bags of medications most definitely wouldn't. He swallowed past the fear that collected in his throat. "Everything you need to know is in the envelope." He nodded to them, both. "Have a good day."

Drake slammed the door open and tossed the room key and his wallet on the kitchen counter. He ripped the envelope open and scanned the documents with Maxwell looking over his shoulder. "I'm being sued for $120,000 in back child support by a woman named ... Boom Boom Powell."

A picture slid from the documents and landed at Maxwell's feet. He bent down to pick it up and rose slowly when he caught a glimpse. "Uh, Drake. This must be a picture of the kids." He held the photograph up of what appeared to be three-year-old identical triplets. "Who do these kids look like?" He knew the answer before he asked.

Drake squinted to get a better look; then realization hit him. He had never been to Las Vegas, but he knew someone who had many times before. And judging by the blonde hair, blue eyes, and mischievous smirks on the three little boys in the picture, he knew his assumption was correct. He tightened his jaw. "That fucker! He is dead."

[thepoppypress]

The Battleline Between Good and Evil (Runs Through the Heart of Every Man)

Chapter 1: 

The sounds of hard bone hitting flesh made Peter wince as he furiously scrubbed at the now non-existent stains on the hard, polished wood of the bar. His eyes were down cast as he tried to ignore the massacre in front of him with every fiber of his being. Despite it being early in the afternoon, his shift had already started off quite eventfully, with a barroom brawl. Even now, he found it hard on himself not to intervene. However, he knew he couldn’t draw attention to himself. In this type of environment, attention was either bad or worse with no better or inbetween. It was something he couldn’t afford.

A thump in front of him drew him out of his musings, his Spidey Sense starting to tingle quite annoyingly. Whoever was in front of him was dangerous. A deep voice started to speak.

“Old fashioned,” came the demand. Peter nodded silently, willing his face to be impassive as he concentrated on making the drink for the man. When he was done, he slid the drink over to the bar counter.

“Here you go sir,” he uttered politely, glancing up and taking note of the patron. He was an older man who wore a black, fitted T-shirt that displayed his assets clearly, biceps bulging as he leaned leisurely against the counter. White hair covered his head, cut recently as the smell of fresh shampoo came off of him to reach Peter’s sensitive nose. He could also clearly see little hairs clinging to the black of his shirt. The man had an eye patch over his right eye and was huge as well.

When he finished his drink, he slid it back over to him, and stood up at his full height, towering well over Peter and the rest of the patrons in the bar. The man’s one eye glanced at him, appraising him and Peter couldn’t help but blush a bit. He looked away, but not before noticing the slight twitch of the man’s mouth as he did.

‘Fuck,’ he thought and to avoid more embarrassment, Peter glanced around the large man to look at where the brawl had gotten to now.

“You new here?” Peter’s large eyes came back up to meet the other man’s and he nodded shyly.

“Yeah, a little over a month.” Eye-Patch (as Peter has now affectionately nicknamed him) hummed and stared at Peter for a little while longer, who fidgeted uncomfortably. Even though there was plenty of noise within the mostly empty club, the silence between both men was getting to Peter, which prompted him to ask a question. “Do you come here often?” The man grinned.

“Not before.” That made Peter blink. He tilted his head in confusion. He was obviously missing something here.

“Huh?” Eye-Patch laughed, gaining the attention of several people around them.

“Nothing, sweetheart,” Peter bristled a bit at the nickname, “just that you should probably expect me more.” Reaching into his pocket, Eye-Patch pulled out several hundred dollar bills and threw them towards Peter, whose eyes widened at the sight. “Just for you. Keep the change.” And he walked out the door without another word. Peter gaped at the door for a long while before looking at the neat bills on the counter.

“Weirdos,” he grumbled underneath his breath but not before pocketing the money. Another low thrum sang at the back of his head and he felt a presence sidle up beside him. He knew who it was without even looking.

“Hey Petey Boy!” Peter grabbed the glass that Eye-Patch just drank out of and began washing it.

“Hey Harley. What’s up?” The woman squealed happily, popping the gum in her mouth obnoxiously. Peter found that he quite liked Harleen Quinzel, after he worked past his first impression of her.

“Nothin’ much,” she drawled out teasingly, her blonde pigtails bouncing around her, “just wonderin’ when ya’ became such good friends with Deathstroke over there.” Peter grabbed a rag hanging on the bottom countertop and started to wipe down the glass in his hands.

“Who?” Harley giggled loudly, toying with the hem of Peter’s T-shirt as she grabbed onto one of his arms. He glanced down at her with a soft, curious look and she rolled her eyes playfully.

“Y’know, hunky Eye-Patch guy? Guy who just left?”

“Ah,” Peter realized before questioning, “his name is Deathstroke?” Harley rolled her eyes again.

“No, silly! His real name is Slade Wilson. He’s a mercenary for hire.”

‘Guess that answers that question.’ Harley blew a bubble and popped it again, winking suggestively at him, “and he was so interested in you!” Peter snorted.

“Nah. I’m new here so he was just asking. Besides, he’s a bit too old for me.” The look on Harley’s face was dubious.

“Uh-huh. Sure, honey. I’m just saying, he’s pretty hot. Also,” he felt a squeeze on his bicep, “have you been working out? You’re ripped!” Her smile became mischievous. “Trying to impress someone? Ooh! Ooh! Is it me?” Peter gave a small laugh, his curly hair bouncing as he shook his head.

“I’m always trying to impress you, Harls.” The blonde giggled and leaned over to kiss his cheek before swiping her thumb across it, wiping away the lipstick.

“Aww, you sweetie. If I didn’t have my puddin’, I would be with you in a heartbeat.” Peter forced a smile as Harley made heart eyes at the mention of her on-again-off-again boyfriend. Right now, it was decidedly on. If you asked Peter, he would say he knew the signs of an abusive relationship when he saw them. “Anyway. I just came ta tell ya’ that your shift for this afternoon ends right now and I’ll see you in a few hours!”

“Okay, thanks.” She kissed his cheek once more, not bothering to wipe away the residual lipstick before flouncing out of the bar. Peter wished she could see that she could do so much better than a man nicknamed ‘The Joker.’ Somewhere among the brawl that still had not stopped, the sound of glass shattering grabbed his attention. Peter sighed.

‘I better clean that up before I leave.’

-----

Peter walked the few blocks that it took to get to the homeless shelter where he stayed. He opened the door that housed the tens of people that wandered the streets, and closed it softly behind him. Setting towards his cot, he noticed that people were bustling around like crazy, and a nice smell was coming from the kitchen. His stomach grumbled but he willed it to stop. He needed the money to get a new place and he was a few hundred away from achieving his goal for the upfront portion. He was lucky that Harley decided to help him out and aid him in forming a bank account here. Peter reached his cot and sat down, noting that, luckily, no one had tried to steal his stuff. Again. Settling back against the pillows, Peter thought about the past couple of months.

He had first come to this world so unfamiliar to him through some sort of magical portal. God, he fucking hated magic sometimes. Mr. Stark had let him go into his lab unsupervised for the first time since the incident involving the toaster, pink glitter, and the flamethrower.

It was nice.

He was sitting at one of the tables, tinkering around with one of his web shooters, Led Zeppelin (“For the sake of America’s Ass™, Peter, it’s ACDC!”) booming in his ears when suddenly, he felt himself being pulled back, a cold feeling settling across the back of his neck and making its way to the rest of his body. Then, a weird expression came over his face as another feeling came over him, like he was being stretched thin, but it didn’t hurt. There’s a quick flash of a blinding light, causing him to shut his eyes (his overly reactive senses are a blessing and a curse) tightly and the next thing he knows, Peter hits the ground hard, his body making a soft thudding noise.

The first thing to register is the sight. It wasn’t overly bright, like the light was. In fact, it was rather dark. Brick walls surrounded him from two sides, indicating that he was in an alleyway of some sort. It wasn’t too spacious and various bags of trash were littered all over the place. Doors were lined along the brick walls, all closed and looking uninviting. Then came the smell. It was horribly pungent, probably even to the regular nose.

To Peter’s nose, however, it was hell. He could practically feel his olfactory glands swelling from the amount of stink he was admitting into his body. Gagging, he tried to stand up to get away from the smell only to stumble and nearly eat the gravel under him.

‘Parker Luck fucking sucks,’ he thinks as he collapses against one of the doors on the brick walls, then thinks groggily, ‘hey, that rhymed.’

He rested his head against the cool metal for a moment before his Spidey Sense, sensitive and overly reactive at the moment, blares a warning, making him shoot backwards. He lays on the ground for less than a second when the door he had previously rested on opened with a bang. His head pounded more than it ever did before, and the added sound of the metal banging against the brick and a high pitched voice screeching didn't help either. Peter squinted at the rather tall female figure standing in the doorway screaming obscenities into the lit room.

She screamed her last words, no response following her, and stepped outside with a huff, slamming the door behind her. Peter closed his eyes again, and laid his head against the concrete sullenly, fully expecting her to leave him. If he was a woman in a city at night, he would do that too.

“Oof, yer’ lookin’ kinda rough there buddy.” Peter’s eyes popped open in surprise. The woman was standing over him, a look of sympathy and concern displayed on her pale face. She crouched down and the closer she got, the more clearly he could see her features. She was pretty, with alabaster skin and platinum blonde hair pulled into pigtails, the ends dyed red and blue. Her bright blue eyes blinked curiously at him as he laid unmoving for a second.

“I fe’l rough’,” he croaked, his hands rubbing at his throat in an effort to ease the pain he felt as he spoke. The woman clicked her tongue and reached for his wrists, bringing them away from his neck.

“Alright, sweetie, I need you to answer every question as best as you can okay? I’m a doctor, I can help you.” Peter groaned and pointed to her, his arm bending at the elbow to raise his finger in the air.

“Wha’s yur’ name?” He managed to slur out. ‘Stranger danger Parker,’ he reminded himself in lieu of Mr. Stark. If he were here, he would be shaking his head in disappointment, Peter was sure of it.

“Ah, how rude of me! Ma names Dr. Harleen, but ya’ can call me Harley!” The hand pointing at her turned into a wave, greeting her.

“Hey,” he replied weakly, “my name’s Peter. Peter Parker.” He could hear the grin in Harley’s voice.

“Well, Peter Parker, tell me. Are ya feeling nauseous or dizzy?”

“Yes.”

“Any ringing in the ears?”

“No.”

“A headache? Are ya feeling really tired?”

“Not that bad of a headache. Tired, yes,” he sighed, fatigue heavy in his voice, “look, Doctor, I don’t have a concussion. Just feeling weird right now.”

“Ya drink before you came here or eat something weird?”

“No, I’m just weird like this.” Harley was silent for a moment.

“Do ya want me to help get you home?” Peter sighed again, pushing his arms up to help himself lift his torso so he was sitting upright.

“I, uh, don’t have a home,” he looked around the alley, his senses starting to clear (though his nose still throbbed at the smell), “where am I, by the way?” Harley leaned into his vision, a slightly incredulous look on her face.

“You don’t know where you are?” Peter shook his head, happy his headache was now subsiding. The disbelieving expression didn’t disappear from Harley’s face. “Well, you, puppy, are in Gotham, the most crime ridden city in the world.” Peter sent Harley a weird glance.

“Gotham? Like Gotham City, Batman’s Gotham City?” The second the sentence went out of his mouth, Harley covered his lips with her hand.

“Never say that name unless you’re looking for a death wish!” She hissed at him, her eyes hard. “Promise me!” Wide eyed, Peter nodded reluctantly and he was let go. It wasn’t like he read the comics or anything. He didn’t really know much about Batman. Just that he had a sidekick named Robin and they fought the Joker on a regular basis. Harley straightened, causing him to look up at her. She extended her hand which he took and he slowly stood up with her help. She dusted him off, her hands sweeping across the back of his jacket and the front of his shirt for him. He nodded in thanks.

“Do ya have your phone on ya?” He reached into his back pocket and felt that, yes, thankfully, his phone was still in his pocket. He tugged it out and unlocked it, tapping on the call icon. He goes straight to Tony’s number. A ring doesn’t even make it onto his phone before the screen says that there’s no service for his phone. He sighs forlornly. There goes trying to contact home.

“Sorry Harley, I don’t have service here.”

“So ya don’t have service, no way to contact home, and ya have no idea where ya are?” Peter shook his head. It was Harley’s turn to sigh. “Alright, puppy, yer' comin’ with me. I know a nicer homeless shelter than any of the ones they got on Grand.” She grabbed his wrist and dragged him out of the alleyway onto the nearly empty street. He should’ve probably been concerned that he was heading somewhere with a random woman, granted one who had tried to help him. There was still a low thrum of danger at the back of his head, but all he could focus on was that ridiculous nickname.

“Puppy?” The blonde haired woman paused, turning back with a teasing smirk on her pretty face.

“‘Cause yer’ so cute like a puppy, with those puppy dog eyes and pouty frown. Yer’ even smaller than me!” At that point, he had taken note that she was, in fact, a full four inches taller than him. He looked at her with somewhat genuine offense.

“Hey! I’m 5’6! You’re only so much taller because you’re wearing heels!” He pointed towards the pumps that adorned her feet. Harley scoffed and took off her heel for a second, showing both of them that, even without the heels, she was still an inch taller than him. He groaned. This night was just getting worse and worse. First, he’s in an unfamiliar place with an unfamiliar woman who was taller than him. Hearing Harley’s laugh though, as they walked through the streets arguing about who was really taller, made him feel at least a little better. It wasn’t much, but every little bit counts.

All that eventually led to where Peter was now, laying on a cot in the same homeless shelter that Harley had introduced him to. He had gotten a couple of jobs with the help of Harley’s shadier connections. He had realized early on that this dimension was not the same world that the comics had shown. This was somehow different. There was no one with super powers, though the monikers were still real. Batman was real, but Harley (the only person he trusted up to this point) hadn’t told him anything, and by the fifth time that he asked, he realized he wouldn’t be getting anything out of her so he stopped. He had wondered who Batman was here, and if he and Robin were still partn-

The sound of an alarm pulled him out of his thoughts, and Peter hurriedly grabbed his phone and turned it off. He saw the time and sighed.

“Time to head to work,” he muttered.

-----

“Hey Puppy!” Harley squealed as he entered the club that was now flooding with people, the lighting dim save for a few spotlights that roved over the sea of people. Peter straightened his clothes, a white button down paired with some slacks. They had been the Joker’s but, according to Harley, they didn’t fit him anymore. Peter shivered at the thought of taking something of the Joker’s, but he guessed it couldn’t be helped.

“Harley!” He yelled back in greeting and both walked over the bar. Peter quickly clocked in and set off to work, one of his coworkers behind the counter already. From there, it was quite the busy time, people requesting drinks all over the place. Peter and Harley talked from time to time as he prepared other’s drinks. It was a fairly smooth evening so far.

Of course, as soon as he thought that, trouble had to come, brewing in all its toxicity. When he had first started as a bartender for the club, he had been warned to keep an eye out for suspicious activity, just so the club doesn’t get hit with another lawsuit. Harley was fiddling with her phone in one corner of the bar, and at this point, Peter was used to the loud noise of the club, having inconspicuously stuffed his ears with ear plugs earlier. However, it didn’t completely cancel out the noise as his super hearing still noted everything within his vicinity. In the opposite corner of the bar, away from him and Harley, Peter somehow heard the soft sounds of paper being ripped, a drop of something hitting the water, and a soft fizzing noise.

His head imperceptibly turned to watch as a rather handsome man handed a tall glass of something to a beautiful blonde accompanied by a taller, equally beautiful redhead. ‘Taller than me too,’ he thought bitterly. The blonde accepted the drink as it was slid over to her and was about to lift it when Peter quickly rushed over. He leaned over the counter and subtly pressed a finger down onto the base of the glass, which was widened, using his strength to keep the glass down. He made subtle eye contact with one of the bouncers next to the door, and the man got the message pretty quickly. He started toward the bar while Peter distracted the patrons.

“Sir!” His voice still sounded somewhat soft and high pitched over the bass of the music. “I think there’s someone outside looking for you! You match the description I think!” At the odd look given to him, he continued trying to convince him, “what’s your name?!” The man’s glassy eyes roamed over Peter’s face before answering,

“Trevor!” Peter squinted, trying to sell his lie.

“Last name?!”

“McConnelly!” Peter nodded and waved over the bouncer, who lumbered over.

“Is this the Trevor McConnelly the person outside is looking for?!” A quick once over of Trevor told Peter all he needed to know about him. “Wasn’t it his girlfriend?!” Without question, the bouncer nodded. Trevor suddenly paled and rushed past the bouncer, a man named Gus, who followed him. Peter shot him a thankful look and then turned back to the two women, glancing about them awkwardly.

“Sorry, but I wouldn’t drink this if I were you. He slipped something into it.” The women, shockingly, didn’t look surprised. They only glanced at each other before turning to him with twin smiles, an unheard conversion passing between their eyes that Peter didn’t know how to interpret.

“Thanks for the assist. I really appreciate it,” the blonde purred over the music. Peter could’ve sworn the grin on her face turned sharp for a split second before it flitted away and an almost natural smile came over her face once more. Almost being the key word. A shiver crawled up Peter’s back and the thrum of Spidey Sense became nearly haywire as he stared at the expressions of the two women. They were a lot more dangerous than they appeared.

“I don’t mean to condescend, and I’m sure you’re both able to protect yourselves, but please be careful. No one deserves that to happen to them,” he said as earnestly as possible, using his large brown eyes to his advantage. That seemed to soften at least the red head as her smile started to turn a little bit more gentle. The blonde seemed a bit thrown by his honesty, but quickly recovered, and her smile too seemed a little tender.

“I appreciate it! Not a lot of people can make that statement sound nice!” He gave them a small, genuine smile before turning back to the bar and continuing with other orders. Harley was suddenly gone from her spot, and Peter furrowed his brows. ‘I hope she’s okay,’ he thinks as he starts on another drink for another patron. He quickly shoots a text in between requests and then shuts off his phone. At one point, he’s done with all his requested drinks and takes a bit of a break. He turns around again only to see the two women from earlier still at the bar, conversing quietly. They’re quite perceptive, he notes because the instant his attention turns to them, their attention turns to him and they’re locked in a staring contest. He shyly wanders over to their spots, nearly missing the slight amusement that flashed between both of their eyes.

“What’s your name?” The redhead asks as he nears them. Peter smiles innocently, trying to keep posture loose as his Spidey Sense reacts again. His hands pull at each other, something he can’t help, and something that both women definitely notice.

“I’m Peter. Peter Parker. And you?” He’s as polite as possible. Always be polite to a customer, he remembers his manager saying. The redhead speaks again.

“I’m Barbara Gordon, but my friends call me Babs. You can too.” Peter nodded, his curly down hair bouncing as he did so. The women’s eyes crinkled as they smiled, their expressions now a hundred times more genuine than before.

“Stephanie Brown, Steph. But you can call me ‘Mine,’” the blonde winked with a small and suggestive smile. Peter’s cheeks turned red at this, his pale skin flushing. Barbara and Stephanie could tell too, as they chuckled a bit at his face and Peter turned his head away in embarrassment. When he turns back a few moments later, they’re still laughing, and he pouts a bit. ‘I never know how to respond to those comments,’ he thought. As their laughter subsided, they started asking more questions. With the danger at a small vibration at the back of his mind, he felt like he was in an interrogation.

“Have you worked here long?” Stephanie asked, flipping her long blonde hair over her shoulder, exposing her neck and cleavage. Peter made a huge point to himself to look straight into her eyes or over her shoulder under the guise of watching someone else.

“Not really,” he replied, “Just over a month. I work at The Captain’s Bar too.” Both women perked up in interest.

“Really? We frequent but we’ve never seen you.”

“Well, I work in the mornings and afternoons on Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday. You guys should come by sometime when I work! It’s quieter then if you guys want to talk!” They smile at him and he feels the vibration of danger slowly slip away until it’s nearly nothing. Peter guesses he won them over.

“Sure thing! We’re free next Wednesday so expect us then!” Peter nods, his fluffy hair bouncing again. Sudden, dual beeps enter his ear canal as he hears both women’s phones go off at the same time. They glance at the texts and curse and Peter suddenly realizes he shouldn’t hear those sounds and he’s staring so he turns away, trying to find interest in something else.

Stephanie talks again, “do you have a napkin and a pen?” He searches around the bar for a pen and he grabs a napkin from the neat stack in the corner. He gives them to her and she quickly writes down two sets of numbers. “These are our numbers! Keep in touch!” With that, they’re gone. Peter takes the napkin delicately into his hand, observing Stephanie’s writing style before pocketing it carefully. He resumes his job, but it’s not five minutes later that he remembers, the thought irking him. Damn pet peeves.

“Fuck,” he curses quietly, “she took the damn pen!”

-----

It was a week later that he encountered Barbara and Stephanie again. In the meanwhile, he was added into a chat between the two women, their conversations ranging from everyday, talking-about-the-weather to absolutely ridiculous. Peter knew not to draw attention to himself but he reasoned that two more friends couldn't hurt. He rather enjoyed having more people to talk to, not that Harley was an unsatisfying friend to be around. Speaking of, he had found that Harley had left because her “puddin’” needed her. When he had called her later that night, concerned, the excuse rushed out of her lips, leaving him less than convinced, but he let it go.

She arrived at the barroom the next day with her usual smile and a bouncing ponytail and everything was back to normal. Eye-Patch came in more often, Peter noticed, leaving more and more hundred dollar bills on the counter. Peter had tried to get him to stop, only to receive a smug smile and a goodbye of ‘sweetheart,’ before he was on his way. He found that Deathstroke, Slade Wilson Peter recalled as his name, was a man of little words, but that didn’t stop him from making small conversation with Peter when he could. Harley thought that he wanted to impress Peter. Peter disagreed completely.

“I think he might be making fun of me.” Harley rolled her eyes.

“Not true. I know guys like him. He’s trying to impress you, Puppy. Don’t doubt me.” Peter, knowing that arguing with her would be fruitless, just shrugged.

“Whatever you say, Harls.”

Wednesday came, and just like they said, Stephanie and Barbara entered The Captain’s Bar near the end of his shift with dazzling smiles on their faces as they shifted the backpacks on their shoulders. Peter greeted them happily.

“Hey Babs! Hey Steph!” They greeted him, waving jovially and walked towards the bar, sitting on seats right in front of him. “How are you guys doing?” Now closer, he had more of a view to observe the two women. They had slight bags under their eyes and their skin was paler than usual. “Are you guys okay? You look tired,” Peter asked with genuine concern. Stephanie leaned forward onto her elbows, which she settled on the counter. Her neck dropped a bit and he could suddenly see the back of her collar, a small, nearly inconspicuous red stain on there. It was freshly made, the texture under the lighting still looking wet. It looked like blood, he realized. With that conclusion, the thrum of danger returned and another shiver was forced down his back. The women noticed.

Stephanie raised her eyebrow, “The question is, are you okay?” Babs’ look was no less concerned. Peter nodded shakily.

“Yeah, no, I’m fine. It’s just, you got a little bit of blood on the back of your shirt. Are you hurt? Do you need first aid?” The blonde’s eyes widened a bit before her small hand clutched the back of her collar, Peter still looking at her in worry. Barbara’s jaw clenched and she plastered a fake smile onto her face.

“Steph’s fine, she just had a bit of a rough night. We’re both okay, so you don’t have to worry Peter.” He nodded reluctantly, still worried but content to take them at their word.

“Then what can I get you guys?” They rattled off their drinks and he rushed to make them, vaguely aware of the door opening to let another customer in. It wasn’t until he slid the girls’ drinks over to them did he realize that Slade had walked in. The one eyed man grinned predatorily at him before sitting down at the nearest end of the bar. Peter muttered a “be right back” to Babs and Steph before wandering over to the mercenary.

“Hey Slade.”

“Sweetheart,” the older man rumbled his greeting.

“The usual?” A short nod from the man sent Peter on his way to making an old fashioned drink for him. As he gave the man his requested beverage, Slade pointed over to the two women who were conversing softly with themselves, his one eye narrowed.

“Those two your friends?” Peter glanced at Babs and Steph and looked back at Slade, confused.

“Yeah? I mean we met like a week ago, but I guess you could call us that. Why?” Another body slumped into the chair next to Slade, slurring an order. Slade took that as a distraction for Peter and stood up.

“Because you have interesting taste in people, sweetheart.” He sauntered towards the women, his shoulders drawn tighter than Peter’s ever seen them. He watches Slade interact with the two women, watches their reactions to each other. He notices that, oddly enough, Slade is the one in the submissive position, while Stephanie and Barbara are dominant, despite their dispositions. Slade was stiff, in a combative stance while the other two were completely open, smirking and tilting their heads up at the older man. A hand snapping in front of his face brought Peter out of his thoughts.

“Hey, twink!” The man who slumped next to Slade sneered up at Peter from his position over the counter, “I told you to get me a fuckin’ drink,” he slurred loudly enough to catch the attention of those nearby. Slade, Steph and Babs turn their attention towards them.

“I’m right on it, Mr. Stanley,” Peter said politely, his hands starting to sweat, “can you repeat your order again?” The man squinted up at him for a moment, straightened up in this seat, lifted his hand and slapped Peter straight across the face. Being Spider Man, he saw it coming straight away, but had the forethought to remember not to draw much attention to himself. He tried to make it seem like the hit actually affected him a bit. So he stumbled off to the side, falling down in the process and watched as Slade stormed over to the man and proceeded to punch the drunk, living daylights out of the man. Steph and Babs went to the side of the bar where the small door separating the bar and the rest of the room was and rushed over to Peter, helping to straighten him up.

“You good Petey?” Babs voice was soft as if afraid he would spook like a cornered animal. He nodded distractedly, focusing on Slade who was now shaking the drunk man. He was knocked out instantly by the punch. He pushed himself up, looking at the other two who stood up with him. Slade noticed movement in his peripheral vision, his gaze snapping over to Peter in an instant.

“You okay, sweetheart?” The look of Peter’s reddened cheek made Slade clench his teeth.

“I’m fine, Slade,” he replied before pointing at the man that was limp in the mercenary’s arms, “let him go.” Slade blinked and looked at the man, sneering and releasing him, letting him hit the floor with a loud thump.

“With pleasure,” he smirked as Peter pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. 'Typical Slade,' Peter thought. Only God knows how many fights that man gets into.

“Just,” Peter leaned over the counter and took note of the unconscious male, his eye well on its way to swelling to the size of a golf ball, “wait here while I go get my manager.” The brown haired boy sighed in suffering as he headed toward the back of the bar to get his manager who would no doubt fire him soon for this.

‘Fucking Parker Luck,’ he thought bitterly.

Unawares to Peter, Stephanie and Barbara joined Slade in watching over the knocked out patron, looking down at him as if he were scum underneath their shoes. Stephanie glanced at Slade, who, even though he wasn’t looking at her, knew that she required his attention. Fully aware that he was listening, Steph said,

“I assume that you won’t struggle to say yes to this mission?” He knew exactly what she was talking about.

“No problems here, blondie. I’ll even take this case pro bono if I get first shot at him.” Slade grinned at the blonde, a ruthless intent behind his expression. Steph, who mirrored this, then turned to Babs to gage her reaction.

“Count me in,” she murmured, her tone soft but firm. She was quite disgusted by the display that negatively affected their new favorite bartender, “but you do know Dick and Tim are gonna want to know why we’re doing this.” Slade stilled at the mention of his ex, and whether or not the two women noticed it, they didn’t comment. Instead, Steph hummed.

“That may be, but I think they’ll quite like Petey.” The blonde sent Babs a knowing smirk, which Babs rolled her eyes at. Secretly, however, she agreed with her friend.

‘Yeah,’ she thought as Peter came back out, his fluffy brown hair bouncing with every step and his doe brown eyes wide, ‘they’ll definitely like him. A lot.’

Previous: Synopsis 

Next: Part 2 

[thegreatestofheck]

Ocean and Alcohol Pt. 8 ✘JJ Maybank✘

part one! part two! part three! part four! part five! part six! part seven! 

(gif not mine! all credit to aaronwarner!)

Word Count - 5869 Warnings - light swearing Synopsis - A high stress run in with the goons that you met in the marsh the day before leads you to Ms. Lana’s, where you’re confronted with the truth behind your feelings for JJ.  A/N - Here’s the next part! If any or you wanted a more concise version, this story is also up on Archive of our Own under the same name! And, as always, thank you so much for your support! Stay safe, stay healthy, stay groovey

It was confirmed. There was never going to be a normal day hanging out with the Pogues. 

JJ was describing how he and John B had witnessed someone getting attacked in their own house rather dramatically. Pope and Kie grilled him while John B paced back and forth. “You’re sure they were the guys that shot at us yesterday?” you asked, looking up from your hands. “Yes!” JJ said, letting a puff of smoke out of his mouth. “How do you know if you can’t describe them?” Pope yelled, exasperated. “I wasn’t taking little mental polaroids the entire time! I was under duress, okay?” JJ took a step back before taking another hit from his vape pen. “That’s alright,” you said, putting up a hand as Pope shook his head and crossed his arms. “But I can tell you,” JJ said, taking a deep breath to try and calm himself down. “By the way Ms. Lana was screaming, these guys were serious hombres, man.”    “Wait,” you said, scowling. “Ms. Lana? That’s whose house you were at?” “Yeah,” JJ said, running his hands through his hair. You stood quickly, picking your bag off the ground. “Where are you going?” Pope asked.  “I’ve got to go see Ms. Lana. I can’t leave her there alone,” you said. You made for the door of the porch, but JJ grabbed your wrist. “You can’t go there,” he said, shaking his head. “Those guys could come back.” “I don’t have anything they want, do I? Ms. Lana is my friend, I can’t just-” “Why do they want the compass anyway?” Kie asked, sitting up straighter. “Yeah, it’s a piece of shit,” Pope said before looking back at John B, who was still pacing. “No offense dude, I know it’s in the family-” “The office,” John B said, looking at JJ. “What?” “My dad,” John B made for the front door. “My dad’s office.” You watched him walk inside, one hand still on the porch door. JJ tossed you a pleading look. You couldn’t leave him here when he wanted you to stay, but how could you leave Ms. Lana there knowing that she was hurting? “Dammit,” you murmured to yourself as you turned toward JJ and followed them inside the house. “He always kept the office locked in case anyone tried to steal his Royal Merchant research,” John B explained as he led you all through the house. “We used to laugh about it, but now that he’s gone I’ve just...I’ve kind of kept it has it was.” The door you stood in front of looked like every other door in the house; white, wooden, plain. The only difference was the lock that kept it shut. John B stared at the lock for a few moments, as if deciding whether or not it was worth it.    “For when he gets back,” Kie said. She sent a very pointed look to JJ and Pope, who rolled their eyes. It was clear to you that there were some in this group who weren’t one hundred percent sure that Big John was coming back. For John B’s sake, you really really hoped he was going to. John B unlocked the door and pushed it open slowly. The room was an absolute mess. Papers, books, charts, and maps littered almost every surface, You weren’t sure how anyone was supposed to find anything of use in this room. It was a fire hazard. You also didn’t want to mention that a locked door wasn’t really much use when there were glass windows surrounding the place, so you kept it to yourself. “I’ve slept over here like 600 times,” Pope said aimlessly. “I’ve never seen this door opened.” Even though you couldn’t really understand the room, John B seemed to know right where he was going. As you wandered around, looking at the intricate drawings and pictures hanging on the wall, John B picked up a corkboard of pictures and scribblings. He set it on top of a large pile of papers, the others starting to crowd around it. You glanced out the window, a bad feeling settling in your stomach. 

“Here, this is the original owner.” John B pointed at the first picture on a corkboard. A sailor. He went through each of the pictures, describing how they got the compass and what happened to them. “So, you have a death compass,” Pope said, a little nod of his head. ‘Great.” “It’s not a death compass!” John B protested. “It’s cursed,” JJ said, pressing his lips together. “You have to get rid of it.” John B turned away from the corkboard and sat down on the only clear surface in the room. 

“Look, there’s this compartment in the back,” John B said, flipping the compass over. “Where soldiers could hide secret notes or whatever.” 

You and Kie leaned over to see what was on the inside. John B twisted the back off, looking at the compass. “Look,” you said, pointing at the back. “There’s something etched in there.” “What is that?” Kie asked. “That wasn’t there before.” You could feel John B tense as he looked back at Kie. “This is my dad’s handwriting.” “How can you tell?” asked Pope as he neared, a hand on his hip. “He does that thing with his R’s. See?” John B showed Pope the carving. There was in fact a very strangely drawn R. “Can I see it?” JJ asked, leaning over you as you crouched on the ground. John B showed the compass to JJ. “Red...Rout-” “That’s an A,” you said, pointing at the little letter. “It says Redfield,” Kie said. “Right.” “What’s Redfield?” Kie asked. “Maybe...maybe it’s a clue,” John B offered, leaning back in his chair. “Maybe it’s a clue to where he’s hiding.” You felt yourself grimace. He wanted to believe so badly that his dad was still out there, but nine months was such a long time to be away. If his dad was still alive, why hadn’t he come back? “A clue? C’mon, that’s-” Pope looked over at Kie, who shook her head, giving him the same look as before. He cleared his throat. “If it’s a clue, it might be an anagram.” That was all John B needed to hear. “Yes, an anagram. Perfect.” He stood, shuffling around on the desk. “You’ll need some paper.” 

Pope took the paper and pencil and started to write. “How do you concentrate with that thing crowing at you?” Pope asked. “JJ loves the rooster,” John B said. “I love the rooster,” Kie added. As Kie, Pope, and JJ leaned over the paper to try and solve the anagram, John B started to dig through some of the other things in the room. “How can I help?” You asked him. He shook his head, scribbling something on a piece of paper. You turned back to the anagram station, listening to them bicker.    “You’re missing a letter,” Kie said, pointing at the paper. Pope smacked her hand away. “Guys,” John B said. “Somebody’s here.” You all moved toward the window slowly, peering outside. A black car had pulled up beside John B’s van, two large men stepping out. They were definitely the guys that shot at you yesterday, which meant they were the same people who had attacked Ms. Lana. Your blood began to boil at the sight of them. “Son of a bitch,” you muttered, narrowing your eyes as they approached the house. “This is suboptimal,” Pope said, voice so monotone you almost laughed despite the fact that there were very dangerous people approaching the house. “No,” JJ moaned, shaking his head and stepping back. “I told you. Why does it always-” “JJ, listen to me,” John B said, pushing his friend against the wall in hopes to quiet him down. “Where’s the gun?” “The gun? I, uh, I can’t-” “Now you don’t have the gun?” Kie cried. “The one time we need the gun?” You wrapped your arms around yourself, moving to stand as close to Pope as you could. You were hoping to absorb some of his strange calmness into yourself before your head blew off from stress. “It’s on the porch,” JJ said finally. “Go get it!” JJ ran from the room and you felt your heart sink. Kie stepped back toward you and you laced your fingers through hers, giving her hand a tight squeeze. Maybe if you couldn’t take any of Pope’s calmness, you and Kie could pass some kind of comfort to each other. JJ ran back into the room, shutting the door behind him. “Where’s the compass?” You heard one of the men yell from outside. You shuddered at the sound of his voice. “Where’s the gun?” John B asked. JJ looked around the room, eyes wide. “They’re on the front porch.” “Routledge!” A man yelled. “Where you at, boy?” “Shit!” “The window! Out the window.” JJ and Pope ran to the closest window, trying to pry it open, but it wouldn’t budge. “It’s painted shut!” JJ snapped as Pope continued to push it upward. “We can break it,” you offered. “Too loud,” Kie said, shaking her head. John B leaned up against the door, eyes closed, his breathing steady. How he managed to stay calm despite there being two men in his house who wanted to kill him was beyond you. You and Kie shuffled through the stuff on the desk for something sharp. “Routledge!” You felt something slice against your finger. Despite the sting of pain, you shoved papers away to reveal a letter opener. “Kie!” You tossed the letter opener to her and she ran to the window. You shoved your now bleeding finger against your jeans and made for the window. Pope ran to the door, standing beside John B. “Hurry,” JJ said as Kie started to cut away at the paint. “I’m going as fast as I can!” You ran your hands through your hair, wishing that you could somehow be of more help. The doorknob rattled. You stuck your knuckles against your mouth to keep from crying out. JJ took the letter opener from Kie and tore through the paint as the man outside the door started to kick it in. “You better not be in there!” he yelled from the outside. John B and Pope hurried away from the door, everyone now crowded by the window. You took Kie’s hand in yours again. There were tears in her eyes and she squeezed your hand repeatedly. When the gun went off, you jumped, but kept your mouth clamped shut. Your jaw began to ache from how hard you were clenching your jaw. JJ finally managed to pull the window open and then stepped out of the way. Kie jumped through the window, dragging you along with her. One by one, the boys hopped out after. “Where do we go?” Kie whispered. You pointed toward the chicken coop, where the rooster was still crowing happily. The two of you bolted toward the coop, the boys following not far behind. You helped Kie inside and waited for the boys to reach you, herding them in with your hand. You were the last inside, shutting the coop behind you. You scurried to the back, as far from the door as you could get. You sat between JJ and Kie, breathing heavily. You looked at JJ and he glanced down at you, slowly reaching out to take your hand. The rooster continued to crow as you sat, every cluck making your pulse spike. “Pope, shut it up,” JJ hissed, pointing at the chicken by Pope’s feet. “What am I supposed to do?” “Pet it or talk to it or something!” Kie said, tears running from her eyes. “I don’t know!” “He’s coming,” John B said, sitting back against the wall of the chicken coop. You sucked in a deep breath, closing your eyes. For all the times you thought about how you were going to die, going out in a chicken coop had never been on your list. Still, you would die surrounded by friends, so there was something beautiful in that. “You do something!” Pope said. You felt JJ’s hand pull away from yours as he reached out a grabbed the rooster. You tried to look away as he broke the rooster’s neck, shutting it up instantly. Kie let out a shuddering sob, but no one made another sound. “Ratter! What the hell are you going?” The other man yelled. “Let’s go!” You saw the man’s feet slowly retreat away from the coop, letting yourself breathe once. When the engine started, you heard Kie let out another sob. Even after the black truck pulled away, no one moved a muscle. It was a few minutes before John B pushed himself onto his hands and crawled out of the coop. Pope scurried out next and Kie after him. JJ sat there, holding the dead rooster in his hands. You crawled over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder.    “I loved this rooster,” he said, staring at the body. You slowly wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “I know,” you whispered, gently moving your hand onto the rooster’s body. “You did what you had to do.” A few tears stung your eyes, blurring your vision. You blinked and they fell, preferring to cry when JJ couldn’t see you. You kissed the top of his head and took the rooster out of his hands and setting it on the ground. “Come on,” you said gently. “Let’s go.” The two of you emerged from the coop. You noticed a shift in JJ as soon as you stepped out. The shock was gone instantly, replaced by a fake version of excitement. “That was crazy,” he said, grinning at John B who let out a deep sigh. Kie walked toward you and JJ, her tears starting to dry on her face. She put one arm around your neck and the other around JJ. “We almost died,” she breathed. “Nah, we woulda been fine,” JJ said, patting her on the head. You held her tight, knowing full well that she was right. “I really need to go,” you said, finally pulling away from her. “I need to see Ms. Lana.” 

“What if those guys come back for her?” Pope asked. “Then she needs someone there to protect her,” you said, jogging back to the porch for your purse. “And it has to be you?” JJ asked, arms crossed. “If it’s not me then who?” JJ sighed, looking down at the leaves. “I’ll be there until the sun goes down,” you said to John B. “If there are any new updates, I’ll be at Ms. Lana’s or my house. Come get me.” John B nodded. “Thank you.” You put a hand on his arm and waved to the others. “Babe, wait!” JJ ran after you as you went to the car. “You’ll be safe?” 

“Of course,” you told him, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek. Before you turned away again, JJ grabbed your wrist, pulling you back for a real kiss. You felt yourself smile against his lips. An ocean roared in your stomach, wanting nothing more than to stay here with him, to hold him until all the horrible thoughts were out of his head. But you couldn’t. “Hey, JJ!” Pope called from around the house. “Get your ass back over here!” JJ groaned and you felt the vibration against your lips. When you pulled away, he tried to take your lips back but you put a finger against his mouth. “Your friends are scheming, Maybank,” you said. “And I have to go.” With a roll of his eyes, JJ dropped his hands from your waist. “I’ll see you later, yeah?” You said, smiling at him. He smiled back, starting to back away slowly. 

“Yeah. Stay safe out there, sailor,” he said, giving you a mock salute. 

“You too, bucko.” 

There was a smile on your face as you drove away. How in the world had the boy managed it? Just minutes ago, you were seconds away from dying and yet JJ could still make you smile. You weren’t sure whether your heart was pounding from the adrenaline or from the lingering feeling of JJ’s lips on yours. 

Your smile didn’t leave your face until you pulled up to Ms. Lana’s house. You could hear her crying before you even made it to the front door. “Ms. Lana?” You called into the open window. “It’s El.” “El?” You heard her quiet voice coming from somewhere in the house. “El, darling, you shouldn’t be here.” “Can I come in, Ms. Lana?” “You shouldn’t.” You pushed the door open anyway. Your heart dropped into your stomach at the sight of her home. Glass was shattered on the floor, papers flitting in the wind of all the broken windows. The furniture was overturned and books were scattered about. You found her sitting on the floor of the bathroom, head in her hands. “Oh, Ms. Lana.” She startled at the sound of your voice, looking up. You saw the tears running down her face, her eyes puffy and red from crying. “You shouldn’t be here, child,” she said, shaking her head as her lower lip quivered. 

“You’ve always been there for me.” You sat beside her, draping an arm over her shoulders. “Now I’m here for you.” She dropped her forehead to your shoulder and started to cry. She took your hand gently, squeezing it in the same way Kie had earlier. You could feel her tears rolling down your arm, soaking through your shirt. When her tears slowly started to subside, her sobbing returning to normal breathing, she sat up, wiping her cheeks. “Here.” You pushed yourself off the ground and put out for your hand for her to take. “Let’s pick some things up.” “It’s such a mess,” she said, looking around. “I couldn’t bring myself to do it.” 

“Well, I’m here now,” you said, smiling. “I’ll help you.” It was nearly impossible to figure out where to start. But once Ms. Lana was on her feet, she knew exactly what to do. She grabbed a broom and started to sweep up the glass and other broken things from the floor. You tried to right some of the furniture, moving them all to the same spot so she could sweep. You spent the next few hours trying to return Ms. Lana’s house to somewhat livable. Even though her house looked like a hurricane blew through it, there was no longer anything on the ground to step on and there were places to sit. 

As you placed books back onto the shelf as best as you could, Ms. Lana made something to eat. The two of you ate outside, looking out at the water. Sweat beaded down your neck, the ocean glaring off the water and shining against your face. 

“How did you know to come here?” Ms. Lana asked. You took your time swallowing as you tried to come up with a reason that wouldn’t immediately let her know that JJ was the boy she and you had told her about. 

“I wanted to come see you after I heard about Scooter.” 

Ms. Lana looked at her cup of tea. 

“Those boys told you, didn’t they?” “I don’t know what-” “You don’t have to lie to me, honey. I told you, I’m not going to tell your daddy anything.” You breathed in a deep breath. “That boy you were telling me about. It was John B, wasn’t it?” You scoffed and rolled your eyes. 

“God, no. He’s just a friend.” 

“JJ then.” 

You grimaced and tried to play it off in the same way, but Ms. Lana already knew. You set your cup down and met her gaze. The game was up. You were caught. “Yes,” you said finally. “Yeah, it’s JJ.” Ms. Lana smiled as she took another drink from her cup. You always thought that if anyone found out about the two of you doing...whatever it was that you did...that they would be disappointed, try to steer you away. But Ms. Lana just smiled. 

“Tell me about it,” she said. 

“Ms. Lana-” “Indulge me, El. My house was broken into and I need something to take my mind off of it.” 

You felt a smile grow on your face. You leaned your head back, letting out a deep sigh. 

“It’s like….” You sighed again. “I don’t even know. It’s like being alive for the first time. Like I’ve been in this state of comatose for my entire life and all of the sudden I’m awake.” You couldn’t help your smile as you looked up at the sky. 

“It feels like I’m caught in a storm but I’m not drowning. I’m not afraid. Not when I’m with him. Nothing can touch me when he’s there. No one can.” You looked down at your fingers. 

“Do you love him?” 

You snapped your head up to look at her. “I’ve only known him a little over a month, Ms. Lana.” 

“I know,” she said. “I only knew Scooter three months before we were married. I never regretted my decision.” You shook your head, the elated feeling in your chest gone. You knew your answer, but you couldn’t say it. There was too much weight to it. It meant too much for you to just say out loud. 

“You don’t have to know now,” Ms. Lana said, reaching across the table to take your hand. “But be careful. Don’t get that pretty heart of yours broke and for the love of God don’t break his.” You shook your head quickly, unable to form the words you wanted to say. 

“There’s more to do inside,” you finally decided on. “We should get back to work.” Without waiting for her to respond, you took her plate and yours back to the kitchen, mind running. 

Was that how your relationship, whatever it was, with JJ was supposed to end, his heart broken or yours? Why couldn’t it end happy? Did everything need to fall apart or was there actually hope that something good could come from this? 

You helped Ms. Lana clean for another hour or so until the sun started to set. 

“You should head home, my dear,” Ms. Lana said. “I am so grateful for your help.” 

You gave her a tight hug. 

“Any time you need me,” you told her, hands on her shoulders. “I will drop anything.” 

“Even that boy of yours?” 

You rolled your eyes. 

“Where do you think I came from?” 

It was nice to have someone else know, someone who wasn’t Kid or the Pogues. Ms. Lana was an adult who actually cared, who could give you good advice, who could help when you needed it. She was someone you could actually trust, someone to rely on. The thought made your smile grow wider. 

“Have a good night, dear,” Ms. Lana said, walking you to your truck. 

You sent her one last wave before pulling away. 

You expected your dad to be angry when you got home, but you were confident you could talk yourself out of it. 

“Where were you?” He demanded, as usual. “Someone told me they saw you on the cut. I thought I told you-”

“I was at Ms. Lana’s,” you said, forcing tears into your eyes. “She’s just so...with Scooter and everything.” 

You covered your face with your hands, imitating sobbing sounds. Your dad dropped his anger instantly and walked over to you. He wrapped his arms around your back, holding you tight. 

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he whispered, planting a kiss on your head. You sobbed to cover a gag. “Scooter’s death hit us all really hard.” 

You lifted your head up to meet your dad’s eyes, disgusted by how close he was to you. 

“If you wouldn’t mind,” you said, voice quiet. “I think I just need some time alone. Is that okay?” 

Your dad nodded his head, letting you go. You took a careful step back. 

“If you need me, Kiddo, I’m always here for you,” he said as you started toward the stairs. You nodded your head slowly. 

“Thanks, Dad.” You dragged your feet upstairs. With your back turned to him, a smile made its way onto your lips. There was nothing like a successful guilt trip. Closing your door, you let your jitters leave your body by waving your arms in the air to some inaudible beat that you made up. It was only 8 o’clock (ish) and yet you had the whole night to do whatever you wanted without your dad checking on you. He hated it when you got weepy. He didn’t know how to handle it. So, he usually left you alone until the next day. That was how you had managed to sneak out to most of the parties in your past. 

You just hoped the Pogues were planning something interesting that night. 

JJ tapped on your window thirty minutes later. You threw the window open, shoes still on your feet. 

“Where to?” You asked. “The Wreck to pick up Kie.” “And then?” 

“John B won’t tell us until we’re all in the car.” 

“That’s fine by me.” 

You crawled out of your window, following JJ down to the ground. He took your hand as the two of you ran across the lawn and into the trees. 

Jumping into the back of John B’s van. The front seat was empty, most likely reserved for Kie. 

“Hey, Pope,” you said as you sat next to him. “John B.” 

“Hey,” they both replied. JJ slid into the van behind you. “What have you boys been up to?” you asked. 

“We went to the lighthouse,” Pope said. “Almost got arrested.” 

“I did get arrested,” John B said. 

“Pardon?” You leaned forward. 

“Yeah. We went to the Redfield Lighthouse and it was fine and dandy until I showed the guy the compass. He freaked and called the cops.” You looked back at JJ, who pulled a blunt out of his pocket. He shrugged. 

“How did you get out?” 

“Kie’s dad bailed me out,” John B said as if it was the most normal thing. 

“And we’re going to her workplace now?” 

John B nodded his head. 

“Yup.” 

“Let’s just pray her dad doesn’t kill us.” 

Her dad didn’t kill you. But the conversation between John B and Kie went on longer than you had expected. 

“What colleges are you looking at, Pope?” You asked, trying to break the silence. You heard JJ sigh dramatically as he leaned his head against the window. 

“I’m going to apply to as many as I can,” he said. “But it doesn’t really matter if I can’t get that scholarship. Have you been planning on college?” “Yeah. I have to get myself a good job to keep myself afloat, ya know? Like a lawyer or a doctor or something,” you said. 

“You? A lawyer?” JJ asked with a scoff. You narrowed your eyes. 

“Well, I’ll have to do something to survive, won’t I? I can’t be a dishwasher for my entire life.” 

“Where are you going to apply?”  Pope asked, trying to turn your attention away from JJ’s comment. 

“Brown, I think. And maybe Harvard. Maybe some other reputable schools. I would prefer somewhere small, but who knows.” 

“And I’m guessing your dad would pay for it?” Pope asked. You knew that he hadn’t meant the sharpness in his words, but you heard it anyway. 

“Probably not,” you said, pulling at a tear in your jeans. “He doesn’t want to think about me leaving the house ever. I talked about college once and he….yeah, no, I don’t really bring it up.” 

“What would your dream job be?” Pope turned to face you fully. “If you didn’t have to think about school or money or a family.” 

You pulled your lip in between your teeth, looking around and leaning forward as if you were about to tell a secret. 

“Promise you won’t laugh?” 

“I promise.” 

“I don’t,” JJ said, lifting his hand. You smacked his hand out of the air before turning back to Pope. 

“I want to be work in the archives of a museum,” you said, whispering. 

“What?” 

“Like, when people discover things, I want to catalog everything and date it and figure out where it was from and who used it and stuff like that.” 

“That is so cool,” Pope said with a smile. JJ rolled his eyes. 

“You want to be a coroner, right?” Pope nodded his head quickly. “That is seriously the coolest.” 

“What did I say about being a kiss ass?” JJ asked from the back. 

“Just because your aspirations are to be high all the time doesn’t mean it’s the same for the rest of us,” Pope said. 

The car fell silent for a bit. 

“I want to be a mechanic,” JJ said finally. “Like my dad.” 

You leaned over to look at him. He was rolling the blunt in between his fingers, staring at it. He looked up at you, one eye squeezed shut. You smiled at him and he smiled back. It wasn’t his usual half-grin and it looked almost...sad, but it was a smile. 

Both of the front doors opened at the same time. You turned around and smiled as Kie slid into the passenger seat. 

“I heard you’ve had a busy day since I left,” you said. Kie rolled her eyes, a smile on her face as she glanced at John B. 

“Yeah, it’s been crazy,” she said, sharing a knowing smile with John B. 

“What the hell was that?” you whispered to Pope. He shrugged, looking at his hands, all the previous joy gone from his face. 

They started down the road. It didn’t take long for JJ and Pope to start bickering about smoking or vaping or something along those lines. 

“Look, I know I was wrong about the lighthouse,” John B said, interrupting their argument from going any further. “And I was wrong about pretty much everything else. But I was right about one thing. My dad is trying to tell me something.” 

No one asked him what it was until he slowed to a stop at the cemetery. 

“John B,” you asked, wrapping your arms around yourself. “Why are we in a cemetery?” 

“Come on, guys,” was all he said. You sent a look at Kie and she simply shook her head, following John B out of the car. 

“This place is freaky,” she said. “John B, what are we doing?” 

“You know how you’re trying to remember a song, but you don’t know who sings it?” 

“Everyday,” you grumbled. 

“So, Redfield. This whole time I thought it was a place.” John B stopped in front of a crypt, shining the light onto the name at the top. “But what if it’s a person?” 

“Voi-effing-la,” JJ said, staring up at the name. 

Your stomach started to squeeze. You didn’t like dead things, especially not dead people. Cemeteries were creepy enough from the outside, you weren’t overly fond of being inside one. 

“My great great grandmother Olivia,” John B said, glancing back at the group. “Her maiden name was Redfield.” 

“I’ll be damned,” you breathed. 

The five of you stared up at the crypt, all in different states of shock. The etching in the cursed compass actually meant something and that something was a clue that led you all here, to this crypt. You had a feeling you were all teetering at the edge of a cliff, a cliff none of you wanted to fall down. Except maybe John B.

“Help me with this door,” he said. 

Pope stepped forward and tried to help him push the door open, but it wasn’t moving. Even when JJ tried to help, it still remained where it was. 

“This door is like 700 pounds,” Pope groaned. “It’s not going to budge.” 

“We didn’t come this far to get stuck at a door,” JJ said. 

A quiet hiss from the door startled you. At first, you thought it was a booby trap and a poisonous gas had been released and you had all been infected, but then JJ relieved your fears. 

“It’s a snake!” 

The boys jumped backward. 

“That’s a moccasin alright,” JJ said. When you looked over, there was a smile on his face. “Ye old cottonmouth. Death in tall grass.” 

And then he proceeded to bark at it. You pressed your palm to your forehead. 

“Are you seriously barking at a snake?” you asked, eyebrows pinched. 

“JJ, shut up!” Kie sounded so done with him and the others and you couldn’t blame her. She put up with a lot. “You’re gonna wake the dead man!” Pope said, tapping JJ’s shoulder with his hand. 

“What? They’re afraid of snakes. Everybody knows that.” 

“No.” You shook your head. “I don’t think everybody knows that.” 

You stepped toward the door, trying to figure out exactly you all could get inside. There was a relatively large hole at the top. 

“Hold up,” JJ said. “If there’s one, there’s probably dozens.” 

You waved him off, standing on your toes to stick your hand through the hole. JJ started barking again and while the boys tried to shut him up, you put a hand on Kie’s elbow and pointed at the hole. 

“I can get through there,” she said. You nodded your head and the two of you started to clear away the branches. 

“What are you doing?” John B asked turning around. 

“I can fit through the hole,” Kie said, pointing at it. 

“You’re not going through there.” He shook his head. 

“Look, this is about your dad. And honestly, I don’t believe in it, but you deserve to know the truth.” John B looked away from her and she gave a little shrug of her shoulders. “I’ll do it.” 

You crouched down, setting out your palms to hoist her up. Pope held onto her waist to stabilize her. 

“I’m coming too,” you said once she was inside. Putting a flashlight between your lips, JJ and Pope helped you through the hole after Kie. You dropped to the ground and your pulse started to race. You really hated dead things. 

“You alive?” John B asked. “You got like a, a heartbeat and everything?” 

“So far,” Kie called back, shining the flashlight around. A shudder ran through you as your light shone over a broken casket. 

“I hate it in here,” you said, wandering around. “What are we looking for again?” 

“You’ll know it when you see it,” John B told you. 

“Real helpful,” you mumbled, shoving your free hand into your sweater pocket. 

“Oh my god,” Kie breathed, standing by a crack in the wall. 

“What is it?” You crossed the crypt and stood by Kie to see what was in her hands. “Oh my god.” 

“Did you find something?” JJ called from outside. 

Kie pulled the envelope from the crack and turned to look at you, a hint of a smile on her face. 

“He was right,” she breathed. You smiled up at her. 

“Now can we get the hell out of here?” 

***

 Taglist -  @bitterbethany @lovelymaybankk @ilymarkchan @downbytheouterbanks @clearcolourlessglass @obxwriterfan @tangledinsparkles @chill-sushi

[graceslavenderhaze]

bright { connor stevens}

synopsis: connor knows your soul and you know his. now that knowledge is put to the test. 

authors note

part two of haunted!

in this story a evil eye bracelet is use, which is a talisman used for protection against misfortune and injury. i have used evil talismans since childhood and their apart of my culture which is why i’m adding them into my writing. 

also i tried my best to reconstruct the timeline so if there’s some mistakes and gaps, i tried lol. 

also the major plot twists i threw into this? whip lash worthy

Your walk home was accompanied by your tears and broken heart. While your mind was on auto pilot buzzing through every moment you spent with Connor, trying to pin point the exact moment everything had gone wrong. Was he being honest with you? Did he suddenly start caring all of a sudden what your over bearing parents thought about your relationship with him? Or was he just never into you that much to beginning with. You weren’t immune to hearing the whispers in the hallway and how cruel your classmates could be, while Connor always reassured you. Your mind always had that deep corner that was out for blood and to hurt you.

Your cheeks were raw and your eyes were stinging by the time you had returned back home. All the lights were out downstairs and upstairs. You snuck back into your bedroom with ease. You had no willpower once you entered through your windowpane to do anything. You shrugged off the jacket and your shoes, managed to changed into the first pair of clean pajamas you saw and the second your head hit the pillow, you were out. 

You woke up to your alarm and felt like you had been left on the side of the road after being ran over. You sat up to check your phone and saw that there had been a few notifications from your socials and texts from Luke, they were about Connor. Adding insult to injury. You stared at the texts debating if you should even them, and deciding against them. You couldn’t deal with this decaffeinated. 

“So he just broke up with you? Out of nowhere?” Carrie said as you had finished ranting to your friends. You nodded and her face furrowed. “That’s out of character for him, he looks at you like you put the stars in the sky.” She said nonchalantly making a turn onto out of the coffee shop parking lot. You took a sip of your coffee. 

“It’s so out of character for him.” Kayla commented from the backseat, you turned slightly to look at her. “Obviously we don’t know him as well as you do but c’mon that’s so weird.” It was weird, you didn’t put everything together in the moment but something was definitely going on. 

“You’re right.” You murmured. You didn’t want to give yourself excuses but something was definitely going on. As you rolled into school you noticed Luke and your eyebrows furrowed, Connor wasn’t with him. They always walked to school together. Unless he ditched. 

“Hey!” Luke announced as he walked up to Carries car when you’d gotten out. “Hi.” You said shortly walking past with your friends. “You seen Connor yet?” You and your friends stopped short. “Why would she keep tabs on her ex?” Carrie snarked. Confusion washed over Luke and he went silent as a sympathetic look was cast your way. You smiled before you and your friends continued your way to class. 

After school, you stayed late to hang with Kayla as she choreographed some more things for dance while you worked on your homework. Eventually you were both kicked out by the boys wrestling team and when leaving the coach asked if you knew where Connor was, you shook your head and went your way with Kayla. “He didn’t show at all today?” You voiced with concern to Kayla, she met your face with mutual concern. “You should call him. Breakup aside this is some criminal minds type shit.” You nodded. You pulled your phone out and your finger hung over his contact before you finally pressed down. 

The ringing went on and on which just built up your anxiety. Then his voicemail. “Hey it’s Connor, leave a message if you even do that anymore it’s the twenty first century.” You swallowed and looked at Kayla. “Hey, i know i’m probably the last person you want to hear from but where ever you are can you just call me and let me know you’re not kidnapped or something morbid like that. ok bye.” 

“Effective.” She said as you opened the passenger door. “Well sorry i don’t have a go to my ex who i love is missing might be missing and i’m concerned voicemail at the ready.” You said buckling your seatbelt. “Weakling.” She said pulling out of the school parking lot. 

“Where’s y/n? “ Hanna asked as they went through Connor’s backpack that they had found in the woods the day prior. Luke hadn’t spoken anything of Connor and yours breakup with the rest of the group and they’d been confused on the absence of their friend. “Connor and her broke up the night before he went missing.” Luke said to the group. The room went silent other than the humming of the art room lights. 

“Is that why she’s been avoiding us?” Gabby asked, she’d seen you several times and you’d dodged. It wasn’t intentional it was just that they were Connors friends first. “Probably.” Jai said continuing to look through the backpack when a letter addressed to you fell out. He looked at the group, “Nope not reading it.” 

“None of us are!” Hanna said as Luke inched towards it. Gabby nodded, “I have class with her next period. I’ll give it to her.” She said shooting the boys looks. The boys both put their heads down like dogs in the dog house. 

Eventually, the bell had rung so the group went separate ways and when Gabby saw you in class she sat next to you before you had the chance to move seats she dropped the letter on your desk. “We know why you’re avoiding us. But he left this for you, Luke found his backpack in the woods yesterday and he’s convinced something happened.” She said keeping her voice down not wanting to draw any attention to the two of you. You nodded taking everything in. 

You slipped the letter into your backpack. “I want to help but things with my parents aren’t the best right now and besides my shifts at the book store i’m on lock down.” You explained to her, there was nothing more you wanted than to help Connor. She nodded. “I totally understand. I’ll text you updates.” She said with a reassuring smile. You gave her a smile and then turned your attention to the class even though the only thing you could think about was the letter in your backpack. 

It had been hours before you were able to read the letter that Connor had left you. It sat there taunting you. You ripped it open and didn’t know what to feel. It just had a post it note that said you’re enough, then ticket stubs from dates you’d been on and a wax bracelet with an evil eye charm attached. You put the bracelet on almost instantly. Nothing made sense.

 What you had was a piece of the puzzle. 

On Monday, Connor was here. Sleep deprived, worried eyed and self heart broken. Tuesday came like sunrise and he was gone as if he never existed. The only thing left was his backpack and laptop that was password encrypted. 

On Tuesday, his backpack had been found in the woods he last was in before he disappeared. With trinket lights, a letter for you, and a note that was chalked up to be clues. 

On Wednesday, his friends went through his backpack at school. Hanna and Luke snuck into his house and stole his laptop in hopes of figuring out more about what happened to him. Later, that day Jai finds out the group didn’t make it out of the woods in time and was in deed cursed by the shadow man. Jai was almost taken in his basement, Hanna and Seth were almost taken in their living room, and Gabby while on a jog.

Not being able to get any contact of Luke who was at wrestling practice, Gabby stole her mom’s car to hopefully save her friend. The group took refugee at Connor’s house for the night. The shadow man came back and they managed to fight him off this time. Hanna cracked the password to Connor’s laptops and they figured out that he was cursed too. He was researching into the curse and was going to the lighthouse to preform a ritual to end it all. 

Pieces came together, like the corners of a puzzle. 

When Thursday rolled around you found yourself studying in the cafeteria when Gabby and Jai came to sit with you. “Hey.” You said looking up from your textbook. “Hi.” Gabby said with a nervous look on her face. “What’s going on?” You asked looking at the both of them with confusion and concern at the same time. 

“Your mom’s maiden name is Murphy, right?” Jai asked as he pulled out an old yearbook. You nodded, “Yeah but what does this have to do with Connor?” Jai placed the open yearbook in front of you. “This is June Murphy, she was the first victim of the shadow man curse we think, she was the light house keepers daughter, well one of them.” Gabby explained to you. 

“One of them? Whose the other?” You asked flipping to the next page, and staring up at you was your own mother. Who looked somewhat like. “Oh shit.” You muttered. “We didn’t know for sure.” Jai said sympathetically.

“It’s definitely her, probably think it was me if her name wasn’t there.” You said looking up and pulling your phone out to take a picture of the year book pages. “She chastises me for lying when she has a whole hidden identity.” You said slumped in shock. 

“We’re sorry.” Gabby said placing her hand on your wrist in an act of comfort. “Maybe she knows something that can help with Connor?” Jai implied, you shrugged. “I’ll talk to her later and let you guys know if it’s anything helpful. I have to go meet Carrie about the glow dance.” 

“Also Jai, If you’re planning on asking Kayla. Her dress is purple. Just a heads up.” You said as you grabbed your textbook and walked away from your two friends with questions swirling around your head. How was this suddenly a real life scenario in your life?

“Mom!” You announced when you walked in your house. She was in her bedroom. You hadn’t talked to her since the night you last saw Connor. “We need to talk.” You said, She smiled. She thinks she going to win, she has no idea what’s coming. 

“I’m so glad you came to your senses about that boy.” She said. You laughed pulling your phone out. “No we need to talk about your double life.” Her face went pale and fear overstruck it. You had never seen your mother scared in your entire life, not even when you broke your arm. 

“Tell me your secrets and i’ll tell mine.” You said with your arms crossed. She sat there for a minute before she exhaled. “First you need to understand everything i did was to protect you. Second, i need to know what you know. ” You nodded, you’d never seen your mother like this before so whatever she was about to say must be gospel truth. 

“I know June Murphy was the lighthouse keepers daughter, well one of them, she tried to save the lighthouse and failed, then she died. Not so long after the light house was shut down and then her dad died not so long after her.” You said and your mom nodded. 

“June fought to save the light house and was only a few signatures short. She’s a lot you, you’d like her.  One night she decided she’d turn the lighthouse on by herself. Only problem was we’d thrown the key off the cliff into the water earlier that day. June swore she saw it hanging by a low branch. So we went to get it. It was pouring so when she came just close, she slipped and she fell.” Tears collected in your mothers eyes and you regretted everything you said about her earlier. 

“My father was devastated and took a book of shadows. He turned himself into a monster to try and get my sister back. In the end, i lost them both.” She said as she stood up and went into her closet pulling out out a medium sized wooden chest. 

“I changed my name, moved to an out of state college and when i married your father. We moved back here, perfect place for a family. No one remembered me because there was nothing worth remembering anymore.” She placed it down and opened it. There was pictures, a baby blanket and other keepsakes. 

“At the time i couldn’t understand how my father turned himself into a monster to save a daughter he lost, when he still had one who was alive. But after i had you. I understood. I could never let that happen.” You sat there. Your parents had been hard on you but if this was the reason? You had no reason to complain. 

“Does dad know?” You asked. She nodded, “You can’t go through something like that and keep it to yourself you need to let burdens off your shoulders and lean on the ones you love.” You nodded. She sat next to you on the bed “I’m sorry about what i said about your boyfriend.” 

“He’s not my, um, that’s a whole mess right now.” You said to her. “He broke up with me the night we fought, i snuck out of my window. Then went missing the next day and his friends who are also my friends, but that societal you can’t have mutual friend with a significant other bullshit was in my head, found out he was in the light house cottage before he disappeared so they went there too. He wasn’t there but his backpack was in the woods, which are cursed so now they’re cursed and they’re trying to save him and themselves before the shadow man takes them like they took Connor.” You rambled on. Your mother look at you as you had three heads. “Are you cursed?” She asked placing a hand on your shoulder.  

“No but like i’m sitting on the sides watching everyone i love get taken so i wish i was at this point.” you said as your mother took you into a hug and you started to break down. “I don’t know what to do, i need someone to tell me what to do.” You cried into her shoulder as she soothed you like she used to when you were a baby. 

“It’s going to be alright, we have something that the shadow man doesn’t.” she said getting up and grabbing something from your dads side of the closet. A small book, before she grabbed your hand. “Where are we going?” You asked. “A family reunion.” She said as you both walked out of the front door and into the car. She looked over at your wrist, “Where’d you get that?” It was the evil eye bracelet.

“Connor left it for me before he disappeared.” You said subconsciously rubbing the bracelet to soothe yourself. “Smart move.” She said as she pulled out of the drive way. “Why?” You asked you knew the evil eye was protective. “A protective talisman, gifted by a lover? He had every intention of protection you from the shadow man whether he was taken or not.” She said looking over. “Breaking up with you, the letter, and the talisman? He loves you. Call it motherly intuition.” 

“Yeah well when we save him, i have a lot to talk to him about.” You said as you looked out the window. “You could talk to me about it.” You looked back. “I realize that in these past years protecting may have drawn a wall between us and that's not what i want and that's not what i ever wanted.” You knew it would take some time but you wanted it too. “I don’t know if that would work. I usually complain about you and dad.” You joked as you looked back out the window. 

“A magic shop? What are we witches?” You said to your mother. She turned to you. “Mom.” She ignored your advances and once you made it to the door you were asked about a password. 

“Lemme guess abracadabra?” The door slide open. This wasn’t the weirdest thing that had happened this week. “See you’re a natural.” Your mom winked. Your eyes widen. A man in an extravagant purple suit answers the door. He’s taken back. That makes two of us. 

“Okay, to recap. You’re my dad’s brother but he decided to never bring you up for some unknown reason and my family has ties to magic and shadow powers?” Your mom and Sardo nodded. “Is there any other major family secrets you wanna tell me?” 

“Teenagers.” Sardo muttered. “Wait teenagers as in plural.” Your mother said turning her attention to Sardo. “Yes i run a magic shop, teenagers come in.” He said nonchalantly. “Have any other teenagers come in today asking about the shadow man?” You asked. 

“Well there was this group of rugrats earlier today.” The midnight society. “Earlier this week this tall, lanky, one dressed in all black came in for a spell book.” He explained. “Connor?” You asked. Sardo got up and went through his purchase slips. “Yes, Connor Stevens.” 

“What’d he get?” Your mom asked while you got up and took the slip from your new found long lost uncles hand. “Skeleton key and a love potion.” You said looking back up at her. “He didn’t use a love potion on me.” You said to your mom. 

“Oh this is the boyfriend? Wow family drama must be fun on facebook!” Sardo said sitting down. “He had the book of shadows though. How’d he get it?” You asked as you put the slip back. “He broke in and stole it on monday night.” He exclaimed.

“It was in a life or death situation, i think that’s excusable.” You reasoned. Sardo shook his head, “That book brings nothing but trouble and even more darkness into the world every time you open it. It’s a book of shadows. Its dark magic. Not white magic.” He announced with a dissatisfied look on his face

“And you all want me to learn this? I’m not being sold on it.” You said sitting back in your seat. “There’s more than dark magic. There light magic, green magic, crystal magic and so on. Every practitioner chooses between the dark path and the light path.” Sardo explained as he stood up to grab a grimoire. 

“What path will help me save my friends? Is there a path for that, cause i want that path.” You said as your mom rubbed your shoulder. “You don’t choose a path, the path chooses you.” Sardo explained pushing the grimoire close.

“What if dark magic chooses me?” You voiced, silence washed over the room. “Why do you want to save your friends?” You were taken aback, why? “Wouldn’t it be easier to let them all just be claimed? Throw in the towel, make new friends.” 

“No!” You bellowed. “That’s not right, there’s always a way and when there’s love there’s light.” You explained. Your mom smiled at your answer. “If that’s how you feel. Dark magic won’t choose you.” 

By the time you’d left the magic shop it was late and Gabby wasn’t answering her phone. You’d given an update about what had happen. 

It was starting to make sense, not perfect sense, not just yet.

On Friday the glow dance had rolled around, what also rolled around was a stomach virus that had cause Carrie and Kayla to miss school and not be able to attend the dance. Gabby hadn’t been in class so you assumed she was also out with the stomach virus. Hanna met up with you during lunch letting you know what happened the night before. She tells you that Luke’s returning the book of shadows after school and everything should be back to normal now. Oh how wrong she was. 

You weren’t able to see Connor after school, you had a shift and then were going to get ready for the dance. Gabby texted you that he was feeling up to going so you’d see him there. An hour into the dance and you ended up wandering the halls. You had felt this pit in your stomach and needed air. 

But once you went into the hallway the pit just grew larger and larger. “Hey stranger.” Your eye evil bracelet burned and blinded. You looked up from your wrist and turned around. “Connor?” You asked. There was a screaming voice in your head. It felt wrong. “Who else?” He asked coming closer. You saw a light shine through a classroom and walked backwards towards it. Once the light enveloped you and Connor still stayed back. His sleeves were rolled up and his wrists were bare. The real Connor wears a rainbow bracelet you made him. 

“The shadow man perhaps?” You suggested, the smirk on “Connors” face dropped. You inched closer to the switch that controlled the hallway lights and switched it on, when the lights were on “Connor” was gone. 

You started to go towards the gym seeing your friends on stage with Sardo and “Connor” in the crowd knowing a rescue mission was already in place. All you could do was stand there and wait. Within ten minutes, the shadow man had out smarted your friends and Jai sacrificed himself to save the group. 

On Saturday you were completely left out of the loop. You heard nothing. Gabby wasn’t answering. Hanna wasn’t answering. You feared the worse and could do nothing to save your friends. That what Sardo said earlier was going to come true. You still had that pit in your stomach. You were reading your grimoires but it felt useless, why study if right here and right now. The people you care about most are disappearing through your finger tips. 

On Saturday night your parents brought you upstairs and put your to bed, but you stayed restless with worry. You stared at the ceiling and walls of your bedroom before at some point your mind gave up and lulled you to a nightmare filled sleep. Losing Gabby, Losing Hanna, Losing Jai, Losing Luke. Losing Connor. Like a broken tape it looped over and over and over. 

It all fell apart right in front of you.

On Sunday morning Kayla and Carrie had recovered from their stomach flu. Your mom invited them over in an effort to distract and cheer you up. You told them everything. Life’s too short to keep secrets from your best friends. Especially when you don’t know how long you have left with them. 

Suddenly it was Friday again and you were at your shift at the book store again. You pulled your phone out to text Carrie and Kayla. They both responded with the same texts they did on the Friday of the glow dance. “What the actual fuck.” You muttered. The door rung several times signaling a mass group of people walked in. 

The midnight society had just seen that Sardo was alive and remembered that you work Friday shifts. Which caused them to practically sprint to see you, Connor leading. When your friends all walked through the door you stopped in your tracks. “Seen a ghost?” Gabby said with a smile. “i hate you all i hate your children and your childrens children.” You said rushing to hug her. 

“Hear that Connor?” Luke said causing his friend to hit him upset the head. “That’s a two way road.” You said hugging Hanna. Then Luke, Jai and Seth. Then there was Connor. 

“I’m gonna go take a nap, really tired see you guys later.” Gabby said excusing herself. “Same honestly, later.” Hanna said leaving with Seth. “I’m just going to go.” Luke said dragging Jai with him. You laughed at your friends. 

“I’m scared that if i walk any closer you’ll disappear like last time.” You said looking at him. He walked towards you. Grabbed your hand and placing it on his heart. “This real enough for you?” He said leaning his forehead against yours. You smiled. Noticing the blinded evil eye he smiled, “So that worked.”

 His head moved to rest on top of yours and you wrapped your arms around his torso. “Legally, you’re obligated to stay like this for at least twenty minutes.” You laughed moving your head into the crook of his neck. “I’m okay with that.”

“I didn’t mean breaking up with you, i just didn’t know what happened when he took you and couldn’t let that happened to you.” He said slightly holding you closer. “I understand. Just never do it again.” You said to him, he laugh and nodded. 

“So the glow dance?” You pulled away because your shift was starting to end. “You’re up for that?” You said as you started putting stray books in the resort bins. “I’m always up for a good time.” He said sitting on the front counter. You nodded, “Pick me up at 7.” 

“What about your parents?” He questioned. “A lot happened when you were gone.” You said starting to rant to your boyfriend. 

it rebuilt it self.