#i spent like fucking 8 hours on this and it ain’t even that good

[me0wnz73r]

guys guess what part I got to in emh

[kingofpopmj]

Conscious Decision

Part 8

July 21st, 1988

*Y/N’s POV*

I felt myself sinking deeper into the mattress the longer I laid here. I couldn’t bring myself to move let alone open my eyes. I had just spent a fourth night sleeping alone after our wedding day— well what should’ve been. Now, more than ever I felt the most connected to him. I could feel his sadness, pain and fear. It felt like a malicious joke. It’s been four whole days without him, yet the hold he had on my heart and mind was stronger than ever. He had me even though I was fighting it, but that was a joke too, because I wasn’t putting up much of a fight anyway.

“Do you want to join the girls and I today? We’re going into town.” Janet jumped onto my bed, propping herself up on her elbows.

“I think I would much rather lay here all day. The sun is too bright and the birds are singing too loud. Who was that on the phone?”

“I’m glad to see you’re still as optimistic as ever. Y/N, you know who it was.” She rolled her eyes exaggeratedly, playing with the ends of her hair. “Come on. You can’t stay in the room another day. You have to get out. Come with us, it’ll be fun!”

“The phone has been ringing nonstop for hours. That was all him?”

“Yes. Can we change the subject now?”

“What did he say?” I rolled onto my side, staring at her impatiently.

“Okay, we’re still on this. This isn’t a good idea. I don’t think me telling you everything that little twerp said will help.”

“It’s that bad?”

“No. I mean it’s the usual, he wants me to tell you all this mushy stuff and he’s asking when he can see you. He doesn’t sound too good.”

“I miss him.”

“I know.”

“I’m just so mad at him.” I huffed, sitting up and crossing my legs. I didn’t want to go on like this much longer. I don’t want to be angry anymore.

“I know.”

“I love him.” I let out a deep breath, trying to fight the urge to cry again.

“Yeah, no shit.” Janet rolled her eyes and for the first time in days I laughed with her. A genuine laugh and it felt amazing.

“You’re so annoying.”

“Do you want to see him?” She crossed her arms, staring at me with a weird look on her face.

“Yes, but I don’t know if I should want to see him.”

“Do you want to know what I think?”

“That depends. Is it mean?”

“No! I’m never mean!” She flung her legs to hang off the side of the bed, exhaling dramatic as ever, “We all know this isn’t the end. What he did was— he’s an ass for doing it, but he hasn’t really had the chance to explain. I mean no damn explanation will ever make up for it— he’s still an idiot, but maybe it’ll give you the necessary closure to move forward together or move on separately. You guys are going to move on from this one way or another, because even though my brother is king of the fools and doesn’t deserve you— I mean seriously you’re so out of his league he’s lucky you even look his way. I swear the fucking nerve. You’re the whole damn package and he ain’t shit— he’s lucky he met you when you were kids. He had years to soften you up. Now, you see his goofiness as endearing, instead of what it truly is. A big ass red flag!” She took a deep breath, before going on. “Anyways, for some insane reason he won you over. You love him. And as much as I hate him right now, I have to cut his the tiniest shred of slack. Michael doesn’t have much— well any experience with relationships, he’s never tried to understand them for anyone but you. It’s unknown territory. He’s never cared enough about a person to explore a relationship. No one measured up because there is only one you. You’ve had his heart since the beginning— his stupid little heart. In his mind, the definition of love is you. Love equals Y/N. That’s the only way it’s comprehensible to him— the only way it’s real in his eyes. Besides this, he’s done a decent job being your guy— I mean this was a huge deal, it was your fucking wedding, so maybe that erases all the things he did right. I’m not sure. I haven’t decided yet.” She stood up, walking back and forth along the rug, her arms waving in the air as she spoke. “What I’m trying to say is, he’s got his crusty little nails dug into you and he’s not going to let go. Not without a fight and I’m telling you as his little sister, Michael can take a lot of hits. He won’t give up easily. I don’t know what he’d do if he lost you and honestly I’m hoping I don’t have to find out, but I’ll support you in whatever you decide. I believe he’s truly sorry. Maybe you’ll feel better when you hear his side. I think, if you really want to see him, you should.”

“Wow. That was the sweetest, meanest thing you’ve ever said about Michael.”

“I try.” She shrugged, giggling at her own sarcasm.

“What time are you leaving? Should I call him?”

“In an hour. Relax. That little fool will call again and when he does I’ll let him know.”

“Thank you.”

“I’ll give him a piece of my mind too just to scare him.”

“Janet.”

“I’m going to tell him you packed up and went back home.” She laughed like a hyena, jumping off the bed only to fall over. “Oh, he’d probably cry.”

“Please don’t make him cry.”

“What! You did! Why can’t I?” An uncomfortable silence followed and her expression shifted along with it. “Shit. I’m sorry that was too soon.”

“It’s okay. I just— it sucks that this is our reality.”

“It’ll take time, but this will all be worth it in the end. It’ll be—” The telephone rang loudly as we stared at each other, slowly directing our attention to the piercing noise. “I’ll get that.” She smiled, looking over at me one last time. “Are you sure?” She asked with her palm resting on the telephone.

“Yes. I’m positive.”

*Michael’s POV*

“Michael.” My younger sister’s annoying voice came from the other end.

“Hi.” Suddenly, I was very aware of how many calls I’ve made to this number, but I didn’t care enough to be embarrassed about it.

“So, what’s up?” She was teasing me, I could imagine her at this very moment, smiling deviously with her hand on her hip.

“My blood pressure. How— how is she?”

“The same as she was fifteen minutes ago.”

“Okay.”

“How are you?” Her tone changed, I could tell she was being sincere. “Brother, you can talk to me, are you okay?”

“No.” I answered honestly. “I ruined everything. I thought I knew why. I thought it was the right thing. I just wanted to protect her. I don’t know how to exist knowing that any second I could lose the one person that makes it— that gives my existence purpose.”

“Damnit Michael.” She huffed loudly.

“What? What is it?”

“I’m trying to be mad at you right now and you go say that?” I could hear her pacing as she let out a sad chuckle. “Now, you have me crying like a baby. You know what, you shouldn’t be allowed to talk. Let me be mad at you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re so annoying. Always saying the perfect thing. You damn poet.”

“I’m—”

“She’s in the shower.” Janet quickly interrupted me. “She’s getting ready.”

“Oh. Well, that’s good she’s going to get out and do something. She deserves to be happy.”

“Michael, listen to me and listen carefully. Y/N is really fragile right now. She’s strong, but that doesn’t mean she’s indestructible. What happened— what you did, it messed her up. It’s triggered things in her that I don’t think she even knew existed. She’s cried so much, I didn’t know it was humanly possible to produce that many tears. You freaking jerk. Seriously, I don’t even— I love you, but damn I’m really struggling to be nice to you right now. I don’t understand why you did this, but I’m not the one you owe that explanation to. Michael, I want to help, but in order to do that I’m gonna need you to get your head out of your ass. I’ll do everything I can to help you get your girl back. Let me help you, no more stupid shit. It’s going to be difficult, but I believe it’s possible to get past this. It’s possible if you don’t go rouge again. You only get one chance with me. Brother, I promise, you so much as breathe in the wrong direction and I’ll knock you on your ass.”

“I know. I shouldn’t have done it. I’m sorry, I truly am. I wish I could do it all over again and do it right. Thanks, you saying it’s possible for us to get past this is the best thing I’ve heard in days. I’ll be good I swear, I wouldn’t want to feel the wrath of Janet.” I rolled over in bed, trying to ignore the tickle in my throat. “You should take her to The British Museum or St. Paul’s Cathedral, she’d love those. I can make a few calls and get you guys a tour guide or passes. Whatever you guys need.”

“Okay, on one condition.”

"You’re a pain in my ass. What’s the condition?"

"You should be the one to take her."

“She doesn’t want to see me. I’d ruin her day. I’ll be lucky if she ever wants to see me again.”

“Well, it’s your lucky day. Why else do you think she’s getting ready?”

“Are you being serious? Because this would be a really mean joke.” I sprung up from my previous position, kicking off the layers of covers weighing me down. “We’ve been on the phone for ten minutes and you’re just now telling me?”

“Yes.”

“She really wants to see me?” This must be what Christmas morning feels like.

“She really does.”

“She really does?”

“Yes. Okay, I have one more thing to say. Michael, I love you and I love Y/N. I love both of you so damn much, together and as individuals. You guys getting together is— it was so awesome. She’s been family for so long. We were all excited when you two finally made it work. I don’t know it just felt like, you know, like it all fell into place. Fuck, this is hard. Look, I’ll do whatever I can to lead you two back to one another, because right now it’s evident that you both want that, but I’m going to do whatever is best. So, if I get even a sliver of a feeling that Y/N doesn’t want this, no matter how much it’ll hurt, I’ll support her. If she decides at any point she needs to walk away from you, I’ll be there for her. That’s never going to change. I’ll be here for both of you, just separately.”

“I understand.”

“Okay.”

“I have to get ready. It's actually such a relief that it’ll be the three of us.” I said, the nerves were quick to take over my body as I tried to think of what to say to her. What can I say to her? Janet being there will definitely take the edge off.

“Is thirty minutes enough time for you?”

“I could get ready in five minutes with the way I’m feeling right now.”

“Good. Oh, by the way, this morning mom and the girls invited Y/N and I to go out with them. It’s a nice day to do some sightseeing, don’t you think? Yeah. Well, I’m still going with them, so it’ll just be the two of you. Y/N’s expecting you to pick her up from my room. Don’t be late! Bye!” She spoke so fast I could barely process it.

“Wait!—”

“Gotta go! Kisses!”

She giggled wickedly, hanging up on me without another word. I swear she lives to watch me squirm. I dropped the phone and watched as it hung by the wire, bouncing up and down before stopping all together. I rubbed my eyes as I got out of bed for the first time in four days. My room, that was once our room, was dark and stuffy and to my mother’s dismay I refused to let her tidy up. It looked like how I felt on the inside. I deserved to be surrounded by darkness and disarray. My body ached as I dragged my feet over to the bathroom, turning on the water and waiting for it to warm up which felt like an eternity.

My mind wandered to Y/N, stepping into the tub felt so lonely, everything felt empty without her. I never truly understood how integral she was to my life. I don’t have many friends, many people I can trust, she’s the small piece of normalcy in my life. 

“I’m not sure where you go from here, but you’re going to have to accept the fact that it’ll be without her.”

My brother’s words echoed in my head as I felt that sensation, the one that has quickly taken control of me often since that day. The one I couldn’t escape regardless of how hard I fought.

The sound of blood pounded in my ears. My heart collided against my chest with force. My hands began trembling beyond control. My vision growing more distorted, I tried to blame it on the steam from the shower, but I knew better. I had to get away. I couldn’t stay stuck in this bathroom any longer. I needed out.

I unintentionally ripped the curtain off the rod while reaching for my towel. I leaned against the cold tiled wall, fighting to fill my lungs with air. I was almost there. I can do this. All I had to do was breathe. If I held on a little longer I’d see her. I’d be with her soon if I just held it together. I can do this. The tightness in my chest, loudly told me otherwise. Shit. Quickly, stumbling over furniture to reach the phone, I dialed numbers, in the same order that I had been for the past few days. Maybe, I need to hear her voice. That’s it. That’s what I need. I just need to hear her voice and that’ll help ease my mind. That’ll help me breathe. The phone didn’t ring long and that voice filled my ears. The voice that consumed my thoughts and dreams the past four days. The voice I couldn’t function without.

“Hello?”

It’s her. It’s Y/N.

My Y/N.

*Y/N’s POV*

I lifted my purse, hanging it off of my shoulder as I contemplated which heels to wear. It was almost embarrassing how emotional it felt to see him again. As hurt as I was, I think I missed him more. I knew I missed him more. The phone rang obnoxiously, startling me, yet still, I practically danced over to it. Thankfully, Janet had already left or else I would never hear the end of it. I was confident that I’d hear his sweet voice on the other end and as much as I didn’t want to admit it out loud. I couldn’t wait.

“Hello?”

I held the phone close to my ear, waiting to hear him.

“Hello? Michael, is that you?” A deep rooted emotion began to flood my senses. One that I hadn’t felt in a long time, one that I had hoped I’d never feel again.

“Michael?” The faint sound of wheezing was the only response I got. It was all I needed.

I didn’t think twice. I didn’t say anything else. I took off in a sprint. As fast as I was moving it still felt too slow. When I reached the stairwell, the images from years ago flashed through my mind. As my hands gripped the cold steel railings, I remembered the feeling of the shattered pieces I cleaned off the floor that night. The damp remnants left on my shoulder from his tears all those years ago, causing my body to run cold at the memory.

Finally, I reached his level, running down the hall and colliding with his front door. I was so worried I forgot to slow down. My hands struggled with the zipper of my purse, so I tore it open and dumped its contents onto the floor. The small silver key called to me. I yanked it off the patterned carpet, unlocking the door and shoving it open.

I didn’t have to walk much further into the room before my eyes landed on him. Michael, curled up in a fetal position, a towel wrapped around his waist and his wet hair clinging to his face.

“Hey.” I whispered, gently touching his head. “I’m here. It’ll be okay. Everything will be okay.” I sat beside him as he pulled himself into my lap, his head resting on my thighs and I stroked his hair. “Just breathe. I’m here.”

“I— I ca— can’t.” The sadness in his voice tugged at my heart. I’d never heard it so broken before. I could tell he was scared. My presence wasn’t enough, he needed a little more.

“Focus on my voice.” I spoke calmly, lying down next to him. “Remember that night we snuck out to go camping?”

He didn’t respond, I didn’t expect him to. He had a strong hold on me as we laid close to one another. I could feel how lost he was in his thoughts. I needed to bring him back to me.

“I was so excited walking over to your house that night. I’ll never forget seeing you jump out of your bedroom window, you fell right on your butt. When you saw me, you shot up to your feet and acted like it didn’t hurt, you insisted that you were fine even though you were limping.”

This time I felt a slight nod from Michael, so I continued on.

“You brought the blankets and I brought the snacks. We had prepared all week for that night. I couldn’t wait to be with you, I wanted to stay up all night just to spend more time together. You spent four hours wrestling with the tent, because it wouldn’t stay up, you were so mad. We ended up sharing a sleeping bag and lying directly on the grass with no shelter, so we had a nice view of the sky. It worked out if you ask me, it’s the reason I love stargazing. You knew how much I loved s’mores, so you built a little fire in that empty soup can. It worked for a while too, until you—”

“It was you.” He spoke, gently interrupting my storytelling.

“Michael, we go over this every time. You kicked it.”

“Sweetheart, I love you, but you knocked it over reaching for the marshmallows.”

“Agree to disagree.” I laughed at our refusal to accept blame.

“You’re barefoot.”

“I wasn’t finished getting ready when you called. Then, I heard you, so I dropped everything and ran. I tried to get to you as fast as I could.”

“You got here at the perfect time.” He assured me, his voice was soothing as I felt his smile against my forehead. “Thank you.”

“I’m glad I could help.”

“I was so nervous that night. I used some of Jackie’s aftershave, I had Janet help me fix my hair and Latoya dressed me. That was going to be the night.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was going to tell you how I felt. How I truly felt.”

“Really?” I adjusted my head to see his face. He smiled back at me, resting his back flat on the floor and pulling me to rest on his chest.

“I had my speech memorized.” I looked down, studying the ring on my finger, all the while I felt his eyes on me. “I was going to start off by telling you what an incredible best friend you are, how beautiful, kind and loving you are. How I couldn’t imagine my life without you.”

“We were thirteen.” I whispered.

“Yeah, we were, but I already knew.” I calmly started to move away from him, but he stopped my movements. “Y/N, I love you. I always have. I can’t imagine my life without you.”

“Michael—”

“I don’t want to live my life without you.” I closed my eyes as I felt him touch my cheek, his fingers were soft and I couldn’t help but lean into his touch. Old habits die hard. “I can’t live without you.” He murmured, all my worries melted away, long enough to feel how well we fit together. The tenderness of his lips sparked a warmth in my heart and an urgent need throughout my body. Our connection grew stronger the further we went. I looked up at him, watching him settle in between my legs. He placed his hand on my denim covered thigh, inching up to unbutton my bottoms. The effect of his touch quickly shifted, unleashing a wave of anxiety rather than pleasure.

“Y/N, look at me.” Janet grabbed my shoulders, giving me no choice, but to stop avoiding reality.

“He’s really not coming.” I spoke softly, I sounded lifeless. “I can’t believe he did this. How could he do this?”

Michael lingered above me, his lips curved slightly before I felt them on my neck and that’s when it hit me.

“Where were you?” I asked him.

“It doesn’t matter. What matters is that I’m here now. And, I’m so sorry for being late.”

“You stood me up on our wedding day. I’d hope it would matter a little bit.”

I felt my body tense up as his moved against mine. Michael slowly pushed my top down my shoulder, hooking his finger underneath my bra strap. I became extremely aware of where this was going and it consumed me with panic.

I’m suffocating.

“Michael—”

“I missed hearing you say my name.”

“Michael. Wait. Stop!” I pushed him off of me harder than I intended to. It was abrupt, taking me by surprise as well. I felt like I was drowning and for the first time, Michael wasn't my life line.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

“I can’t do this.”

“Oh?” He readjusted his towel and looked at me as if he was asking me to explain further.

“Michael, I think I need time. We can’t act like it didn’t happen.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m going to go change and get some shoes on.” I smiled at him half-heartedly, gesturing to the wet splotches now littering my outfit.

“Sorry, I dripped all over you.” He let out a soft chuckle.

“It’s alright—”

“Wait.” His hand wrapped around my wrist, keeping me from escaping the awkward tension in the air. “Nothing I say, nothing I do is ever going to fix this, is it?”

“I— I don’t know.”

“Oh.”

“I think we have a better chance than most.” I whispered, trying to ease the pain of this situation.

“Can we still spend the day together?”

“I’d really like that.”

*Michael's POV*

Y/N met me in the lobby after she had left to change her outfit. I was speechless. Wow. She looked breathtaking. A long lacy black dress hugged her curves, it had an open neckline and see through sleeves that covered her arms. I could not stop staring as she walked over to me. Although, it felt more like she was floating. Wow. She paired it with deep red heels that matched the color of her lipstick. A black hat resting on top of her head, shielding her face if she looked down just enough.

“Hi.” She stood in front of me and still I couldn’t find the words. 

“You– I– Wow. Hi.” 

“Are you okay? We can stay in if you don’t feel up to going out. I know the panic attacks are—.” She whispered with a small comforting smile.

“No. No. I just– Wow. You’re beautiful.”

“Thank you. You look very handsome yourself.” Her fingers traced the red band around my arm. “I love that you still wear these.” 

“I’ll always wear them. They remind me of you.” Y/N smiled, curling her fingers around my bicep as we exited the lobby.

The journey to the museum was uneventful. It was full of meaningless conversation and heart wrenching glances. When we arrived I did my best to look as normal as possible, instinctively, my hand rested on Y/N’s lower back, keeping her close to me. Old habits die hard. We were ushered through a side door and I was able to make arrangements, so we had a whole wing of the museum to ourselves. I knew she’d love it. I couldn’t wait to be alone with her again.

I gave Bill a subtle nod, swiftly he fell back, giving Y/N and I more privacy as we roamed. I admired the way her eyes scanned the canvas before us, the way she nibbled at her bottom lip as she tried to understand it and most importantly how close she stood to me. Our arms brushed one another, breathing in her perfume made it seem like it would all be okay.

"Thank you for bringing me here. Wow, look at this one. I love it." The deep colors of the painting in front of us, matching perfectly with her outfit. Again, I was watching her more than the art.

“I love you.”

“I lo—Me too.” She smiled sweetly, her hands clasped together in front of her as she walked over to the sculptures. I noticed how she couldn’t say those words back to me, although it hurt, I couldn’t blame her. As much as I wanted to hold her hand I knew she needed distance, but I couldn’t let her forget that I was going to fight for her.

“Y/N, I’m so in love with you. I need you to understand that.”

“Michael, I know. You’ve been reminding me all day.”

“I believe it’s nice to hear. You deserve to hear it. I enjoy reminding you.”

“Okay, that’s very sweet. Thank you.”

“I guess some people don’t enjoy professing their love like I do.” I snapped.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She stopped walking and turned to me, her left eyebrow arched as she waited for an answer.

"It means that I've been pouring my heart out to you and the only response I get from you is 'I know' or 'thank you’. What's going on, Y/N, do you not love me anymore?"

"Jesus Michael."

"Well, what is it? What else should I do? Do you not want to be with me anymore? Do you want me to take you back to the hotel? Right now, I feel like I’m the only one trying to fix this."

"You're the one who broke it!"

"Y/N, baby—”

"Don't call me that!" She pointed at me as her bottom lip quivered. No. Please don’t cry. I can’t handle seeing you cry.

“You think I don’t know that I caused this?”

“This was a bad idea.” She shook her head, spinning on her toes and quickly walking towards the exit. “I can’t believe I thought—”

“No, it wasn’t! No! Talk to me.” I ran to catch up to her, grabbing her arms and standing in front of her.

“Michael—”

“Tell me why you’re shutting me out!”

“I don’t want to do this here.”

“Tell me!”

“Michael, stop—”

“Talk to me damnit!”

“Stop yelling at me!” Our voices bounced off the walls, I could feel the anger in her words. She hated yelling, arguing wasn’t her way. Y/N always preferred to talk things through, so I took a deep breath and spoke.

“The only way we can fix this is to talk about it. I want to fix this. I need to fix this.”

“You didn’t show up.” She said simply, her eyes not meeting mine.

“I know.” My grip on her arms loosening as I watched her contemplating what to say next.

“It felt like our wedding meant nothing to you. It didn’t matter. I didn't matter. You just vanished and you made me feel so rejected. That was the worst feeling I’ve ever experienced. I don’t understand why you did it.” Her cheeks now damp with tears as she fought to contain herself.

"I'm sorry. Y/N, I know I caused this. I know these are the consequences of what I did— I hate knowing I did this to you— It’s on me. You can’t say it— you can’t tell me you love me because I left on what should’ve been the most important day of our lives. I did that. I did it and I hate myself— I hate that you can barely look at me, but it’s my fault. I regret it with my whole heart. I should’ve shown up. I should’ve done it right. I should’ve made you my wife. I should’ve— I wish I did and I'm so sorry. I know I deserve it, I know I deserve for you to walk away for good but I’m still so afraid to lose you."

"The reason I haven't said it back isn't because I don’t love you."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that you hurt me Michael. You hurt me in a way I never thought was possible. It was an unbearable pain that I never thought I'd have to endure, especially from you. That night, I didn't want to see you ever again, I thought I hated you, but you came to see me anyway. Once I saw you I forgot about that pain, I forgot about how angry I was, because all I wanted to do was run to you. All I wanted was for you to hold me and to forget everything that happened. Once I saw you, all was forgiven and when I heard your voice I was yours again."

"That's good. Right?"

"You don't understand." She shook her head, turning away from me, but I stopped her.

"Then explain it to me. Please."

"I love you so much that I'd forgive you without an apology, without an explanation. I love you so much that I'd accept pain as long as it meant that I'd still have you. I love you so much that l'd— I love you so much that I've allowed you to string me along all our lives."

“Y/N.”

“This isn’t the first time you’ve hurt my heart.” She wrapped her arms around her waist as if to hold herself together.

“Y/N, this is the worst thing I’ve ever done, I know that, but we have both hurt each other in the past. Maybe I’ve caused you more pain, but that doesn’t negate the pain I’ve felt.“ Once the words left my lips I regretted it. She’s never hurt me.

“Well, maybe we should just walk away now, try to save our friendship before it’s too late.”

“I don’t want to go back to that. You don’t want that. I can’t. Y/N, you’re who I belong with. It has always been us.”

“I don’t know if I can handle it anymore. We couldn’t survive anymore pain. We couldn’t. Even as friends.”

“Y/N, I need you to believe me. I rather slit my wrists than cause you pain. I will never hurt you again.”

“Again.” She muttered, “It used to be I will never hurt you. Period.” She uncrossed her arms, pushing her hair behind her shoulders.

“I know.”

“Michael, I’m so afraid.”

“Of what?”

“I’m afraid of forgiving you, but I’m petrified of not forgiving you.”

“Y/N—”

“Why?” She interrupted me, her lips sucked in between her teeth. She was struggling to keep herself from falling apart in front of me.

“Why what?”

“Why didn’t you show up?”

“I— I’m not sure.”

“Michael, please, answer the question.”

“I guess there were many reasons.”

“Many?” Her voice sounded helpless as she stepped further away from me. I never knew it was possible to see someone visibly crumble until now.

“Please. Baby— I mean Y/N, please don’t cry.”

“What were the reasons?”

“I’m not answering that.”

“Then, I’m leaving.”

“Stop! Please, stop walking away from me.” I ran, blocking her path, my hands cupped her face gently. “I know you don’t want to leave. I know you don’t mean it. I know you.”

“Yeah, you know me so well.” She rolled her eyes out of frustration, lifting her chin up and away from my grasp.

“Y/N, what do I need to do?”

“Please, just explain it to me, tell me the reasons.” I shook my head, looking down at the floor. “Why not?”

“Because I’m trying to fix us, not break us.” I tried holding her hand, surprisingly she let me.

“What does this look like to you? We’re already pretty broken.”

“Exactly. I don’t—”

“I need to know why in order to move forward. I need to know, so I can let it go. I need to know so I can try to forgive you.”

“I don’t see how that will help, it’s like you want me to hurt you. All day, you’ve kept me at a distance. You’ve barely looked at me. Have you thought about how that makes me feel?”

“Are you really trying to compare standing me up on our wedding day to me trying to figure out how to forgive you?”

“Are you trying to hurt me on purpose? Is this your way of getting back at me? Getting even?”

“If you truly think I’d do something like that, plan to hurt you as a way of evening out the playing field then you don’t know me like I thought you did. If that’s what you think, then we shouldn’t even be here right now.”

“It’s not. Y/N, I know you would never do that.”

“Then why’d you say it?”

“Because I’m frustrated. I fucked up. Okay? I really fucked up. I ruined this and I’m struggling to ignore the possibility of not being able to fix it.”

“Me too.”

“At least there’s one thing we agree on.”

“Yeah, little victories.” She smiled weakly, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“It’s difficult being so close to you yet feeling so damn far away.”

“Mhm.”

“I wish I could jump on my bike and ride down to Burger Grill. Your go-to order, a big bag of fries, a milkshake with extra whipped cream and cuddles from your favorite guy. When we were kids, that used to fix everything.”

“Yeah, but we aren’t kids anymore.” She pressed her hand against her belly as she attempted to calm her breathing. “Michael, I can’t jump back in right away. I want to fix this it’s just— I feel so vulnerable. I don’t want to feel pain like that ever again. It’s nerve wracking being with you, but I’m trying. I really am. I want to be close to you but my mind won’t let me. I think— I don’t know— It’s like everything inside of me is at war. My heart hurts, but wants you, wants to forgive you. My body aches, but wants to be held by you—” I knew if I let her go on she’d end up inconsolable.

“I didn’t show up because I want you to be happy. More anything in my entire life I want the best for you. I want you to enjoy life and never have to experience anything less than pure joy. I want you to have freedom. You said you needed to know, so here it is. When I was with Frank that day, he went on this rant about how your life was going to change and I wasn’t preparing properly.”

“Okay.” She gently squeezed my hand encouraging me to go on.

“He was right. You’ll be my wife. That’s all. You won’t be able to work and I know how much you love your job. You won’t be able to make a simple trip to the grocery store or anywhere really at least not by yourself and I know how much you value your independence. You won’t have any freedom. Your privacy will be gone in an instant.”

“That’s all?”

“Well, yeah. It’s not easy. I couldn’t forgive myself if something happened to you because those damn parasites were following you. The thought of you being dragged through the mud to the extent that I am— that thought killed me.”

“You could’ve come to me. We could’ve discussed it. Michael, I would’ve understood.”

“I know.”

“Why did you think that the solution was to not show up?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why?”

“Because!” I yelled again. This is not going the way I thought it would.

“Because what!” She snatched her hand away from mine, looking back at me like I wasn’t me anymore, like I was a stranger.

“Because I knew if I showed up, I knew if I saw you— I knew that we would be married right now. I can’t think straight when it comes to you. Damnit, Y/N, I’m selfish when it comes to you. I needed to think about it. I needed more time. I know now that I shouldn’t have let Frank get in my head. I should’ve shown up and married you like we planned. I should’ve married you that day because that’s all I’ve wanted my whole life. I’ve always wanted you. I will always need you. I was so in my head that day, scared to do the wrong thing and I ended up making the worst decision. I always try to do what’s best for you. I’ve always put you first. Everything I do is for you. Believe it or not, at the time, I stayed away for you.”

“Wow. My hero.” She turned to walk away from me. Again.

“Y/N! Stop! Damnit, you can’t ask me these questions and get pissed with my answer no matter what it is! That’s not fair!”

“You know what’s not fair! This!” She held up her left hand, the engagement ring, a bitter reminder of what never was. “It’s not fair that I can’t bring myself to take this off! It’s not fair that I made my peace with everything that came with being your wife. It’s not fair that I accepted how drastic my life would change and chose to embraced it because at the end of the day we were starting our new life together. It’s not fair that you didn’t think the positives of being together outweighed the negative like I did. It’s not fair— all the reasons that made me so excited to marry you, so sure you were my person, were the same ones you used to add to your list of reasons to run. That’s not fair!”

“You’re right. Shit, you’re right.”

“That’s the thing. Michael, I don’t want to be right. I want us, together, to be right. I don’t know how to do it. I want to fix it. I just don’t know where to start.”

“Y/N—” I spoke delicately, but didn’t get to finish my thought. I was cut off by her crashing into me, her head rested on my chest, her arms reluctantly wrapping around my waist. I didn’t allow myself to be shocked for too long. I held her with all I had, rubbing her back, gently swaying her and hoping this wasn’t the last time I’d ever hold her. “I think we need more of this. It could help.”

“Mhm.” Her gentle sniffles felt like a punch to the gut. “It’s not easy keeping you at a distance.”

“I've missed you.”

“I've missed you too. So much.” Her hands moved slowly up and down my back. This was nice. “Janet’s crazy.” She muttered.

“You’re barely realizing that?”

“I guess I’m late to the party. She’s the best though. She offered to steal all your left shoes and shrink your clothes.”

“She what?” I gasped as she laughed into my chest. It felt so good to have her close and to hear her laugh again.

“I haven’t taken her up on the offer yet.”

“Yet? Wow! How kind of you. I feel so protected.” We laughed, together, wrapped up in each other’s arms. The melody of our laughter carried up to the tall ceilings of the building. We were surrounded by exquisite artwork from all over the world, yet I could not take my eyes off of her. I only wanted to admire her. My Y/N.

“I’ll always protect you.” Her tone serious and for the first time since everything went wrong, she looked back at me, her eyes as beautiful as I remember, lips parted slightly, skin glowing like the stars on a summer night. I found myself hypnotized. Carefully, I closed the space between us, becoming painfully aware of how deprived I was of her touch, desperate to taste her tongue and feel her lips.

“Michael?”

“Yes, what is it?” I asked cautiously, hoping we could live in this moment longer.

“You could never keep your lips to yourself.” She smiled, reaching down and intertwining our fingers. I sensed that she wasn’t quite comfortable with a kiss, so I settled on leaving one on her cheek.

“Would you consider spending more time with me tomorrow?” I asked, feeling nervous all the sudden.

“I think I can clear my schedule for that.” She teased.

“I have some work to finish up in the morning before the show. It'd be fun for you to join me.”

“Would it be acceptable for me to be there?”

“Of course! Come with me! You can see all the behind the scenes stuff. If you want— I’d like you there— I mean if you don’t want to— I want you to be— well if you—”

“Michael, I’d love to.”

“It’s for Moonwalker.” I spoke, looking down at my feet to hide my shy smile.

“No way! You’re finally making it? That’s incredible babe! I can’t wait to see it.” My heart fluttered at the nickname. I was sure it slipped out, but I’ll take it. Little victories.

"Thank you. It’s been incredible so far. The script has come together nicely and I’ve been able to get almost everything I’ve envisioned brought to life.”

“That’s so exciting. I can’t believe I’m engaged to, what is it a quadruple threat? What can’t you do?” The way she looked at me was out of this world. If we weren’t in a public place I would’ve been all over her.

“You’re making me blush.”

“Mhm.” She moved closer to me, her soft lips connecting with my jawline. Her movements were so soothing. My eyes fell shut as she planted small kisses down my neck.

“I could get used to this.” I joked, she giggled, gently pushing me away.

“You always had that about you.”

“What?”

“The talent of being so damn adorable that I forget why I was angry in the first place.”

“We’re going to make it.” The corner of my lip curved up as I stretched my arm out to grab a hold of her. “Y/N, we’re going to make it. We have to make it.”

“We will make it.” She responded softly, rubbing tiny circles into my wrist with her thumb.

We stood in an empty hallway, smiling at each other like two lovesick kids. It was a nice change. It was a moment filled with hope.

“I have a surprise for you.” An excited smile graced her face at my statement. I led her out to a small courtyard, where I’d set up a romantic lunch date for us.

“This is beautiful.” We walked down a small path surrounded by flowers and a small pond. She was practically jumping up and down. It was perfect.

“My lady.” I grinned, sliding out her chair for her.

“Why thank you.”

We sat enjoying our meal. I noticed Y/N had stopped eating a few minutes ago. She was in her head I could tell, so I did my best to let nature take its course. I couldn’t push her. I needed to let her work through it at her pace.

“Michael.”

“Yes?” She didn’t respond, instead she stood up from her seat and took a few steps over to my side of the table. “Y/N, is everything—” she paid no mind to my worry, carefully she sat on my thigh, her legs finding a place in between my own. Her arm slid across my shoulders, her gaze focused on me and a shy expression on her face.

“Michael?”

“Yes?”

“Could you, could you kiss me?” She asked nervously, like she thought there was the slightest possibility I would say no. I’d never say no.

“Y—yes, of course.” Nerves I never knew existed were now running through me at an alarming rate. My hands were trembling as I placed them on her. The moisture in my eyes suddenly disappeared, making me blink rapidly which I’m sure looked anything but normal. I removed my hat, placing it on the table and taking an audible deep breath. I must have been taken way too long because she spoke up again.

“I’m sorry. It’s okay. If you aren’t comfortable.” She shifted her body away from me, so I wrapped my arms around her. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“No.” I pulled her into me, her back pressed up against my chest.

“No?” She turned slightly to look at me and that’s when I kissed her.

Our lips laced together, perfectly, but only for a moment. We parted slowly, the kiss obviously had her feeling the same way I did. This was where I was supposed to be. Our gaze unfaltering, heavy with emotion and conveying the longing we had for each other. At the same time, the space between us disappeared and our bodies melted into one another. Eagerly, I grabbed her by the back of her neck and smashed my lips onto hers. Our connection deepening as her hands found a place at the back of my head.

As my fingers sunk into her hips, everything else faded away.

The only thing that could separate us, the only thing that could disrupt this moment was a tornado or maybe an earthquake. Neither of us wanted to be the first to pull away. We didn’t want this moment to be cut short. We wanted to soak in every piece of it because it was glorious.

“Michael!”

“A few minutes of peace was too good to be true.” She smiled against my lips, her hand sliding down to my chest and clenching a fist full of my shirt.

“Damn Bill. Should I— yeah I’m going to fire him. We’ll never be interrupted again.” I kissed her again, harder this time. Her giggles being replaced by soft moans. Oh, shit. We’re about to do it in the courtyard of a museum.

“Michael!”

“Son of a—”

“There seems to be a problem. I’m sorry to interrupt—” he stopped dead in his tracks, looking at us suspiciously before shaking his head and rolling his eyes. “Kids, there are windows everywhere!” He started pointing them out all around us. “You’re outside! In broad daylight!Anyone could see you two!”

“It’s fine. We weren’t doing anything.” I shrugged, tickling Y/N’s hip discretely.

“Sure. You’ve got lipstick on boy!”

“Oops.” Y/N looked so embarrassed, reaching to retrieve a napkin to clean me up. “You kind of pull it off though.” She whispered.

“Seems you’ve been found out. We need to get going before it gets out of control.”

“Well, that was fun while it lasted.” I’ve become used to adjusting my expectations, it’s just hard when I’m not the only one affected by it.

“It was! Look on the bright side, there’s nothing that went unseen. We got to do it all.” She’s so positive it’s impossible for some of it not to rub off on me.

She had her arm firmly around my waist, mine draped across her shoulders as we reached the exit doors. There was nothing I hated more than arguing with her, but if it would bring us closer together I’ll make an exception.

"Wait! Back up." Bill shouted, he opened the door for us just to slam it shut immediately. He aggressively pulled it until he heard the click ensuring it was secure.

"What is it?" Y/N asked, reinforcing her grip on my hand.

"We've got a bit of a situation dollface." Bill's tone was familiar to me, but not to Y/N. “Change of plans. What do you want to do?”

"How many are there?" I was frustrated to say the least. This was supposed to be a nice day away from everything, just the two of us. “It can’t be that bad. Can we make it work?”

"Enough. No, I’m sorry. I don’t want anyone getting hurt. I say we have Y/N walk out the main entrance by herself and we will get you out through the side entrance. They don’t know she’s here, so they won't bother her. She'll be safer if we split up."

"No. We're going out together."

"Michael, I don't think that's the best idea. You're playing with fire right now, son."

"Bill, she's my lady. I’m not sending her off on her own. She's safest right here. Next to me."

"Okay." Bill smiled proudly at my defiance. He had been furious at me, probably more so than anyone else. When I had him help me miss the wedding he refused to give me a moment of peace. He had lectured me for a whole six hours, saying I needed to man up and quit running away from the things I want. I never thought I’d see him that angry, I’d never given him a reason to be so disappointed in me. He repeated it over and over again, I had to stop making nonsense excuses to hide from good things in life or as he put it 'ruining my destiny.'

Damn, the old man, he was testing me. I guess I passed. Little victories.

“Let’s get out of here. Keep her close.” He shot me a stern look before leading the way outside. I nearly lost my balance when I took a step forward and Y/N didn’t move a muscle. Her eyes wide as she took in the chaotic scene we were about to walk directly into.

“I got you!” I shouted, so she could hear me over the commotion. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you!” I held her face in my hands, her hands gripped my wrists as she gave me a quick nod.

As we stepped through the threshold the number of people outside seemed to multiply. The screaming was deafening, my ears were vibrating and my teeth rattled uncontrollably. Y/N was struggling to stay on her feet beside me until I redirected her in front of me. People were reaching out to touch us and I could tell it was making her nervous. My hands firmly on her hips as our path shrunk significantly with each step. The crowd began pushing and pulling at us. I did everything in my power to comfort her, but it wasn’t enough. Suddenly, Y/N spun around wrapping her arms tightly around me.

“What’s wrong?” I spoke into her ear as she hid her face in the crook of my neck.

“I can’t see. My eye, there’s something in it.” I quickly looked down, she leaned her head back, staring up at me. Oh, no. Her eye squeezed shut, a crimson stream flowing down the right side of her face, I watched in disbelief as the thick substance dripped off her chin and down her neck.

“You’re okay.” I tucked her face back into my neck, cradling her head with my arm. “Bill!” When he turned to glance at me I held up my blood stained hand. After that, our journey through the crowd was an anxiety filled blur. When we finally made it to the vehicle, Bill guided us inside cautiously, jumping in after us and slamming the door shut.

“I’m so sorry.” I collected all the napkins in sight, with shaky hands I put pressure on the wound. I couldn’t see anything, there was so much damn blood. She just stared at me blankly. “I’m so sorry.”

“What the hell happened!” Bill roared, causing us both to jump.

“I don’t know.”

“I told you! I told you to keep her safe and you couldn’t even do that.”

“I did everything–”

“No you didn’t! You let her down again. You didn’t step up again. She deserves better!” 

“Please stop.” Y/N muttered.

“She trusted you to take care of her and again you hurt her! How could you let this—”

“Dammit, stop yelling at him!” Y/N’s voice reached an octave I had never heard before. She exhaled deeply, intertwining our fingers as she pulled me closer, her head resting on my shoulder. The warmth of her body sent shivers down my spine as she leaned against me. “Someone threw something. It isn’t his fault. It happened so fast. I didn’t even see it. Michael didn’t let me down, he never has.” It felt like her last sentence had deeper meaning. Whether that was her way of sending me message or not, she definitely sent one to those around us.

Her and I are a team. There’s no denying that.

“I’m sorry dollface.” Bill spoke as he concentrated his gaze out the window.

The vehicle hadn’t come to a full stop before Y/N grabbed my hand and pulled me along with her. I struggled to keep up, weaving through people, hopping over furniture. We barely made it into the elevator. Y/N was panting, incessantly hitting the button until the door began to shut just as we saw Bill trying to catch up with us.

“That was fun!” Her laughter filled the small space, she backed into the wall sliding down and holding her belly. I took a seat across from her, the way her cheeks shimmered under the flickering light had my full attention.

“It was.” I agreed, she studied my expression, stretching her arm out to press the emergency button. The familiar way the floor vibrated and that look in her eyes made me feel like I was on top of the world. She held her hand out to me, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “I think you have a concussion.” I joked.

“I’m fine. It’s just a scratch. The blood made it seem worse, but I’m good. I promise.” She moved to rest on her knees in between my legs, beaming at me, unrushed and uninterrupted. Her fingers curled around mine. “I don’t have it in me to hate you Michael. You’re the only man I’ve ever loved. I’ve never wanted anyone else.”

“Neither have I.”

“Why is everything so complicated then?”

“Because I’m an idiot.”

The cool steel wall pressed into my back, the warmth of her hands made my chest feel like it was set on fire, my eyes never leaving hers as she glanced down, studying my lips. Her guard slowly being let down the longer I held her. We sat there for what felt like hours, each second better than the last.

“You’re not an idiot.” Y/N’s voice sounded just above a whisper as our noses touched.

“I’ve made mistakes.” My voice cracking at my vulnerable position. “You do deserve better.”

“Michael–��

“I was kidding myself to think I’d ever be enough for you.”

“You made a mistake.” Her fingers traced the line of my jaw, keeping me from looking away. “It doesn’t mean you aren’t enough.” She mumbled, her shiny red lips communicated the rest.

She’s kissing me. She’s actually kissing me. My fingers were tangled in her silky hair as she tugged at my coat. I glanced at her briefly, she guided my hand to the zipper of her dress. Her skin was so soft, softer than I remember. Everything about her became even more beautiful than the last moment I spent with her. I can’t believe this is happening.

“We don’t have to do this if you aren’t ready. I’m just happy being with you again.”

“Michael, look at me.”

“Yes?”

“I need you.” Her voice is like music to my ears. I remembered the day I had said those exact words to her in this very elevator. “I need you closer.” She melted into me. The warmth of her thighs squeezed around my torso as I felt every emotion she felt, her lips never parting from mine.

“You’re sure?” I mumbled into her mouth, hoping she didn’t pull away from me.

“I’m so sure.” She grunted, tearing my shirt open, the sound of the buttons shooting against the walls masked by echoes of pleasure.

“Wait.” I pulled away, reaching the emergency button, and the elevator began to carry us up again.

“What— oh my goodness.” Y/N jumped up, readjusting her dress, she moved to zip it up and that’s when I stopped her.

“I’d leave it undone.” The elevator paused at our floor, I picked her up quickly, running down the hall to the room. Y/N was laughing, gripping my back tightly as I squeezed at her thighs that were wrapped around me. She moved to suck on my neck and I nearly dropped her at the sudden feeling of her tongue. I pushed her against the wall, my lips finding hers while my free hand aggressively twisted the doorknob.

“Michael, open the door or I’m gonna take your pants off right here.” 

“I’m trying.” Her laugh grew louder and uncontrollable while she watched me fight with the door. “This damn door.” I put her down, using both hands to push the damn thing open.

“Michael–”

“I got it!” She clung to me as I moved us inside, locking the door behind us. 

“You’re cute.” I felt her say against my lips. Her arms wrapped tightly around me as I walked backwards, chuckling every time she apologized for stepping on my toes.

“You’re—” We tumbled backwards, the corner of the mattress catching my leg unexpectedly as I led the way to the bed. We landed on the floor, Y/N carefully rolled off of me, cuddling into my side. Now, here we are, on the floor. Again.   

She’s actually here. Her body pressed against mine. The rise and fall of her chest brought me a great sense of comfort, one that I had been stripped of in the last few days. I can’t mess this up. I can’t lose her. I can’t make any more mistakes.

“That was smooth.” She said in between her fits of laughter. “It looked like you did a backflip. Are you okay?”

“God, I missed your laugh.”

“I missed you.”

“Thank you.”

“For?”

“Spending the day with me. Thank you for agreeing to see me.”

“My heart belongs to you. That never changed.” She placed a gentle kiss at the corner of my mouth, but it ended way too soon.

“I hope it never does.”

“It won’t” She whispered, then it happened again. She looked into my eyes and the world stopped. She slowly leaned down, her lips connecting with mine. She clenched her fingers around my collar, pulling me on top of her, spreading her legs open in one swift motion. My body began to shiver as I settled in between them. Her forehead scrunched up when I pulled away, she studied my face while touching my cheek lovingly. “What’s going on in there?” she lightly tapped my temple. A worried expression grew on her face.

“I’m just thinking.”

“Uh-oh.”

“I can’t wait to start a family with you.” The whites of her eyes became more visible, her lips parted slightly as she obviously struggled with what to say next. “They’ll be brilliant. They’ll be beautiful. The more they inherit from you the better.”

I scanned every detail of her face, until her eyes captured my attention. I remember the first time I stared into them, I got lost, I became a sputtery mess. Her eyes enveloped me in a sense of warmth I’d never felt before. A sensation I only feel with her. Then, she smiled at me. My heart could barely take it, it pounded so hard I was sure she could feel it. I remember the first complement I gave her. “You’ve got a real pretty smile.” It slipped out, but I meant it. Oh, did I mean it! Y/N scrunched her nose and turned away when she nervously thanked me. She had me wrapped around her finger from that moment forward.

“That’s kind of— wait, are you saying you want to start trying for a baby?” Her voice was low and her expression difficult to read.

“I’d like to marry you first. That is, if you’ll still have me.”

The anticipation consuming me as I awaited her response was peaceful because I knew what the future entailed.

Our future.

Now, I truly understood and believed in the idea that sometimes good things fall apart so better things can fall together.

[edmunds-voyage]

Departure and turning around (May 17 2023)

Frantically made at 5am probably with typos.

Well…things haven’t got as planned, again. We’ve been anchored in the bay by the La Have river for a few days now awaiting better conditions to motor south, again. One week ago we actually finally left Lunenburg. With great fanfare seemingly the entire population of Lunenburg (like 75 people-this is a joke) showed up at the dock to see us off. After a speech from the mayor we SAILED off into the harbor. Actually sailed! The plan was to set just a few sails, but with perfect weather and wind conditions we set all the square topsails (lower and upper on the fore and main) and all the fore and aft sails. With the engine totally off we hit 8 knots; faster than a typical clip in the trade winds!

We spent the next 2 nights in rose bay at anchor as a test period. Making sure all is well with the ship, and to give us time to adjust to life on the ship NOT tethered to land. The weather was actually pretty nice, and we were doing the final bits of preparations for the 3+ weeks at sea Panama.

I’m VERY fortunate to have been put on projects bending on sails and replacing rigging lines. Sometimes being a smaller human being is a positive, and that’s very true when going aloft. There’s lots of running rigging lines/wires/metal stays to weave through whilst getting out on yards. Many times the best position is sitting on laying belly down on top of the yard in order to use both hands effectively. While anchored we bent on a t’gallant sail, the second highest one. It was awesome, though quite windy and cold up there. I also got to do a quick solo job replacing a broken line on the main course. That felt nice! It was a good experience to come down and see I kinda fucked up when furling and tying down the sail-which was hard to do alone! So back up to fix it.

After getting everything that could move secured we headed out into the North Atlantic! We transitioned to 4 on 8 off watch schedule, and I got the 12-4 of course—the shittiest one for sleep :-/ Noon to 4pm and midnight to 4am, with blocks of short sleep in between. Things were rough, in all aspects. It was fucking cold, and we were motoring into straight on headwinds. The seas were NOT calm, and the swells irregular. Even in 5 layers of warm clothing I was cold, it was very damp. With a thick fog layer visibility was near zero. Being on watch means taking the helm and standing lookout, so being in the elements for hours at a time in the middle of the night. Being seasick, constantly cold, and trying to adjust to a different sleep/wake cycle sucks. I paid a lot of money for this! But this shit is the real deal, this ain’t no cruise. This point got driven home immediately…

As I mentioned the seas were pretty “lumpy” as they say. To me it was really rough, but apparently it was moderate by North Atlantic standards. We rise and fall and roll side to side, but the rhythm was irregular. It makes bracing your body difficult. That probably played a part in when someone fell on the deck. No one saw what happened, but she was found unconscious. For a good stretch she was going in and out; awake and then not…with evidence of her hitting her head on something hard (EVERYTHING on this ship is hard/sharp/both). Scary scary stuff. Just a few minutes before this happened the sun broke through, water temps JUMPED to 19C and the air felt warm! We weren’t at the Gulf Stream yet, but getting towards the edge of it. Head injuries are not to be taken lightly though, and so we quickly changed course to nearest land—back to Nova Scotia. Had this happened a day later we’d be anchored in Bermuda, but for some reason we’re seemingly tethered to Nova Scotia. Getting on the helm with a due north course wasn’t something I expected for a loooong time.

24 hours south, then 24 hours back north and here we are. Because of customs and such, we can’t get off the ship. On a team of 6 we’ve been back to straight workdays, replacing a looooot of the running rigging while at anchor. It’s really cool work and I’m happy to be learning a lot. But we work alllll day while everyone else has had trips rowing our small boats around and hanging out on the islands in the harbor. I haven’t had a day off in 3 weeks. This is exhausting for an old man! Also, while anchored we have to do 1 hour stints of watches, that change. I’ve had 1-2am last night, 6-7am the night before, and 3-4am before that. Its right but thankfully goes quickly.

Today after lunch we’re setting off again. Back into the cold and now storm churned North Atlantic. The plan now is to stop at an unknown Caribbean island before hitting Panama. Good news.

3 weeks at sea to go.

[80s4life]

Gullible

Word Count: 3,970

Status: Requested!

Ask: I'm a sucker for him anyway LOL. And please write more of him! 

@: @violetoquinn54​

Fandom: Back To The Future Series

Relationship: Biff Tannen x Violet O’Quinn (Not my OC)

Summary: They had their fights, they had their agreements. They had their prejudices and they had their prides. They had their reputations and their futures. But, even when they’re so different, yet so alike, why do they always manage to find each other after pushing themselves away?

Warnings: language, fighting, alcohol consumption, weed and cigarettes, lewd jokes, slightly angsty, implied sexua activities/assault, mentioned deaths, slight bullying (on Violet’s part and her short temper)

Masterlist Back To The Future Masterlist

{gif is not mine, credits go to @brooklynpa-c​}

“Mhm. Mhm. Mhm,” Violet nods, victory curls bobbing as she exaggerates her movements. She wasn’t particularly listening anyway, placing and pinning bits of different fabrics on her plush mannequin. 

It was the same tale, Lorraine droning on and on about boys, particularly the invincible Biff Tannen, and how either none or all of them want her; it really depends on the day it seems. Violet tries her best to balance the corded phone on her shoulder, eyebrows scrunching as she tries to wrap her creative brain around the style she’s aiming for.

Sighing, she places the container of pins down, settling her easily bubbling nerves as she feels the frustration itch underneath her skin. Reaching in her back pocket, she pulls out a cancer stick, placing the thin roll of crushed drugs between her heavily dyed lips, flicking the lighter for a match.

Inhaling the thick cloud of nicotine, she feels her nerves begin to ease, perching herself on her window sill. Allowing the smoke to escape out and into the warm breeze of summer, she finally decides to indulge Lorraine in a little bit of attention, finally zoning in on the topic. 

“He’s just so... so ignorant,” Lorraine sputters, recounting Biff’s attitude towards her earlier today. 

“It’s not something he usually doesn’t already do, Lo. He’s had the hots for you since we were at least fucking five,” Violet flicks the burnt ash at the butt of the cigarette.

“Yes, but why must he pester me everyday?” she groans, Violet joining her as she knows this’ll bring on another onslaught of complaints.

Pretending to check her watch, she chokes on the puff she inhaled, the time reading 11:45 pm. “Hey Lo, I know you’re all riled up and ready to beat him down to a stump, but we should sleep at some point.”

Violet hears a rustle and a sigh before Lorraine speaks again, “Yeah, like you sleep anyway.”

Violet snorts, feigning offense by gasping, “Don’t you know I need precisely 8 hours of beauty sleep? A minute more or a minute less would give me bags under my eyes, and - oh - the stress. It’ll break my schedule and surely mess with my hair growth!”

Lorraine giggles as Violet smirks to herself, the pair knowing all too well who she’s mocking. Sure, to some this would be cruel, but if you’d spent at least 5 minutes with Magenta O’Quinn, you’d instantly understand where the drama checks out.

“Besides,” Violet heaves after a good bout of breathy giggles, “We do need to sleep if we plan on going to the Weston Annual Party.” Violet’s face shines in mischief just thinking about the possibilities; she hadn’t had much fun this year with the inheritance, family business, and trying to somewhat stay grounded with decent grades at school.

Maybe she could even branch out, given it’s her last year. Maybe even move on from the familiar broad-shouldered, blue-eyed boy she oftentimes finds sneaking into her room more times than she could count.

“Are you sure you want to get caught up in that mess, Vi? You know who’s gonna be there and you know how he gets with his alcohol,” Lorraine twirls the cord of her phone between her fingers, brain swiping through all the endless scenarios in her head.

“Trust me, ain’t no one messin’ with you there Lorraine. And, if he tries it, he’s never met Violet O’Quinn on a bad day, especially if he thinks he’ll ruin my one night out,” Violet flicks her cigarette out the window, closing it with the lock at the top as she stretches to close the curtains, too. “God knows I need it,” she mutters, staring at the stars outside.

“If you say so, Vi,” Lorraine yawns, “Anyway, we really do need to head to bed. I don’t want my Pops hollering.”

“Alrighty, good night Lorraine,” Violet draws in her signature Southern accent, making sure to talk long and slow to give her one last laugh. 

Putting the phone back on the holster, Violet takes a moment to stare at her bed; fluffy, untouched pillows and comforter begging her in with warm arms. Then, slowly, she turns towards the array of mannequins, and with a defeated sigh, her hands find the container of pins again, inspiration spiking once more as she gets lost on her new design.

She couldn’t recall when she’d passed out, but with the horrendous banging and yelling on the other side of her bedroom door, she finds herself jolting up from the cool of her hardwood flooring. Painfully, she hisses upon rubbing her face, pulling one of her pins out of her cheek. “Damn,” she hisses, little dabbles of blood percolating at the small pinprick.

“Violet! Let’s go!” more banging pursues, angering Violet in the slightest bit as she tries to wake up peacefully.

“I’m...Up!” she hollers back.

“Come on, Violet, we only have 5 minutes or you’re gonna be late!” Rusty calls from the door.

“Shit!” Scrambling to her feet, she slides across the flooring with the rest of her pins from the night before, mentally cursing herself for not allowing her the simplest task of just going to sleep for once. 

Searching through her clothes, she finds a dark pair of roughed up, denim jeans, rolling the bottom cuffs to allow her boots some wiggle room. Sliding into a white T-shirt, she ties the bottom in a knot, rolling up the tight sleeves and tucking her pack of cigarettes there, completing the outfit with a black belt.

She would’ve gone for something more Violet inspired, but she really had no time to worry about the little things. Lunging for her door, she makes sure to lock it behind her, shuffling down the slim staircase behind a wall, allowing her out of her comfy attic-bedroom-turned-loft.

She grabs her bag at the kitchen counter, catches the side-wandering gaze of her envious younger twin. To make matters worse, Violet steals the toast on her plate before scurrying off to the front door and on the bus before Magenta has the chance to catch her. Opening the window, Violet sticks her head out, “It wouldn’t be so hard to run if you weren’t wearing 10 inch heels, Priss.”

...

“Violet!” the high-pitched girly voice calls after you from the other end of the hallway.

Shoving the rest of her books into her locker, she half-salutes the girl in the huge dress as if to signal she’s coming. Satisfied with what she’s taking and leaving for the weekend, she shuts the locker, places the lock and messes with the numbers, walking down the hall to meet the three teenagers at the end.

Violet tries to ignore the looks she’s given, she has for her whole life. Before her parents’ passings, she was the spoiled Priss who couldn’t manage to even look feminine; unless it was for fashion advice, then Violet was useful and the greatest thing Hill Valley’s ever seen. After the deaths, the looks were mixtures of knowing glances, disgust, and to be made fun of. Either way, she was simply...weird.

“Looking good, Shortcake,” the infamous mountain of a man cat-calls.

“Not too bad yourself,” Violet smiles, taking a small detour to indulge him in conversation. Had it been anyone else, Violet would’ve ripped them a new one, truly wish they’d never spoken or even learned how to talk in the first place. Biff Tannen was special, however.

“I heard from a little birdie that you’re gonna show up to the beer blast tonight,” he smirks, making eye contact with a very disturbed and flustered Lorriane that accidentally catches his eyes.

“That little birdie would be correct,” she states with a neutral expression, hand coming up to his cheek and moving his face back to train his eyes on her. “Though, it’s very rude to speak to someone without the respect of talking directly to them. I’da have to slap you for that one.”

“I wouldn’t be too mad about a little love tap, Shortcake,” he smirks, catching her hand in his lightly, despite his reputation.

As quickly as their hands meet is as quick as she pulls away, hand coming back to hide underneath her books, cradling it to her chest. Suddenly, her foot becomes more interesting than his cute face, shuffling her shoe around as if to look for dirt smudges.

Lifting her chin with his index finger, Biff leans in just the tiniest bit, “I expect to see you there.” 

His sentence comes more off as a demand than a question, to which Violet nods with the slightest of a tint in her cheeks, green eyes finding his blue ones to make an unspoken, and rather unneeded, promise.

Scurrying off, her elbow is pulled by Lorraine, “Took you long enough! Come on, us girls are going to find outfits for tonight!”

“Lo, please, I don’t need to be taken on this extravagant shopping trip just for us to end the night with spilled beer, puke, and dirt all over us.” 

“First off, ew. Secondly, we need your creative tastes!” Lorraine begs, grabbing Violet’s bag to place it in the back seat of her topless convertible. 

Begrudgingly, Violet hops over the car door to sit in the back diagonal of Lorraine in the driver’s seat, side-glancing Babs as she gags way too obviously. “I saw that,” she all but snarls in warning.

Babs straightens in her seat quickly, looking the other direction as Betty rides shotgun. Both girls share a look between themselves and before they have time to check themselves, Violet shuts them down, “I saw that shit, too.” Pulling out another cigarette, Violet lights it and continues, “I also know that neither of you wanted me here,” she smirks viciously, “You aren’t too good at hiding it. I know I was only invited for Lorraine, however, you’re gonna need me if you think you’re gonna be a showstopper tonight. Hell, even a makeover, if possible.”

Easily, both girls take offense and open their mouths in surprise, Lorraine choosing to appear as if she hadn’t heard anything, and Violet blowing a puff of smoke into Babs’ face with a devilish glint in her eye; she accomplished her mission in getting back at them, she didn’t need to say anything more.

...

The shopping, even as entertaining as it was, gave Violet quite the laugh and exhaustion throughout the two hours of being there with the other girls. So much so that she divulged herself in an hour’s nap in order to recharge. She didn’t buy anything that afternoon, no, she had made something better, something much more extravagant.

Standing in the center of her bedroom was a single mannequin, plain except for the outfit bestowed upon it and begging to be worn. Hand-sewn was a cropped tee, the sleeves and edges worn and roughed out to appear used and almost dirty. A crisp white with the word “BITCH” bolded in a deep black. Riding high up to the waist was a black, white, grey, and purple plaid pair of trousers; Violet’s personality shining through with the double belts on the top that hang low to the knees, two zippers on the kneecap and lower thigh and matching set on the pockets and very ends of the ankles. To top off the look, there was a black beanie and purple long sleeved shirt underneath the T-shirt.

Once woken up and prepared for the party, Violet wore the outfit like a badge of honor, one of her greatest works to come by. Before leaving, she added her black boots and grabbed her spiked black denim jacket to sling over her shoulder.

...

Waltzing into the party with a dark pair of shades, Violet quickly feels the overcrowding of people get to her, almost as if she’s becoming claustrophobic. Taking a red solo cup, she fills if with beer ans chugs it fast, refilling the next cup in desperate need to feel the tension in her shoulders leave. It’s been too long since she’s been in a public setting like this, and now that she’s here, all she can feel is the worry and stress of the days to follow this night.

“Ah, fuck it,” she groans, discarding the cup somewhere on the floor to find something stronger. Walking around the house, she finds the living room, people of many kinds either drinking, dancing, making out, smoking, or playing games.

Leaning against the door frame, she observes the people lost in the moment; she used to be a friend of those feelings, so care-free and happy, knowing that one night couldn’t possibly mess with her plans ahead. She was a kid then, a few months changing her almost simultaneously, and now an adult is left behind feeling like she’s missed so much.

Kids cheer in the corner, the familiar game of beer pong causing her to laugh as the poor boy passes out with the sheer amount of shots he was forced to consume. Violet almost considers joining in, but the tap at her shoulder pulls her from her thoughts swiftly.

“There you are!” Lorraine screams, trying to be heard over the loud music.

“Here I am!” Violet calls back with a smile, “Enjoying the party so far?”

“I was about to ask you the same thing!” she smiles, stumbling a little, “I’m having the time of my life! I’m talking to this boy, he’s real sweet!”

Violet nods questioningly, taking in the lack of details and obvious state of her friend, “How much have you had to drink, Lo? Who have you been hanging around with?”

“Roy! Come on, let’s go meet him!” she steals Violet’s forearm, tugging firmly.

“I-I don’t know, Lorraine!”

“Stop being such a wet end, just relax! Roy’s reeeeaalllyyy cool and he’s been such the charmer.”

Violet staggers a bit, staring at Lorraine slightly taken back, following the drunken woman weakly’ her mind working 100 miles a minute and not liking the odds of what this boy seems to be trying to obtain from her friend.

Strolling up to a group of loud boys and girls leaving not a bit of their bodies to the imagination, Lorraine calls out to the boy she spoke so highly of just moments before. “Roy, I want you to meet my friend, Violet O’Quinn.”

“Roy Holtz.” He stood tall and broad, shoulders squared and arms displayed nicely underneath his tight muscle shirt, dark blue skinny jeans displaying his package to what only he feels is a show-stopper. He looks Violet up and down from head to toe, the stupid toothpick bobbing around with the continuous movements of her tongue and grinding of teeth.

“Oh, great, a true charmer,” Violet rolls her eyes, crossing her arms to display a sense of unwant and protection, defensive.

“I don’t think your friend likes me too much, Lorraine,” he giggles, “Why don’t you come and hang out with me instead, huh? I can show you a fun time.”

“Lorraine isn’t going anywhere with you, Dick.”

“Oh no, and why’s that?” he snarls, stepping up to be almost chest to chest with a much shorter Violet, her 5′2″ stature being no match to Roy’s 10 inch difference. “You want some of me instead, is that it? You jealous she’s getting my attention?

Shoving him away from her with the tips of her fingers, she looks him dead in the eye, “You’re stepping on the wrong toes if you think you’re gonna get lucky with her tonight, you hear me? You’re severely mistaken if you think you’re gonna do so much as even touch her.”

“Oh, look at the mouth on you,” Roy advances towards her again, Lorraine being long forgotten. “Just imagine all the wonders it can do,” his hands snake around to grip her ass firmly, giving it a nice squeeze.

Quickly, Violet’s hand balls into fists at her sides, shoving him off of her with immense anger. Roy falls back at the force of her and, with a few shuffled steps, Roy gathers himself with an almost matched anger. “You Bitch,” he spits, scolding the girl for her defiance.

“Fuck you,” she spits at him, saliva gathering all over his eyes.

Her actions, albeit greatly intended to piss him off, are greatly regretted as Roy cocks back his arm, fist colliding with Violet’s face before she has the chance to dodge it. Staggering back with a hand to her jaw, her vision quickly shines red, body lowering to tackle the taller guy, shoulder jabbing into his stomach to throw him off balance.

Lunging on top of him, Violet’s hands land endless blows to Roy’s face, pummeling him to the ground. Snatching her elbow just as she goes to land another punch, Roy pins it back in a painful angle, throwing her body off of his as he goes to switch their positions, a fist flying into her nose intentionally. 

Somewhere, in his sick mind, his desire to see her bleed grew as the first hit didn’t quite break her nose. Her eyes tear up as another blow was thrown directly after the last, a small dabble of blood finding the rim of her nose as she feels the audible crack. 

Knee hiking up from underneath Roy, Violet aims for the groin, missing but managing to use it as a block. Pushing up again, her knee pushes Roy off her once more, hand grabbing his arm and pinning it behind his back. Sitting on top of the boy again, Violet pushes the arm high enough to earn a pained cry, other hand fisting his hair to bring his head back.

Forcing him to look her in the eyes, green eyes devoid of any emotion, she all but snarls, “You ever think of using another girl again, I’ll know about it. When you think of harming them, you’ll think of me.” Violet forces her hand down, smashing Roy’s head into the pavement below them before forcing his head back again, “Do I make myself clear?”

He nods.

“I said, ‘Do. I. Make. Myself. Clear?’”

“Y-Yes. Yes, ma’am.”

“That’s what I thought. Let this embarrassment be your warning, hm?”

“Yes.”

Dubbing his fear an earned win, Violet lets the boy go with the drop of his head, removing herself from on top of him. Standing above him, her eyes find the crowd that had formed around them, suddenly feeling the center of everyone’s attention. Looking for Lorraine, she watches as the girl makes a run for it, Violet quickly tearing through the crowd to chase after her, “Lorraine!”

Lorraine makes a break for the sliding glass door of the patio in the backyard, turning around momentarily to remark how close Violet was getting, eyes widening as her eyes catch something from behind. “Violet!” she calls, Roy getting up and gaining on Violet once more.

However, her warning was too late, Roy tackling Violet again, throwing her head into the pavement just as he head, only he repeats the actions multiple times. Just as Violet feels her head spin and vision start to display stars, all actions stop. 

Lazily, her head turns towards her side, just catching the end of Roy’s continued war. A swift blow effectively knocks all sense of consciousness out of him, the tall victor standing above him like a waking nightmare. Fully aware of the damage he’s done, he stares at his knuckles, then turns to meet Violet’s eyes.

“You love getting yourself into trouble, huh?” Biff’s warm and deep voice paves a way through Violet’s clouded mind, huge arms coming to wrap around her limp body.

“Pervert deserved it,” she mumbles, eyes heavily lidded with the awaiting bruising and pain, adrenaline starting to run low.

“I know,” he smirks, opening the sliding door and walking you up the stairs to the bathroom in his friend’s room. “Sometimes you need to pace yourself, though. You almost didn’t make it through this one.”

“I knew you’d come to the rescue,” Violet smirks, allowing Biff to place her on the sink to get a better look at the damage.

“It’s still stupid, Tex. You don’t have to assert your dominance over every guy.”

Violet laughs, eyes closing at Biff pats the warm wash cloth over her eyes and forehead, wiping up the blood. “It’s not my fault they have shrimp dicks.”

“Guess that means I don’t have a shrimp dick then, huh?” he smiles widely.

“Oh hush,” Violet giggles, cheeks just dusting with a red tint.

“I’m serious though, Tiny, you could’ve gotten extremely hurt,” Biff’s hand finds her chin again, lifting her head with the intent of meeting her eyes and further exaggerating his point.

Suddenly, Violet feels the air shift, smile leaving her lips to show her full attention, “I know, Biff, but I had him. He was trying to use Lorraine and - I don’t know, I-”

“You felt the need to protect her,” he rolls his eyes.

“Yeah because I care for her. She’s my friend.”

Biff sighs amused, “Tex, why do you think I’m always here to end your fights for?”

Violet’s eyes widen at the question, both confusion and awe causing her walls to fall down and collapse around her. “I-I don’t know.”

“Well I ain’t taking punches just because I’m your friend, Tex.”

Violet gasps again, “Are you saying you have feelings? Biff Howard Tannen, are you saying you care about me?

“Well, I’m still here, ain’t I? I haven’t strayed like everyone else has.”

“So, you do then. Even with all of our fighting and bickering? The constant one-upping?”

“Are you really gonna make me say it, Tiny?”

“I think I need a little clarifying,” Violet grins, face slowly inching forwards.

Biff finds himself lowering his body, hands on either side of Violet’s thighs on the sink, “You’re gonna be the death of me, Violet O’Quinn.”

“You wouldn’t want it any other way, Tannen.”

Lips colliding in a passionate frenzy, Violet’s hands wrap around the huge man’s neck, hand playing with the hair at the base of his neck. Biff’s tongue drags along the bottom of her lip, begging for entrance, but in Violet’s defiance and typical teasing, she doesn’t allow him access. Groaning, his teeth nibble at her lip, encouraging a gasp that lets his tongue slide in freely.

Quietly, Violet whimpers, legs widening to allow Biff to step in closer, his hands lifting to cup her jaw carefully. With the begging of their lungs, the pair pull away with labored breaths, Biff capturing Violet’s bottom lip in her teeth for a moment before pulling away, foreheads colliding against one another’s.

“I love you, Tex.”

“I know you do, Tannen,” Violet giggles, another groan meeting her as his head falls in the crook of her neck. Slowly picking his head up with her hands, she watches as he molds to her like putty, face nuzzling into her palms. “And, that’s why I love you, too.”

“Don’t say the ‘too’ at the end... makes it sound like you’re agreeing with me,” he smirks, eyes trained on her face with adoration.

“I love you, Biff Tannen.”

“There it is,” he smiles, leaning in for another kiss.

[shurisneakers]

shut in [2]

Summary: When your high profile mission goes terribly wrong, you’re forced to hide in a safehouse with a man you’ve never met before. With seemingly nowhere else to go, you’re forced to work together to figure out who is trying to have you assassinated before it’s too late. (Sam Wilson x Gender Neutral Reader, Hitman AU)

Warnings: cursing, implied violence, drama kings, and stupid tv show references

Word count: 3.4k

A/N: ayeeee, we’re back for part two. i also appreciate feedback so if you would like to, please consider dropping me an ask or comment ly guys!! also if you want to be on the taglist, it’s mentioned at the bottom of the chapter.

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Shut In Masterlist

Hours were spent on the road in thick silence. 

The both of you had been driving around for a while now. You were a considerable distance away from the mansion and Pierce, but you didn’t dare to stop.

Initially you had only put the pedal to the metal without solid plan. Get the fuck away from there was the only objective you cared about. 

Hours later a signboard registered in your frantic thoughts. Familiarity struck a chord, and all of a sudden you had a vague idea of where you could go. You were unsure if it still existed, but it was a risk you were willing to take.

Darkness still coloured the sky, but the roads were deserted. No cameras along the highway was a welcomed feature. You eased your foot off the accelerator, carefully assessing the path you were taking for your exit. 

You saw a small clearing near the highway, taking a deep breath before pulling the car into a sharp turn off the road and into the woods.

“Where are you going?” your companion jolted up when the car swerved abruptly. 

You didn’t answer; just kept your eyes peeled for the structure. You didn’t have a backup plan if this didn’t go right.

It took much longer than you anticipated before you found it, pulling the car to a stop. You were deeper into the woods than you would have liked. 

You stuck your head out of the window to confirm you were at the right place. It looked like you were.

“Where the hell are we?”

“My summer vacation house,” you murmured, unbuckling your seatbelt. You stepped out of the car to assess the damage. .

Another door opening and closing told you that he had gotten out of the car as well. However, he trudged ahead, leaving you behind. 

The car was pretty beaten up. The metal gates hadn’t done it any favours.The question was whether it would still work if you needed it to.

Probably would, but not for too long.

You looked to the side to see where he went. He was standing in front of the house, arms crossed over his chest as he ran his eyes all over the building.

You trekked past him, walking up the two steps to the door. Pulling at what looked like a doorbell in any other scenario, you tugged off the outer shell to reveal a small scanner underneath.

You pressed your thumb to it, tapping your foot impatiently as it gave a beep of approval. The door gave a soft click. You let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding, twisting the handle to let yourself in. 

“You’re kidding right?” he asked incredulously from a distance behind you.

“Hey, man, stay outside if you want. Suit yourself.” You were sure he could fashion a bed out of leaves and twigs if he was that desperate.

Fumbling for the light switch, you sigh in relief when the room is illuminated.

“Whose safehouse is this?”

“Ransone’s.” You shrugged nonchalantly, moving ahead to inspect the place.

“I have every single one of his safehouses committed to memory.” His voice was becoming fainter as he planted his feet firmly at the doorway, refusing to move. “This ain’t one of them.”

“He’s sneaky. Once watched the next episode of Desperate Housewives without telling me.” The house wasn’t as dusty as you thought it would be, clearly being maintained once in a while although not regularly. “Broke my whole heart, he did.”

“Whose house is this?” he asked once again, tone hard as steel.

“Best that you don’t ask questions, buddy.” You looked at him wearily, a slo warning in itself, ending the conversation there. “Or else you’re welcome to leave.”

The entrance opened directly into what you assumed was the living room, or a sorry excuse for one. It had a couch facing an old cable television set, mounted on a small cupboard.

In the same space was the kitchen, with a microwave, a sink, and shelves lining the wall. A small mini fridge sat atop the counter.  There was a dining table with six chairs for a family, almost like a sick joke. You found yourself letting out a short exhale at it, moving onto the next room.

It was bare except for a shelf pressed against a well. Opening it, you found yourself looking at multitudes of what looked like burner phones, microphones, cameras, some as small as a button. Regular security cameras and monitors to go with it, trackers, anything you needed was available in those four drawers.

You pocketed a burner cell to use for later, moving to the room on the opposite side of the hall.

However, unlike the rest of the rooms you had seen so far, this one was empty. Not even a shelf decorating it.

The next door you opened was a bathroom, the final being a bedroom with one bed in the centre pushed up against the wall. A wardrobe in the corner contained numerous t-shirts of black and grey of every size, tactical pants and other necessary items of clothing.

You eyed the last door at the end of the hall before finally deciding to pursue it.

It opened to the patio in the back, two steps leading down from the house into the wooded area. Pillars held up the corners of the roof. It all looked picturesque, meant to blend in as a normal house.

You stood there for a second, taking in the silence around you. Nothing could be heard for miles, so if something were to happen-

You shook your head, forcing your imagination to stop running wild. You shut the door behind you, steadily making your way back to where the guy was.

It appeared that he had caved. He had moved from the doorway, instead taking a seat on one of the dining chairs. He was observing you, eyes keen as you took a seat opposite to him.

Dropping the burner phone on the table, you looked at him expectantly. Silence ensued until it dawned on him what you were implying. 

“I’m not calling him,” the guy said, leaning on his palm. Coward. 

“Fine.” You pulled it back, snapping it open to dial the number.

You let it ring all the way until the very last second.

“Hello?” the low voice resonated from the other end.

“Ransone.” You rolled your eyes at his tone, somehow letting your exhaustion tear down any kind of filter you usually had while in conversation with him. 

“Y/N?” His voice jumped two octaves higher to his usual pitch, dropping the facade immediately. 

“Did you set us up?” You ignored the small glance you got from the guy at your name.

“What?”

“Did you set us up?” you repeated brazenly.

“What?”

“Oh, cut the shit Ransone, was this a trap?” The guy next to you exploded impatiently.

“Wilson?” Great. A name to the face.

“Answer the fuckin’ question, Vincent.” The mention of Ranone’s first name had you surprised. No one dared to call him that.

“No, Sam,” came his response almost mockingly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Sam Wilson. It sounded familiar. You’d heard it tossed around a few times at the organisation.

“Why were both of us on the same assignment?”

“I told you, I wasn’t sure if Wilson was going to show up.” You could hear his chair faintly creak in the background. “This was his mission first.”

“The hell is that supposed to mean?” you interjected. Faint memories of a passing comment he made during your briefing were beginning to surface. 

“It means,” Ransone emphasised. “I called him first. He was being a bit… difficult. So I sent you as a backup.”

You looked at Sam. He dismissed you with a wave of his hand, as if to say to ignore what he was saying.

“And you didn’t think it was important to tell me that you were sending someone else?” If Ransone had told you, he should have mentioned it to him too.

“Oh, grow up.” Ransone sounded irritated, a tone that he seemed to reserve for Sam specifically. “You’re not children anymore. You can handle a few miscommunications.”

“Bullshit. You and I both know this isn’t an accident,” Sam retorted, dangerously good at not giving a shit. 

“You better watch yourself, agent.” Ransone snarled. “I don’t like being questioned.”

“Like I give a shit about what you like or not. We were outnumbered 8 to 2. You tellin’ me you had nothing to do with this? That the stars just aligned to royally fuck with us?”

“Yes, I waited until Mercury was in retrograde to plan this hit,” he drawled sarcastically. “Don’t you for a second forget what you owe me, Wilson. You’d be stupid to believe I’d let it go so easily by having you killed.”

His voice was ice by the end. Sam’s eyebrow furrowed as he leaned back, crossing his arm over his chest.

“Then what about me?”

“Y/N,” he sighed, instantly sounding softer. “I didn’t think he would show. That’s it.”

“You’ve never been unsure of anything.”

“Which is why I sent you in. Pierce had to die one way or the other. Don’t care how.” It wasn’t what you were talking about, but it brought up something else. 

You looked at Sam. Should you tell him that Pierce was dead before you got there?

You decided against it, not knowing what his reaction would be and too tired to gauge it over the phone. If someone else had gotten to Pierce before you, it meant that Ransone didn’t get a chance to deliver a dramatic end to his life, which would tick him off endlessly. 

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” Sam broke the momentary pause.

“You don’t.” He paused. “Distrusting me is the wisest thing you could do.”

You scoffed at his stupid Game of Thrones quote. How he was this obnoxious at a time like this was beyond comprehension. 

“Give me your location.” He couldn’t sound less interested, like a parent forced to pick up their child. “I’ll send someone to come pick you up.”

Sam’s finger tapped at the table, drawing your attention to him.

He slowly shook his head, mentioning to his ear then drawing his finger in a circle indicating his surroundings.

Disclosing confidential information over the phone wasn’t the wisest idea. You had no idea if anyone was tapping into Ransone’s calls, listening for sensitive information. For all you knew that’s how they got to the mansion before you. 

“Forget it. We’ll figure it out,” you told Ransone, eyes still locked on Sam.

“All right, stay low for a while. Keep me updated.”

You cut the call without another word, removing the battery and tossing the phone onto the table.

“What now?”

Neither of you said anything for a while. The silence rested uncomfortably between you as you stewed over what to bring up. 

“Did you kill Pierce?”

“Christ, we still on this?” he scoffed.

“It’s a yes or no question.” 

“No,” he stared at you. “I didn’t.”

“Did Ransone send you to spy on me?” It wouldn’t be the first time it had happened, although you thought he had moved past the need for that years ago. 

“No, I was there for a mission.”

“You got any proof?”

He rolled his eyes. “Scout’s honour.”

He lifted his hand up in a mock-salute. A wince flashed across his face; barely, but enough for you to catch it. His arm dropped back down again.

You examined him silently, searching for any hint of a lie or bluff. You found nothing, only an adamant set of eyes staring right back at you.

Your chair creaked as you pushed yourself away from the table. You could feel his gaze following you as you walked down the hall to the bathroom. Shuffling through the shelves for something you were sure was there, you soon stepped back out.

You had no idea why you were doing this. You didn’t even know the guy.

He had his sleeve pulled up to his shoulder, examining the wound from the bullet graze. Dried blood streaked his forearm, partially covering his tattoo.

You tossed the first aid kit onto the table, watching it slide across to where he was sitting. Sam glanced at the box, then up at you.

You just turned around silently, walking back down the hall and towards the bedroom, shutting the door behind you.

__________

Sleep didn’t come that night, and predictably so.

Whether it was the survival instinct guarding you from the stranger in the house, the adrenaline from the mission or even the anxiety of not knowing what exactly was going on, you were sure that you didn’t catch even a bit of shut eye.

Morning came around after what seemed like days rather than hours. You still stayed in bed well past the sunrise, pulling at the hem of your pillow. Your knife was still strapped to your thigh and your gun found a place on the nightstand, just in case.

When you heard the opening and shut of cabinets down the hall, you finally pulled yourself up, stretching to get rid of the weariness in your muscles. You decided against the gun but left the knife strapped to your thigh as you shifted off the bed.

You paused at the doorway, hand on the knob. Shoving aside your hesitation, you opened the door quietly. You could handle it, easily.

Walking towards the kitchen, the volume of his ruffling and filing through the kitchen only became louder. You stopped at the entrance, watching as Sam slammed a cabinet door shut.

“C’mon man,” he groaned before turning around to lean his body weight against the counter. There was a small bump under the sleeve of his arm, different from the curve of his muscle. You assumed he had bandaged the bullet graze the night before.

He was still wearing the same thing as yesterday. Dust was slightly settled on his shirt and one knee of his pants was ripped slightly.

“Mornin’.” You quickly looked back up at him, not realising when he had seen you. “Get any sleep last night?”

You wordlessly shook your head and he shrugged in understanding. 

“Did you?”

“Oh yeah. Out like a light.” He pushed himself off the counter.

“Really?” You watched as he pulled out a chair for himself, taking a place at the dining table, same place he was sitting the night before.

“Sounded like the reasonable thing to do.” He had an unnatural amount of faith in the fact that you wouldn’t murder him. Although you couldn’t judge if he was simply putting on a show, having stayed awake just as you had. 

“I'm stuck in a safehouse with a stranger, forgive me for being a little careful,” you muttered defensively, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Hey, never said you were wrong.” He lifted his hands up. “But just to make sure; are you going to kill me?”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “No?”

“And I’m not going to kill you. I’d say that’s enough reassurance to get at least a nap in.”

“Give me one good reason to believe you.”

“If you killed me, Ransone would blow the roof of this place with you still in it. I’m one of the best he’s got.”

“Bullshit.” You scoffed, walking around the table to go see what you could find to eat. Ransone wouldn’t do that for anyone, and he knew that.

He didn’t bother responding but you could sense him tracking your movement.

The first cabinet you opened consisted purely of jars of peanut butter, stacked together neatly. The one beside it had jelly arranged in a similar fashion, jar to jar and taking up the entire space. Adjacent cupboard had loaves of bread, probably the most you’d seen together in a house ever.

The next cupboard was... empty.

“You have got to be fuckin’ with me,” you cursed under your breath. “Is there nothing else here?”

Save for a few plates and cutlery, every other shelf was empty. Your frustration only grew with each drawer you opened and shut, finding nothing but the same three components over and over again.

“There’s some soup on the top right, behind the bread.” His voice came from behind you. You checked where he mentioned, finding multiple cans of tomato soup. “I hope PB&J is your favourite, ‘cause that’s really all we got. I checked twice.”

“We won’t be here long anyway. It’s fine.” You walked a few steps towards where the TV was, sitting atop a small cupboard. If you weren’t getting gourmet meals, hopefully it would be compensated with some entertainment.

Rummaging through it didn’t prove to be a major hassle since there were only three DVDs; Die Hard, Notting Hill and Megamind. Beside it sat two books, American Gods, and Pride and Prejudice. That’s all. 

“Really made sure to cover all demographics with those movies. There’s only one local news channel, everything else is static,” Sam informed you, unmoving from his position. You sighed, tossing the DVDs back and shutting the door.

“There’s a room over there with some basic shit. Burners, mics, cameras. Clothes are in the bedroom drawer. Should probably take a shower while you’re at it, I can smell you from a mile away and it’s giving me a migraine.” You pushed yourself off the ground, pointing towards the rooms as you walked down the hall. “Backyard’s all heavily wooded. If we try hard enough, I’m sure there are a few trap doors or crawl spaces or whatever around here.”

You could hear him follow you as you gave him the tour of a place you were sure he already had examined thoroughly before you greeted him this morning.

Pushing open the door to the suspiciously empty room, you stepped to the side, allowing him to observe. The both of you had the same thought process as you split up, sticking close to the walls, running your fingers across the plaster to look for any major differences.

“Got it,” he called out. You spun on your heel to face where he was standing. A small chunk of the wall was missing, a small button in the centre of the cavity he had created.

Pressing it lightly, the mechanical sound of sliding doors filled the air as the entire side of the room gave way to shelves upon shelves of weapons. Guns, knives, ammunition, bulletproof vests; enough material to last you years.

The doors slid shut when you pressed the button again, not until you had a mental note of what was available in case you found yourself in a situation where you required them.

“That about covers it. Don’t think we’ll be here long so just think of it as your three day long staycation.”

“I’ve had a better time at funerals than I’ll ever have in this shithole.”

________

“What do you mean they escaped?” Their voice was booming, dripping with slow rising anger. “Someone explain to me how the fuck that’s possible.”

“They took the car and left.”

“They took the car and left,” they said mockingly in a high pitch. “I know that, you fucking imbecile. I’m asking how they were alive long enough to do it?”

“They teamed up. Took out nearly everyone,” the agent was monotone. His arm was in a sling and his partner stood beside him, thick bandages around his midsection.

“They shouldn’t have been there together. They shouldn’t have been sent together.”

No one said a word, not even daring to breathe loudly.

“This wasn’t supposed to fucking happen. We killed Pierce. Everything was perfect,” their voice dropped as they spat out the last word. “So then how did this fucking happen?”

“Boss, we’ll-”

“I want them dead.” They interrupted, casting silence in the room. “I don’t care how you fucking do it. I want you to find them and rip them to shreds. Both of them.”

“Yes, boss.”

“And if you even fucking think of coming back without a proper update-” they brought their hand down harshly on the table. “-I’ll make you wish you were never born.”

The agents just nodded, faces pale as they shuffled out of the room silently.

“Fucking idiots.” They nursed their forehead on their palm, calming the nerve that was menacingly visible on their temple. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Part 3

[rapspud]

Bittersweet

Bittersweet    A/N: Decided to rewrite this one. Please enjoy.

Yoongi looked at your friends as he sneered at your prone form sprawled out on the ground, your fingers scrambling to find your glasses.

“Aw what’s the matter? The poor baby can't see?” He purred as he picked up your glasses and dangled them in front of your face before throwing them into the dumpster. “Have fun diving!” He cackles as he slides past your prone figure, cruelly stepping on your hand as he passes.

You could hear the snickers of his friends behind you. You watched as his best friend, Seokjin clapped Yoongi on the shoulder, and whispered, “Oi, I get the whole I hate “y/n” thing but seriously—that was a bit much don’t you think?”

Yoongi  couldn’t believe what he was hearing, “She ratted us out! So I fixed it-and now she can’t see to snitch! And shouldn’t you be on my side? You’re in just as much trouble as I am!”

Seokjin could only look at Yoongi like he had a third head, “ Yeah I guess, but still...there is-” at Yoongi’s raised eyebrow he swallowed what he wanted to say, instead choosing to leave rather than to help Yoongi’s victim, “Hey I gotta go I’ll catch you later okay?”

Yoongi smiled and waved good-bye before walking away from the group. How could he possibly explain how much he hated Y/N? No one here knew the truth about your families-how he had to share a home with you,  your family serving his. He had no respite from you. Yeah, Y/N deserved everything she got, he thought as he got into his car. Plus it's not like you wouldn’t rat him out when you got home about what happened. This time as he drove past you and saw you hunched in on yourself, he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt as he saw you clutching your injured hand, staring resolute at the dumpster, knowing full well that you would go in after the glasses. After all, he knew how hard your mother worked to buy them for you, he knew how you worked 2 jobs and also kept track of your younger brothers. Deep down, he really hoped that maybe this time you would finally explode and tell everyone about all the horrid acts he committed against you. 

Except that you never did tell on him. 

In fact, you avoid Yoongi like the plague.  After finally scrambling into the dumpster and reclaiming your glasses, you clambored back out, hand still screaming in pain. As you stand there wiping the garbage from the lenses and picking off random refuse from your clothes you honestly don’t think you can sink any lower than this. You swipe grimey hands at your cheeks as hot tears run down them, thankful that you are alone. And as you walk away you begin to make plans. You couldn’t keep doing this. And with renewed energy you begin walking home, not didn’t looking back choosing instead to forge ahead, putting one foot in front of another until finally you were in your mid=twenties, and had your own little place. You were happy with your life. But you should have known. All good things must come to an end eventually. You hadn’t thought about him in years, attending school, graduating, opening up a bakery with your best friend. Essentially you were hiding, but not really. 

And then by some ill stroke of luck, he found you.

You awaken to the blaring of your alarm with a groan. Was it really 8 am? The flashing numbers of your clock inform you that it was in fact 8:59. Shit you were late. Cursing your snooze butten, you scrambled out of your bed and grabbed the cleanest clothes you could find off the floor and stumble as you attempt a whole new balancing act: pulling up your pants while holding a hot cup of coffee and a piece of toast dangling precariously from your teeth. As you run down the street towards the bus, slinging your backpack over your shoulder while you scramble to tuck your shirt in you promptly run into a solid wall and fall on your ass. Your hair is covering your face as you look up at  what you had plowed into, an apology already leaving your mouth when you got to the face. “Um…hi, uh…sorry about that.”

“Y/N. From YHSN?”

“Yes?” you become wary, no one around here really knows you as you chose to keep to yourself…“Do I know you?”

The grin that spread across the man’s face could be described as nothing less than cruel and vicious. “Yeah, Y/N L/N right? I am here to inform you that you have 24 hours to vacate the premises. Good luck.” He stated before unceremoniously dropping an envelope onto your lap and turning on her heel to leave you in a stunned heap on the floor.

What the hell had just happened? Maybe you were still dreaming?

You were dazed for a moment as your brain tried to compute the absolute absurdity of what had just happened and then you were on your feet chasing the man, yelling at him to stop but he just kept on walking.

Finally catching up to the man, you grab her arm, “What the fuck man?” you yell, “this is illegal as hell! Thirty days is the minimum!” You shove the notice back at the man, hitting him in her (very solid) chest hard.

“Y/n, Y/n, I see you're still full of venom huh? It’s completely legal actually-you see I” he leaned forward, “own the building now. And to my delight, what do I learn? I find out that Y/N L/N happens to be a tenant! Guess how happy I was to finally find you again after all these years and then get to have you vacate your home.” he laughs as you gape at him like a fish.

“Min fucking Yoongi, I do not have time for your petty ass childish bullshit! ” you hers, voice laced with venom.

“Aw kitten you remembered! I am truly honored! But alas I cant stay and chit-chat, and well, neither can you. Tata chica!” With that he jerks her arm from your grasp, sending you back to the ground in shock for the second time that morning, before climbing into an expensive black car and driving away.

You scream curses to the sky, because after 8 peaceful years, the man you had spent so long  running from and then finally forgetting, had found you. But of course, the sky only decides to rain. And as you trudge back home to call into work, (because seriously fuck this day) you can’t help but wonder how everything came to this moment. After a shower and change of clothes, you fall into your bed, allowing yourself one moment of respite before you begin to tackle this new problem, closing your eyes.

You were back there again, trapped both in a small body and the cave that haunts you as you watch helplessly at the rising water. Your tiny voice is raised, tinted with fear, “I told you we shouldn’t come here! My mama said-“

The boy next to you cut you off, “Crying ain’t gonna fix it, I will save us”

“You can't even swim,” You yell, unable to remain calm. 

“I AM GONNA SAVE US!” the small boy shouted, “so don’t cry Y/N.” He gave you a small smile, one that made you feel slightly safer and he took hold of your hand. “Follow me and don’t let go no matter what.”

“Okay,” you say, for some reason feeling braver after placing your faith along with your hand into the boy’s hand. He said he would, so of course he would save both of you. After all, he was your best friend and you don’t pick losers.

It was a lot harder though, when all was said and done. Yes, the two of you made it out of the cave alive, but not without nearly drowning, and you had slipped and injured your ankle along the way. Luckily, you did make it out, and while the two of you spent a cold wet night huddled together on the beach, you were alive. In the morning, you were rescued further as the search teams found. And while your mother had you wrapped up in her warmth and was crying and thanking the people over and over that had saved you, the same welcoming was not happening to the young boy. You could hear screaming as a woman in a fine dress and her husband yelled at the boy, your tiny hero, before there was a loud smack. You watch as the boy falls, hand clenched to her face, tears streaming down her face as her mother continues to land hard blows upon her body until she is dragged away. You cried out for you friend and as the two of you met eyes, for the first time you saw hatred reflected back at you. That was the day Min Yoongi stopped being your friend and became your tormentor.

He followed you everywhere, taunting you, breaking your things, and ultimately breaking you. Your mother finally quit working for her house the day he’d thrown your glasses into the garbage and you had come home, broken glasses in hand, face streaked with tears and reeking of garbage -you had finally confessed what had happened, what all had been happening. You had moved away, your mom working several jobs and then as well as yourself working, then you working to  pay your way through chef school and finally moving out into your own place. And all of it had just been destroyed because he found you.

You sigh looking up at your ceiling letting your anger consume you as you curse Min Yoongi to a lifetime of diarrhea. And an itchy butt. And you hoped her eyebrows fell out, just for good measure.

You look around your apartment one last time before closing the door with finality. this asshole, you think to yourself. “Just wait” you say as you look down at the address your brother had just texted you.

An hour later you stand before a gated house and ring the doorbell. And ring it. And ring it. And continue ringing it (after all it was nearly 6 am, and as you had learned that morning, if you want to ruin someone's day, do it first thing in the morning) until a sleepy figure stumbles outside and smacks your hand away. You take this opportunity to dart inside the gate and into the house carrying your things with you.

“What the hell do you think you're doing?” Yoongi yells at you from outside, beginning to stomp back to her front door. You could only grin as you take in the pajama bottoms and robe, while you stand there like a goddamn Amazonian queen, “You took my home. this is payback.” and then you dialed the police, “Yes? Officer? There’s a half naked man on my lawn, please send help! I’m so scared”

You couldn’t help the grin that covers your face as you smile at Yoongi, “Good luck asshole.” You say sweetly, before slamming the door in her face. Nothing had ever sounded so sweet as the sound of the lock turning over, followed a second later by desperate pounding at the door. And Yoongi could only pound on the door until the cops showed up and he explained that this was, in fact, her home, as well as that the intruder was actually you. The officers had asked him if he wanted you arrested and for once he let it go, telling them that you were having a lovers quarrel and apologizing that they had to come out over something so silly. As the cops pulled away, he went to the back of the house and slammed the sliding glass door open only to find the house seemingly empty. As he walked from room to room he couldn’t help but get angrier and angrier. But when he found you passed out on her bed, he paused, somehow her anger dissipating instantly. He stood there, looking at your sleeping body and wondered if you would ever know her real feelings for you. If he would ever be able to tell you. And the real question: could you forgive him? He knew it was asking a lot, but he could only hope. He sat and thought about how to express to you the things he needed to say. He wondered how exactly did one explain how guilty he felt about how he treated you, how he didn’t really understand why he went out of her way to make your life miserable back then…and then you had left him. How, when you left he realized just how broken he was inside. When he bought the building he couldn’t believe her luck when he saw your name as one of the tenants, but her old ways came back hard and for some ungodly childish reason he couldn’t control himself. That he should have been apologizing that morning and telling you how thankful he was that it had also brought you back to him. He guessed that it was far too late for him to ever have your forgiveness and he couldn’t help the smile that played on her mouth as he approached the bed. He reached out a hand to smooth back some hair that covered your face when you wherpered, “Yoongi...” he stilled, “…I’m sorry” you mumbled. What could you possibly be sorry for? He couldn’t help it, but it made him angry that you would apologize to him after everything he’d done and especially while in such a vulnerable state that the next thing he knew he was grabbing the blanket and ripping it away from your curled form. It’s momentum  sends you over the edge of the bed to land in a heap on the floor. You sit up cursing her very existence,

 “What the hell Y/N?!” He yells right back, while you could only manage to stare up at him from where you sat on the floor. But this time you weren’t having any of her bullshit. You jump up and get in her face “ What the hell? What do YOU mean what the hell? Who the hell buys a building solely to evict one person?! Are you that rich? Do you hate me that much?”

Yoongi yelled back, “Hell yeah I do!“ 

"You have issues, Min Yoongi! I did nothing to you except be born! Do you know how hard I worked to forget what you did to me? And you come just back,” you pause, swallowing thickly, you would not cry. Not here. Not now, “But not anymore! I won't let you break me again Yoongi. I am worth so much more than that!”

Exhausted, you  move to push around him but he grabs your wrists instead and pins you against the wall.

“Let me go you asshole!” you yell at him fighting back for once in your life, all while trying to hide your face and the tears that were no longer just threatening to spill over. “Can't you just hate me from a distance? I’m sorry your mom was a horrid cunt to you! I’m sorry, okay! But please, just let me go! Leave me alone” And then her hands were gone, and you were free. You couldn’t help it, you looked up and stared him in the eyes, for once determined to make him see how he wrecked you.

Yoongi could only stare at you, watching as the tears fell, tears once again caused by him, and then he heard the five words that ripped open her wounds, words he knew he deserved, said in a voice so broken he didn’t know where he should start to even attempt to repair it.

“I hate you Min Yoongi.“

He couldn’t stand it, he knew he deserved them but he just couldn’t stand there and just accept them. Accepting those words would be like giving up, and giving up probably the only pure thing he still had in her life. Had. And so he moved, not thinking about consequences, only a desire to cleanse those words from the air around him. He grabs you again, pushing you against the wall, capturing your face in one hand, forcing you to meet her eyes, while he brushes your hair away with the other, "Good. Never forget it.”

And then he crashes her mouth against yours.

You didn’t know how what was happening was happening and some stupid part of you was excited to have him pressed against you,  mouth was moving against yours and then you were responding and for some reason it felt so good–like coming home. It was like your body suddenly was against everything you wanted-you found yourself wrapping your arms around her neck and pulling him closer, deepening the kiss, a giggle bubbling up when you nipped at her lip and he groaned. and then you both were tearing at each other's clothes in desperation. And then the world stops making sense. You and Min Yoongi, enemy of the state #1 were having sex. And it was good. It felt so right, like you two had been made to fit each other only. When it was over he lay behind you, placing gentle kisses along your neck and down your collar bone. The last thing you remember before falling asleep in your enemy’s arms was Yoongi gently wherpering a muffled “I’m sorry” into your ear over and over.

When you wake, you are surprised to find an arm wrapped around your waist and you freeze as the memories of the night before come rushing back and you begin to mentally beat yourself up as you carefully slide out of the bed and grab your clothes, making a mad dash out of the house, dressing yourself along the way.

No way had you slept with Yoongi and enjoyed it. You were an idiot of the highest order. You slept with the man who wanted you homeless because he hated you.

You let out a deep sigh as you did a very new special walk of shame to your job, where your boss, Mandi greeted you by yelling, “Oi ! What cat pissed in your cheerios?”

Causing the other workers to laugh until you pinned them with your patented Crazy-eye ™, at which point they scurried away except for that moron Seokjin who slung his arm around your shoulders jovially, “So why is my favorite girl doing the walk of shame?”

You glare and shrug his arm off, “None of your business.” 

“Dude its obs-you’re like a whole 4 hours late-and you are never late. So what happened? Anyone I know?”

“You’ll just call me an idiot if I tell you.”

“I swear on cake I won't.”

You raise an eyebrow before saying a name you never thought you’d say just to see him eat his words. “Min Yoongi.”

“Shut the front door! You’re an idiot”

“The cake is ashamed of you and asks that you keep your distance.” You say as you move to the back rooms to put away your belongings.

Not giving up, Seokjin follows you, even going so far as to hand you your apron, “Seriously? Didn’t he like-”

“Terrorize me to the point of moving? Then find me years later and evict me? Yep.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

“You okay?” Seokjin asked worriedly, For the shit talking between the two of you, you smile to know he does really care.

“I have to be.”

“Did you at least use a condom?” He asks.

“Oh my god.”

“You really are an idiot. But don’t worry…you know I’ve got your back right? Well, we’ve got your back.”

You could only stare at Seokjin as your mind whirls through the consequences of last night, “It should be fine right?” you ask.

“Sure, cupcake. Keep telling yourself that”

There is a ding from the door and you see your brother Jungkook shuffles in with your other brother Namjoon, and giving Seokjin a look that clearly says “Keep your mouth shut if you want to live” you take a deep breath and head behind the counter to wash your hands, greeting them as you go.

“COFFEE. COFFEE NOW.” Namjoon grunts demandingly, taking a seat and burying her head in her hands,  while Jungkook adds a half-hearted “Please…and a raspberry jelly for me.”

“Rough night?” You ask as you pour the two men coffee and grab Jungkook her donut and slide it in front of them.

Jungkook grins, “Nah, Joon thought he could out drink me. He thought wrong.”

“Shhhhhhhhh!! You’re so loud,” hersed Namjoon, shoving a hand at Jungkook’s face and missing entirely.

You grin and speak extra loud, “Shouldn’t you know by now to let the kids drink and you go home and sleep?”

Namjoon just glares at you, “I have a gun.”

“I aint scared of you.”

The shop bursts into laughter as Namjoon buries her head in her arms on the counter, “Why do you hate me so much?” He whines.

“Mom likes you more, and I’m a petty bitch.”

Jungkook grins, “But she likes me most!”

Both you and Namjoon glare at him, “Shut up!”

Yoongi wakes up to an empty bed and he frowns, crawling out of bed and pulling on her boxers. He wanders around the house looking for you, hoping that you haven't run away and when he can’t find you, her heart sinks. Was he that awful that you would still run away from him even after what you had shared? And worse, what if he had gone too far this time?

He makes her way back to her room and grabs her phone, calling her secretary.

“Yo.” Answered Hoseok.

“Really that’s how you answer the phone? You do know that I am your boss right?”

“Debatable today.”

Yoongi rolls her eyes, “Anyways, I need you to find someone…”

“Well you know Imma need a little more…”

“Y/N. You remember her right?”

“You mean the girl you tortured in school because you didn’t have the balls to tell her how you lurrrrrrrved her.”

“I see you wish to die today.”

“No, not today. So you wish for me to find your wayward love?”

“Yeah.”

“Mandi’s shop.” Hoseok cheerfully replied, as if this should be common knowledge. 

“Oh yeah, great idea bring me some coffee please?”

“No, you idiot, Y/N works there. She is actually her partner” Hosoek irritatingly says matter of factly.

“The hell?! Why do you know this but I don’t?”

“Dude, seriously? You do know they were friends growing up and just because you made her run away by being a complete ass doesn’t mean they stopped being friends.”

“My best friend and my sister have been lying to me.” 

“It’s not lying when you never asked. But Yoongi…you should let her go. It’s been a long time and I know you had feelings but with how you treated her–“

"She was here.” Yoongi grunted, running a hand over her face as he stood in her closet trying to think of what to wear. What says “I come in peace”? Maybe he could get Hoseok to dress up as Spock and talk to Y/N before he does. 

“What? And you’re alive?”

“Yeah. We…um…she was gone this morning,” Yoongi sits down on her bed, running a hand through her hair.

"Oh…” and as realization hits, Hoseok intones sagely,” ...oh my god you’re fucking moron.”

“You know I can fire you.”

“Please bitch, I know all your deepest darkest secrets you ain’t gonna fire me.”

“Just…shit…what should I do?” Yoongi asks, finally letting go of her big bad boss act.

“Dude, I don’t know. You slept with her…maybe you should just…”

“I um…fucked up more than that…” He thinks about how you had felt, how he had felt...how absolutely perfect it had been for just one night, A flicker of fear strums through her heart at the thought that this was not salvageable at all. 

“No. no way. Our friendship is over.” Hoseok cracks from the other side of the phone.

“Just help me okay?” 

There was a long pause before he heard a heavy sigh, “Fine, but no games. She has a good thing going on and you-”

“I swear it's different this time!” Yoongi pleads. 

“Whatever. I should warn you though.”

“Warn me about what?”

“Her brothers.”

“Namjoon and Jungkook? We were old friends, what about them?”

“You were old friends until they found out how you treated her. And bonus points-they are both cops now. Partners even, so you should probably pray for your soul.”

With a groan, Yoongi finally gets up and begins to get dressed putting Hoseok on speakerphone. “I’m so dead.”  

“Yep,” affirms Hoseok, “So does that mean I can have your stuff?” 

Rolling her eyes and thinking he really needs a new assistant, Yoongi growls out“See you at the office.” only to hear Hoseok laughing before he hangs up the phone. 

Yoongi finishes getting dressed, and running a hand over her face as he contemplates this new information. You’d been right under her nose the entire time and everyone had kept it a secret. He guessed he deserved it though, he was a complete and utter ass to you. He also guesses it’s time to make it up to you and hopefully, you would forgive him and let him into your heart, where he belonged. After all, you’d always been in his.

2 months later

Yoongi stands outside her (former) sister’s shop watching as you serve your customers, and realizes sadly that it was the first time in a long time that  he’d really ever seen you smile. He wanted that smile for himself and himself alone, but he wasn’t sure how to get it. When he had remodeled your former apartment, expanding it through the two vacant units on either side of you, you just got mad at him for evicting you, when he was just redoing the apartment and you claimed it was far too large for you by yourself now. But that was the point wasn't it? He was hoping that somehow you would just...come back to him on your own and he wouldn’t really have to put any work in. Yoongi realizes then that he is an absolute dumbass.

After all, nothing he’d done so far had managed to make you smile at him or hell just give him the time of day and he was beyond frustrated. Couldn’t you see how hard he was trying for you?

Mandi pokes her head out of the shop interrupting his train of thought,

“What the hell are you doing here?” she snaps at him.

“Wow, do you greet all your customers like this?”

“Yoongi. Listen. Whatever it this is about now isn’t–”

Realization hits for the second time that morning, “Were you ever going to tell me?”

Mandi pauses, looking him up and down, “There’s nothing to tell if you already know.”

He could almost feel the metaphorical walls slamming down around him as Mandi went on guard. “Mandi!”

“No. Not about ther.”

“I’ve known for almost a month.”

“Then you should go know somewhere else.”  Mandi stepped outside, becoming a most effective blockade. If someone was to ever wage war against his sister, his money, hell, his entire fortune would be on Mandi.

“Listen, you’re my brother and I love you and I know you know what you did wrong, and really it's sweet you want to make amends but …Yoongi, sometimes things…”

“I slept with her.”

“Do you want a trophy?” Mandi snapped, her fists clenched, before she  shook her head, “you have five seconds or I’m opening ther door and I’m calling her brothers out here.”

“We didn’t use protection.”

“Well then I guess today you die you little fucking weasel.”

“I love her.”

That’s when he remembered his sister’s left hook and then the lights went out.

Mandi stomps into the store grabbing you by the arm and dragging you upstairs ignoring your protests, shoving you into the bedroom and giving you a look reserved for her son’s Taehyung and Jimin when they are acting up. “Stay.”

Mandi goes back downstairs and motions Namjoon and Kookie over, “Listen, I know you hate Min Yoongi with like the passion of 7 fiery suns but I need you to hold that rage in and help me get his ass inside.”

Namjoon was already up and out the door at the sound of Min Yoongi’s name, and seconds later was dragging a barely conscious Yoongi in by the collar. While Kookie held open the door, Namjoon made sure Yoongi purposely whacked his head on the door frame and when Mandi winced he gave her a look that clearly said “sorry not sorry” before dropping Yoongi on the shop floor like the sorry sack of shit he thought he was.

“I’m sorry folks,” Mandi announces, “due to my crazy family, the shop will be closing early.”

The patrons all scrambled out of the shop while Jungkook handcuffed Yoongi to a chair and dumped a cup of ice water on him.

Yoongi jerked back, fully awake now and met by 3 pairs of eyes. 3 very angry pairs of eyes. He shook his head and tried to move but found himself handcuffed to the chair and he gives Mandi a look that says “Really?”

“Kook uncuff him. Seriously. And you and Joon leave.”

“No.”

“Did I stutter?”

“Okay, but we get dibs if you decide to kill him.” Jungkook, grumbles as he undoes the handcuffs.

“I’m not going to kill him. Today.”

“Fine.”

Jungkook finishes unlocking the cuffs and Yoongi immediately rubs at his wrists and watches warily as Jungkook and Namjoon leaves the shop, rolling his eyes when Jungkook gives him the international sign for “I’m watching you” while Joon drew his thumb across his neck. They were dramatic as fuck, but then again he might just be dramatically fucked.

Mandi pulls up a chair and sits across from Yoongi and stares at him for several long moments until Yoongi breaks the silence, “Just say it.”

“Why?”

“It just happened like that.”

“Bullshit.”

Yoongi sighed, “I’ve grown up since then. I no longer want to pull her hair.”

“Clearly. And you didn’t just pull her hair, you did a lot worse.”

“Shouldn’t you be on my side?”

“I am fucking Switzerland.”

Yoongi couldn’t help the anger that swelled up and choked him, “Clearly not. You knew where she was all these years and you never said anything. This is why you never let me come to the shop then? You knew I was looking for her, that I wanted-”

“Of course,” interrupted Mandi. 

“Why?”

“Because you are an idiot who doesn’t know how to communicate. Look at what happened--when you did find her, your first action was to take her home. Who fucking does that shit?”

“You’re right, I was. I was cruel and spiteful. Keyword: was.”

“Bullshit. Taking away her home wasn’t because you were being spiteful. You wanted what she had. That’s called envy. She left because she wanted to live, and the only way she could was to leave. You made it like this. I almost lost my friend. So of course I kept it a secret.” Mandi sighed, rubbing her hand over her face. “Look I know. I know what y

our mom and dad did. How they treated us. We were mere points on a checklist of creating a picture perfect family. But you had no right-”

“I was stupid. You think I don’t know? That I don’t regret it? I love her. I always have.”

“Actions-”

“Speak louder than words I know. I’m trying to fix that now!”

Mandi closes her eyes, debating her next few words  "Can I trust you? That’s the-“ ”

“Yes. I swear I'll spend my life…”

“Doing what?” You interrupt, “Sorry, since you seem to be discussing me I couldn’t stay put,” you say to Mandi. “Yoongi I don’t want your money and if you are worried because we didn’t…,” you swallow before continuing with a brave face, “....I’ll be fine. but you really have to stop sending me presents. I don’t want them. Can’t you just stay…”

“Y/N I’m sorry. I was an ass.”

“Still an ass.” Mandi interrupts, “Look, you two clearly need to talk this out so I’m out. Come on Seokjin, let’s go see a movie.”

With that Seokjin and Mandi beat a hasty retreat leaving the two of you alone.

“Your jaw is swelling.” You say after noticing the blossoming bruise that marred his handsome face. Handsome? What the hell were you even thinking?

“Mandi hit me.”

“Why?”

“I told her what happened. She’s very protective of you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Y/N…that night…I shouldn’t have that.”

“I let you. It wasn’t just you alone.”

“Please, just listen. I’m sorry. For everything. And I’m sorry for not saying that when we met again. It's just…”

“It's just..what?” You questioned, meeting his eyes. 

“I don’t know. When I look at you I want you. You are so good and pure and you deserve the world. I wanted you to myself but I was scared…”

“Scared of?”

“You.”

“Me?” You scoff at the idea of anyone being afraid of you.

“Yeah,” Yoongi stood and walked over to you. “You had everything even though you had nothing. Brothers who worshiped you, a mother who did everything for you…what if I ruined that? What if my mother-”

“How would you ruin that?” You ask, finding patience from who knows where.

“I was messed up…and the older I got the worse…things got worse. You saw, you can’t pretend you didn’t. I took out my suffering on you because nothing good could possibly exist and you were just hiding your real nature. But you never retaliated. You kept reaching out to me over and over again. ”

“But I did retaliate.”

“By locking me out of my house after I took yours? Not really. I mean…I deserve far worse,” chucked Yoongi. He wanted so badly to touch you, to pull you into his arms and just...feel you. 

You stare at Yoongi. This broken version of Yoongi with tears in his eyes. Could you trust him? You wanted to give him a chance.

“Let’s….go on a date.”

Yoongi’s eyes widened, “What?”

“You like me right?”

“Well–I mean–I did when I was—I do”

“Take me on a date, final offer going in one–two..”

“Fine! I’ll take you on a damn date,” Yoongi smiles.

“No fancy shit tho. $100 limit.”

“I’ll take you on the best damn date of your life!”

“Good.”

Yoongi didn’t know why he was being snippy now, but as he left the shop he couldn’t help but do a little cheer when he got into his car. Hoseok rolled his eyes and politely ignored him.

Yoongi stood at the door of your apartment, and for the first time in his life he hesitated, hand poised to ring the doorbell, and then you swung open the door and suddenly the world stopped. You looked amazing. Your hair was curled, makeup accenting your eyes perfectly, wearing black skinny slacks, a hound’s-tooth patterned sweater over a white button down and pink heels. He took in the perfection that was you and thought, “She was made for me.”

And the fear was gone as he smiled at you and he took your hand, interlacing his fingers with yours, “Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah let me grab my purse,” you say as you try to let go of his hand to grab the bag on the chair beside your front door but he wouldn’t let go. You couldn’t help the blush that blossomed over your cheeks as he stepped inside and grabbed the bag for you and waited for you to lock up so you both could leave.

He pulled you along, never letting go, until he reached his car and opened the door. It was only enough time for him to run around and get the car moving before he was locking fingers with you again.

“What’s up with you?” You smirk.

“Just…making up for lost time.”

“What?”

“I just…I should have been doing this for years now.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, “So…are you always this cheesy?”

Yoongi’s eyes went wide, “I mean…I’m not…no…,” Yoongi stuttered and then stopped, “I guess I am cheesy it's just…I can tell you I’m sorry but…”

“Actions speak louder than words?”

“I see you have met my sister,” he joked softly, “And we’re here.”

“A movie? Really?”

“I always had wished to take you…”

Yoongi’s eyes stared into yours, “Yoongi…” you say timidly.

“Yeah?”

“I’m not her anymore you know? I grew up…you grew up…let’s leave it behind us and start fresh yeah?”

“What do you mean?”

You stick your hand out, “Hi, my name is Y/N. It’s nice to meet you.”

Yoongi stared at you you’d suddenly sprouted a third eye on your nose before awkwardly taking your hand and shaking it, “Min Yoongi…the pleasure is all mine.”

You can’t help but laugh at his stunned expression, not knowing he was just in shock from receiving your smile. To him, your smile in that moment could have powered a thousand suns. 

Yoongi was quiet but still took your hand and you entered the theater with a smile on your face, happy that things were getting better, that you could almost believe you had your first love back.

2 hours later.

“Yoongi,  why are you pouting?” You ask as you take his hand.

“Look no matter how I look at it, it's just not fair.”

“What’s not?”

“Mandi. Seokjin. They have spent years with you…years that should have been with me.”

“I thought we were moving forward.”

“But.”

You sighed. “Look. You want to know the truth?”

Yoongi stopped and stared at you, “yes.”

“Okay then.” You face him, “You crushed me in every way possible. You were my world. I followed you everywhere. I trusted you, and you were always there and then you weren’t. The night we got stuck in the cave I gave you my faith—but it also is and was the moment I gave my whole heart to you, willingly, without any doubt. And the next day when we were found…you stomped on it. And you continued to stomp on it. I cried so many tears everyday because I hoped that one day my hero would come back. But he never did. He became a villain.” You couldn’t help the tears that fell down your cheeks, “And even through all that I still…” you sighed. “I can't do this Yoongi. I can't. I’m sorry,  I was wrong to try.” You turned on your heel and ran away, ignoring him yelling after you, you just ran until you couldn’t hear him anymore. 

And then you found the alcohol.

You sat at the outside bar drinking as you thought about the past two months. All the things you had done with Yoongi , and how disgusted you were with yourself for letting your old feelings come back so easily. You knew it wasn’t the right choice, but it was the one you wanted. You had decided to drown yourself in alcohol,  and you were on your third bottle when the object of your conflicting emotions, sat down across from you.

“Y/N.”

“Mmm?”

“What are you doing?”

“Drinking!” Your giggle turns to a frown when you hear the heavy sigh come across from you, “Are you judging me? It’s not nice to judge you know! “

“Why are you drinking Y/N?”

“Because,” you leaned forward, whispering conspiratively, “I’ve been bad.”

“Bad? How so?”

You sigh dreamily, a wistful smile playing upon your lips, “There’s this guy…”

“There always is.”

“Shhh! This is my story!” You shout.

“Sorry.”

“Where was I?” 

“Something about a guy…”

“SHHHHHH! So rude interrupting me! Anyways…I’m supposed to hate him but…” you thump your chest hard as tears prick your eyes, “But…”

“But what?”

“I can't…I remember him before…and the him that I remember…he’s still there…and all the warning alarms are going off and I’m so scared to love him but I…I think…”

“You think?”

You lay your head on the table, mumbling, “Think it’s too late…think I love him. Think it has always been too late for me. Even after all the bullshit…you see…he’s still here” You thump your chest hard and sigh as you feel the tears slide down your cheek to land on the table, “ I love him and I don’t want to…I didn’t mean too…”

“Mean to what?” 

“To love him, but…”

“You do.”

“Yeah” you whisper softly.

“Yoongi…” you can feel the man smile, you don’t know how you know but you do, “why do I have to love you?”

“You love me?” He asks, the hope wrapped in fear in his voice twisting your heart even more than all the past crap that had happened. You wanted to let it go. You wanted to love him. You can only nod your head as your eyes slide close, and you struggle against the darkness when you hear him whisper, “I love you too Y/N…I’m just scared…I’m not good enough…I was such an ass…and I know you said to let it go…but God Y/N…I should have treated you like a princess…because the truth is…”

Those words cause you to sit up, eyes squinting hard as you try to make out his face, “Yoongi?”

“Yeah?”

You lean forward and his face comes into focus, a smile spreads on your face and you lean forward to press your lips to his, softly at first, and then he responds, a hand sliding up your arm to cup your neck as you express to him what you can’t say in words. This was so much better than petty arguments and revenge pranks.  

You pull away, breathing heavy as you rest your forehead against his, “Yoongi,” you whimper, keeping your eyes firmly on the buttons of his shirt, scared to look up, scared to see the fear in his eyes. Does he not know?  “Can I…can I be yours?“ You ask in a voice so quiet it is almost lost in the noise of the world that surrounds you. 

"Can you forgive me?” The pain in his voice was sharp. “I forgive you.” You whisper into his mouth as you make promises with your lips.

He pulls away for a moment, and you lock eyes finally. “Then believe me when I say, I was always yours, and you were always mine.” 

“I was?”

The amount of disbelief in your voice causes Yoongi to tear up as he pulls you into his arms, “Kitten?”

“Yeah,” you say as you rest your head into the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent.

This time it was his turn to ask, “Am I yours?”

“You always were Yoongi. I was just waiting for you to remember where home was.”

Yoongi places the softest of kisses on each of your eyelids, and then he kisses away your tears and finally his mouth was on yours, and the kiss was full of yearning. “Y/N.”

“Yes?” You ask, sad he had pulled away. 

“Don’t leave me again…I love you too.”

“Okay.”

[dracothedeatheatingcupcake-ao3]

The Problem with Perfection Chapter 10 spoilers!

Hey all! So, a couple people asked for this, so I figured I’d post it. It’s chapter 8 of the companion to TPWP, The Problem with Mondo, which corresponds with chapter 10 of TPWP. Yes, this confuses me a lot too, the fact that the chapters don’t align. -.-

Anyway! Don’t read this if you’ve not read TPWP chapter 10, since it will definitely spoil that chapter, ha. Warning for an overabundance of foul language and some sexualized thinking, as well as an absent thought of suicide, same as in TPWP. This chapter is super long, about 20,000 words, and I’m posting all of it because... why not, am I right? Ha.

I did cut a few sentences from this chapter because they might spoil things for later chapters of TPWP, but they don’t really contain anything major.

The chapter is below the cut! Hope y’all like. :-)

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

Mondo is angry. Blindingly angry. So angry he doesn’t know why he’s angry, but honestly, what else is new? He just knows that he’s angry and the reason he is angry is that goddamn motherfucking kid and his goddamn motherfucking glasses-

 “They! Are!! Glasses!!! Just!!! Wear them!!!” the boy grits out, thrusting his goddamn hand out towards Mondo, looking like he is about five fucking seconds from bashing his head against the goddamn wall. Mondo almost wishes he fucking would, to save him the fucking trouble! Unable to help himself, he scowls and crosses his arms, shaking his head firmly, so fucking pissed it ain’t even funny. 

 “No! I ain’t no fuckin’ nerd!” Mondo yells back, glaring like he was born to do it. Unfortunately, it seems so was Ishimaru, as the kid is glaring like his life depends on it, as fiery and beautiful passionate as ever. That goddamn motherfucking... 

 “Just! Wear them! The doctor says you need them! You don’t have to wear them all the time! Just when you’re reading! Stop! Being an idiot!”

 “Me?! I ain’t no fuckin’ idiot, you’re a fuckin’ idiot! If ya think I’m gonna wear that shit, yer outta yer goddamn mind! Now get that shit outta my face, ya fuckwad, or I’m gonna bash yer head in!” 

 “Like heck you will! You’re all bark and no bite, Owada! Now just! Wear! The! Glasses! You said you were okay with them when you bought them! I will force you to wear them, don’t think I won’t!” 

 “Oh, you motherfuckin’-!”

 “U-uh, g-guys?”

 Mondo and Ishimaru turn, as one, to glare at the intruder on their private fucking conversation. Okay, so maybe they’re in the middle of the hallway outside their dorm rooms, but fuck! That don’t mean shit! Eavesdropping is a nasty fucking habit and if this goddamn motherfucker doesn’t butt the fuck out right the fuck now- 

 “Shut up!” the pair shouts in unison, before turning to glare at each other again. 

 Mondo doesn’t know why he’s so angry. He doesn’t know why he’s doing this, or why he has been doing this for the past week and a half. From hot, to cold, to hot, to cold, again and again and again, never fucking ceasing. One minute he’s fine, relaxed as shit and not at all angry, maybe even feeling kinda good, and then the next...

 And he doesn’t know why. Why he’s doing this. Why he’s fucking ruining this shit, like he fucking ruins every fucking thing. He... h-he just... 

 Things had been okay, you know? Between him and Ishimaru. At first. Sure, they weren’t really friends, evidenced by how they are still referring to one another by last name, but they’d been friendly enough. Mondo had taken care to keep his anger in check, and— to his surprise— it... it hadn’t actually been that hard. It seems that Ishimaru can be pretty fucking cool when they’re not at odds. 

 He’s also a great fucking tutor. He somehow manages to not sound sanctimonious and pretentious when explaining shit, instead looking so fucking earnest and like he genuinely wants to just... help. 

 Because of that, they’d gotten along pretty well those first few days. Ishimaru had been determined to get him brought up to speed before they started the fucking novel, so he’d taken care to spend a couple hours a day hanging around Mondo, at various times. The pair usually spent an hour or so in the library after class ended, but more than that, they just... they would walk together between classes, Ishimaru rambling on and on about what they’d just learned about in class. Mondo doesn’t know why he’d allowed it, usually not caring about shit like that, but somehow... somehow, it had been nice. Hearing Ishimaru talk about the shit they’d learned, the kid better able to impart knowledge in the ten fucking minutes they had between classes than the teachers were able to in the hour plus they had. It’s not at all the sorta shit Mondo would have expected himself to enjoy, let alone look forward to, but shit. There they were. 

 But then... Mondo got stupid. He overstepped his bounds and got fucking scared, fuck. 

 They’d been in Ishimaru’s room. Mondo doesn’t know why he’d made the offer to go to the kid’s room rather than the library, like they usually did, like was safe, but he... he had. And the kid had fucking accepted, and so there they were, sitting on the hall monitor’s fucking couch, sitting too fucking close. The kid was reading the short story Teach had assigned to the class, the pair realizing it was just... easier, while Mondo waited for the nurse to contact the eye doctor for him, since it turned out that yeah, his eyes were kinda fucked up, shit. 

 He had felt so fucking weird inside, the first time the kid had read to him, since they’d been in the library and he’d been nervous someone would see them and think Mondo was an idiot who needed to be fucking read to, but... shit. This time it had just been... different. Without the fear of being judged (since Ishimaru never fucking judged him, not ever, god fucking damn), he... he’d been able to listen to the kid reading without any fucking reservations. And he’d had to admit that- that he... he liked it. A lot. Like... fucking a lot. 

 So fucking much that it had made him feel relaxed for the first time... shit. Prolly ever. Ishimaru just had a nice sounding voice, ya know? It was strangely deep, at times, when he got lost in the story, his words not too fast but not too slow. He actually emoted when he spoke, too, the sound not a dull and dry monotone like so many fucking other people he’s heard read before. It just... made him feel so fucking calm inside, like the monster inside of him had been fucking purring. 

 And... and then...

 Mondo had let his head drop down onto Ishimaru’s shoulder, eyes closing in contentment, the kid faltering for one split second, breath hitched, before he’d smoothly continued, like it had never happened. And with his eyes closed and his head resting on a warm, comfortable shoulder, hearing that wonderful cadence from that wonderful, beautiful mouth... he hadn’t been able to stop the thought. And the thought he had was... 

 God, his voice is so fucking nice, isn’t it...? Wonder what it would sound like screaming your name as you pound the fuck outta him. He’d prolly be loud as shit, so fucking passionate, clawing you to all hell, but damn if you’d mind. Shit... wouldn’t that be fucking nice...

 He had been, to put it mildly, freaked the fuck out. 

 His eyes had shot open the second the thought had crossed his mind, heart fucking pounding as he wondered where the goddamn fuck that shit came from. Ishimaru had been startled, looking at him with his wide fucking eyes, lips opened softly in shock, voice faltering for the first time and Mondo... Mondo couldn’t fucking handle it, holy fucking shit. 

 He’d immediately stood and stammered out some bullshit about needing to check on his hog, before fucking bailing, eyes wide and heart an absolute mess. He had, indeed, gone out to his hog and rode around for a bit, not wanting to think, but he’d been unable to help it. To stop it. And it... it made him feel...

 He’s not gay. Okay? He’s fucking not. There’d be no fucking problem if he were, but he just ain’t. He likes chicks, something he knows better than anything else, something he’s known since he was a fucking kid, goddamn. He’d even made sure to look at his porno mags that night, reassured when he felt his dick harden so fucking hard as he saw the tits and pussy that always made him so fucking hard to see. 

 So, he wasn’t gay. He fucking couldn’t be gay, and it’s not possible for him to like both, so he figured that the thought had meant... meant Mondo wanted to fucking pound Ishimaru’s head in, not- n-not any other meaning of the word that it could have meant. He guessed that he didn’t like being around Ishimaru as much as he had assumed and that he actually hated him, after all. 

 As freaked out as he’d been, he took hold of that idea and fucking ran with it. He told himself that he hated the kid, of course he hated him, his voice was fucking annoying as shit, not nice, not nice at all! 

 And so, the next day, he’d been cold to the kid. So fucking cold. And when the kid had tried to approach him after home room ended, looking open and earnest and so fucking cute-

 Mondo hadn’t been able to handle it. His stomach had clenched, and his heart had fucking lurched, and he told himself it was hatred he felt, it had to be fucking hatred. And so, he’d snarled at the kid, telling him to ‘get the fuck away from me, freak!’ before he’d run off, heart aching so fucking stupidly. 

 He had considered skipping class, getting on his hog and fucking booking it, but he needed to give his girl a break, and he still kinda wanted to try the whole ‘giving school a chance’ thing, so he’d eventually decided to storm into class, even if he’d been five minutes late. He’d refused to look at Ishimaru, though, thinking that seeing his stupid fucking pathetic face would fucking destroy him infuriate the shit out of him, and as soon as class ended, he’d shot out, not needing to pack anything up since he’d not fucking brought anything, shit. 

 That had kept happening the rest of the day. Every class they had together (which was pretty much every fucking class, god fucking damn this school) Mondo would carefully keep his eyes off the kid, ignoring the feel of sad, hurt, bright red eyes as they bored into him. After the second class, the kid had tried to chase after him, tried to talk to him, but Mondo would fucking turn and head the opposite fucking direction of their next class, and he knew the kid wouldn’t dare risk being late, so he’d give up pretty quick. He’d constantly be looking in class, though, lips pulled down in a frown, eyebrows furrowed in concern. Not that Mondo was fucking looking! Shit! 

 It wasn’t until Ishimaru had cornered him outside his dorm room that night, looking so fucking hurt and upset and not a little bit annoyed that they’d managed to resolve things. 

 In that Ishimaru had been so fucking annoying that Mondo had immediately started yelling, causing Ishimaru to yell back, his words bleeding hurt, making Mondo feel like absolute scum. They had been loud enough to garner the attention of most of their classmates, even fucking Togami gracing them with his condescending presence, which had made Mondo even more pissed, honestly, wanting nothing more than to be anywhere fucking else.

 It was when the kid looked about ready to fucking cry that Mondo had had enough. His insides were squirming, and he felt so fucking scared, for reasons he still doesn’t understand, but he... h-he hadn’t wanted to make Ishimaru cry again. After spending several days interacting with Ishimaru, having a lot of fucking conversations that hadn’t actually ended in the kid’s tears, he... he hadn’t wanted to go back to that. 

 And so, with all the confused fucking emotions swirling inside him, he’d yelled ‘fuckin’ fine, ya goddamn bastard! I’ll fuckin’ meet you and do that goddamn fuckin’ assignment tomorrow! Now leave me the fuck alone!’ before storming into his room and slamming the door shut so loud it made even his ears ring. 

 He’d then promptly stormed into the shower, turning the water on as hot as it could go, the water fucking hurting, but he’d wanted it to. He just... he’d felt so... so...

 Confused...

 He’d never felt this way for anyone before. So angry and scared and confused and yet also so fucking happy, so bizarrely, stupidly happy. Ishimaru fucking... he made him happy. And he didn’t know how to handle that, because clearly, he still hated the kid... right? Right? What other option was there? Why did he want to hit Ishimaru (and he had to want to hit him, it was the only fucking option that made any fucking sense) if he didn’t hate him? 

 But he’d agreed— stupidly— to meet with the kid for another fucking tutoring session after class the next day. And while the thought had made his insides squirm, he... fuck. He hadn’t wanted to make the kid cry again. God, did he not want that. Even if he did hate him— which he must, he must— he... fuck. 

 He couldn’t make him cry. 

 He wasn’t his goddamn old man.

 And so, when he got out of the shower, he’d resolved to contain his anger the next day. He’d push it down, keep it locked up tight tight tight, and he wouldn’t let it hurt Ishimaru. He’d gotten into bed (still hated it, but he was slowly getting use to the ridiculously plush material) and fallen into a fitful sleep, dreams full of wide, hurt red eyes, a sad voice begging him to explain why he was hurting him so. He’d woken an hour early with a start, heart pounding, and had spent the remaining time until he usually got up doing push-ups again and again and again, until he didn’t remember the dream anymore. 

 And then, when he went into class, carrying his supplies for once... he’d given the kid a small, sheepish smile, stomach roiling with all the emotions within it. He’d then spent the rest of home room doodling absently on the notebook Ishimaru had helped him pick out from the school store, doing his best to not think of everything and psych himself out. He’d even managed to feel almost calm as he let himself draw, something he rarely allows himself to do, but always has kinda enjoyed, even if he’s shit at it.

 Once home room ended, he’d waited for Ishimaru at the door, telling him as casually as he could that the nurse had contacted him the day before, saying she’d scheduled an eye doctor (he still can’t remember the official name Ishimaru called the dude, shit) appointment for 3:00 the next day, hesitantly asking the kid if he had wanted to come along. He could tell that the kid was taken aback, clearly not having expected such a thing, but he’d still stammered out an acceptance, looking so flustered it wasn’t funny when Mondo turned to look at him with a small, soft smile. He’d not meant to look at the kid like that, but he’d just... been unable to help it. 

 The rest of the day had gone well, the tutoring session going nicely like it had before that stupid fucking bullshit two days prior. It had happened in the library again, which Mondo figured would be safer. He’d almost started to hope that things would stay that way, stay as calm and easy and nice, but then-

 Mondo got angry. Again. 

 He doesn’t even know why, he never fucking does, but the kid had just... he’d been so fucking patient, helping Mondo pick out a pair of ‘reading glasses,’ since the doc had said he had pretty bad close-up vision and would be benefited from having prescription reading glasses, not just the over-the-counter stuff you find at drug stores. Mondo had felt so fucking lost, no idea what any of the bullshit meant, but Ishimaru had... he’d been so fucking helpful, explaining the complicated terminology and shit, helping him find a pair that didn’t make him look too much like a fucking nerd. And the pair he settled on was honestly kinda nice. It was a rectangular silver metal frame that had deep purple plastic on the sides, and it actually make him look kinda cool... if a bit nerdy. He’d given the salesperson his school insurance card and was pleasantly surprised to find he’d not have to pay a penny for the frames, since the school covers shit like that. 

 It was then, as he and Ishimaru exited the shop and the kid absently commented that the glasses made him look very smart that Mondo just... fucking lost it. 

 And he doesn’t even know why.

 It just... it made him feel weird inside. Being around the kid. Being soft with him. And he was. Soft. Soft and kind and fucking gentle. And the kid was the exact same back. The entire time they’d been in the shop, Mondo had been thinking how nice it had felt. How domestic. The panic and fear had been slowly rising in him the entire time they’d been in the store, and he’d done all he could to push it the fuck down, but he... he hadn’t...

 He’d left the kid standing there, looking so fucking confused, as he hopped on his hog and drove away. He’d not cared how the kid would get back to the school, he had refused to ride with Mondo since it made him ‘nervous’ anyway, so it wasn’t his fucking problem.

 And that pattern just... kept repeating. Mondo would get angry, say something toxic to the kid, and storm away. The kid would wait a couple of hours, maybe try and talk with him after class or something, only to eventually corner him and force him to talk to him, looking so fucking fed up, but also so fucking upset and sad and confused. Like he didn’t know why Mondo was doing this to him. Like he didn’t know why Mondo was being so fucking difficult. Like he... he didn’t...

 Didn’t know why he fucking bothered...

 And… honestly? Mondo didn’t know why either. Why he kept trying. Why he was so stubborn, always chasing after Mondo even after Mondo fucking shoved him away, sometimes literally. Even when Mondo would get so fucking nasty, making tears build up in the kid’s eyes, frustration clear in his every movement. 

 For almost two weeks this occurred, again and again and again, and Mondo... Mondo doesn’t know why the kid doesn’t just leave him already. Why he doesn’t just say ‘the hell with it,’ realize Mondo isn’t fucking worth it, and leave his ass. Like every other person on the face of this goddamn planet... 

 It’s only a matter of time until he does, though. Leave him. It’s what always was going to happen, since Mondo couldn’t ever hope to hold onto someone so very, very good. So very, very nice. Mondo is poison. He’s gas. He only knows how to destroy and break and hurt. 

 He’s not allowed something nice. 

 He’s not allowed someone nice. 

 He’s just...

 Not worthy of it. 

 Case in fucking point...

 “Look. Owada-kun,” Ishimaru spits, hands clenched around the stupid glasses case that he for some reason has (Mondo doesn’t even know how he’d gotten a hold of them, shit), looking like he wants to crush them, shit. “I don’t understand why you’re being so stubborn about this! You picked them out! You said they were fine! Why! Why have you changed your mind!”

 Mondo scowls at the words, heart racing and swirling and hurting, hurting, hurting, and he doesn’t wanna be doing this, wants to stop, but he can’t, he can’t, he fucking can’t! He doesn’t know how to stop this, doesn’t know how to make this go away, all he knows how to do is break and hurt and destroy, destroy, destroy-

 “I ain’t changed shit! I never fuckin’ agreed ta wear fuckin’ glasses, now get the fuck outta my face!” 

 It’s a lie. They both know it’s a lie, he can see the anger rising on Ishimaru’s face as he processes the abject lie. Mondo had, in fact, agreed on the glasses, had even kinda liked them, but he can’t concede that, can’t say he does, if he does then- then that means he’s okay with this, this weird thing he has going on with Ishimaru, and he doesn’t know if he can handle that, handle the proof that Ishimaru is so fucking amazing, the proof that Mondo doesn’t fucking deserve him, proof that... t-that he... 

 Mondo can’t take it. He can’t fucking take it! He tries to leave, to get away, to fucking end this shit already, but then Ishimaru is grabbing hold of him, holding so fucking tight, and Mondo tries to break free, tries to get away, but the kid just doesn’t fucking let go, and Mondo is so fucking freaked out, he just wants to leave, please god, let him just leave, don’t let him break this fucking kid again, god, please- 

 “You-! You are the most infuriating, pig-headed, arrogant... jerk I have ever had the misfortune to meet! If I never saw your face again, it wouldn’t be long enough!”

 “Oh, I’m so wounded, please don’t call me anymore fuckin’ names like that, how the fuck am I ever gonna recover?!” Mondo snarls, sarcasm so thick he’s sure even Ishimaru will be able to pick up on it, wanting to stop but not being able to. “Grow the fuck up, ya cock suckin’ assfucker! Learn some better fuckin’ insults or don’t even bother tryin’ ta play!”

 “Just because I am too sophisticated to resort to such foul language does not mean anything! You may be a lowly, classless heathen, but I, for one, refuse-”

 “Oh, so now ya think yer fuckin’ better than me?! I told ya already, y’ain’t goddamn shit, Ishimaru! Ain’t no shit at all!”

 “I am one hundred times the man you will ever hope to be! And if I’m not... feces, then you’re not even worth anything at all! Y-you’re... you’re an amoeba, so tiny and insignificant that it’s a miracle you think you’re relevant at all!”

 “What the fuck did ya call me, ya son ofa bitch?!”

 Mondo sees the kid open his mouth— likely to fire something back, barely any space between them— holding onto Mondo’s arm so fucking tight, like his life depends on it or something, looking so fucking pissed and angry and hurt and fucking beautiful, so fucking beautiful, god fucking damnit-

 But before the kid can say anything, another voice pipes up, the same voice as earlier, making Mondo’s rage reach a paramount, oh god-

 “Aw, come on! I thought you guys resolved things already, do you really have to do this?! Please!” 

 Mondo turns to the fucking eavesdropper, snarling at the beyond fucking average boy. Naegi turns super fucking pale at the look, but he doesn’t cower away for once. Mondo doesn’t care. He’s far passed the point of caring. 

 “I told ya ta stay the fuck outta this!” 

 Naegi frowns, but Mondo doesn’t give him a chance to say any other stupid ass thing before he’s turning back to Ishimaru, eyes practically spitting fire as he stares so deep into Ishimaru’s that it feels almost like a physical embrace. It makes Mondo’s breath hitch for some stupid fucking reason, his stomach swirling as he looks deep into the most gorgeous fucking eyes he’s ever fucking seen-

 But he can’t feel things like that, so he pushes it firmly away. 

 He can hear their eavesdropper fucking sigh, soft and almost disappointed, and that should make Mondo even angrier, but something in Mondo is feeling so fucking weird now. G-god... he doesn’t even know how to begin to describe it, other than it feels like he’s on fire, but not even in a bad way. Ishimaru is staring at him, eyes wide, anger in them, but also something else, something Mondo can’t understand, no matter how much he fucking wants to. 

 He can’t let this end here. He wants to let it end, but he fucking can’t. He... h-he needs to figure out how to settle this, how to make this stop, how to not be as fucking pathetic as he knows he is. He... he needs to prove that he’s not as worthless as they both know he is, as weak, as nothing, so fucking nothing. Everyone knows it, knows he doesn’t belong here, knows that Ishimaru is so much better than him it’s not funny, but he- he needs to prove that he has something going for him, that he... he can do something, even if he’s worthless in every other regard, every other aspect, even if Ishimaru is better than him everywhere else he just needs to prove he can beat him at fucking something, god-

 He’s issuing the challenge before he can stop himself. 

 And god, is he so fucking afraid. 

 “You think yer so perfect, don’t ya, Ishimaru? Think yer better than me? Well... well, yer not, an’ I can fuckin’ prove it. I bet I can beat you, hands down, any day of the fuckin’ week. Y’ain’t better than me, ya shit fuck. Y’ain’t nothin’,” Mondo hisses, lying through his fucking teeth. Ishimaru is better than him. He knows it. He’s always known it. He hates it, though. Not being good enough. Not being worthy. He... he wants to be. Good enough. For... f-for... 

 Ishimaru’s eyes are shiny again, even despite his glare. 

 Typical. 

 “What?! Y-you guys aren’t going to- to fight, are you? Guys-!”

 Mondo breaks his stare down with Ishimaru to shoot that goddamn fucking bastard a single, solitary sneer, before turning back to Ishimaru, chest heaving with all the emotions he carries within him. 

 “Nah. Ground floor, there’s a sauna. Ya know it?” 

 Ishimaru blinks slowly, sluggish, before nodding slightly, looking very fucking confused. His eyebrows are furrowed, and his lips are pulled down, and he looks so fucking cute stupid, god. After a moment, though, it seems he understands what Mondo is getting at, the challenge he is suggesting, as his face lights up, eyes bright and passionate once more, an honest to god grin on his face. 

 Holy fucking shit... 

 “Aha! A simple endurance challenge! If that is your gauntlet, then I happily accept! I will wipe the floor with you!” 

 Despite the anger that is still flowing through him, Mondo can’t help the small smile that passes on his lips, something about the enthusiasm so fucking... not cute, not cute, not cute at all, but maybe, a little, teeny tiny bit... endearing? He pushes it away, though. It’s not helpful, here. 

 “Yer fuckin’ on. And you,” Mondo points blindly to Naegi— who ‘eeps’ at the gesture, fucking coward he is— not able to look away from Ishimaru for a single fucking second, “will be our witness. Got it?!” 

 As intently as Mondo is staring at Ishimaru, he doesn’t see the other kid’s response, but he can hear how Naegi splutters, the kid clearly not as enthusiastic about the idea as Ishimaru and himself are. Bastard. 

 “W-what?! Now?! B-but it’s so late... g-guys, are you sure this is a- a good idea-?!”

 “Yes, ya fuckin’ moron, it’s a fuckin’ great idea!” Mondo snarls, at the exact same time Ishimaru— eyes bright and feverish— exclaims, “yes! It is an excellent idea!” 

 Uncomfortable at their agreement, Mondo finally tears his eyes away, ignoring the churning feeling in his chest as he storms down the hall to where the bathhouse is, mere meters away. Ishimaru stares after him for a stunned second, but quickly spurs himself into motion, using his long-ish legs to catch up quick, head held high as they march determinedly on. God... he’s so fucking...

 Shit. 

 When they reach the bathhouse a few moments later, Mondo firmly pushes aside the rational voice inside him that is screaming at him not to do this. He knows his limits when it comes to endurance. While he’s not the best at running, he has great endurance for other things, especially pain and discomfort. (This sentence was removed due to ~~spoilers~~) 

 But Ishimaru... fuck. He’s so fucking passionate, so fucking determined, but who knows what his endurance is like? If he’ll be able to keep up? And it shouldn’t matter, shouldn’t give Mondo pause, but he... he can’t help the stab of concern that fills him as they enter the room, Mondo grabbing a ‘closed for repairs’ sign and putting it in front of the entrance, not wanting anyone to interrupt. 

 He hates the feeling and pushes it away as he turns to glare at Ishimaru, pointing a finger, not wanting to deal with such weakness, but he... he can’t quite manage to force it fully away... 

 Shit. 

 “Alright, here’s the fuckin’ terms. First ta tap out is a fuckin’ bitch ass loser who ain’t worth shit. The one who lasts the longest is the official winner. We ain’t allowed ta touch the other or do anythin’ ta them directly, this is strictly an endurance challenge. Oh, an’ we’re gonna do this fully clothed. What do ya say?!” 

 Mondo sees Ishimaru’s eyes widen when he gets to the last term, the kid fucking shaking his head sharply in denial. Fuck. Fuck. Shit. He’d added that last clause in last minute, realizing as he detailed the rules that they were gonna be fucking half fucking naked in there, and his mind had shorted the fuck out. He’s been in saunas fully clothed before, he knows he can handle it, but he isn’t fucking sure he can handle sitting nearly nude beside Ishi-fucking-maru...

 But of course, the kid wouldn’t fucking agree. Of fucking course...

 “I do not agree to that last term, but I agree to the rest!” 

 Glad his angry flush fully disguises the fucking embarrassed flush he can feel rising on his face, Mondo just nods tensely, sneering, as he storms over to the water cooler in the corner. 

 “Alright, whatever, fucker. Ya got five minutes ta prepare. Then, we’re fuckin’ doin’ this shit.” 

 With that, Mondo grabs a paper cup and downs some water, feeling so impossibly tense. He can feel Ishimaru staring at him, mouth partially open, but he gets spurned into action when Naegi shifts awkwardly beside him, chasing the kid away to one of the lockers, where he... he fucking...

 Starts taking off his fucking clothes...

 Holy. Fucking. Shit. 

 Mondo is staring. Mondo knows he shouldn’t be staring, knows it’s wrong to be staring, but he can’t fucking help it. His eyes are like magnets, drawn to the kid, watching as he takes off all of his fucking layers, folding each one so neatly and carefully as he sticks them in the small fucking locker. The kid hesitates a little when he gets to his fucking tighty-whities (of course the kid wears that shit, of fucking course), but ultimately, he doesn’t take them off. Instead, he bites his lip and grabs a white towel, wrapping it firmly around his waist before putting the rest of his stuff away. Mondo firmly pushes down the stupid as shit rush of disappointment and tells himself to stop staring, to look away, but god, he fucking can’t. Ishimaru, he...

 He’s so fucking gorgeous, so fucking hot, so fucking sexy-

 Mondo feels himself heat the fuck up when Ishimaru turns abruptly and looks him straight in the eyes, looking fucking startled at something. Feeling strangely caught, Mondo looks away as quick as he can, pushing away the stupid as shit thoughts, marching over to a locker stiffly. Shit... he’s gotta fucking get laid one of these days. The tension is doing fucked up shit to his brain... 

 He takes his time putting some of his more fragile shit away, like his crappy cellphone and his key card. He does, honestly, consider taking off his uniform, or at least taking off his duster, but he just... shit. Can’t. Not with how strange he feels inside, his mind’s eye still stupidly forcing him to think of Ishimaru, his stupidly muscular back flexing with every move he made. It means nothing, fucking nothing, but he... shit. It prolly would be better to remain fully clothed, duster included, even if it does put him at a disadvantage. But ya know what, whatever. Doesn’t matter. He knows his limits and knows that he can last longer in the sauna than Ishimaru, even when fully clothed. Shit...

 When the five minutes he gave them are up, he meets up with Ishimaru outside the entrance to the sauna, fully intending to slide it open and step inside, when-

 “Owada-kun, you cannot seriously be considering entering the sauna fully clothed! It’s suicide!” Ishimaru exclaims, sounding fucking concerned as shit. His eyes are wide, and his brows are furrowed, and he’s biting his fucking lip, god fucking damn, and it’s messing with Mondo’s head so fucking much. Why... why the fuck would he care?! Huh?! They’re not fucking friends! Why would he care if Mondo did try and kill himself, huh?! World would fucking be better off for it, shit! 

 Deciding to definitely not say that, Mondo just sneers at the kid, crossing his arms stubbornly. 

 “Just ‘cuz yer a fuckin’ pansy ass bitch don’t mean I am! Now, ya ready ta do this, or are ya a fuckin’ chicken?!”  

 His face flushed, Ishimaru doesn’t even bother to answer, instead just yanking open the door and entering the sauna with a stubborn tilt to his jaw. 

 Staring after the kid for a split second (pushing down the disappointment that he didn’t press the issue harder, proving to Mondo how fucking right he is), Mondo enters on Ishimaru’s heels, the heat not even bothering him one bit. 

 It’s nothing compared to the fire that constantly burns within him. 

 Sliding the door shut behind him, leaving Naegi outside to do whatever the fuck he wants while the contest takes place, Mondo marches over to where Ishimaru is sitting, taking a seat an arm’s length away. He can feel bright red eyes on him, but he determinedly pushes the feeling away, trading a few snide comments with the kid, not even feeling the heat really. 

 About ten minutes in, Mondo will admit the heat is getting to him a little, a thin sheen of sweat making its way onto his skin, which is more uncomfortable than anything. Ishimaru looks a little woozy, so Mondo taunts that the kid should just give up now. Ishimaru just laughs, saying how he never gives up, ever. Fucking pretentious bastard. 

 After half an hour, he can admit he is feeling kinda uncomfortable, the heat becoming somewhat unpleasant, but he’s still feeling pretty good, all things considered. Ishimaru looks flushed as all hell, though, his cheeks bright red and sweat clinging to his muscles. The kid tells him— unprompted— that he’s doing fine, and Mondo’s brain feels too stupid to allow him to do much else than glare, shit... 

 After around fifty minutes, the kid... he looks fucking awful. Mondo isn’t doing too hot, the uncomfortable feeling spreading to be extremely uncomfortable, but he knows he can handle it. The kid, though... he looks like he’s starting to lose it. Ishimaru mentions absently that he’s starting to feel cold, which honestly concerns Mondo, since he knows that shit is a bad sign, but his head is too stupid to remember why, so he just says it’s prolly not good. The kid doesn’t call it quits, though. 

 Instead, he actually... talks... huh. 

 “Y-you can take off your uniform... if you w-want... I- I won’t judge...” the boy mumbles, sounding super fucking exhausted. Mondo tries to snort, but it’s a lot harder than it should be, shit. 

 “N-nah... I’m... I’m... I’m good,” Mondo finds himself muttering back, looking at the kid intensely, wondering why he isn’t giving up when he so clearly feels sick. Mondo finds himself muttering about how red Ishimaru’s is, likening him to a hot spring monkey, of all things. The kid mumbles back about being born with a red face, which makes no fucking sense, but ya know what? He’s too tired to waste energy on this shit. He’s got a challenge to win. 

 After what he figures is an hour and five minutes, the warning bell rings, telling them they have five minutes until curfew. Mondo figures the hall monitor will end this now, since he wouldn’t dare stay out past curfew and risk breaking one of his ‘precious rules,’ but the kid doesn’t seem to even notice the bell had rung. S-shit... that... that’s not good, is it...? 

 Mondo gets distracted from his stupid as shit concern when a new voice pipes up, shocking Mondo. Huh... he hadn’t realized the kid was still out there. Shit. 

 “U-uh guys? It’s almost curfew, shouldn’t you... stop? I know you both want to prove how big of badasses you are but... don’t you think you’ve done enough?”

 Mondo scowls at the meaning of the words, knowing that he sure as shit ain’t gonna back down first. He’s already so worthless. He’s gotta prove that he can at least do this, of all fucking things.

 “Shut up!” he barks, at the same time Ishimaru does, making him feel fucking wigged out at how they’re both on the same page again. 

 Naegi replies back to them, saying something about it being nighttime, and a tie... it honestly offends Mondo, but before he can reply, the kid is... talking... saying something about how in a true competition, there are no ties. That you either win or you lose, and that... that’s the only thing that matters. It honestly kinda pisses Mondo off, even if he agrees fully, so he fires back how he will push the kid right up to the gates of hell, meaning it fully. 

 He tells Naegi to leave then, knowing that this might drag on a lot longer than he had anticipated. Shit. He knew Ishimaru was fucking stubborn as shit, willing to do absolutely anything to reach his goals, but this... this is just madness. Utter madness. As Naegi leaves, Mondo cannot help how he stares at the hall monitor, who looks so fucking sick right now. He does his best to ignore it, to wait the kid out, but when roughly fifteen more minutes pass and the kid isn’t tapping out, despite looking half dead, he... he can’t help the worry that he feels. And then, when the kid closes his eyes, barely breathing, Mondo... s-shit... 

 “Hey... man... are you... are you okay...? Ya don’t... don’t look so good...” 

 Mondo listens, getting really kinda freaked, when Ishimaru lets out a soft puff of air, almost like he’s trying to laugh but can’t find the energy. He lolls his head over to Mondo, the first movement he’s done in minutes, but his eyes are still closed, which looks so fucking freaky. It takes him far longer than it should to open his eyes, and when he does, they... shit. They look glazed, like the kid isn’t fucking in there, like he... he’s...

 Already dead...

 F-fuck... 

 It really does look like that, though. Eyes glazed, mouth partially open, chest so scarily still... o-oh, shit. Shit, what if he... what if he is dead...?! Y-yeah, he just moved, but he- he looks so still, it... Mondo... 

 But then the kid is speaking, and he sounds so very out of it, but at least he’s alive, thank god... 

 “I- I’m... I’m fine, I...” 

 Oh, shit... no, he... he’s not fine, is he...? Shit... s-shit...

 “Shit... man... no, y’ain’t. I know my... my limits. I’ve got some time... left in me... but you... shit. Just give up, dude. Just... just give... up...” 

 It makes something in Mondo clench when he sees the kid’s face screw up, like he wants to cry but just has no tears left within him. And then he... he’s speaking... 

 “No... n-no, I can’t... I- I can’t... give up... I have to... have to...”

 The kid stops, then, and Mondo feels so fucking confused, his head all stupid because of the heat, making it hard to think. What? He has to... what? 

 “Hafta... what? What... is so important... ta ya?”

 The kid blinks, like he hadn’t expected to be spoken to, before opening his mouth and muttering words. It... it’s like the kid doesn’t even know he’s speaking, the words sounding so fucking slurred and soft. Mondo has to strain to hear them, even though the silence is oppressive between them. 

 “I can’t... give up... must... restore... honor... family... f-family name...” 

 Mondo furrows his eyebrows, his lips turned down in a frown, not... not understanding...

 “Yer family... name? What… what about it?” 

 Ishimaru blinks, like he can barely understand what Mondo is saying, and fuck is that scary... 

 “I must... fix his mistakes. I must... I must bring honor t-to... to our name... my grandfather...”

 Okay, that... that doesn’t make any fucking sense... his grandfather? The fuck? Shit... Ishimaru needs to stop this, he... he’s not making any sense...

 “What? The fuck... the fuck ya talkin’ ‘bout, man? Shit... Ishimaru, yer ‘bout ta... ta fuckin’ pass out... why can’t ya just... just give up, man?” 

 Ishimaru isn’t looking at him anymore and is instead staring blankly at the steam that is billowing around them, looking like he’s not aware where the fuck he is. It makes Mondo’s stomach clench, the concern rising. He... he doesn’t wanna give up, needs to prove himself, but he... Ishimaru... f-fuck... 

 And then... Ishimaru starts talking again...

 “It... it’s all up to me to fix it... t-to make it better... m-make it- it right-! I... I can’t... give up, I... I’m not... not allowed to... give up... giving up is- is wrong... and immoral, and- and I am not wrong! I... I’m not- not immoral... I... I’m better... better than my grandfather... better than myself... better... than...” 

 Okay. Okay. Okay, it’s official. Mondo is fucking freaked the fuck out. What... what does any of that even mean? He... Ishimaru...

 “Fuck, dude, yer- yer scarin’ me... what the hell does… does any a’ that even… even mean? Yer the fuckin’... Ultimate Moral Compass... ‘course yer not- not... immoral...” 

 Ishimaru is shaking now, eyes still glazed, staring at the steam as if it holds the answer to life itself. And fuck... it’s so fucking creepy... 

 “But I am, I am... I’m worthless, I’m nothing... my grandfather... he’d done so many terrible things, had hurt s-so many people... he’d ruined... ruined Japan... e-everyone hated him... hated me... I have to do better... to be better... to fix... my grandfather’s... mistakes...”

 His grandfather? Who the fuck is his grandfather? And why... why does he even matter? Even if he was so fucking terrible, Ishimaru... he ain’t... he...

 “Dude... y’ain’t... ain’t yer grandfather... yer yer own person... an’ frankly... I kinda... kinda like... s-shit. Just... stop this, man. Just admit it. Admit it’s... too much...” 

 The kid shakes his head, and Mondo doesn’t know how he’s able to even hear him, as far fucking gone as he looks, but fuck, he’s clearly responding, ain’t he...? 

 “Nnnn- n-no! I- I... I can’t... can’t admit... weakness... god I’m so... so weak... pathetic... the children, they’re right about me, they’re all so... so right... I’ll never... amount to- to anything... I’m worthless... pathetic... scum...” 

 H-holy shit... Ishimaru he... he can’t fucking believe that... can he? No... n-no, he... he ain’t none of that shit, Mondo is, Mondo is, but not- not Ishimaru! He... he’s fucking... he... 

 “Ishimaru... Ishimaru, stop... s-stop! Y’ain’t... none a’ that is... is true... yer the best... goddamn person I ever... ever met, ya... ya never gave up on me... no matter how horrible I treated ya... ya just... wouldn’t leave... I tried ta make ya leave, why... why wouldn’t ya leave...” 

 He hadn’t meant to ask the question, voice so fucking soft, but he couldn’t help it. It’s been plaguing him for weeks now, wondering why... why Ishimaru bothered staying... why he didn’t just leave his ass... why he didn’t just... give up on him... like everyone always does... 

 “Me... leave? Why? Where would I... go...? I’ve n-never... had a friend... if this is... is friendship... then what else can I... do? I don’t... w-wanna... be...... alone.........”

 Oh... oh, shit... suddenly, so many things make so much fucking sense. Why the kid always seems so fucking nervous and awkward around people, though he tries his damndest to hide it. Why he is always alone, never seen really talking to anyone, not without a reason. Why he always... always does his best to extend olive branches to people, offering to tutor or help or do whatever is needed to... to get them to talk to him... g-god... he never would have thought the kid would have no friends, even though it’s so fucking obvious when Mondo thinks about it. He’s just... he’s just so fucking bright and full of sunshine... Mondo can’t imagine people seeing that and not... not wanting to... 

 It’s right then, in that moment, brain stupid from heat, halfway gone but not fully gone yet, that Mondo... Mondo makes a decision. 

 If they survive this stupid fucking challenge... he... he will be Ishimaru— no, Kiyotaka, his name is- is Kiyotaka... he will be Kiyotaka’s friend... and he will be a fucking good one, the friend that the kid... that he fucking deserves...

 If the kid even wants to be friends with him... 

 “Fuckin’... shit, man. Yer not... alone... I’m here. Ishimaru... Kiyotaka... I’m right... right here...” 

 The kid shakes his head, breath still shallow, but now it’s wavering, shaking... trembling... g-god... fuck...

 “No... no... I’m alone, I’m alone. Everyone... always leaves... my mother... my grandfather... even my father would leave... if he could... he’s never... never understood me. No one... understands me... I don’t... even... understand...... myself..........”

 Oh. Oh. Oh. This... this poor fucking boy... he... s-shit. Shit... this... they gotta fucking stop this... they... 

 “I... I understand ya. Yer... yer like me... ain’t ya? Shit. We gotta... gotta stop this, man... what are ya... tryin’... ta prove?” 

 Kiyotaka is shaking again, looking like he wants to cry but just... can’t. God... god... fucking... god.

 “Everything. Everything. Every… everything… I have to prove them... wrong. I have to prove... that I can do this. If I... if I give up... i-if I let myself give up... then I fail. I fail, I fail, I fail, I fail, I fail. I c-can’t... fail, I can’t... g-give up... or else... what is... the point... of me...?” 

 Point? The point? Why... why does he have to have a point? Shit... he’s so fucking amazing, he... he doesn’t have to have a point... no more than just... just being... 

 “Ain’t gotta... have a point man... ya can just... be. Be... Kiyotaka. What’s so wrong... with that?” 

 The blank look on the kid’s face grows, his voice soft, weak. Trembling, like he doesn’t mean to say it, like he doesn’t even know what he’s saying. Mondo has never heard someone sound so... so... dead before... h-holy shit...

 “Everything. Everything. Everything. E-everything... is wrong with... me... I- I’m too... too much. T-too passionate... too vibrant... I- I hurt... hurt my own eyes... I hate... l-looking at myself... hate... b-being myself... if I could... be someone else... I- I would... gladly...” 

 No. No. No, fucking... no! Ish- Kiyo... Kiyotaka can’t fucking believe that... yeah, he’s so fucking passionate, so fucking bright, but that... that’s not a bad thing... he... he’s so fucking good... so fucking... amazing... and he... Mondo wouldn’t...

 “I wouldn’t. Want that. Yer... fuck. Yer somethin’... somethin’ special... I thought I... I hated that ‘bout you, but... man you... you shine... I don’t deserve... someone as... as wonderful... as you...”

 Kiyotaka is shaking his head again, barely breathing, looking so dead, so very, very... dead...

 Oh, god...

 “I- I’m not... wonderful. I’m not... anything. T-the children... they hated me... t-they all... hated me. My f-father... hates me. My mother... if she could s-see me... now... s-she’d hate me... too. Why... w-why do I bother... trying...? W-why... why don’t I just... g-give up...” 

 N-no... no, no, god, please... no... Mondo feels pressure behind his eyes, and he doesn’t think he has ever felt such pain. Because that... that sounds so goddamn familiar... he always has seen Kiyotaka as so different to him, so much better, so much brighter. But if the kid is to be believed... he... he thinks of himself like... like Mondo thinks of himself, and he... he can’t... can’t fucking stand that thought, oh god... 

 “Kiyo... Kiyota- Taka. Kiyo... Taka. Just... ya don’t hafta... give up... but yer... yer gonna kill yerself if ya... keep this up... s-shit...”

 Mondo feels himself go cold when Kiyotaka responds, sounding half dead, looking so... so nothing... 

 “Kill... myself? No... I’m not- not that weak... not anymore... not... n-not again... but maybe... maybe... m-maybe it would be better. If I weren’t... weren’t...” a pause. “Alive...”

 What?! No... no, no.... nonononononononononono-!!! He... he can’t... he can’t-

 “What?! Dude... no... god... fuckin’... dammit! Ya can’t be... serious... Kiyo... Taka, ya can’t...”

 “I am. I am. I- I am. If I wasn’t... so weak. If I wasn’t... s-so afraid. I know... k-know how to fix it... a-all of it. How to... t-to make it better. My father... would be happier. The children... w-would be happier. And I... I... I’d be... I’d be...”

 A pause. Inhalation of breath. And then... softly, so fucking softly...

 “Dead...” 

 No. No. No, fucking-! No. This... this is so fucking stupid, why is Mondo doing this, he... he has to stop this. This kid ain’t gonna stop, he can’t fucking stop, he won’t stop until he is fucking dead, and Mondo... Mondo can’t... he fucking can’t-

 He can’t lose someone else... not during another fucking challenge that he fucking issued... he just... can’t.

 “Okay. That’s it. This ain’t... fuckin’ worth it. If y’ain’t... gonna quit... then I! I fuckin’... I fuckin’ will. Ya... ya win... Kiyo... Taka... ya... ya win. Now, c’mon, man. Let’s… let’s get outta here.”

 With all the strength he has left, Mondo stands and hobbles over to where Kiyotaka is sitting, looking like a puppet with its strings cut. He’s not moving, barely breathing, and his eyes are so glazed over Mondo doesn’t think he can even see right now. Mondo has never seen someone look so still before, and it scares the ever-loving shit out of him. Especially now that he... he knows that... that the kid has tried... or at least wanted...

 Fuck. 

 Fuck. 

 Fuck.

 But he doesn’t have time to hate himself for issuing this stupid ass challenge. He doesn’t have time to waste. Gathering all his strength, he bends down, and he wraps an arm around Kiyotaka, heart stopping when he feels how boneless he is, not moving at all. But then, as he starts moving towards the door, he feels the kid start to struggle. It’s weak and doesn’t sway Mondo even a second, but fuck does it relieve him. The kid is even able to walk a little, barely. It... it’s good. 

 The second he manages to get the door open, however, the cool air almost torture on his overheated skin, he feels Kiyotaka gasp, all the fragile strength he had gone as his knees buckle, making him deadweight. But Mondo hasn’t spent the majority of his life lifting weights for nothing, so he just adjusts his grip, taking on more of the kid’s weight. He doesn’t lift him, doesn’t have time for that, but he drags him bodily over to the bench, accidentally throwing him on it since he’s not really at a hundred percent himself. He sees the kid start to topple, then, and he immediately moves forward to steady the kid, the skin under his hands far, far too warm. Oh... shit, that’s not... not good, oh fuck...

 “Goddamn shit. Ya look... fuck man. Why didn’t ya just... dammit. Ya need water... I’ll be right back.”

 Mondo stand abruptly then, feeling clumsy and wrong. His chest feels so fucking painful, like it’s being sat on by an elephant, and he doesn’t think he’s ever felt more concerned for anyone. Well... other than one person... but shit, he can’t think of him, not now. Not now. Not when Kiyotaka needs him. He takes off his duster as he strides forward, tossing it carelessly on a bench, too fucking hot to deal with that shit. He needs to go quick, needs to... to get back to Kiyotaka... and he needs to drink some water himself, fuck, he’s so fucking dehydrated... fuck. 

 However... once he’s at the water cooler, filling up one of the paper cups for himself to drink, he hears the kid muttering again, the words making no goddamn sense, but damn if it doesn’t make his heart clench...

 “...they won’t, they won’t, they won’t... I’m alone, again... all alone... everyone has left... everyone leaves me in the end... why would I expect anything different... why would I expect-“

 Shit. Shit. Shit. Mondo quickly finishes filling the cup and downs it, filling the second one as quickly as possible while the kid rambles on about being alone again. As soon as the cup is full Mondo practically teleports back to the kid’s side, an odd sense in him that he never, ever wants to be anywhere else... 

 “Shit, Kiyotaka, I’m here. I just... had ta drink myself, shit. Now c’mon. Drink this. Please, man. Fer me. I can’t... ya can’t fuckin’ die on me, man... f-fuck...” 

 He carefully places his hand on the back of Kiyotaka’s neck, lifting it gently up, so he can get the kid to drink some water. He knows that the boy is prolly dehydrated as fuck, and he seriously hopes that’s the only thing wrong with him, because if it isn’t... s-shit. He can feel Kiyotaka struggle as he moves him, his lips moving, muttering those fucking words again... 

 “W-why am I so weak, I need to... to be stronger... to be... better...”

 God, is everything this kid says gonna make his heart break? God... he’s not equipped for this, he doesn’t know how to be kind, to be gentle, but after all the shit he has done, all the pain and misery he has needlessly made this wondrous, incredible, sad fucking boy go through... he owes it to him to not only try, but to succeed. 

 Even if it fucking kills him... 

 “Shh... hey, it’s okay. Y’ain’t fuckin’ weak, man, yer goddamn incredible. Now c’mon. Stop fightin’ me. Let me take care a’ you. You... you’ve been so strong fer so long. Let me... let me help you...” 

 With that, he slowly presses the cup against the kid’s lips, and he feels as he struggles, whimpering softly, scared. Shit, he... he prolly has no idea what the fuck is going on, is so fucking disoriented... 

 He begins whispering to the kid then, not knowing what to say, but just... knowing he has to say something, something soothing. He hums softly as he decides to just... let the soft words that he’s been gathering for weeks now out of his heart, telling Kiyotaka that he is there, that he will always be there, promising that he’s not alone, that he’ll never be alone again, that Mondo will take care of him, he promises... he promises... 

 And then he... he says...

 “Open up, Kiyotaka, shit. P-please... I’m beggin’ ya man... just... drink some water...” 

 The kid... Kiyotaka stops struggling then, and finally, finally opens his lips. It’s just a little, a small amount, but it’s enough for a small trickle of water to get passed his dry and cracked lips, which is so fucking relieving. But then... then the kid startles again, a soft sound of distress getting released as he panics, taking too much water too quick. Oh, shit... 

 So fucking scared, not knowing what to do but knowing he has to do something, Mondo lowers the hand holding the cup but doesn’t put it down, moving his other hand to rub soothing circles on the kid’s back, shushing him softly. 

 “Aw, shit. Slowly, man, slowly. That’s it, nice an’ easy... I’m gonna try that again, okay? Go slow this time. Idiot.”

 With that, Mondo moves his hand back to Kiyotaka’s neck and brings the cup back up to his lips, praying that he will drink this time. He’s so fucking dehydrated and if he won’t drink, Mondo is gonna have to call an ambulance or some shit, because he needs liquid, and fast. 

 Luckily, this time when he asks the kid to open up, he does so immediately. And then, when he tips a little of the liquid into his mouth, the kid doesn’t panic and just... sips it. Slowly. Mondo can see his throat working, moving slowly, swallowing the water, and fuck... he’s never felt so relieved in his life, watching the kid drink some fucking water, god... 

 However, then the kid is letting out a sound of desperation, seeming to realize that he is so fucking thirsty or something. He sees the kid’s hands try to come up, wavering so fucking much as they try and force the water down faster, but Mondo stops him, knowing he needs to go slow. 

 “Aw, shit man, stop! Ya gotta go slow. Yer dehydrated, ya can’t drink it too fast... trust me, man. I got you. I won’t let you down. Not again. I… I promise.”

 And he means it. He fucking means it. He has failed this kid so many fucking times, but he won’t this time, and he never will again. Because now he... he knows that this kid fucking matters. He’s always known that, from the minute the kid had run into him and knocked his world on its side, but- but he... he’s always been so afraid of it. Of the feeling. Of what it means. 

 But he’s not afraid of it. Not now. Not... not anymore. He doesn’t know why he feels this way, why this boy matters so fucking much to him, but it just doesn’t matter now, and he refuses to let his goddamn fucking nonsense ruin this shit anymore. This kid has faced some truly horrible fucking things, things that Mondo has barely scratched the surface of but can tell have damaged the kid so fucking much. He has scars all over his chest and back, which Mondo has noticed before, of course he’s noticed them, but now he’s really starting to realize what exactly they mean, and it just... it’s fucking him up inside, and all he wants is to bundle this kid up and never let him get hurt again, keep him safe from all harm, and Mondo has always felt like that, always wanted that, but now, for once...

 He’s not afraid of it. 

 And he won’t back down. 

 Not unless Kiyotaka wants him to...

 (But even then. Even then, Mondo will do everything he can to keep him safe. He won’t stalk the kid, but he will make sure that no one dares to lay a finger on him. He’s firmly under Mondo’s protection now. Nothing will change that. Absolutely nothing.) 

 Knowing that Kiyotaka needs to drink more, so he’s not so weak (physically. He’s so fucking strong emotionally, so fucking strong) anymore, he presses the cup back to the boy’s lips, his heart lurching softly when the kid immediately opens up and drinks, slowly, not even needing Mondo to remind him to go slow and steady. Mondo is so fucking proud of the kid, like a fucking mother hen, but he doesn’t care. This kid deserves all the softness in the world. If there’s one thing Mondo is sure of, it’s that. 

 It doesn’t take long for the cup to run empty, but the kid needs more, so Mondo gets up to refill the cup. But then he’s fucking crying, sad and pitiful, and Mondo immediately returns, holding him close, saying to him, “aw, shit, I’m just getting more water, alright? I’ll be right back, I promise.”

 And when Mondo is forced to leave again— though god does he not want to— he keeps talking. Promising that he’ll be right back, that he’s not leaving, that he will never leave again... promises that he will never break, and not just because he doesn’t break promises, but because he fucking means the shit out of them. More than any promise he’s ever made before. 

 He’s back soon after, bringing two cups with him this time, helping Kiyotaka drink, and drink, and drink. Mondo doesn’t know much about severe dehydration, just knows that it’s important for the person to be given fluids, preferably sports drinks, but since he doesn’t have that shit, water will have to do. If Kiyotaka doesn’t get better after the third cup, Mondo’s gonna try and see if he can take him to the nurse if the lady is still there. If not... shit. He’ll prolly have to call an ambulance, since he doesn’t think Kiyotaka could handle riding on his hog to the hospital, which is at least a ten-minute ride away. He’s hoping he won’t have to do that, though. Hopes that drinking the water will be enough to help him. He also hopes that it’s just dehydration that’s the problem... fuck. 

 The good thing is that Kiyotaka is drinking willingly. And the more he drinks, the more lucid he appears. He still seems very out of it, but about halfway through the third cup, he starts blinking rapidly, like waking himself from a dream. His eyebrows furrow, and he starts looking around a bit. He takes in the bathhouse and even looks down at his chest, like he’s just then noticing that he’s half naked. Mondo allows him to do this, but always makes sure the kid is still drinking, wanting to make sure he gets at least three cups in, since he had to have lost a lot of water while sweating. Mondo himself isn’t feeling too hot and knows he needs to drink more, too, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t ensure that Kiyotaka is okay before doing anything else for himself. 

 Mondo knows the exact second that things slot into place for the kid, since one second he’s loose and pliant in his arms, allowing him to hold his neck and give him the water, and the next he’s sitting ramrod straight, eyes wide. It startles Mondo a bit and he straightens up from the hunch he’d found himself in, so fucking relieved to see some lucidity in those bright red eyes. Fuck, but was that glazed look terrifying... 

 “Oh, shit. Are ya back? Ya really fuckin’ scared me there, dude, the fuck...? I was ‘bout ta take yer ass ta the nurse, consequences be damned. Shit, should I still do that...? Kiyotaka?” 

 The kid is just staring at him, his skin far too pale, his eyes moving back and forth over Mondo’s face as he seems to try to be figuring something out. They then widen somehow further and then-

 “Aw, shit! Fuck, man, what the hell!”

 Mondo stares wide eyed at the kid as he abruptly stands, his body shaking horribly, looking like he just saw a ghost, shit... Mondo is afraid the kid is about to collapse so he stands quickly, hands hovering to ensure he doesn’t fall, but the kid doesn’t seem to notice him. Oh... shit... he’s not better, is he? God fucking dammit...

 “W-w-w-what... w-what... h-h-happened?! I... I didn’t... oh god...” 

 Mondo sees Kiyotaka sway then, looking like he’s about to faint, scaring the absolute shit out of Mondo. Rushing forward, he grabs the kid by his shoulders, holding him upright. Part of him wants to pull him close, to wrap him up and never let him go, but he can tell the kid is super fucking freaked out, and he doesn’t want to make him panic, shit. 

 “What the fuck... aw, shit, y’ain’t better. Okay, that’s it. I’m takin’ ya ta the fuckin’ nurse. Goddamnit...” 

 Mondo tries to move Kiyotaka, then, carefully guiding him over to the door so they can make the stupidly long walk to the nurse’s office, mind racing a mile a minute as he tries to determine if it wouldn’t just be better to call the ambulance now. On one hand, he doubts the nurse is still there, since it’s well after curfew, but on the other... calling for an ambulance means he might have to explain this shit, and he just... shit. But he needs to do right by Kiyotaka, and if that includes getting himself in trouble, he’ll fucking do it. He doesn’t care what happens to him, just as long as this wonderful, incredible boy is safe. Huh...

 As distracted as Mondo is, he doesn’t expect any resistance to his movement, expecting Kiyotaka to be as pliant as he previously had been. As such, when the kid fucking pulls away from him, weak as it is, Mondo isn’t expecting it and thus is unable to keep his grip. And he watches, heart stopping, as the kid slams into the row of lockers, collapsing immediately to the ground with a soft noise of pain. 

 Shit!!!

 “Shit! Kiyotaka, are you fuckin’ alright?! What the hell, man?! Stop bein’ an idiot and let me take ya ta the nurse, fuck!” 

 He doesn’t mean to sound angry or anything, he’s just so fucking scared, needing the kid to cooperate so he can just get better already and not make Mondo worry he’s gonna fucking die or something... but given the way that Kiyotaka glares at him (or tries to glare, Mondo can tell he’s still a little out of it and can’t quite put the usual amount of passion into it), he can tell the kid intends to be difficult, looking at him like he doesn’t want Mondo to come any closer or something. Mondo immediately says, ‘fuck that,’ though, and rushes to the kid’s side, kneeling down, his eyes bleeding with his concern. He watches the kid blink, some more lucidity rising within the red, as he opens his mouth to speak. 

 “W-wait! I don’t... dang it. I don’t need to go to the- t-the nurse! I’m just... confused. Give me... give me a moment to... collect myself!” Kiyotaka says, his chest heaving with the effort of speaking. Mondo looks at him firmly, ensuring the kid means it and that he’s not just saying random, nonsense bullshit again. 

 Once he’s satisfied that the kid is, in fact, lucid enough to make that decision, he nods stiffly, still feeling so very, very concerned. 

 “Alright... shit, fine. If ya say so. But ya gotta drink some more water, alright?! Slowly. I should drink more too, fuck...”

 Mondo stands, then, and walks over to the water cooler again, hands tingling unpleasantly as he leaves Kiyotaka’s side. He quickly fills up two fresh cups of water and hurries back, handing the kid one of the cups as soon as he is by his side. 

 As soon as the kid takes it, Mondo flops down to sit beside him, so close they touch, and begins to drink his water, finding comfort in being able to feel the kid warm against his side. He is honestly thirsty as fuck, wanting to gulp it down again, but he forces himself to go slow, not wanting to be a hypocrite. He notices after a second that Kiyotaka isn’t drinking and is just staring at him blankly, eyes glazing over again, which scares him more than he is willing to say, fuck. 

 “Dude. Drink. Or I’m draggin’ ya ta the nurse, kickin’ an’ screamin’. Don’t think I won’t,” Mondo rumbles, startling the kid out of whatever fugue he’d entered into. The kid glares at him lightly, not nearly as strong as Mondo knows it could be, but at least he doesn’t try and counter him. He just brings the cup to his lips and drinks the cool water slowly, his eyes darting back and forth as he thinks hard about something. They don’t glaze over again, though, so Mondo lets him be and just drinks his water, every cell in his body so fucking aware of the kid sitting directly beside him. It honestly would scare him, how much he cares about this kid, if he’d not already decided to not care about that shit anymore. He cares about the kid. He doesn’t know why, he just does. End of fucking story. 

 Mondo doesn’t know how long they sit there drinking their water, and he doesn’t really care. He usually hates sitting still for so long, his skin crawling to get up and do something already, but strangely... he doesn’t really mind it too much. Sitting here, beside Kiyotaka. It... despite the worry he still feels, there’s also a strange calmness inside him now. Like... like something inside him that had been out of place and broken for years is just... gone, allowing him to breathe easy for the first time. It’s so strange but also... so very, very nice...

 Eventually their cups run empty, and Mondo is about to offer to get them both some more water again when the kid speaks. His voice is low and shaky, but it sounds a lot better and more lucid than it had before, which relieves the shit out of him. But then he comprehends the words, and he...

 “O-Owada... back in... in the, uh, sauna... I didn’t, um. Say anything strange. Did I?” Kiyotaka asks softly, looking very nervous. It concerns Mondo a lot that the kid apparently doesn’t remember what happened in the sauna, but he supposes it makes sense. He had been super fucking outta it... 

 He still takes his time to think about it. He usually just blurts out his words, no thought put into them at all, but this... shit. This matters. And he has to be so fucking careful if he doesn’t want to hurt the kid again. And god, does he not wanna do that... 

 Finally, he figures he’ll go the safe route and figure out what, exactly, the kid does and doesn’t remember. If he remembers nothing, then maybe... maybe it would be better to keep it that way, shit... 

 Ignoring the way his heart clenches at the thought, he sets his face into a carefully neutral expression, revealing nothing as he speaks, voice a low rumble. 

 “That depends. What do ya remember?”

 Mondo watches, heart clenched strangely again, as Kiyotaka bites his lip gently, eyes unfocused as he thinks. They’re not glazed, though, so Mondo thinks he’s just concentrating, not zoning out. After a few moments, the kid glances up at him, expression open and searching. It makes Mondo want to gasp, everything in him swirling, and when the kid speaks, still looking at him, he... h-he... 

 “I’m… I’m not sure. It’s all... fuzzy. I can’t quite tell... what is real or not. I have no idea what I said during that last part, though... just fragments of old memories and thoughts.” Kiyotaka pauses, his hands shaking lightly. He looks away then, down at the ground, and Mondo feels so strangely bereaved... “But I... I remember you... you said... things. About- a-about me. Y-you... you called me... wonderful. Special. H-heh! H-how r-ridiculous! I must... must have been- been hallucinating! Aha!” 

 The kid sounds nervous, frantic, like he’s afraid Mondo will hurt him, like he’s afraid Mondo will laugh at him, will tell him that he... he’s wrong, that Mondo hadn’t said that, that he... he doesn’t believe that...

 Which is bullshit. Because he did say that. And he’d meant it. Means it. Fully and completely. 

 Mondo consciously forces his shoulders to lose the tension that had entered them unbidden at Kiyotaka’s frantic words, sighing softly, a wry smile rising on his lips as he looks at the kid. The kid looks so fucking scared, so desperate, like he doesn’t believe that Mondo had said that shit, but that he wants to believe it. 

 And, shit... even if he hadn’t said it, he sure as shit would say it now. Because Kiyotaka truly is wonderful and special, ain’t he...? 

 Heh... 

 “Nah. That, uh. That happened. You really don’t remember what you said?” he asks as casually as he can, his head tilted in question, hoping he’s hiding the way his heart is racing well enough, but honestly not really caring if he’s not. He... he doesn’t want to keep shit from this kid. Not... not anymore... he watches as Kiyotaka shakes his head weakly, moving his eyes to stare at his hands again. It makes Mondo’s smile widen, eyes soft as silk. Heh. So... so fucking cute...

 “Heh. Makes sense. Ya weren’t exactly all there, ya know. Kept mumblin’ bits a’ nonsense. Could barely make sense a’ ya myself, tell the truth. Somethin’... somethin’ ‘bout yer grandfather. ‘Bout needin’ ta right his wrongs. An’ then there was somethin’ ‘bout other kids? An’ hatred? Ya mentioned how yer da don’t understand ya, how he hates ya, or somethin’. An’ ‘bout how... how ya... ya hate yerself. Which I think is fuckin’ bullshit, ya shouldn’t fuckin’ hate yerself, yer incredible, but whatever. There was a lot a’ other stuff too. ‘Bout not givin’ up, ‘bout havin’ ta prove people wrong. Some other shit, too, but I don’t really ‘member it all, sorry. But... shit man. Is that... is that real? Did ya... did ya really mean alla’ that?” 

 Mondo doesn’t really mean to ask the question, knowing the kid needs to be allowed to rest and relax, not be asked stupid fucking questions, but he can’t help it. He’s not lying when he says he doesn’t quite remember everything. It’s all starting to blur in his head, and while he’s fairly certain he remembers the most of it, some details are starting to slip away, and he just... did the kid really say all that shit, or had he imagined it, too? Shit...

 But then... then, after a moment, Kiyotaka, he... h-he...

 “Aw, shit,” he mutters under his breath, which seems to just make the kid cry harder. It breaks Mondo’s heart so much, hating seeing his tears. God... this kid just always fucking cries around him, doesn’t he...? Shit... shit! H-he didn’t want to make the kid cry! G-god, he... he wants so badly to hold the kid, to keep him safe from the sorrow within him, but would the kid even want that? After everything he’s done, all he’s taken from him, would he actually want to be held in his arms? It’s his fault he’s crying, his fault he’s in this situation, and he doesn’t know if Kiyotaka would want to be anywhere near him, let alone in his arms! But he... he wants so, so badly to... t-to...

 “Please, man, don’t cry, shit, I’m sorry! I... aw, fuck it. Come here.” 

 Mind made up, Mondo darts forward and— carefully as he possibly can— wraps an arm around the kid, pulling him gently to his chest, firm and tight. He can feel the kid struggle against him, and it kills him inside to feel it, especially when the kid starts frantically apologizing, like he thinks Mondo is going to hurt him or something. He thinks it might be best to let him go, to apologize and never touch him again, but he... h-he thinks the problem isn’t that Mondo is hugging him, but that the kid thinks Mondo is upset. So maybe... if he can reassure the kid that it’s okay, that he wants this, maybe... m-maybe he’ll stop struggling so hard... and maybe... m-maybe...

 “Shhh. Shh, c’mon. It’s okay, Kiyotaka. I’m here. Y’ain’t alone. I got you. Ain’t got nothin’ ta ‘pologize fer, ya got it? Yer okay. We’re both okay.” 

 He keeps his arms steady on Kiyotaka, praying to any god that will listen that he’s doing the right thing, that he’s not hurting the kid more, that this is okay, and then... after a minute... after a minute...

 The kid stops. Stops struggling, stops apologizing. His chest is heaving, and his eyes are still leaking tears, but he doesn’t seem distressed at Mondo holding him anymore. At least... Mondo hopes he isn’t. And then... t-then...

 Kiyotaka buries his head in his chest, firm and present, hiding his face. His arms come up too, fists curling into Mondo’s tank top, clutching it like his life depends on it. And then he... he just...

 Lets go.

 The kid is crying so fucking hard, chest heaving, sobs loud and noisy, and fuck, does it hurt. Mondo feels so fucking helpless as he holds the kid, doing all he can to rub soothing circles on his back, whisper soft words in his ear, doing all he can to remember the shit Daiya would say when he was little and he still allowed himself to cry, not yet realizing it was wrong of him to do such a thing. He feels like it’s not enough, never enough, but he doesn’t know what else to do. He’s never seen the kid cry so hard before. Before he- he would always stifle it, keep it in. 

 Mondo hadn’t realized it at the time, but seeing the kid truly let go now, he can see just how hard he would fight to keep his tears and true sorrow contained, and he feels so much for the boy that he can’t even begin to describe it. It’s like... a sad kind of pride. Like he’s proud the kid was able to keep going despite the sorrow and despair he clearly feels, but also so, so fucking sad that the kid had to do it. That he had to keep this all in, unable to have anyone to share his burden with, to shoulder the pain and anguish he so clearly feels inside. Mondo... M-Mondo knows what that is like, what it’s like to have to always keep everything in, never let it out, and he... he hates that Kiyotaka knows it, too. The pain.  The loneliness. 

 Maybe they really aren’t so different... are they? 

 Fuck... and who knows? Maybe that’s why he’s always cared so much about this kid. He... he just reminds him of him so goddamn much. Of... of the kid he used to be, before he built up walls so high around that child that he’d never see the light of day again. Of the scared little boy that he was, wondering why his parents hated him, why he was never good enough, why he didn’t fucking matter. He’d always been so scared and sad back then, so small and weak. Kinda like Kiyotaka is now, even with how fucking strong he knows this kid to usually be. 

 But...

 But he had Daiya, didn’t he? Even when the whole world was against him, (This sentence was removed due to ~~spoilers~~) he... he always had Daiya. Daiya, who loved him. Daiya, who cared for him. Daiya who raised him, Daiya who taught him, Daiya who sacrificed fucking everything for him. (This sentence was removed due to ~~spoilers~~). It didn’t matter that he was scared, or that he was weak. Daiya loved him regardless, and he always, always kept him safe. 

 Kiyotaka... Kiyotaka never had that... did he? He can’t say for sure, but the kid has never mentioned a sibling, either older or younger, which makes him think he’s an only, no sibs, bro or sis. Which means that he... he didn’t have anyone always on his side. Someone who would protect him no matter what. Or someone that he could protect, no matter what. His da is clearly not that great, if Kiyotaka’s words about him hating him were to go by, and his ma is gone, who knows for how long, or what his relationship was to her when she was around. He... he didn’t have someone to protect him... to keep him safe, from all harm... to... t-to love him...

 Eventually the kid stops crying so hard, the desperate sobs petering out into soft, quiet ones, his breath hitching only slightly every few seconds. And then, a little while later he... he stops sobbing entirely. The tears have run dry, his body has stopped shaking, but he... he doesn’t move away. He just stays there, in Mondo’s arms. 

 Like he belongs there... 

 “Ya feelin’ better?”

 The words are said softly. Gently. He doesn’t wanna spook the kid, knowing how fragile he prolly feels right about now. Mondo gets it. He hasn’t let himself cry fully in years, not even... h-heh. Well. Point is, while he’s not truly cried in years, he remembers how fragile it leaves you feeling afterward. How shaky. 

 And when he sees Kiyotaka’s eyes dart up, looking scared and afraid, Mondo doesn’t tense up. Doesn’t try and hide the openness on his face. He lets the kid see it. The softness. The care. The... the affection, because god, does he feel affection. He lets the kid see it, and he feels the kid settle against him, the fear vanishing, though the lingering sorrow remains. God... how Mondo wishes he could take that away...

 “Yes. I... yes. M-Mondo... t-thank you. I... I’m sorry...”

 Mondo can’t help the way he reaches out at that, hand gently grasping a warm, wet cheek. He realizes absently that that’s the first time the kid has said his name, and god is it making his insides squirm. And he can see the kid look at him with wide, watery eyes, lips open on a soft gasp, looking almost... dazed... shit...

 “Don’t. Thank me. Apologize. Ain’t nothin’, got it? I... I didn’t mind. At all. So, don’t... don’t apologize. It’s alright. You’re... you’re alright.” 

 And he means it. God... does he mean it. It... it had felt nice. So very, very nice. Holding Kiyotaka. Comforting him as he cried, somehow not fucking it up as badly as he’d been fearing. He’s always been so fucking shit at comforting people, feeling like he has to be tough all the time, unable to comfort since tough people aren’t soft and sympathetic. But here, with Kiyotaka... h-he’d been able to be soft. Kind. Gentle. All the things he’s secretly yearned to be for so fucking long, but never was able to, since he doesn’t lead a life that is suited for such things. He always has to be so tough, so strong, but... but with Kiyotaka... with this wondrous, amazing, incredible, beautiful boy...

 He can be soft. 

 And he will never be able to thank Kiyotaka enough for giving him that ability. 

 And when Kiyotaka smiles at him, wide, bright, unrestrained...? Mondo can’t help how he smiles back, wider than he’s ever felt it go before, heart beating so softly and yet meaningfully, feeling so very much for this precious boy. He... he’ll never be able to repay him for this... will he? For what he has given him this day... even if they are never this close again, even if Kiyotaka doesn’t want anything to do with him after this, he’ll never forget what this felt like. What it feels like to be soft. And gentle. And... and kind. 

 But... shit. Shit. 

 Now that they have this... now that he’s tasted this... what happens now? He... he doesn’t wanna... 

 “Shit, man. The fuck we do now? I... I don’t wanna go back ta how it was. I... shit. I was a goddamn monster ta ya these last few weeks... since we met, shit… I... goddamn it,” Mondo mutters, feeling his smile fade as pain fills him, remembering all the shit he has done to this poor, amazing kid. The shit he’s said. The way he’s acted. Kiyotaka gave him so much today, but he hadn’t earned any of it, had he...? He can see the kid shaking his head, looking frantic, like he doesn’t agree, and Mondo can’t help how he glares. Lightly, but it still makes the kid flinch back, proving how much he’s hurt him, and how much he can still, potentially, hurt him. God... he doesn’t wanna ever hurt him... not again… “No, don’t deny it. I was a fuckin’ moron. I just... I ain’t ever... I don’t get you, Kiyotaka. What I feel... when you- you look at me...” 

 And it’s true. He still doesn’t quite get it. What he feels. Why he feels it. It... he thinks he might kinda get it, might kinda realize what this feeling is, why he wants to protect this kid so badly, but it... it doesn’t quite feel like it fits. And he just... he just doesn’t know... but... if not this then... what else? H-heh... 

 Sighing softly, feeling so confused but strangely not angry about it, Mondo allows a wry smile to rise on his lips as he presses closer to the kid, as close as he’s always secretly longed to be, since that first day when he held him but not ever close enough. One of his hands is curled loosely around Kiyotaka’s waist, while his other is still gently cupping his cheek and has been for a little while now. He notices dimly how they are almost bare, Kiyotaka wearing only his underwear while Mondo is in his thin tank top and loose black pants, and he can feel the kid’s heat as it presses against him, oddly intoxicating. Mondo’s hair is down from its pomp, having been knocked loose sometime in the sauna, and it’s been years since someone outside his gang saw him without it up, it makes him feel so naked to have it down, but he... he doesn’t really care. Not when it’s only Kiyotaka who sees it. 

 He... he wants Kiyotaka to see all of him... every last part. 

 Because he... he views the kid like... like a... 

 “It’s like yer my brother or somethin’. Like... my nerdy, dorky little brother. Someone I gotta take care of. Protect. Keep safe, from all harm. I never... shit. I had my brother, but he... he’s gone now. I can’t... I couldn’t protect him, fuck. An’ I… f-fuck. I can’t protect you, either, can I...?  No, I… I can’t... I can’t... a-and why the fuck would you want a fuck-up like me, anyway? You... god, you could do so much better... why would you want someone like me as your brother, s-shit...” 

 The thought stabs Mondo through the heart, the realization that as much as he may want to have this with Kiyotaka, to have a brotherhood with him, they... they likely never will. Because Mondo has messed up too much. Because Mondo ruined their chance before it ever even had the opportunity to live. Because Mondo is so fucking broken and damaged that no one in their right mind would ever want him as a brother. Daiya was forced to have him, and he was so fucking amazing that he chose to love him anyway, but Kiyotaka... he doesn’t have to be stuck with him. He doesn’t owe Mondo anything, anything at all. In fact, Mondo is the one who owes Kiyotaka. So much. So very, very much. Kiyotaka wouldn’t want him. He just... he wouldn’t. 

 And as he feels the kid freeze against him, breath stuttering and harsh, he... he knows he’s right, isn’t he? S-shit... he shouldn’t have said that, shouldn’t have thought himself good enough to deserve such a gift. Kiyotaka, wanting him like that... wanting him at all... while he may have been soft and pliant in his arms a moment ago, seeming like he was at ease, that doesn’t mean it was because of Mondo or anything that Mondo did. He’d been through an emotional time and he’d needed comfort, and Mondo had just been the nearest warm body. Doesn’t mean he trusts Mondo or that he wants anything from him at all. He’d have to be the world’s biggest fool to think Kiyotaka could ever want him, want him at all. 

 And Mondo... he may be a fool, but he ain’t that big of a fool. 

 Heart aching painfully in his chest, Mondo can’t help how he pulls away, not wanting to force Kiyotaka to be near him when he doesn’t deserve it, doesn’t deserve it at all.

 “Shit, I was right, goddamn it, aw shit! J-just forget I said anything, I- fuck!” 

 Mondo hands come up to clutch at his hair, then, the grip tight and painful but he doesn’t care. He wants it to hurt. To ache. It’s what he deserves for fucking this whole thing up, for being so woefully unworthy of being close to such a bright and beautiful boy. Maybe, had he been better— a better person, a good person— he could have been worthy of it. Had he never let his insecurities get in the way, had he just accepted what he felt as true the minute he felt it, not pushed it away in fear, maybe... maybe then, he could have had this. Kiyotaka, as his friend. Kiyotaka, as his brother. 

 But no. No, no. He had pushed it away. Had been afraid of it, so very afraid. Had let his fear turn to anger, like he was so wont to do, and ruined everything before it even began. 

 He deserves all the misery he feels for how stupid he’d been... 

 Mondo gets jolted out of his thoughts when he feels a soft, tentative hand touch him, his eyes wide and manic as he looks at Kiyotaka, who looks so fucking afraid, god. H-he scares the kid so goddamn much, like he scares everyone, because he’s a monster, a senseless beast that only ever hurts people. Breaks people. He’s not allowed nice things, not allowed good things. Not allowed to be gentle, or soft, or kind. He... he’s just not... 

 To his utter shock, he can see Kiyotaka smile at him. It’s soft, and hesitant, and... and beautiful... but it can’t be real. It... the kid is trying to be kind, trying to hide his fear to make Mondo feel better, because he’s so goddamn nice, so fucking good, shit- 

 “N-no! Don’t worry! I was just- not expecting that! But I- I feel- the same. I feel- the same! I would be honored, Mondo Owada, to be considered your brother! I’ve never had a brother, never even had a friend, but I couldn’t imagine a better one than you! Y-you... you’re incredible...” 

 He... he... does he really mean that...? Does he truly... truly wanna be Mondo’s... Mondo’s brother? The kid is so bad at lying, and it hadn’t sounded like he was lying, but... but it... shit. It can’t be true, it can’t... after all the shit Mondo has done, how could the kid ever see him positively, even a little? Mondo isn’t a good brother, he’d always been so shit to Daiya, taking and taking and taking and never giving. He’d taken everything from Daiya, never satisfied with what Daiya gave freely, so he stole the most important thing in the end. 

 H-he’d just steal everything from Kiyotaka too. 

 It’s what he does... 

 “Ya can’t mean that, Kiyotaka... I’m a goddamn mess... and you... you are... shit. You’re goddamn perfect and I’m hot dog shit, ya can’t... y-you can’t...”

 And it’s true. Mondo has more to say, more to confess, but his throat is so thick, and he doesn’t know how to say it. To confess all his crimes to Kiyotaka, to let him know how unworthy he is. He- he hears Kiyotaka take a deep breath, and he doesn’t wanna hear what the kid has to say, doesn’t wanna hear him agree, but then he’s speaking, and his words... t-they... 

 “Mondo... I- I’m not perfect. I... I’m not. B-but that’s okay! I do my best, but so do you! I can see how hard you try and sometimes that’s all that matters! You’re not... dog feces! You... you’re so much more, Mondo...” 

 No... n-no, the kid, he... he doesn’t understand, he just- he doesn’t understand! Mondo, he has to... has to tell him. N-not all of it, he’s not strong enough to confess it all, he’s always been so goddamn weak, but he- he has to... a little. Enough so the kid knows. So he stops feeling pity for him and realizes that he... 

 He’s just not worth it... 

 “No. N-no, I ain’t shit, goddamnit, I...” Mondo has to stop, feeling so fucking conflicted. On one hand he wants to confess, on the other hand he wants to be selfish, and he just... h-he just... 

 But he can’t. Be selfish. Not... not about this. 

 Not with Kiyotaka. 

 With a soft sigh, he feels the tension inside him melt away, his body relaxing with the decision he’s made. All of his emotions— both good and bad— fade away until all he feels inside is... is...

 Cold resignation...

 “I hate myself. Always fuckin’ have. Heh. There, I... I fuckin’ said it. I love the gang, don’t get me wrong. I love bein’ with ‘em, bein’ a part a’ somethin’ bigger than myself. I love leadin’ ‘em, ridin’ my hog, wind in my hair... I fuckin’ love it. Even bein’ here, unable ta lead directly, I still like callin’ the shots from behind the scenes while my second in command implements it an’ shit. Means somethin’, ‘least. But... I dunno. Sometimes I’ll be in the middle ofa fight and I’ll just... wanna stop. Quit. Do somethin’... do somethin’ else fer a change. But I… heh. I can’t. I promised my bro... Daiya, I... I promised him I’d keep the gang together. He built it from scratch an’ I... I can’t leave that. I made a promise, a man’s promise, ta keep us together. So, I... I gotta keep doin’ that. Can’t stop. Ever. Not ‘til the gang is dead an’ shit, all the members movin’ on ta do better shit with their lives. An’ me… heh. Not much use fer me after that, is there?”

 Mondo pauses, and then looks down at his hands, a small, sad smile on his face. 

 “But you? Yer gonna go places, man. Shootin’ fer the moon. Prime fuckin’ Minister, shit, man. Never met anyone with such high goals, really. Never met anyone who wanted ta do that sorta shit, change things from the inside. Heard ya in class, talkin’ ‘bout yer plans an’ shit. Wantin’ ta make the world a better place, havin’ such hope for this garbage planet. Ya... ya’ve got drive. Determination. An’ I know yer gonna do it, ya know. Succeed. More than any a’ the other chucklefucks we go ta school with, ‘least. Yer just so... determined. Got such passion. I... I admire that ‘bout ya, always did.”

 Mondo pauses again, and he… he laughs. It’s sad, and pathetic, and it... he... h-heh...

 “But that… heh. That ain’t me, Kiyo. Ain’t me. I ain’t got plans, ain’t got any fuckin’ clue a’ what I’m gonna do after school ends. They got me takin’ fuckin’ leadership classes an’ shit, but the fuck am I gonna do with that bullshit? I can lead a gang, yeah, but that… heh. That’s ‘bout it, Christ. An’ ya… yer gonna see that one day. And yer gonna leave me. And I’ll be happy fer ya, ‘course I will, but... sh-shit. God... goddamnit...” 

 Mondo doesn’t know where he’s going with this. He doesn’t know what he’s saying or why he’s saying it. His head is so jumbled, so scrambled, and part of him wants to tell Kiyotaka everything. About his parents. About his brother. About what he did, what he stole. He wants to confess so, so badly, to see the hatred and anger and rage on that kid’s face when he realizes how big a piece of shit Mondo really is, horrified that he’d ever felt pity for such a pitiless creature. 

 But...

 He can’t. Can’t do that. He... he can’t burden Kiyotaka with his bullshit. And knowing the kid... he’d still try. To feel pity. To feel sorrow. He- he’s such a good person, so bright and shining. He’s the kind of person who would see a merciless and dangerous monster like him and think there’s something worthwhile in it. It wouldn’t be until his neck is snapped under Mondo’s uncaring hand that he’d realize he was wrong. And maybe... maybe not even then. He’d die, thinking Mondo was better than he was, even if it were Mondo who killed him. 

 God...

 So, he can’t tell the truth. Can’t burden the kid like that. But he... he can’t let him get close. Even if he... he really wants to... 

 “I’ll just hold ya back. Ya don’t want someone like me, Kiyo. Ya don’t want someone like me at all. So... I ‘ppreciate yer words. But it may be best ta leave this here. Ta... ta forget ‘bout this all and just... move on. I’ll leave ya alone and ya won’t hafta-”

 “No!” Mondo hears echo through the room, cutting off his words so thoroughly. It startles the fuck out of him, and he can’t help how he stares, wide-eyed, up at Kiyotaka. It’s weird, looking up to see the kid, but he’s sitting upright, almost standing but not quite, knees firmly planted on the floor. But seeing as how Mondo is crumbled pathetically on the floor, sitting back on his thighs, he has to look up to see Kiyotaka. And he looks... looks so...

 Scared...

 But...

 Not... not of- of... of Mondo...? 

 “Mondo, please! I just... look. I- I try to be perfect, but I... I’m not! And I know you aren’t either! But... but maybe that’s okay! Maybe... m-maybe... maybe we can learn to be not perfect... together? I, ah. I don’t know! A-all I know is... I want to be f-friends with you, Mondo Owada. I don’t care about your flaws; I don’t care that you’re in a gang! I just... I want... w-we can be brothers. If you want... we can be brothers. I want... I would want nothing more than to be your brother! Your kyoudai!” 

 Brothers. Brothers. Kiyotaka wants them to be... brothers...

 It’s too good to be true. Too fucking good to be true. Mondo doesn’t get nice things like this. He doesn’t get soft, kind, gentle things. He gets shit. He gets cruelty. He gets anger and hatred and rage. He gets angry fists and cruel words, and a suspicious look on his back at all fucking times. After all the shit he has done, the people he has hurt, the lives he has ruined, he... he doesn’t deserve... he just doesn’t... 

 But as he sits there, staring up at Kiyotaka with wide eyes and an open mouth, he... he remembers something. Something the kid had said, in the sauna. How he... he never had a friend before. How everyone always hated him. And it could have just been insecurity talking, the kid thinking people hated him when they really didn’t but judging by the scars, he... he would doubt that. 

 He’s never had a friend. He’s never had a brother. Someone to keep him safe. To protect him from all harm. Someone to hold onto, someone to tell him it is alright. That he is alright. He... he hasn’t had that. 

 And Mondo is the worst choice for a brother. He knows it, okay? He’s so fucking awful it’s not funny. But... but he... the kid doesn’t seem to get that. And Mondo is too weak to explain why he shouldn’t want it. And, as such, he... Kiyotaka wants to be friends. Brothers. With him. 

 Mondo is a mess. He messes everything up, ruining everything he touches. He... he doesn’t want to ruin Kiyotaka too. He doesn’t want to hurt him. He... he never...

 But maybe...

 Maybe...

 It’s stupid. God, so fucking stupid. But maybe... if he tries hard, so fucking hard... if he is careful, keeps his anger in check, does all he can, he... maybe he...

 He can be Kiyotaka’s brother...

 And keep him safe...

 It makes him smile. It’s small at first, tentative. Like a stiff wind will blow it away. But as Kiyotaka keeps looking at him steadily, earnestly, he... he feels the smiles strengthen. Feels as it grows wider and wider, until it fills his whole face, his eyes squinting with how wide it is. He’s never felt like this before, so scared and terrified, but also... also... 

 Hopeful.

 “Ya... ya really mean that, Kiyo?” 

 Kiyo. Mondo doesn’t really know why he’s calling the kid that, nicknames aren’t super common in their culture, but somehow, he... he kinda likes it. He doesn’t know if the kid does, he should ask, but before he has the chance to, the kid is nodding. Enthusiastic and bright, a shaky grin on his face. He still seems a little out of it, but god, is he trying... fuck that kid is so amazing...

 “Yes! Of course! I always mean everything I say! I would not lie to you, Mondo, I promise you that! We shall be the best kyoudai! You’ll see! Aha! This is fantastic!”

 Oh, god... this kid is so fucking cute! God... h-he really shouldn’t be thinking that, should push it away like he always pushes stupid ass thoughts like that away, but he... he’s allowed to see his brother as cute... right? Or, well... his little brother. Though... fuck. Is Kiyotaka younger than him? He seems like it, as naive and endlessly optimistic as he is, but fuck, he doesn’t actually know. Mondo is usually one of the youngest in his class, since his birthday is at the end of the year, but he’s always felt decades older than the chucklefucks he goes to school with. Maybe it’s ‘cuz he was forced to grow up so fucking fast in order to survive, shit. 

 But you know what? Whatever. It doesn’t matter if Mondo is older or not. He’s the older brother regardless. That shit is felt, not necessarily determined by birth order. Daiya was his older brother in more ways than just because he was physically older, after all.  

 At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter. What does matter is that... that Kiyotaka wants this. Wants... wants Mondo. And Mondo doesn’t deserve it, had never deserved it, but fuck, is he a selfish bastard. But he won’t take this shit for granted. Now that they are brothers, Mondo will go all fucking out. No fucking reservations. They are brothers, now, and Mondo is the big brother. The ani. It’s his duty and obligation to keep Kiyotaka safe from all harm, including (and especially) from Mondo himself. And he won’t. Hurt him. Not now, not ever. If he ever does, he will stab himself in the gut, commit fucking seppuku, he swears he will. He’d rather die than hurt this precious, amazing, incredible boy ever, ever again. 

 And so, Mondo grins, and he laughs, and he lets his arms reach forward and wrap around the kid, like he’s been wanting to do since he ripped himself away the last time. Part of him is afraid the kid won’t want it, or he’ll realize how stupid this whole thing is, but Kiyotaka doesn’t even tense at all as he goes willingly into Mondo’s arms, melting like warm putty against him. Like he... he belongs there...

 S-shit... 

 “Okay. O-okay. Kiyotaka, I... I’ll do my best. I can’t promise ya anythin’, know I’m a goddamn fuck-up who ruins everything, but... but for you? I’ll try. That... that’s all I can offer... heh…” 

 It’s not enough, not nearly enough, but he feels Kiyotaka wrap his arms around him, holding on so very, very tight, and it... it feels...

 Like coming home... 

 “That is all I could ever ask of you, my kyoudai! Y-you’re not a- a screw up! And- and your best is more than enough!”

 Shit. Shit. No one... no one has ever told him that before. That the best he offers is more than enough. It’s never been enough, he’s never been enough. He’s a screw up. The unwanted kid. The person who is good for violence and anger and rage, and that’s about it. 

 But here, being held by this remarkable fucking kid... hearing him say that it’s enough... that he’s enough…

 Maybe he’s inclined to believe him. 

 Wow... just...

 Wow...

 After a minute Mondo pulls back, knowing they need to talk about stuff, knowing he has to make promises, and it makes his heart sing when he feels the kid resist, arms refusing to let go at first. It makes him laugh softly, especially because he fully understands. But he doesn’t intend to go far. Just... he needs to look the kid in the eyes. He... he needs to see those beautiful as sin eyes...

 Pressing his forehead to Kiyotaka’s, soft and gentle and intimate, he can’t help how he smiles, eyes shining with the light he feels inside. And Kiyotaka... he...

 He looks at Mondo like he fucking matters... 

 “I’ll be good. Fer ya... I’ll be good. Promise, Kiyo. And ya can hold me ta that, got it? This is a promise between men. That means I gotta keep it.” 

 The kid looks stunned, eyes glazed but not in a bad way, breath hitched, and it... it makes Mondo feel...

 “Likewise! I- I will do everything I can to be the best brother I can be! I promise! We shall be the best kyoudai in the world! That’s a Kiyotaka Ishimaru guarantee!” 

 The enthusiastic words make Mondo laugh again, and he pulls away to wrap an arm around the kid’s shoulders, ruffling his hair gently like Daiya would always do to him. He notices that the hair is a bit longer than it once had been, and fuck, does he like it. The sweat from the sauna had made all the gel run out and his hair is now soft as it dries, curling lightly around the kid’s ears and it just...

 It’s so beautiful... 

 But ruffling the kid’s hair makes it fall in his eyes, which makes the kid let out an annoyed sound, adorable again, and Mondo can’t help the way he laughs. God, this kid makes him so goddamn happy... he’s never felt this happy before... never...

 “Yer the absolute, goddamn best, kyoudai. Kiyo. Hey, uh... is it okay if I call ya that? Kiyotaka’s just a bit of a mouthful, ‘sall. Ya got any other nicknames I could use?” 

 He looks at the kid at that, Kiyotaka’s (or should he say Kiyo? Does the kid like it? Shit...) mouth pulled down in a thoughtful frown. A moment passes, and then- 

 “A-ah! Kiyo is fine! If you’d like! B-but... well... m-my mother. She called me... Taka. Y-you could use that, as well! If you’d like...” 

 Taka, huh? Taka. Taka. Yeah... yeah, he- he likes it. He likes it a lot! It suits the kid, and while Mondo still does kinda like Kiyo, he might like Taka a bit better. And if the kid wants him to call him that, then shit... who is he to deny him...?

 Smiling, soft and gentle in a way he’s never been able to be before, he nods. 

 “Taka... heh, I like it! Alright, Taka. Mondo ain’t exactly got any good nicknames fer it, but ya can call me that, if ya’d like.”

 Mondo watches as Taka blushes lightly, lips still partially open as he breathes in and out slowly. His eyes are kinda glazed still, but he seems present enough. Just... like he’s thinking of something. Mondo wants to reach out, wants to pull the kid into a hug again, wants to always, always be touching him, but he keeps his distance. Just... just for now. But later... 

 The kid shoots up again, interrupting Mondo’s thoughts, looking so enthusiastic again, eyes bright and smile happy. Holy shit...

 “Oh! I can always call you kyoudai!! That way the whole world will know our manly bond!” 

 It makes Mondo laugh again, harder, and he can’t help how he reaches out to ruffle his hair again, needing to touch him at least a little. Kyoudai, huh? ... yeah. Yeah, he likes that, too. Daiya was always ani to him, the proper name for the big brother, and Daiya usually called him shit like ‘kid’ or whatever, so it’s not like Taka calling him that will bring up any bad memories or shit. It’s just... something for them. Their own, little thing, for them and no one else. 

 Him and Taka. Taka and him. Two... two kyoudai...

 Incredible... 

 “Alright, Taka. If ya’d like. Now, it’s fuckin’ late. I ain’t even gotta look at a clock ta know that. Come on, kyoudai. Let’s get ya ta bed.” 

 Mondo stands, then, realizing how fucking late it is. The kid always gets up stupidly early, he remembers Taka saying that once a little while ago, so he knows they should be heading to bed soon. He feels strangely reluctant to do that, never wanting to part from this beautiful boy, but- but he’s the big brother. He has to keep his little brother safe and healthy, and that includes ensuring he gets a good night’s sleep. Even if it means they have to part ways...

 As Mondo stretches, he sees Taka stand as well, his body flushing bright red as he looks down at himself and seems to notice his state of undress. Like he’d forgotten or something. Mondo hadn’t. Not... not for a single second. Shit... 

 He feels his eyes dart down to the kid’s chest, unbidden, and he feels the small smile die on his lips as he sees the long, jagged looking scar that goes from Taka’s collarbone to the bottom of his sternum, right over his heart. How... how the fuck did he get a scar like that...? It doesn’t look like one that would come from surgery or something, since it’s too jagged, and it also doesn’t look accidental. But... but how the fuck... 

 “How’d ya get that? The... the scar?” Mondo finds himself asking softly before he can stop himself, his hand rising absently to trace the length of it. Fuck, but it feels as jagged as it looks... angry and painful. H-he hopes it doesn’t hurt anymore... 

 “A-ah... that...” Taka mutters, his body flushing. It jolts Mondo out of the fucking fugue he entered, and he removes his hand quickly, feeling embarrassed. S-shit... he shouldn’t have asked that, it ain’t his fucking business. Yeah, they’re kyoudai, but that... that don’t mean he’s earned the right to hear the kid’s dark history. He still has to earn that shit. He knows that.

 “Aw, shit! Taka, ignore me. Y’ain’t gotta talk ‘bout that shit. Uh, shi-shoot, I mean... stuff? Sorry… heh, know ya hate swearin’ an’ sh- stuff. Heh…” 

 Taka blinks at Mondo’s rambling words, which makes him feel strangely nervous. He doesn’t let it take over him, though. Doesn’t let himself get angry. But strangely... the anger he usually feels when embarrassed or nervous just... never showed up in the first place. Huh... 

 He watches, then, heart clenching, as Taka smiles at him, soft and gentle as ever. F-fuck...

 “I... I don’t mind! It’s not exactly a pleasant story, but I trust you, kyoudai! And... I don’t mind you cursing! Much! It... it’s what makes you, you! Just as long as you don’t do it in class or in the halls!”

 He... doesn’t mind him... cursing...???? After all those warnings, all of those detention slips, he truly expects Mondo to believe he doesn’t mind it when Mondo fucking curses? 

 But... huh. He can’t detect a lie in the kid’s words. He looks as earnest as ever, and it just... god. Mondo can’t begin to describe how he feels right now, just that it feels... soft. 

 Taka... Taka makes him feel soft. And fuck, is it not bad... not bad at all... 

 Unsure of what to say, what to do, Mondo just laughs again, since that’s the only thing that even slightly manages to express the softness that he feels inside, and he smiles at the kid gently while nodding. He should feel stupid, ridiculous, but he just... doesn’t. 

 God... 

 He watches then as Taka walks over to the locker he’d used earlier, seeming to want to no longer be partially nude. Mondo doesn’t mind it, has never minded being around naked dudes, but he guesses not everyone can be like that. As the kid dresses, he starts to talk. And the story he tells... 

 “It was one of my middle school bullies. I, er... wasn’t well liked, as a child! They never liked how I would get them in trouble, not to mention... ah. M-my, well. My grandfather,” Taka mutters, voice turning nervous as he talks about his grandfather, glancing at him anxiously. 

 Mondo still isn’t entirely sure what the kid’s deal with his grandfather is, but he can tell it bothers the kid, shit, so he does his best to not look at all judgmental, even though the fact the kid was fucking bullied makes his blood fucking boil... shit. He’d expected it, honestly, but it still fucking angers the fuck out of him, Christ…

 Luckily, it seems his anger at that isn’t too obvious, since the kid continues then, voice less shaky and upset, even though the shit he says... 

 “One day, one of them was... particularly angry. I’d gotten him suspended, you see, for a week. It was his own fault, he was the one who had scratched profanities into the headmaster’s car, I’d just been the one to report it! Still, he was... angry. So, after school, he had his friends hold me down while he cut this into my chest. A reminder, he said, to mind my own business. I think he was going to do more but was interrupted by something. It was most unpleasant!” 

 Holy. Fucking. Shit.

 Holy shit, holy shit!

 What the goddamn shit?!

 Some goddamn motherfucker... carved that shit into Taka’s chest...?! And how the fuck can Taka sound so casual about it?! Mondo has never felt so much rage directed towards someone he’s never met, but holy fucking shit, that goddamn bastard had better hope Mondo never meets him, or else he is fucking dead. The thought that anyone could ever hurt this wonderful boy in such a way is just so... insane to Mondo. How people can see him and not want to keep him safe from all harm is just... he doesn’t get it. Even when he told himself he hated the kid, he couldn’t bear the thought of actually hurting him. Not really. 

 And Taka he... he looks so fucking sad, right now. But also, just... resigned. Like he expects that treatment and, while it sucks, it’s just... life. Which is so much fucking bullshit, holy fucking shit-

 Mondo unintentionally lets out a strangled noise, his anger and rage choking him inside. He sees the kid look up at him and sees panic rise in his face when he sees the anger Mondo so clearly feels. Oh, shit... shit, he’s not mad at Taka, he’s not at all, but he can’t make the anger go away, because... because... 

 “They fuckin’ what?! What the goddamn shit?! Please tell me ya got those fuckers expelled!” 

 He had to have... right? Taka is so gung-ho about rules and shit, he- he must have told on those fuckers and got all of them expelled... r-right? 

 Wrong...

 “A-ah! N-not exactly! I... I never reported them! I rarely ever did, to tell the truth... it wouldn’t have mattered, see! The teachers didn’t like me much either; they only ever believed me if I had proof, and even then, only half the time! And they never much cared when I got hurt... b-but it was okay! I persisted and never let them break me down! My struggles made me stronger! Aha!” 

 W... what? He... he... oh, oh god... n-no... 

 “Y-you... what?” Mondo whispers, his eyebrows furrowed, his hands shaking. He has never felt so horrified before, a terrifying realization overcoming him. Because he... he was right, wasn’t he? This kid... h-he was abused. Horribly so. 

 By literally fucking everyone, holy fucking shit-!

 “I mean... that’s just... how it was? I handled it, though! I never gave up! They... they did not break me!” 

 Oh. Oh. Oh, this... this poor fucking kid... his poor fucking kyoudai, having to go through that nightmare, actually believing that it was just... normal. Just... how it was. But he... he can’t actually... actually believe he deserved it... r-right...?

 “Goddamnit... that’s why ya keep tellin’ me ta... ta punish ya, ain’t it? Taka, please tell me ya don’t actu’ly think ya deserved that shit?” 

 He can’t. He can’t. Please, god, he... he can’t...

 Mondo watches, heart breaking so thoroughly inside his chest, as Taka looks down at his uniform jacket, the only piece of his get up he’s not yet wearing. He’s frowning gently, like he actually has to fucking think about it, oh god, no...

 “I- I... I suppose so... I mean-! I... I don’t know. They all hated me... s-so... they must have had a good reason... r-right? To... to hate me. I... I must have deserved it... right?” 

 No. No. No. Mondo... he can’t fucking handle this shit. So many things make so much sense now, and he has never hated himself more. For not seeing it sooner. For not allowing himself to care about this boy all along. For maybe even reenforcing this goddamn bullshit, making the kid think he is right, when he sure as shit ain’t. He...

 He can’t help how he moves. Swift and quick. He- he just needs to be near the kid, needs to hold him, reassure him that no, he didn’t. Didn’t at all. He needs to do what he should have done weeks ago, in the laundry room, and reassure that kid that no. He doesn’t deserve to be hurt. Not... not ever... 

 He stops, though, when he sees Taka look up at him, terror in his eyes, like he... he thinks Mondo is going to fucking hurt him. He wants to go forward, wants to hold the kid so fucking bad, but he doesn’t have that fucking right, so he stays where he is, all the sorrow he feels surely reflected in his eyes. And as the kid looks at him, he... he relaxes. He still looks upset, but he doesn’t look scared. That... that’s something...

 Right? 

 “No. Fuckin’ no. Y’ain’t deserved any a’ that shit, goddamn, man… and I promise ya, Taka, I’m gonna make sure ya see that one day, even if it takes the rest a’ my goddamn life. And that’s a man’s promise.” 

 And he means it, fuck does he mean it. He had never meant anything more. He will spend the rest of his goddamn life ensuring that this wonderful kid knows how special and amazing he is, and that he never, ever deserves to be hurt. It’s his life’s fucking goal now, the one thing that fucking matters. He will take care of Taka for the rest of his goddamn life, even after the kid finally wises up and leaves his ass. He will watch from the shadows, keeping a careful eye on him, there to keep him safe from all harm. This kid will never know pain again if it’s the last fucking thing Mondo does. He swears. 

 As the kid looks at him, he sees the softest and most beautiful smile he’s ever seen lighting up the boy’s face. His eyes sparkle with it, and he’s looking at Mondo like he’s important again. Like he... like he matters. And Mondo...

 He won’t ruin this shit. He just... he won’t. 

 This matters too goddamn much for him to let it slip away. 

 “T-thank you... thank you, kyoudai. I... thank you.” 

 Mondo smiles gently at the kid, moving forward to tentatively wrap an arm around his shoulder, squeezing gently, needing to touch him but not wanting to overwhelm him, god. 

 “Ain’t gotta thank me, bro. Now, we really should head ta bed. Got school tomorrow an’ I don’t want my bro ta be tired! Come on, kyoudai. Let’s get goin’.” 

 Taka nods quick and puts his jacket on, buttoning it with practiced fingers. The kid turns back to the locker, frowning gently at whatever he sees inside. Mondo watches as the kid reaches out and grabs it, his breath hitching when he sees the kid is holding the glasses case that started this whole fucking mess. He... he honestly had forgotten about that shit, to tell the truth, with all the drama that just occurred. But as he looks at the kid, who is looking so softly at the glasses case, like they’re precious to him, he... he knows he owes the kid for the shit he put him through earlier, for no fucking reason. He can’t quite find it in him to regret what happened, not when it ended up like this, but he... he has to make it up to the kid. All of it. 

 So, quick as a wink, Mondo darts his hand out and carefully takes the case from Taka, ignoring the startled sound the kid makes. He can feel the kid watching him with wide eyes, but he doesn’t let it stop him as he opens the case and— without a single moment’s pause— puts the glasses on his face, blinking at the foreign feel. It... it hasn’t changed his vision much, since this shit is only supposed to help with close up shit, but it... huh. He guesses it ain’t so bad... 

 “Huh... I guess they ain’t that bad... tell me, kyoudai. How do they look?”

 He hadn’t really meant to ask the question, but he just... couldn’t help but remember the shit he’d done the last time he’d worn the glasses and Taka had told him what he thought. He... maybe he wants to show that it’s different, now. That he won’t get angry, not this time. To prove that he will never hurt Taka, never again. Not... not ever again. 

 He watches as the kid flushes bright red, mouth open slightly again, and- and god, is it an attractive look on him... s-shit... and then the kid is smiling shakily, giving a shaky thumbs up, and that’s even... even worse... or better, heh... 

 “You look amazing, kyoudai! They suit you well!” 

 A-amazing, huh? Shit... no one’s ever said he looks amazing before... he’s had a couple of people call him hot, or even sexy once or twice, but never... never amazing...

 He adores it... adores... Taka... 

 It makes him smile again. Soft. Happy. So goddamn happy... he will never be able to repay Taka for the happiness he gives him... not even if he dedicates the rest of his life to trying. Which he will. He... he will...

 But it’s late. So fucking late. They... they need to get to bed...

 Even if Mondo never wants to part from this amazing kid...

 “Ah, cool. I guess. Now, c’mon! Bed! Ain’t gonna be the reason ya can’t focus in class tomorrow, ya nerd!”

 With that, Mondo turns to grab his duster off the bench he’d tossed it on earlier, shrugging it on carefully, before finally exiting the bathhouse, Taka on his heels. 

 Shit...

[kicksaddictny]

Kicksaddict Sneakerhead PROFILES Interview Series: @CakedaGawd

After a long Hiatus, we’ve returned! Our popular Profile series has been requested almost on a daily basis (Thanks for the tweets, dms and emails). We were even threatened! (Thanks by the way).

Cake The Gawd! This one was so much fun. Tap in.

Where are you from? Brooklyn, NY born in Crown Heights raised in East Flatbush.

How long have you been collecting sneakers? I was introduced to sneakers in 1991 but I started collecting for myself in 98.

What’s your favorite sneaker and why? Air Jordan 6 Infrared. It's the shoe Michael was wearing when he won his first championship, and to me just it’s just the most beautiful Jordan shoe to date! The silhouette is unmatched, it is timeless, and no matter how many times it is retroed I will buy it!

Besides your hometown, what is the best city for sneakerheads that you know of? Why? I would say LA 100% !! It is a vibe out there. I am part of a sneaker group and 75% of the people in there are from LA. They really about the culture they know their shit and they are fresh as fuck too.

Do you collect just for collecting or do you collect and rock? I collect and rock. That is why I double up on certain shoes.. Some kicks you gotta have for store and show but some you just have to rock them!

What sneaker got you into the sneaker game? I cannot pinpoint one thing, it is so many things. It was Music, my parents introducing me to Nike, my older cousin, basketball, the dope boys around the way, and my 3rd grade crush and her cousin who both had Aqua 8's. (LOL) I cannot just say 1 thing because they all had a significant part in it.

What are your thoughts on these fake celebrity sneakerheads? I hate them all! All of these dudes just get perks, some of them do not even know the shoes. That shit really gets under my skin. Showing off shoes that they get and not even knowing the name or numbers of the shoes, creating their own names. Shit is sickening. S/O to the Sneaker Gawd Wale !

How do you feel about the Off white collabs? I liked the first round of the collabs. With the Presto's, Air maxes, Blazers, and Jordan 1's. I think after that it should've been left alone. But I can respect what they are doing over there. I just won my first pair of Off-White's with the Lot 50 joint.

If you could wear only one sneaker for the rest of your life, what would it be? Air Jordan 3 Black Cement. Yes 6's are my favorite of all time but the Black Cement 3's just go with EVERYTHING!

What advice would you give as far as storing and preservation of your sneakers? Wear your kicks man. I store and rock! I get it, wanting to save shoes but putting them away and never rocking them, when you finally do ya it’s separating and crumbling. In order for your kicks to last they gotta be worn anyway. Unless you're truly just on some collecting only for show vibes.

What is the most you’ve ever spent on a pair of sneakers? $900... I was able to land Black and Red and Royal 1's from 2001 together. A friend of mine had them and said he couldn't think of anyone else. I had literally just started my new job. A chunk of my first check went to that pick up.

Have you ever waited in line for a pair of kicks? I waited in line once in my life for shoes and swore I would never do it again. It was for the 2001 True Blue 3's. I waited online at like 7 in the morning at Kings Plaza. LMAO I said this will never happen again. I didn't have the patience for it. I do not know how ppl used to do that shit or camp for kicks. I was there for 1 hour and I was like this is ridiculous.

You're also a photographer, how long have you been taking photos? I have been taking photos since 2011 but officially became a photographer in 2013.

How do sneakers play a role in your photography? That is a great question because I didn't want the 2 to mix at all. Because I'm a scenery and landscape photographer. But I got into photography because of sneakers. No offense to anyone but a bunch of these  "influencers" get on IG with their DSLR cameras, take some on foot shots and call themselves "Photographers". 90% of them do not even understand lighting. I didn't wanna be one of those guys because I actually live this and study it. But recently I just started letting it be that and owning it. I am nice with this photography shit when it comes to sneakers. I have a deep connection with shoes and I love incorporating that into my art. I thank my wife for that. I told her I don't wanna be just another sneaker photographer and she said to me who said you have to be ?! I took that and ran with it. Off-White just recently featured some of my pictures on their Instagram.

I remember you saying you're a sneaker enthusiast, what is the difference between that and a sneakerhead? An enthusiast really studies sneakers. Sneakerheads just love sneakers like it ain't really about the history and all that for them. They just love shoes because it is cool and makes them feel good. Us Enthusiasts are invested. Things matter like knowing years of a shoe. For example, an enthusiast would look at a pair of Jordan's like Taxi 12's, We know Michael wore those in the 1996 - 97 season, but we also know that Martin gave away a pair on his show for the Christmas episode to the kid who had holes in shoes. They are tied to iconic moments. A sneakerhead may love Bordeaux 7's because they are dope looking shoes. Where for me it's that Michael Jordan wore those in a video with Michael Jackson and Kris Kross in the 92 Jam video. MJ and MJ in a video with Kris Kross, do you know what that did to my childhood?! Give you one more example that is not even Michael Jordan related. Piggy backing off of Kris Kross,The Patrick Ewing’s were one of my favorite kicks growing up besides seeing Pat play in them one of my favorite Hip Hop covers of all time is "Totally Krossed Out" and Kris Kross is wearing both colorways. So you see what I mean there is so much tied to it with being an enthusiast. This is just my opinion though some may not agree so don't shoot me! (Ha)

From the time you started collecting up until now, would you say that the sneaker game changed for the best or the worst? I have been collecting for 20 plus years now. I have seen the game at it's best, I have seen it die, I have seen it revive, and now I am witnessing the death of it again. The sneaker game is disgusting right now, and I honestly do not think it will ever recover. It really saddens me. It is a popularity and money contest right now.

Does pricing affect your collection? Hell No! And I hate that some people are trying to make this the norm. IDGAF if you paid $500 - $2000 for a pair, It doesn't mean shit.  The narrative is getting outta hand.

What does the word “Hypebeast” mean to you? Hypebeast is a person that only buys shit for status and popularity. They cannot form their own opinion about shit. They have to wear and cop items based on what every celeb is wearing or whatever these Social Media "Influencers" are saying is hot! It is not only sneaker related either. N*ggaz were hypebeasting for PS5 last year..

What are your thoughts on the females in the sneaker game? They are the best! I wish we had a Sneaker union and it was only run by females! The men in this game are annoying and so over the top. It is so bad that they feel the need to compete with women. The men get shoes just to show off to one another. Like what type of shit is that? The females are cool. I had a dude on twitter tell me women don't know the value of a shoe let alone about the shoe. The men feel like they always gotta try to shit on the women. The women are just trying to be part of the culture and enjoy it. And they shouldn't have to try to be part of something that is open to anyone who is willing to be invested and understand the culture.

Any advice for a young kid coming up in the sneaker game? Wear what you like! Respect the game and the people who have been doing it before you. Because this new generation of sneakerheads are little entitled dicks. No respect whatsoever!! I don't care about Travis Scott shoes. Without Jordan being who he is Travis wouldn't have a Jordan silhouette to collaborate with! Same with Off-White. These silhouettes were here before these guys. Say know your history and pay homage!! BUT STAY humble.

See I follow you and I'm loving the way you include your daughter in your work, what does that mean to you? Man, it is beautiful!!!! Without even trying she is invested in the culture. Both photography and shoes. Myself and my wife are both heavy into photography, art, music, sneakers, and clothes. My daughter is into all the same things but we are letting it be her own experience. We are not forcing anything on her. We want her to enjoy being a child and whatever things she picks up from us along the way is just a bonus. But I love shooting her, and I love when she asks myself and her mother "do we like her fit". It is truly a blessing man!

All photos by CAKEDAGAWD

Follow : https://twitter.com/CakedaGawd 

https://www.instagram.com/whatsinthesyrup/

[wiypt-writes]

Too Loose And You’ll Lose It

Ch4: You Don’t Know What You’ve Got Till It’s Gone Part 1 Co-written with @icanfeelastormbrewing​

Summary: Jake and Stella are both home for Christmas, and the annual New Year’s Party at the Jensen’s sees some unexpected guests in attendance…

Warnings: Bad Language words.

Pairing: Jake Jensen x OFC Stella Stevenson.

A/N:  Another long updated, so split into 2 parts for you to read at your leisure!! Part 2 to follow shortly.  

TLAYLI Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 3 Part 2

“Knowing what you don't want can often be more valuable than knowing what you do want.” Melchor Lim

"So when do I get to meet Evan then?" Rey asked as she handed Stella the plate she had just rinsed.

It was the day before New Year’s Eve and both sisters were in the kitchen finishing doing the lunch dishes while their mother watched TV in the living room. Stella loved Christmas, she always had, and this was the first one she was getting to spend at home for 3 years. But, the trade-off for being able to do so was having to put up with Rey constantly nagging about her home-based shopping business not doing quite as well in the last weeks as she expected and her constant struggle to get pregnant. And, honestly, Stella was a little bit tired of having to sooth her sister's same worries every time they got together. But now a new topic had been thrown into the equation- Evan. And Stel found herself wishing that they were still talking about ovulation cycles and how many times on average in a week a couple wanting to conceive should be ‘doing it’.

"Jesus, will you give it a break? That’s all I heard when I was home for Thanksgiving…and over Christmas dinner and every day since then!” Stella finally snapped “God, you and mom have talked about nothing else, even Jane was poking for more information when we were at the spa because you can’t keep your mouth shut."

True to her word Rey had spent Rick's money on a girls-only spa day which in all fairness Stella had gladly welcomed. She had relished all the treatments, each one with a more flamboyant name than the other, and as their day culminated they all were relaxing in the hot tub, enjoying the Mean Steam treatment while sipping Mimosas out of rather expensive looking glassware, Jane had started prying because Rey had told her about Evan. Luckily Janet, Jake's mum, had spotted Stella’s discomfort and had come to her rescue by scolding Jane for being a nosey bitch. 

"It’s Christmas. He’s spending it with his family in Boston." Stella shook her head at her sister.

"Boston’s only an hour or so drive Stel…"

"So what? We don’t get to see our families that often Rey." Stella replied, snatching a big round plate from Rey's hands.

"Whoaa, easy Stelly. Anyone would think you were trying to keep him away from us!"

"That’s exactly what I’m doing, yes." she rolled her eyes at her sister, who could clearly read the annoyance in her features and voice as when she spoke again her voice was a little whiney.

"Stel, don’t be like that."

Stella sighed. "Why are you so desperate to meet him anyway?"

"Hey, it’s not every day your baby sister gets herself a new man. At least not when she’s been dating her childhood love for what? Twenty years now? Come on, let me bask in the novelty, Stel."

"Fuck off Rey, I haven’t been dating Jensen for years and we were together nowhere near 20." Stella protested again, this time her voice a little louder.

"Felt like it to me." Rey shrugged.

Stella grit her teeth. Though her sister was exaggerating it was true she’d been with Jake for a long time all things considered, and doing the whole dating thing during the last 8 weeks had felt new and exciting in a sense. She was enjoying every part of getting to know a person while dating them, something she hadn't been able to experience with Jake as they already knew each other inside out when they had finally gotten together. And whilst that had been nice, and she wouldn’t change it for the world, with Evan everything was new and she had learnt what the cliche I want to know you better really meant during the dates which had following the first.

At the weekend following their trip to DC, Evan had taken her for another meal out, this one at a local Mexican place not far from HQ. Then the following weekend they’d visited a posh cocktail bar Stella had been eyeing up for a while which just wasn’t the Losers’ scene. There had been a trip to the cinema, an evening at the bowling alley, beers one Sunday afternoon whilst watching the Patriots’ game in a sports bar, a walk round one of the local parks with a burgers, grabbing a shake and ice cream on the way home….it was easy going, nice, no pressure… and then it had morphed naturally into something a little more serious.

The Friday before Thanksgiving Evan had invited her to his and he’d cooked, which in itself was a novelty as Jake could burn a pan of water. He’d whipped up a spectacular seafood linguini, followed with a simple baked vanilla cheesecake, and after 2 bottles of crisp white wine, one thing had led to another and they’d ended up making out on the couch before Evan had taken her into his room.

"Is he good?" Rey asked out of the blue as if sensing where Stella’s inner thoughts had led her.

"Oh fuck off Rey, do I ask you how Rick is in bed?"

"Better than Jake?" Rey insisted, ignoring her sister rhetorical question.

"You had to ask." Stella groaned.

Rey looked at her and Stella sighed, knowing she wasn’t getting off the hook. "Look, he’s good, ok, really good…but as for being better than Jake he’s…he’s just different."

As a matter of fact that first time they’d slept together on that Friday, despite Stella’s nerves, it had been fucking Earth shattering, and every time since hadn’t disappointed. Evan was a generous lover, giving before he took, making sure she was satisfied in every which way she could be. But Stella still found herself getting a little nervous beforehand. Evan was the one who instigated the sex, and whilst Stella was a more than willing participant, she was craving the day she finally felt happy enough to take charge a little.

"And that’s a problem?" Rey asked and Stella looked at her.

"What?" she frowned.

"Him being different to Jake?"

"No, I didn’t say that. It’s just…well, me and Jake know each other inside out, it’s bound to feel a little different, isn’t it?" 

Rey's eyes suddenly opened wide with realisation. "Oh my god…"

"What?" Stella asked, a little bit exasperated.

"You’ve never been with anyone else bar Jake, have you?"

Stella groaned but that was all the confirmation Rey needed to know she was right. Her sister had hit the spot but she was fucked if she was getting into that. "Look, enough about me. Any progress on baby Fitzpatrick?"

Rey sighed, not fazed in the slightest but Stella’s forced change of topic had redirected the conversation to one of her major concerns and Stella knew she wouldn’t be able to resist talking about it. "No, not yet. I don’t know what we’re doing wrong? We stick to the schedule, I’ve got an ovulation tracker…"

"God Rey, you talk like you’re baking a cake or putting an Ikea cupboard together, that’s what’s wrong." Stella scoffed.

"Science doesn’t lie Stelly." Rey said, as if lecturing an ignorant little girl.

"Science says it’s a matter of PH." she shrugged, a small grin playing in the corner of her mouth.

Rey rolled her eyes. "You know Jake made up that shit, right? I googled it."

"No… really?"

"Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, Stella." Rey squinted her eyes at Stella who grinned in response. "And speaking of low forms of wit, did you know Jensen’s new bimbo is coming to the New Year's party tomorrow?"

"Oh, is she?" Stella asked, trying to hide her surprise as much as possible, knowing that she was failing miserably. The news had shocked her a little, not that it was her business, but still.

"Careful Stel, is that a trace of disappointment I sense in your voice?" 

"No, I just hadn’t realised how serious they were. Mind you, I haven’t seen him for a few weeks. Work has been busy and we don’t hang out much now." she tried to explain herself without sounding scorned or bitter.

"You sure?" Rey asked, examining her sister's expression as she finished loading the dishwasher.

"Yeah, it’s just…well, you’ll know when you meet her."

And boy, would they all know. Because, Britney was, how to put it? Something else.

Stella sat at the table opposite Pooch and Cougar in the bar, sipping at her beer. It was the day before they were all due to head home for Thanksgiving so they had decided to head out for a few drinks, a way to celebrate with one another.

"So where’s Evan?" Pooch asked before taking a sip from his beer bottle.

"Oh, out of town on some intel gathering trip with the Canadian Ministry of Defence or something…he couldn’t say much. I won’t see him now until I’m back from New Hampshire." Stella offered.

"It still going well or..." Pooch pried a little bit more and Stella flushed a little. 

"Yeah, he’s nice…"

Cougar grinned and tipped his hat at her and she snorted, setting her bottle down. "He must be, we ain't seen you out of work for the last few weeks, he must be keeping you busy."

Stella laughed and shrugged as Cougar chuckled and then Pooch let out a groan. Stella frowned, and then turned in the direction he was looking at only to see Jensen working his way over with the brunette she’d seen him with a while back hanging on his arm.

"It's Britney, bitch." Cougar chimed in. 

"Wait, her name is Britney?" Pooch asked him and Cougar nodded. "How do you know?"

"Bumped into them at the condo one night." Cougar explained and Pooch's mouth fell open.

Stella frowned and turned around again, locking eyes with Jensen and saw him swallow, like he always did when nervous or apprehensive. But as she watched, he took a deep breath and continued his path over to their table.

"No Evan?" he asked once he reached them, looking at Stella, not even bothering in greeting the rest first.

"No. He’s away." Stella answered, looking back at him but gripping her beer bottle for dear life.

"Who’s Evan, another Loser?" the brunette asked then. Her high-pitched voice making Pooch and Cougar scrunch their noses as they shared a glance.

Stella glared at Jake as a grin spread across his face, daring him to say something and Jake's grin slipped under her glare as he turned to Britney.

"No, Evan is Stella’s…actually..." he looked at Stella, "What is he? Boyfriend? Fuck buddy? Late night booty call?"

"All of the above." Stella answered ignoring Jake's jab and necking her beer as both Cougar and Pooch sniggered and she fought to keep the smile from spreading on her lips at the look on Jensen’s face which was somewhere between disgust and disappointment. Instead she stood up and leaned towards Britney. "I’ll introduce myself seeing as he isn’t going to. I’m Stella."

"Hi, I’m Britney." she said and then to Stella’s horror she pulled her into a hug, kissing her cheek. Stella remained stiff, merely concentrating on trying not to choke on the heady combination of Britney’s floral perfume and hairspray from the huge bouffant ponytail she was sporting. 

"So does your boyfriend work with these guys or…?" Britney's voice pierced the air again.

"No, I work with them." Stella explained as she took her seat back.

"What? You’re in the army too? Wow, Girl Power!" Britney exclaimed before giggling.

"Yeah…" Stella said as she turned back to Pooch and Cougar, mouthing WHAT THE FUCK?

"Does anyone want a drink or…?" Jake asked, trying to divert the weird situation Britney had just created.

Stella turned back to him and stood up again. "It’s ok JJ, I’ll get them, it’s my round."

"I’ll give you a hand." Jake offered himself, motioning to follow her.

Stella smiled as she put a hand on Jake's chest to stop him. "No, Cougs can. You stay here with your girlfriend." she ordered more than suggested, making sure her eyes locked with his when she uttered the word.

At her use of the term, Britney giggled and grabbed Jensen’s arm. Jake looked at her, and Stella could see the irritation flash across his face and she smirked before she asked what Britney wanted to drink. The girl requested a Malibu and coke, the worst combination Stella could think of if you asked her but then again Britney's choice of outfit and her likeness for glittery accessories spoke of her taste for itself, and then Stella looked at Jake.

"Usual?"

"Yeah, thanks Stel." he said, a little quieter this time.

Cougar dropped an arm round Stella’s shoulder and as they made their way to the bar, Stella could feel Jake’s eyes burning into her back. Point, set, match to Arty…

"From what I heard it was a total accident she got invited. She was on the phone to him on Christmas Eve when Jane was talking to Janet in the background. Apparently she caught the words New Year’s Eve and Party. Jensen, thinking she wouldn’t be able to get a flight at such late notice, told her she was welcome to come." Rey explained with a grin. "Anyway, next thing she’s messaging him, saying she’d managed to get a cancellation seat so she’s flying in on the morning of the party. Apparently he wasn’t best pleased." Rey snorted. "Jane doesn’t think he’s all that into her, but…"

Stella only shrugged. "Who knows what goes on in his head, I don’t anymore that’s for sure." she commented before her sister could ask more, but she couldn’t prevent herself from letting out a deep sigh. Whilst she had nothing against Britney, and despite the fact she was now with Evan, the idea of being at a party with Jake and his new girlfriend wasn’t filling her full of joy.

The rest of the day was spent in relative calm. Richard came back from wherever he’d been following lunch, Stella hadn’t been paying attention when Rey told her, and the 4 of them settled down for a rather furious game of monopoly which Richard won, Stella passing comment on how it would have been ridiculous if he hadn’t, given he was a finance manager.

It was just after dinner when Stella’s phone went off. It was a message from Evan telling her to get to her laptop so he could video call over the CIA network. So she quickly set it up in the kitchen and soon after it pinged and she accepted the call, smiling as his handsome face filled the screen. “Hey Pumpkin.” He smiled and Stella laughed at his ridiculous nickname for her, chosen due to the way they’d met.

“Hey!” she beamed back “How’s your day been?”

“Not bad.” He shrugged “Usual family bullshit at play. You?”

“Same.” She said, sitting back in her chair “I’ve eaten way too much.”

He chuckled “That’s what Christmas is for darlin’. Way too much home cooking, enough alcohol to fill a pool, and a side of chocolate, pie and cake for good measure.”

“Imma turn into a Christmas cake if I eat any more of it Ev.” Stella smiled, reaching for her wine. She took a sip and then looked at the glass “And probably a bottle of pinot too.”

“Well I don’t have a problem with that.” He smiled, waving his own bottle of beer at her “Food and drink, win win.”

Stella laughed and then the door to the kitchen opened and Rey walked in. She made her way towards the fridge and then paused, turning to Stella. 

“Oh my God is that him?” she practically screeched and moved, draping herself over Stella’s shoulders to get a look at the screen.

“Rey, piss off.” Stella grumbled, trying to push her away. Rey took the hint and stepped back a bit as Evan looked at her, smiling, before he glanced back at Stel.

“Who’s that?” he asked.

“Oh, hi, I’m Rey.” Rey spoke from behind Stella who rolled her eyes “Stella’s favourite sister.”

“You’re my only sister.” Stella shot back as Evan chuckled.

“Nice to meet you Rey, or see you in this case.” He smiled that damned smile that could melt a fucking polar ice cap and Stella heard Rey’s little gasp. She sighed and turned to her sister.

“Ok, seriously, get what you came for and piss off.”

Rey held her hands up and went to the fridge, pulling out 2 bottles of beer and a can of coke. She headed to the door and stopped, looking at Stella, her mouth open.“O.M.G He is a snack!” she mouthed and Stella rolled her eyes again before Rey left the room, closing the door behind her.

“Sorry about that.” Stella turned back to the screen and Evan laughed.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s a mad house here too.” He leaned back in his chair. “She seems nice.”

“She has her moments.” Stella smiled, “Anyway, enough about her, tell me what you’ve been up to. We haven’t spoken in a few days.”

“Yeah, sorry I was gonna call last night but it’s been manic. My sister and her 3 kids have been over and Uncle Evan was the star attraction. And by attraction I mean climbing frame.”

“Lucky kids…” Stella quipped, arching her eyebrow “I’d climb you too if I was there.”

Evan grinned at her comment and Stella found herself slightly surprised. The ten days or so they’d been apart had made her needy and she'd be damned if someone else could pull off a simple white t-shirt like he could, and that fucking chain he wore which was hanging out of the collar was doing things to her.

“Well a few more days and I’m all yours to climb Pumpkin” Evan smiled “So, any plans for New Year’s Eve tomorrow?”

“We’re going to a party at the Jensens’. They’ve thrown one for as long as I can remember so it’ll be nice to see them again, catch up. What about you?”

“Oh I don’t know yet.” Evan ran a hand over his beard, tugging gently on the whiskers which adorned his chin “I may stay here with the family or go out with some friends. I’ll make my mind up as I go.” He paused for a little before his hand dropped from his face “Will Jake be there?”

“It’s his parents throwing the party.” Stella arched an eyebrow “Of course he will.”

“Right…” Evan mused and Stella narrowed her eyes.

“Are you jealous, Evan?”

“No, I just…” he groaned “Ok, yeah, yeah I am. The thought of you bringing in the New Year with your ex and not me kinda sucks Stella.”

“I know.” She sighed “But I wouldn’t worry too much. Apparently his new girlfriend is coming.” She took a deep breath before she smiled a little sadly “I really wish you were here Ev.”

And she did, not least because she actually did miss him, but the thought of Jensen eating face with the bimbo whilst she was simply there alone wasn’t something she was relishing.

“I promise I’ll make up for it when we get back to base.” Evan said gently. 

“You better.”

He chuckled “Being apart from me really suits you sweetheart.”

“What can I say, you spoil me.” She shrugged.

“And you haven’t even had your Christmas present yet.” He grinned.

“I can’t wait to unwrap it.” Stella smirked “And the present.”

“Fuck, Stella…you’re killing me!” he whined. She laughed and at that point a voice sounded in the background and Evan hastily looked over his shoulder before he called that he’d be there in a second. “That’s my ma…I gotta go.”

“Yeah, It’s probably time I bust Rey for eavesdropping behind the kitchen door.” Stella rolled her eyes and Evan laughed.

“Ok, I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, talk then. Night handsome.”

“Night gorgeous.”

With that Stella cut the call and shut the laptop. She stood up, crept across the room and yanked open the kitchen door. Rey immediately straightened up and jumped back. “I was erm…gonna…” she points to the kitchen.

“Spy on us?” Stella folded her arms.

“I wasn’t…I just….ok, I was spying.” Rey shrugged “Because, fuck Stel, where did you get a man like that?”

“The CIA.” Stella said simply pushing past her and heading into the living room where Jules and Richard were watching TV, Stella following her chunnering about Evan.

“Leave your sister alone, Aubrey.” Julie looked up.

“I’m heading up to bed ma.” Stella smiled, “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Julie nodded but Aubrey wasn’t listening, she was still talking about Evan.

“God mom, you should have seen him. And that smile…”

“Erm…” Richard waved “I’m right here.”

“Yeah, isn’t it about time you and your husband went back to your own house?” Stella asked. 

“Yeah, yeah…” Rey waved her hand, “We were going anyway.”

“Good riddance.” Stella mumbled.

Rey spun and pointed at her “I heard that. Don’t forget we have a date to go shopping tomorrow.”

“Can’t wait.” Stella said sarcastically and with that she bid them goodnight and headed to her room.

**** “You heading out?” Jane looked at Jensen as he groaned, shoving his phone back into his pocket.

“Yeah I gotta go get Britney.”

“Thought you said she wasn’t arriving until tomorrow?” Jane frowned

“So did I, turns out she messed up with the date on the flights..”

“What?” Jane looked at him.

“Don’t ask me, she’s a dumbass.” Jensen rolled his eyes.

“Woooow…” Jane looked at him as he grabbed his dad’s car keys from the side in the hall “That is love, right there.”

“Fuck off Jane.” Jensen raised his middle finger over his shoulder as he grabbed his jacket of the peg. He then paused and turned to his sister, shaking his head. “Seriously, though…when she told me what she’d done, do you know what she said? The mouse was sticky, Jensen and I booked a day early by mistake” he shook his head.

“Hang on.” Jane held her hand up “If she really had messed up with the dates then she would have been on a morning flight still, just on a different day.” Jake looked at his sister, frowning a little and Jane snorted “If you ask me, I don’t think she’s as dumb as you’re making her out to be.”

“Well I wasn’t asking you.” Jake shot back as he shrugged his jacket on and headed out of the door.

At that point Gracie wandered in from the kitchen, dressed in her pyjamas, followed by John.

“Who's dumb mommy?” she asked with a yawn as Jane held her coat out to pop on ready for the drive home.

“Your Uncle Jake, sweetie.” Jane said.

John chuckled “He told you about Britney arriving earlier than anticipated then?”

Jane snorted “Yeah, and considering she’s supposed to be his girlfriend..." she framed the words with quotation marks on one hand “He doesn’t seem too pleased about it.”

“Yeah well, I think we all know the reason for that.” Janet joined them in the hallway, not even bothering to hide her disdain for the entire situation and John snorted. He leaned over and gave Gracie a kiss “Night Squirt.”

“Night grandpa.” She smiled before she took a kiss off Janet too. “Night Nanny” and then she looked at Jane “When’s daddy back from the station?”

“When his shift finishes baby, now come on, let’s get you home.” Jane smiled before she looked at her parents “See you tomorrow.”

Jane and Gracie exited the house, making their way to her car. Jane strapped Gracie into the seat and then moved to climb into the driver’s side and paused, spotting her dad’s car was still there behind hers. Jake was sat in the drivers’ seat, pinching the bridge of his nose. He looked pissed, really pissed, but before she had the chance to go and speak to him, he’d set off.

“Fucking idiot.” Jane grumbled to herself, and with a shake of her head she climbed in her own car and headed home. 

**** The following morning Stella woke up in a better mood, talking with Evan the previous night had calmed her restlessness and though she missed him she was determined to make the most of the New Year's party that very same night. It was just a few days more and they could be together and she could effectively unwrap her gift. 

She was getting ready to go shopping, Rey probably on her way to pick her up, when the doorbell rang and she cursed her sister for being earlier than expected for once in her life as she barrelled down the stairs.

"Honey, can you get that? I’m busy." her mother shouted from the kitchen.

"Sure mom." she replied just as she realised Rey wouldn't be using the front door and definitely wouldn't use the doorbell. With a frown she opened it and blinked in disbelief, her mouth falling open. Evan was stood there, wearing a warm, woollen coat, scarf and a huge, million dollar smile. The bastard!

 “Surprise Pumpkin…” he chanted, opening his arms for her.

Stella gasped and gave him a quick hug. “Oh my God…Ev, what are you doing here?”

"Well I got nothing on, you were only an hour away and after you saying you wished I was here…" he shrugged, “figured I could drive up to see my best girl."

Stella blinked again, before she smiled shyly. "You drove just to see me? That’s…wait… how did you know where I live?"

Evan laughed heartily. "I work in intelligence gathering for the CIA, wasn’t that hard."

"Ok, that’s kinda creepy, stalker behaviour." she mused.

He laughed again and winked an eye at her. "Perks of the job, sweetheart."

That damned side smile of his made Stella pause for a second before she giggled and jumped at him. He caught her and laughed as her legs wrapped around his waist. “I’m so glad you’re here, Ev..."

He smiled at her fondly before he kissed her tenderly, his cold nose bumping against hers. “Me too, but are you gonna let me in coz it's freezing out here…”

“Yes, let the man in Stella.” Mrs Stevenson spoke from behind her daughter, making Stella drop to her feet and turn to face her. Her mother smiled at her and then to Evan. “Hi Evan, nice to meet you finally.”

"It’s a pleasure Mrs Stevenson." he greeted the woman back, flashing his smile.

Stella looked at her mom as she pulled away to let Evan in the house, if she was surprised by her daughter's boyfriend showing up at her door she was hiding it very well, and then it dawned on her. "Oh my God, you knew he was coming, didn’t you?"

Evan shut the door behind him and looked at her mom, then to Stella and chuckled. "Clever girl."

"He may or may not have called me earlier this morning to check if you were doing anything and I may or may not have suggested he spends New Year with us." Mrs Stevenson conceded.

Stel gasped and looked back at Evan with hopeful eyes. "Are you?"

"Well, I was gonna see if you wanted to come back to Boston with me but your mom said you wouldn’t want to miss the party as you’ve not made one for 3 years so, choice is yours." he shrugged, flashing a dazzling half smile.

Stella bit her lip, Boston sounded good, the fact that he had come all the way to see her and was willing to take her back to his family's place sounded even better, but she was really looking forward to that night's party. She missed Mr and Mrs Jensen, and also Jane and, though the prospect of Britney being there wasn't very appealing, she thought that maybe with Evan there she could have a really nice time. Thus, after pondering the pros and cons she looked at him. "I’d like to go to the party if you wanna?"

 "Then party it is." Evan grinned.

"So this means I get to receive the New Year with you!" she grinned back at him.

"Yeah, guess it does." he said with a smile, one that was also loaded with the promise of a very good start to the year, if you knew how to read it that is.

And then the voice of Julie pulled them away from gazing into each other's eyes "I was gonna get the spare room ready but figured you two would want to share so I’ve left fresh towels on your bed Stella." 

"Mommmm." Stella protested, mortified.

"I’m happy to sleep wherever I’m told." Evan, ever the charmer, intervened.

But whatever Stella's mom was going to reply it was cut off as the kitchen door opened signalling Rey’s entrance.

"Stel, you ready? I thought we could head down to…" Rey began to say before she stopped dead as she entered the hallway and spotted a masculine presence, her mouth dropping open. "Fuck me!"

"Aubrey!!" her mum chastised her.

Rey blinked and looked at her mum and then at Stel. "He’s here?!"

Evan chuckled at Rey's reaction to him being there. "I am. Nice to meet you Rey."

"Erm, hi…" she managed to say before looking at Stella, smirking a little. "I take it you want a rain check on our shopping trip?"

Evan frowned at Rey's comment and gave her an apologetic look. "Oh, sorry, did I step all over your plans?"

"No, it’s fine. You can come, we were only going into town to pass the time, grab some lunch." Stella assured him. But Rey wasn't that willing to keep their plans as it were.

"No way am I playing 3rd wheel…you two go, I can do…stuff."

"You sure?" Evan asked Rey. "Coz I can just..." he said as he nodded towards what he supposed to be the door that led into some sort of den, but she didn't let him finish.

"No, don’t worry. It’s ok. You two will want to spend some time together, you didn’t come here to sit in our living room." 

"Whose living room?" Mrs Stevenson asked, amused.

 Aubrey ignored her mum and mused. "Would be a nice addition to it though…"

"Ok so I’m gonna bring my bag in from the car, be right back Pumpkin." Evan said, blushing a little at Rey’s complement before giving Stella a quick kiss on her cheek and heading out the door.

The three women watched him go appreciatively, until Rey shook her head and asked "Wait is he staying? And Pumpkin? What?"

Julie grinned as Stella groaned. She knew that one wasn’t going away any time soon.

****

Chapter 4 Part 2

[anotherhamiltonblog]

Foreign Touch ch 4

Chapter Summary: Adeline and Thomas finally meet and go out! What do you think is gonna happen? Will things go smoothly or will things end in disaster?

Warnings: Once again, I didn’t proofread. Sorry <3 cursing? FLUFF annnnd Alexander being an asshat.

Word Count: 1,850 (Give or take)

Previously 

(new cover! made by ME. I like it!)

Enjoy!

Y/N really didn’t have much time to process what was going on when she was being woken up on Sunday. After spending all of Saturday with a group of kids to help them study at the public library. Only to come home and help Alex with his speech and work on the posters. Y/N was tired, her Saturday turned out to be busy, it didn’t help that she stayed up texting Thomas. In fact, that’s how she fell asleep. Phone on the pillow besides her head.

“Y/N!” a voice yelled out and Y/N groaned in response.

Opening an eye, she saw the time before narrowing her eyes. Who the hell was bothering her at 8 o’clock in the morning on Sunday?

“Y/N! Why the HELL are you texting Jefferson!” the voice yelled out again and this time Y/N sat up.

Seeing Alexander standing beside her bed, with her phone in his hand. Y/N’s mouth opened and closed a few times. “I mean, I’m helping him with something.” She said slowly and shrugged.

“What? Why the fuck would you do that? He’s an asshole, remember? We all agreed on that!” Alex ranted off while Y/N got up and slipped on her house slippers.

As she walked out of her room, Alex right behind her. Y/N rolled her eyes.

“No, Alex… YOU said he’s an asshole because he beat you in the debate from History class in sophomore year!” she narrowed her eyes at her brother. Knowing full well their parents and friends were around and listening to them. “He never did shit to me. I ignored him so I wouldn’t put up with your bullshit complaining.”

“Now wait a minute….”

But Y/N never let him finish. “If the shoe fits wear it, Alex. You are the biggest drama queen I know. And I’m around cheerleaders all the time!”

Thanking her mom for the vitamin shake, she kissed her parents cheeks before turning around and heading back to her bedroom. Ignoring the boys as they tried to hide their laughter.

Y/N: ‘Wanna meet up to go over the plans?’ T. Jeff: ‘Thought you were gonna relax today? We can plan another day.’

Y/N found herself smiling at the text and stopped looking for an outfit to wear for the day to reply.

Y/N: ‘Well, Alex found out we’re talking. Got pissy… I need a distraction.’ T. Jeff: ‘Alright… stop by my house and we can plan. Thanks for this again.’

After they finished texting, Y/N pulled on some black skinny jeans and her black booties. A red tank top and black jacket over it. Deciding to add a colorful scarf along. With minimal makeup, just mascara, some concealer and lipstick (after brushing her teeth), Y/N made sure to spray some perfume.

As soon as Y/N was ready, she grabbed her purse and made sure to chuck her phone into the small bag before putting the strap around her shoulder. Placing sunglasses over her eyes, Y/N left her room and ignored the boys who were all sitting around the living room.

After leaving the cup she had taken to her room in the sink in the kitchen, she passed by the boys again to walk towards the front door.

“Hey! Y/N, where you going?”

“Oui, mon ange… why not stay with us?”

Y/N smiled at Hercules and Lafayette; she could always trust those two to want to hang out with her. “Sorry boys, I have plans.” She smiled waving. “But, lets get coffee tomorrow before school?” she raised an eyebrow and grinned at them.

Walking out of the house, to her car. Y/N froze when Alex called out to her.

“Tell me you aren’t going to see Jeffershit?” he asked, and Y/N had to bit down on her lip to not go off on Alex.

“Actually, I am. I promised I’d help him plan something. That’s what I plan on doing.” She sent her brother a fake smile before getting into her car.

“Oh, COME ON! He’s….” but Alex stopped talking when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Y/N glanced over and saw John was speaking to Alex. By the look on the boys face, he was not happy. Which made Y/N grin and nod to John who glanced at her.

Backing the car out of the driveway, Y/N was soon driving to the Jefferson’s house. The GPS in her car turned on and guiding her. Not that it took long, ten minutes later she was pulling up to a gate and she had to stop herself from laughing.

Pressing on the intercom button. Y/N waited. “How may I help you?” she heard a voice and with a sigh, Y/N leaned her head out the window.

“I’m here to see Thomas Jeffershi…. Uh Jefferson. My name is Y/N Hamilton.” She shook her head and waited a few more seconds before the gates opened.

Driving forward, Y/N finally parked in front of the house and got out. Rolling her eyes when she saw Thomas leaning against the front door frame with a house robe, slippers and his hair a mess.

“Jesus… you could have told me you weren’t even ready for the day!” Y/N laughed when stepping out of the car. Glancing at her watch on her wrist, it was just past 9:30.

Watching Thomas shrug, he grinned. “It seemed like you needed to get out of the house. Come on, breakfast is getting cold.” He nodded only to stand up straight as Y/N walked up the steps and finally reaching the front door.

“Breakfast? Trying to get on my good side, Tommy?” she wiggled her eyebrows and laughed at the scowl on his face at the nickname she called him.

“That ain’t cute. Don’t call me that, sweetheart.” He stepped inside and waited till Y/N was in before closing the door.

After breakfast, the two making small talk about what they did on Saturday. Y/N finding out that Thomas was at football practice almost all day, while she was tutoring all day before helping her brother.

“Can he not do his own speech?” Thomas asked and raised an eyebrow.

“Uh, he does. But he has all of us over and hear it to make sure it sounds good… so it’s us sitting around, making his posters while he reads for six hours.” Y/N shrugged. The two laughed.

Once the food was devoured, Thomas showed Y/N around the house, only to stop at the backyard. “This is where I was thinking of having the party. Lots of space, my parents love barbeques, so we could do something simple, not too fancy.” He suggested, watching as Y/N had out a small notebook and pen. Writing down ideas, only to glance down and see she had done a simple sketch of his backyard.

The sketch was simple, it had the huge pool, the lots of space and the trees. “Right, so we could do something at night… we string up lights and balloons...” she spoke softly, walking around and looking at everything and down at her notepad. “Twenty-five years represents silver… so that would be lovely. It would be in December as well. So perfect for the wintertime.” She went on, not noticing the smile Thomas had on his face as he watched her.

After a few more minutes, she set down her things and turned to Thomas, grinning. “What?” she asked, laughing quietly under her breath.

“Nothing… it’s just. You are so adorable when you plan. It’s like you forget about everything. You get a cute smile on your face as well.” He shrugged, on to notice the light pink spreading on her cheeks. “Are…. Are you blushing?” he stepped forward and Y/N shook her head.

“Whaaaat… no.”

Gulping slightly, watching Thomas, Y/N snapped out of whatever trance he had her in and turned around. “Right, uh…” she blinked a few times, trying to think of what to even say.

“Come on, lets hang out a bit. Then I’ll treat you to dinner. You know, for being so kind to help me.”

With that, the two spent the next few hours laughing and watching tv. Talking about school, Thomas’ trip to Paris and spending a whole year there.

A little past 6:30 that evening, they agreed on a pizza place to have dinner at and left the house.

Never in a million years would Y/N have thought that she would spend a whole day with Thomas Jefferson and actually enjoy herself.

»»-————　♡　————-««

The next day when Y/N, Lafayette and Hercules were walking towards the football field, Y/N dressed in her cheer workout clothes. Which was just a pair of plain black leggings, a hot pink crop sports bra and her white tennis shoes. Her H/C hair was up in a ponytail. They were each complaining about the last class with Professor George Frederick. The big-headed idiot who thought too much of himself. That and his love for giving as much homework as he possibly can.

“It’s like he wants us to get held back!” Hercules was complaining and frowning as they sat down on the beachers and Y/N passing her bag and jacket over to them.

“It’ll be alright!” She laughed and winked at the two before jogging over to the girls. Only to turn quickly on her heal when someone called out her name.

Sadly, for Y/N, the grass of the field was slightly wet and as she turned, she slipped the slightest and was about to fall. Only the fall never came. Two hands grabbed onto her waist and her own hands grabbed onto a muscular set of arms.

With a gasp, eyes wide as she looked at the man in front of her. Her body feeling like she was shocked from the touch. Y/N watched as the skin where she had grabbed onto, had handprints that matched hers. The print slowly disappearing before her eyes and so her E/C eyes looked into the wide, brown eyed male who held onto her.

She focused on his eyes, which were darting back and fourth, shining in the sunlight. They were a deep, earthy brown- the intense gaze making it, so Y/N held her breath.

“Alexander is going to kill me…” Y/N said softly, a small smile coming onto her lips.

Thomas just grinned at the girl and he shrugged. “Not if he kills me first.” Was his response before he leaned down and captured her lips against his.

The dreams now made sense, why she kept dreaming of Thomas since he came back. The pull towards him whenever they were together. He was her soulmate, the one she was supposed to be with.

Cheering could be heard from the girls, the football team whistling and hooting. Y/N could even hear Lafayette and Hercules laughing and singing about how Alexander ‘ain’t gonna be happy now’ not that any of that mattered.

Wrapping her arms around Thomas shoulders, fingers making their way into his curly hair. Y/N pressed herself closer to his body as the kiss deepened.

Monday, who would have thought that Mondays would be Y/N’s new favorite day of the week?

                                                                                                   Next Chapter

Don’t forget to Like, Reblog and send Feedback! My asks are also opened and so is my IM! This was a rollercoaster to write.... I can’t wait to post the next chapter. 

Much love from me to you!!  ♥(ˆ⌣ˆԅ)

Tag List: @thebitchiestnerdtowalktheearth​ @exquisite-dreamers @ballerinafairyprincess​ @thefandomgirl03 @criminallyhamilton​ @1elysium​ @slytherinssssnake​ @youtxbemusic​ @i-honestly-dont-know-anymore​ @sabbrriiinnaa​ @yes-i-know-im-weird-blog​ @they-write-once-in-a-blue-moon​ @wtfevenismypage​ @namethatthasnotbeentaken @cubedtriangle​ @a-hopeless-fan​ @namelesslosers​

[manicdragondreamgirl]

I haven’t had chemistry since like 2008, and I’m also an idiot who likes to make my friends upset, so I rated the periodic table in order to tilt my friends:

Hydrogen - this is like your childhood friend who has always been with you more or less and always will be down to get a drink and chill even tho you haven’t spoken in years. Solid bro imo 7.5/10

Helium - always down for a good time, even if probably created Alvin and the Chipmunks which in some places is considered a war crime. 4/10

Lithium - Gives me bitchy vibes and is flammable as fuck if I remember. Skinny bitch with an attitude 3/10

Beryllium - idk this sounds like a sailor moon villain lol for that it can have a 6/10

Boron - more like BORONG amirite ha ha wait no seriously I have no idea lol 5/10 clean neutral rating

Carbon - *screaming* 2/10 I will not be taking questions

Nitrogen - cool cool cool tight tight tight 9/10 Nitrogen just is the cool hot chick you wish you were

Oxygen - kid who takes up all the glory for the group project even tho you did all the work, 4/10 for natural charisma

Fluorine - lol what are you knockoff chlorine lmfao bitch 3/10 reminds me of the dentist

Neon - I can vibe with this boy for his contributions to signs which cause my eyes to scream 8/10 modernized Art Deco thanks you

Sodium - 10/10 this is me and I won’t be taking questions next element

Magnesium - magnesium is a close relative of magnificent and therefore I think the case is closed folks 9/10

Aluminum - 10/10 for providing a home to my Diet Coke addiction I’d be dead without you

Silicon - 6.9/10 :smirk:

Phosphorous - This has a very soundly name and it’s welcome to do that but idk, not a fan, seems like he’d be smelly, 2/10

Sulfur - 1/10 pretty sure that dog farts are purely comprised of this and as such if I was leaving negative ratings I would

Chlorine - 7.8/10 for being in pools so we could swim without brain eating amoeba in the south you a champ

Argon - he seems like a nerd jk this guy has a good color 9/10 for just being himself

Potassium - I hate bananas and this word gives me the physical sensation of biting into one but only by thinking of abstract letters and making them into something which we can nutrientise from bananas and to me that shit is bananas, b a n a n a s — 3/10 for making me sing hollaback girl thru adhd word association

Calcium - hm my brain went to mega milk so you get a 2/10 today bud I don’t make the rules

Scandium - pretty sure this is fake lol what’s next faxdium, e-Mailite and copinium? 5/10

Titanium - this song’s a banger and also is the only thing that lets me wear earrings 10/10

Vanadium - if your erection lasts for longer than like idk it’s supposed to then don’t take vanadium wait what do you mean it’s not an ED treatment 4/10

Chromium - decent bloke shame the browser eats all your memory 5/10

Manganese - if a weeb tries to tell me how to pronounce mayonnaise one more time... 1/10

Iron - excellent tool against the fey, in your blood, what a bro, 10/10 this bitch slaps

Cobalt - has a powerful energy; I respect him. 8/10

Nickel - if I had a nickel for every time someone made this joke lol 5/10 he’s doing his best

Copper - taste bad 3/10

Zinc - isn’t that the dude in the green tunic and white tights who saves premcess Lelda or something lol 7/10 those games are good

Gallium - seems like a prick 4/10

Germanium - sounds like a child pronouncing geraniums which are superior 3/10

Arsenic - bad vibes coach 1/10

Selenium - isn’t this just sailor moon lol 10/10 love this bitch

Bromine - farmine wherever you aremine - 9/10 I love a good bro

Krypton - he’s okay I guess 5/10

Rubidium - yet another Steven universe villain who will be redeemed I imagine 4/10 seems a bit dull

Strontium - I feel nothing when I see this lad’s name and that seems like a shame 1/10 I don’t like it

Yttrium - this is an atrium in Yharnam, or something 8/10 would love to sit in one and make contact with higher beings

Zirconium - oh wait THIS is the sailor moon villain from the dead moon circus! 9/10 I enjoyed that arc

Niobium - seems sassy, I like that in an element 7/10

Molybdenum - I hate this one, rancid. 1/10 for making me have flashbacks to difficult Ancient Greek vocabulary there is no fucking way that sound combination is anything but Beta and Delta borking and then Latin being like oh imma steal that

Technetium - 6/10 decent name but seems a bit forced

Ruthenium - 5/10 kindly old lady element I guess lol

Rhodium - 10/10 this ain’t my first rhodium babee this lad has good vibes what a name what a king

Palladium - 10/10 for making me think of paladins

Silver - 12/10 I’m breaking the rules for this silver is the best it is so cool and also it is the other best tool for dealing with supernatural creatures when iron has failed you highly suggest Even if I am extremely allergic to it going into my ears...wait hold on

Cadmium - 2/10 sounds like a total douche

Indium - 8/10, i just think it’s independent and neat

Tin - 10/10 good ear sounds when involving rain and roof shapes and automatically reminds me of Nora Jones’s come away with me album which is also 10/10

Antimony - 7/10 decent protagonist good name all around seems rad

Tellurium - tell ur mom what? That’s so early 2010s league of legends humor bro 2.5/10

Iodine - strikes fear in my soul from having it poured on my wounds but this is why I have more pain tolerance than god 5.3/10

Xenon - I think this is a declension of Xena warrior princess which is a win in my eyes, 8/10

Caesium - kind of has a cunty Latin name, 4.5/10

Barium - yeah boss, bury’im! 7.5/10 I love a good mobster gag

Lanthanum - A bit pretentious on the Tolkien spectrum sorry bud 3/10 sounds like you’d be the dickwad elf everyone hates

Cerium - 6.5/10 I like this one, gives me a clean vibe

Praseodymium - the fuck who sneezed all their alphabet soup onto the paperwork and called it an element Christ we can’t keep doing this 1.5/10

Neodymium - oh my god what did I just say 1/10

Promethium - thank Christ we’re back to greek 9/10 Prometheus was a Chad I could get behind

Samarium - 5/10 gives me boring wizard vibes

Europium - 4.5/10 don’t rename opium chrissake can’t take these nerds anywhere

Gadolinium - 5/10 it’s a starship knockoff but it’s trying to be bold with the G sound

Terbium - 2/10 I don’t vibe with this one

Dysprosium - sounds like an antidepressant that has a lot of shitty side effects 3/10

Holmium - sounds like someone anxious asking their beloved to hold them 8/10 I like hurt/comfort fics

Erbium - you can’t just describe something as herby you daft bastard 2/10

Thulium - sounds like a spell I like it 8.5/10

Ytterbium - macguffin in a shite sci-fi show that gets highly overrated because BBC produced it and superwholock stans emerge and go utterly feral 1/10

Lutetium - bards are an element I agree 10/10

Hafnium - sounds like a river (my dog) sound and has a cute vibe, I’d offer it head pats 7/10

Tantalum - noooo you can’t be sad yuor so sexe haha 6.9/10 tantalizing

Tungsten - 10/10 this is a lad with history

Rhenium - 5.5/10 it’s ok

Osmium - 4/10 I wasn’t a big wizard of oz fan

Iridium - 9/10 sounds like iridescent and that’s in my top 10 favorite words and concepts

Platinum - 10/10 best Pokémon game

Gold - 7.9/10 all that glitters and all but it’s still pretty on some people, silver is better tho

Mercury - yikes 8/10 so it doesn’t kill me

Thallium - sounds like the brother character in a ps4 exclusive western rpg that oddly falls under the radar in terms of reviews and gets shafted at awards for no reason 7/10 I’ll support you tho

Lead - 2/10 that’s gonna be a no from me dawg pretty sure I still have lead in my hands from stabbing myself with my mechanical pencils

Bismuth - 6/10 sounds good in mouth and reminds me of biscuits for some reason, I’ll take it

Polonium - to thine own self be true so stop trying to act like the arts don’t influence science jk pretty sure this is named for Poland but hey that’s where we get the Witcher so you get a pass 6/10

Astatine - 1/10 I don’t even know what you are

Radon - 7/10 this motherfucker knows his shit and how to party, rad is right

Francium - I bring you francium...and I bring you myrdurdium... 7/10 for a good vine

Radium - killed the video star probably 9/10 I can get behind her

Actinium - as opposed to passtinium I prefer actinium in the voice of writing 8/10

Thorium - overrated Norse god 5/10 because lightning is still cool

Protactinum - sounds like some pretentious condom brand 4/10 wouldn’t do it with a dude who bought these

Uranium - I always thought she was a hot sailor scout 10/10

Neptunium - same for her I knew they weren’t cousins you couldn’t lie to me 4kids 10/10

Plutonium - sounds like a macguffin unfortunately 5/10

Americium - I read this with a pivotal letter missing and nearly died, 7/10 for the laugh

Curium - 10/10 gives me Curie vibes and also reminds me of curiosity which reminds me of—[old yellered before the association could set in]

Berkelium - what I shout when I want Burke (fam dog) to slaughter innocents and raze territories 2/10 world was not meant to know his commands

Californium - 1/10 California is cool with geography but probs could stand to chill with the ego sorry to my friends in Cali

Einsteinium - 6/10 it’s alright but we’re really running out of ideas huh

Fermium - 3/10 this one is porny

Mendelevium - 1/10 my brain didn’t like parsing this and I stand by my earlier statement of running out of good names

Nobelium - 0/10 you didn’t name any noble gases this cowards this gas can’t be a noble oh wait it’s NOBEL I take it back 5/10 seems an alright chap

Lawrencium - fear the old blood my sorry dead hunter’s ass I’ll never get back my life from the hours I spent trying to beat this lava shitting bastard 2/10 for being a boss who eats Taco Bell specifically before being challenged to have fresh lava shit with which to punish you for having the audacity to exist in his space

Rutherfordium - my god what a snob 4.2/10 I respect him a little but only because he sounds like a right lad

Dubnium - DROP THE BASS 10/10

Seoborgium - not sure about this one but it can have a 7/10

Bohrium - as an American English speaker this sound combination makes my pathetic throat become a black hole as I try to properly create the sound of it 10/10 I love when my body becomes a massive void in the universe

Hassium - lazy 2/10

Elements 109-118 can go fuck themselves I hate them all, collective 6.66/10 for their general demonic vibe

[deniigi]

Trope: Homeless Peter

Title: what is home if not a vehicle

Summary: Space-fish attack the Great State of New York, and in the mess, the Avengers lose the goddamn kid.

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

His knees shook when he finally peeled back the helmet and it was a monumental task—the towering, marble kind—to lift one foot and then the other out of the footwell of the suit stand.

But Tony managed it.

You know, like a fuckin’ superhero.

He had this.

He maybe had a head injury and couldn’t see through all the blood dripping down his right eye—but you know what?

A fuckin’ superhero.

That’s me.

Ahahaha—

“TONY.”

Why hello, adoring fan. What a coincidence to meet you on the floor like this.

“What are you doing?”

Having a little lay down, my dear.

“GET UP.”

Wow, that’s a tone to take with a guy who volunteered to be the can in a state-wide Alien Kick-the-Can tournament. A little appreciation would be nice.

“Tony,” Pepper emphasized. “You need to get up.”

Why? Was there another alien? Tony was having a merry time here on the floor. Only more superheroing could move him, and even that was on thin ice given the whole knobbly-knee, shaky-hands situation.

“Peter’s gone.”

Tony’s head shot up.

“He’s not gone,” he said. “He’s with Falcon.”

Pepper’s eyes were very blue and ringed by white on every side.

“No,” she said. “He’s gone. Get. Up.”

 --

Pepper’s hands came around and grabbed his face before he could get another good smash in for it on the desk in front of him.

May Parker was in tears. She had every right to be. Cap was consoling her, promising her that they would find Peter while she fanned her dripping mascara.

And Tony?

Tony was exhausted. And now he had that weird gut-gnawing, gurgling feeling in his stomach, which, combined with the head injury that he was turning slowly into an actual hole straight to his brain (if Pepper would let go, anyways), was paving the way for a future spent at the foot of the porcelain altar.

The kid. Had been. RIGHT. There.

Rhodey had confirmed this. He’d been RIGHT there. Tony had been keeping an eye on him and all that bouncy puppy energy. And when he could no longer do that (see: volunteering to be bait, also known as An Activity Not Appropriate for Minors to Witness), he’d handed him off to Sam.

He’d handed him off to Sam.

Sam was the second most level-headed person on the entire team. Rhodey was the first, and okay, he was mostly first because Tony was biased towards his best friend, but the point remained.

Sam had had the baby.

Sam said that he had had the baby, too. Until he couldn’t have the baby because A) the baby was very slippery and B) the baby apparently smelled like food to giant alien creatures with blue glowing tongues and drippy teeth, and so Sam had sent the baby far the fuck away from that action.

He’d told him to go give Bruce support in the north of the city.

Bruce had tears in his eyes when he said that he’d worked with Peter for a whole fifteen minutes before they’d gotten separated by a building collapsing nearly on top of them. The Hulk didn’t have time to babysit Spiders when that was happening. The Hulk just got angry and launched himself at the face of the fuckin’ space-kaiju that had caused it.

No one could fault him for this.

But that also meant that, two hours into a 48 hour melee, they’d lost the youngest team member.

May Parker was glued to her phone and the news, and Tony could hear the tinny voice of Peter’s voice message echoing out of her phone even from there, even through her hiccups and Steve’s soothing Captain America tones.

Steve said that Peter was a smart boy. He was a strong boy. He’d know that they were looking for him and he’d done way, way worse than two days of fighting before. He’d know when to find a safe place and stay put for long enough to regain his energy.

And more than that, he knew New York like the back of his hand. He’d come home, May.

He’d come home.

Tony was about to swear to this poor woman that he would personally deliver her child to her doorstep when the klaxons crashed through the building and sent Tony’s whole body into a state of temporary numbness with pain.

The room went red.

The room went red again

Everyone turned slowly towards the window and Tony barely saw Steve throwing up the shield and reaching for May Parker at the same time before he reacted.

Pepper went down under the desk.

The glass exploded.

And here we go again.

 ---

 Just for the record—just for the fucking record—Tony wanted it known that he hated Albany.

It was flat.

Its skyline was boring as hell.

And Tony was 99.9% sure that there a mass illness among the people of this city.

Rhodey informed him that he was only thinking that because his interactions with humanity at street level came from New Yorkers and Los Angeles folks, neither of whom could find it in their souls to give a shit about what other people shouted at them.

Rhodey further explained patiently that the reaction of most people in the continental US to a known superhero telling them to get the fuck out of the way was not, in fact, being told ‘no YOU move, motherfucker.’

Tony didn’t get it.

Steve laughed so hard he sort of collapsed onto Sam’s shoulder and started making this sound that reminded Tony of a sob.

They all needed sleep. It had been four days.

But then, like a champion of all 8-year-olds, a little girl piped up from somewhere in the crowd that had gathered around their Avengers team huddle, “Hey! Where’s Spiderman?”

And all bodies went from sobbing to swearing.

The damn kid.

 ---

 It had been a week. May Parker had filed Peter as missing. He still hadn’t come home and he wasn’t even close to getting home because Tony had just gotten a call from Wolver-fucking-ine himself asking if he knew Baby Webs.

“He downed a space-fish in Gloversville,” Wolverine said. “And Scott nearly swiped him up, but he ain’t moved fast enough, and Websy noticed him first. He went and hid in the sewer and kept hissing at us for hours. Tried to feed him, but he wants nothin’ to do with us.”

Peter.

Peter, no.

X-men are friends.

“Did you manage to grab him?” Tony asked, already resigned to the answer.

“He ran off.”

Fuck.

“Sorry about that.”

Fuck.

“He’s a bitty one, ain’t he?”

“He’s fifteen.”

“Jesus.”

“I know,” Tony said. “We’re trying to grab him. It’s been a week. His phone’s dead and his mom’s freaking out, and I swear, he’s never been that far out of a city.”

Wolverine made a contemplative sound.

“Alright, we’ll keep a better eye out,” he said. “He can’t have gone far. He ain’t swingin’ with that web shit.”

He must have run out of that, too.

Peter, honey. Just. Stand. Still.

Forget the space-fish. For like, two hours.

 ---

 May asked Pepper to ask Tony what felt like ages later if the X-men had any more information on her kid. Pepper said that she sounded defeated.

Tony wished that he had more to give her besides a handful of blood from the torn skin on his hip and the words that Scott Summers had passed along just the day previous.

“The kid followed the last fish out,” Summers said. “I’m sorry, Stark. I tried to nab him, but that thing was taking down trees and we all got buried.”

 ---

 Two weeks.

Two whole weeks the boy had been missing and only now were the space-fish starting to let up. Part of that had to do with the fact that Barton had figured out that if you went for the eyes, forsook any sense of self-preservation and decency, and climbed into the gaping hole you left there, you could smash the thing’s brain and take it down to earth like Cap nose-diving into the Atlantic.

Steve had passed through all the stages of grief into hysteria this last week.

No one could talk to him because he started laughing and then weeping in a span of 15 seconds.

Natasha and Sam were on it.

Barnes was out with Barton, laying waste to wading pool that was Rochester at the moment. And that finally gave Tony the time that he needed to go out and search for the kid.

Rhodey came with and they ended up in Horseheads of all places, asking people on the street if they’d seen a Spiderman approximately a half the size they expected him to be.

People in Horseheads said no, that was Buffalo that had had the Spiderchild flinging himself around in it.

So they headed for Buffalo, only to get a message halfway there from Barnes that he’d almost caught the little shit in Rochester. Barton was after him as they spoke.

On foot apparently.

“He looks like shit, Stark,” Barnes said, huffing while he ran. “Clint’s on his tail now though, but I think he thinks he’s in trouble, so he’s—WAIT NO. BARTON.”

And the line went off.

And Rhodey groaned for both of them.

 ----

 Rochester contained a very wet, very frustrated Hawkeye and zero Bucky Barneses.

Hawkeye said that they’d nearly had Peter. But then.

He gestured furiously out to the harbor which was full of wreckage from the ensuing battle on shore.

Tony asked him if they had it handled or if they needed backup, to which Hawkeye said that only God knew shit at this point. He was just a human football, being punted back and forth across the state of New York in a way that his soul truly deserved.

Barton perhaps needed both a nap and a meal or two in him.

Peter probably needed days of both of those things.

“Yeah, no. I asked around and people have seen him bopping around the pigeons and gulls,” Barton said. “Some lady told us that she saw him coming out of a park bathroom. Another gal said she saw him tucked up on a roof and lured him down. She said she thought he was some homeless teenager and was worried ‘cause he was up there without a coat. She was surprised as hell when he was the real thing and asked her for a map. Said his phone was busted and he was trying to find the train station.”

Kiddo.

“He’s makin’ it, Stark,” Barton said. “Not sure how. But he’s makin’ it.”

That wasn’t comforting.

 ---

 Chasing after Peter wasn’t working. He kept slipping through their fingers and getting startled by people chasing him.

He seemed a little paranoid. Although that was probably because folks had started to change tact and approach him out of their suits.

They’d skimmed right past the part where Peter didn’t really know most of them out of their suits. And then they’d skimmed right past the part where most of them, out of their suits, didn’t look anything like the pictures that the paps took of them.

JB’s hair was long as hell. Natasha wore little make up and didn’t both straightening her ginger mane. Sam’s fade was looking a little lopsided with the piece of glass that the docs had had to dig out of it, and so a hat was his primary mode of fashion at the moment. Steve’s out-of-suit fashion could be described as ‘Jock with Tats Wears Cardigan and Dock Martins. More at 11.’

They’d all gone too far into being people and Peter now thought that he was being pursued by undercover SHIELD agents.

And, like the genius child that he was, he’d realized that his reds were catching attention and, now that the space-fish were a less pressing issue, and now that he was up in colder climes, he’d swapped them for some street clothes. And now no one had seen Spiderman.

Including the other Avengers.

The fastest way to find him was through facial recognition software, but someone out there, infuriatingly, seemed to be teaching Peter how to live like this.

The features Tony put in everyone’s new chunky glasses only ever caught him just before he turned tail and started sprinting.

And goddamn, that kid was fast.

Tony himself had chased him through Nowheresville, Fuck This State, and even that seemed ineffective.

He didn’t understand.

Peter knew who he was. He knew his voice.

Right?

Why was he running? Why was he still running?

May thought that he must have gotten it into his head that everyone was furious with him. She said that Peter’s guilt complex was wide and deep and he often slunk home late and hid from her if he thought she was mad.

He wasn’t super great with confrontation outside of his red and blues.

But something was also going on with May. Tony wasn’t sure what it was until Barton came into his lab where Tony was bouncing between trying to find where Peter’s suit had last been and trying to pry the enormous scales off a space-fish head.

“Tony,” Barton said. “Mrs. Parker’s lost faith in us.”

Tony laid his head against the scaly mass in front of him and sighed.

“You know what? That’s fair,” he said.

If some of the world’s so-called finest couldn’t even catch a literal child after three weeks of trying, Tony would have said that they were a bunch of useless fucks, too.

“She came to me and asked me if I’d help her try something different,” Barton said. “So I’m gonna need you to trust me, man.”

Trust him?

Sure, why not?

At this point, nothing Tony or Rhodey or Natasha tried had worked. So why not Barton? He was the one who kept getting the closest to the kid.

He had his own little menace he was chasing around anyways. He knew this shit.

“Glad you think so,” Barton said. “But I need like, a written agreement that you ain’t gonna scream at me, okay?”

Written agreement. Pft. Okay.

 ---

 “ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?”

Barton stared at Tony and pointed at Rhodey like a tattle-tell. Tony was exhausted.

“TONY.”

He was so tired, Rhodey.

“You cannot sanction this,” Rhodey said.

Tony wasn’t sanctioning anything. He was just letting the aunt take the reins.

“We are not sending the Punisher after a child,” Rhodey said.

“The jokes on you, bub,” Clint told him. “The Punisher is already keeping an eye out for the child and you know what? He’s got a bite.”

Silence flooded the meeting room. Sam Wilson turned around slowly in his chest and moved his icepack to the other hand.

“Say that again,” he said.

Barnes’s eyes went huge like a cat and Nat leaned her elbows onto his shoulders.

“I said,” Barton scoffed at them, “The Punisher’s still upstate. I sent him a text explaining shit. He’s got a soft spot for babies. You know, latent dad instincts and all that, and he’s been homeless for like, years now. So he said he’ll keep an eye out. He’s got an idea of a few places where kids around Peter’s age go when they’ve got nowhere else to.”

Tony stomped down on the urge to say that Peter wasn’t like those kids; he did have a place to go. He was just misunderstanding the situation. He was just fifteen and tired and not thinking logically. Translating people chasing him as anger instead of help.

Man, all those straight As really put that kid’s fear of abandonment into perspective now.

Tony didn’t even know how to approach him anymore.

He wasn’t a dad. No one on this team was a dad. They didn’t know how to talk to kids. Or if they did, not teenagers.

So you know what?

If the Punisher thought he could grab the kid, then he should.

 ----

 And the Punisher did.

Tony had never spoken directly to the man. The whole team went silent when Barton answered the call and then said, “hold on, let me put you on speaker.”

The Punisher’s voice was husky and hoarse with his whisper.

“Got him,” he said softly.

Tony covered his eyes in relief.

“He’s sleepin’,” The Punisher said. “Real adaptable. You weren’t kiddin’, Barton.”

“Thank god,” Steve said.

“He hurt?” Barton asked.

“Yeah,” the Punisher said. “He ain’t let me look ‘im over, but he’s got scabs all over. Cute kid. Once we were on the same page, he came willingly enough.”

What did that mean?

“Means I had to find some vegetarian shit from McDonalds,” the Punisher said like Tony was an idiot. “Kid’s hungry. Cold. Needs a bath. Found him tucked up with some others. They ain’t wanna come like him. But they’re good kids with good folks; they told him that if he had someone waiting on him, he should go.”

They’d done what?

The Punisher snorted.

“Homeless folks aren’t stupid, moneybags,” he said. “They got problems, but they aren’t stupid. And they ain’t want my help, so that’s that. You give ‘em some money and let ‘em do what they need to.”

What.

“I know, it’s almost like their lives ain’t your business,” the Punisher huffed.

He was kind of a dick.

“You headed back this way?” Barton asked.

“That’s a negative,” the Punisher said.

Rhodey went stiff.

“But don’t worry, I got someone to leave him with when I get to where I’m goin’,” the Punisher said. “He’ll bring him down your way.”

Barton sighed.

“Thanks, Frank,” he said. “We owe you one.”

“I don’t want your debt,” the Punisher said. He said nothing.

“I owe you one,” Barton corrected.

“Damn right, you do, Sparky.”

“Collect when you’re ready,” Barton said.

“Copy that.”

Barton hung up and stared with crystal eyes into Tony soul.

“Someone tell the kid’s aunt,” he said.

 ---

 The Punisher went up to Niagara Falls, whereupon he handed Peter off to Deadpool.

Tony almost had a stroke.

May Parker slapped a hand onto her chest and sighed in relief.

“Thank god,” she said.

Thank god?

More like, god have mercy, no?

“No, thank god,” May said.

May had Deadpool’s number in her goddamn phone. Tony was dumbfounded.

“Eyyyyyy,” Deadpool cheered when he answered May’s call. “Well, look who it is. Pete—heya babycakes, you—? Okay, no. Sorry, we had a big day at the falls. He’s tired.”

Deadpool cackled. May huffed out a chuckle and shook her head.

“Thank you, Wade,” she said tearfully. “Thank you so much.”

“Don’t sweat it,” Deadpool said cheerfully. “Little Scrappy’s just scrappier. He ain’t hurt bad. Just a little shaken. Got that good anxiety. Six kinds of paranoia, look at ‘im go. That’s healthy, that’s what that is.”

It was not, Mr. Pool.

“Who’s makin’ that racket in the background?” Deadpool asked.

May explained that she was in the company of the Avengers. She did not say that half of them were shocked stupid. She did not say that Rhodey was clawing his hands at the sky and lamenting a career in military service being useless compared to fuckin’ Deadpool’s sunny disposition.

“Ah,” Deadpool said. “Well, I’m just gonna not say shit to him about that.”

“That’s fine,” May said. “Tell him I love him and I’m not mad. I’ve just been worried. Where’s his phone?”

“Oh, honey. You should see it. Kid fished it out of the sea,” Deadpool said. “I found a fuckin’ barnacle in it. Pretty impressive how small them things get, you know what I mean?”

Somehow, May did. Even though Tony emphatically did not.

“How long?” she asked.

“Ehn. Well. I got a job . Then I’m meeting someone in Syracuse. But you know what’s good news?”

“What?” May asked.

“Red’s at a conference in Ithaca,” Deadpool said. “He said he can swipe Spiderkid up from the bus station.”

Red?

Who was Red?

“You serious right now, DP?” Barnes asked.

“Ohhhh, why hello there, Winter. Didn’t see you there,” Deadpool said. “I am indeed serious. I’ll put the kid on a bus to Cornell or where the fuck ever and our Hornheaded friend will grab him before he scurries off to the wind again. He’ll be fine. Car rides are lullabies to him.”

May seemed touched.

“I’ll wire you the money, Wade,” she said.

“Huh? Oh, no. Don’t worry about it. I’m puttin’ it in the favor box,” Deadpool said. “Barnesy, my boy. Red hates everything upstate and his boo-bear’s got family they’re gonna visit in Poughkeepsie. Can one of you darling blockheads meet him up there to take the kid, so he doesn’t ruin his one and only chance at marriage?”

What.

The fuck.

Was happening?

“Uuuuh, when? Tomorrow?” Barton asked.

“Two days from now,” Deadpool said. “If you can’t, don’t sweat it. I got a gal who’s willing to pick him up.”

“I can go as far as Paterson,” Barnes said out of nowhere. “If your gal can bring him down that far, that’d be good. I’ll bring the bike.”

“Oh, that’ll be fun,” Deadpool said. “Totally doable. I’ll give her a call and send you an address. Thanks a million, Winter.”

Barnes sniffed.

“It’s cool. Show him a picture of me so he ain’t bolt again,” he said.

“Copy that,” DP said. “I’ll let him know what you said, May. Bye for now.”

He hung up.

May Parker deflated into a puddle of relief.

Tony still didn’t know what was happening.

“Wilson’s gonna hand the kid off to Daredevil,” Barton explained. “And DD will take him with him to Poughkeepsie, where Wilson’s contact—the fuck is her name, Barnes?”

“Domino,” Barnes said.

“That’s the one,” Barton said. “She’ll pick him up, probably with Summers, and bring him down to Paterson and then Barnes’ll go grab him from there and bring him home.”

That—

Wh—

Why couldn’t they, the Avengers, have orchestrated this? This was not hard. This was advanced Connect Four.

“Sometimes, you can’t think like a hero,” Barton told him. “You gotta think like a vigilante.”

 ---

 Peter came home. Barnes swept him up from the station in Paterson and tossed him over a shoulder. And Tony came into the medical bay as soon as he got word of their arrival to find him sprawled out there still, asking Barnes a thousand questions about fuckin’ heroin.

God, lord, Jesus.

Someone spare Tony’s soul.

Peter noticed him and reacted by slipping off Barnes’s shoulder and hiding behind him as though he expected Tony to start shouting at any moment.

And for a moment, Tony almost felt like he should have.

But he wasn’t Peter’s dad. And Peter hadn’t done that shit on purpose. He’d just been scared and when he got scared, he’d decided to turn towards people he knew he could trust.

The other street level guys. People like him.

Tony couldn’t be angry with him for that.

So he came over and collapsed into the chair next to Peter’s assigned bed and held out his arms.

“Hugs for an old man?” he asked.

Peter peeked out from behind Barnes and lit up.

His hug was crushing. His clothes were rank and his wrists looked skinny and he was as pale as Tony had ever seen him, but he was here.

And he was chillin’.

“Next time, just stay in the city, alright?” Tony said. “We got the state. You got the city. At least until you’re old enough to have your own credit card, yeah?”

“Kay,” Peter hummed.

“You scared the shit out of us, kiddo.”

Peter pulled away from him and hopped back up on the bed.

“Is my aunt coming?” he asked.

Tony sighed.

She was.

“Cool, I missed her. My phone broke and maps are hard. I got like four of them. Folks kept givin’ theirs to me, even though I needed like, money.”

Tony leaned forward and held his face in his hands.

“Yeah?” he finally managed to say.

“Yeah,” Peter hummed. “It’s really hard to get a bus with no money. And they don’t even have buses in a lot of places, you know? Like, Uber isn’t even a thing out there. You’ve just gotta have a car or know someone who does.”

Bless.

“Wade says that I’m a city boy.”

That’s ‘cause you are, child.

“But I slept in a tree, so that’s camping.”

It’s not.

“And there was a raccoon. So that’s camping.”

It’s really, really not.

“I saw Cyclops and he tried to laser-eyes me, but, get this, I Lizard-ed him. Went into the sewers like Connors. I mean, he’s a jerk, but he’s definitely right to stick to the sewers. It’s warm down there. Can you imagine if the X-men X-manned me, though? Wade says that they do that to people.”

Tony was melting.

“They definitely do that to people,” Barnes said.

Vigilantes, man. The lies they spread.

“I made some friends in Buffalo,” Peter carried on. “They’re nice. They used to live in Rochester. They saw me fighting a space-fish, and they said that was cool as hell. And so they were tellin’ me about garbage plates and then Chelsea’s mom told me I needed to go home because May probably wasn’t mad and it was getting too cold. And then she made me promise not to do drugs. And when Mr. Castle showed up, she waved him down—I like her a lot. I gave them my money so that they could sleep in the shelter and I think Mr. Castle gave her more money, but he gave me and Chelsea McDonalds. And it was like, so good, Mr. Stark. I forgot how much I like McDonalds.”

Fuckin’ garbage plates.

“I’m gonna make one,” Peter hummed.

Someone come take these kid home already.

 ----------------------------------

Problems I have with the Trope:

So I don’t know the homeless Peter trope very well, but I don’t love it because in order to write it, you have to remove May from the picture, pretty much entirely. Folks either tend to kill her or make her abusive and that’s fucked up to do to, not only Peter’s remaining family member, but to a civilian female character.

I also don’t love this trope because I don’t love Irondad and the homeless Peter trope is pretty much designed for him to be saved by Tony.

The third reason I don’t enjoy this trope is because I don’t think enough people do their research on, not only what it takes to become homeless (especially for a minor), but how broad definitions of homelessness are. People who are homeless don’t just live on the street; they live in cars, they couch surf, they work hard to be clean, they have jobs.

And the last reason (for now), that I find this trope difficult is Peter’s age. Age is the hardest shit. A homeless 14-15 yo is kind of difficult to work with because there are layers of safety nets and, if you don’t kill May or make her abusive, it is next to impossible to work through her responsible nature and stability to put her and Pete out on the street plausibly (and I refused to compromise on this, which is how I ended up with this accidental loss). It would be much easier to write a homeless Peter as a college student.

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

Imagine:

Erik cuddling with Reader while she is on her period/having sex with Reader while she is on her period.

Warnings: FLUFF, SMUT, mentions of blood, cuddling, College Boy Erik.

Y/N woke up from an hour nap with her books at the foot of her bed. She was in the middle of studying for her Bio Chemistry class that she had to take as a prerequisite for Dental Hygiene. The pain is what woke her up after tossing and turning. Sharp, painful cramps sprang to life out of nowhere causing her to wince in pain while reaching down to rub her lower belly. Y/N pauses, picking up her phone to check her period app.

“Seriously? I thought this devil was coming tomorrow. Screw probation.”

Y/N called it probation because she couldn’t get any dick that she would surely crave since her menstrual days are her horniest days. Y/N groans, lifting out of her bed carefully in the loose fitted grey sweatpants that her boyfriend, Erik, left when he spent the night a few nights ago. That wasn’t the only thing he left. His durags, t-shirts, sneakers, and some hoodies were in her room as well. Y/N stood up with her shoulders slouched forward and her body feeling weak. Sure enough, as she pulled the waistband to Erik’s sweats, fresh crimson blood stained the crotch area of the pants heavily. Y/N then turned to the bed to see a stain in her white sheets. She was used to this. She wore underwear and certain clothes for things like this but this time around she wasn’t prepared. Frustration flowed through her veins as she walked with her knees buckled to the bathroom for another shower.

Y/N reaches under the sink to grab the peroxide so she could soak and scrub the blood from Erik’s sweats. Stripping naked, she felt the fresh blood trickle down her inner thighs since she always had a heavy flow during her menstrual cycle. Rushing so she wouldn’t stain the new white faux fur rug that she purchased for her bathroom, Y/N steps into the shower the blood only splattering on the edge of the tub. She made the water run hot while she lazily stood under it, staring at the wall and hugging her lower belly. All she wanted right now was a rub of Haagen Dasz coffee ice cream, some herbal tea, her favorite long u-shaped plush pillow that Erik purchased for her and watch crap TV. Another thing Y/N craved was her man’s big, strong arms wrapped around her while he rests his chin on her shoulder. Erik’s rubs to her belly always soothes the ache she felt. Then he gave Y/N soft kisses to her cheek and forehead. She was going to text him when she gets out of the shower.

———————

Pain on 1000, Y/N twists painfully from side to side in her freshly made bed. Erik didn’t reply to her cry for help. Where was her big strong boyfriend when she needed him? Then, it dawned on her. He had an evening course for school since he was going back to become an MRI Technologist. His evening hours where from 6PM to 9PM. It was currently 8:45PM. In the fetal position, Y/N whimpers, tears forcing out of the corners of her eyes like a pipe ready to burst because of how hard she squeezed her eyes. All the medicine in the world couldn’t stop her from being in pain.

As if Erik could hear her cries, Y/N’s phone vibrated with an incoming call. She reached out for her phone from its wireless charger on her bed, hitting the green button to accept his call.

“Baby, baby, where are you?” She spoke before he could even say what’s up or what’s wrong.

“I’m driving, class got out early. Everything okay, love?” Erik asks with concern.

“I need you,” She spoke softly with a whimper, “Can you come be with me?”

“I was going to do that anyway,” Erik chuckles, “I haven’t seen you since a few nights ago I need my baby girl.”

“Good, because my period decided to creep up on me and I’m having cramps right now. I need you to cuddle me and rub my belly.”

“Aww, Damn, no loving for me then, huh?”

“Sorry, Erik,” Y/N’s body tenses up from another affliction that made her tear up more.

“It’s okay. Did you need me to bring anything before I come over?”

“Just some ice cream. The coffee kind.”

“Bet, my sweats still over there, right?”

Y/N knew that he would ask about that. She had them in her washer right now. The blood successfully came out but it took a lot of effort.

“Um...about that-“

“You stained them?”

Y/N felt embarrassed. She didn’t want Erik to think that was disgusting.

“I’m so sorry, I’ll buy you another pair-“

“Girl, chill out. I don’t care about all that I just wanted to know if I needed to make a stop at my place before I came to you. Don’t trip, I don’t give a fuck about that shit.”

Y/N giggles while rolling over into her back, “some guys do-“

“Well, I ain’t some guys, I’m Erik, and I don’t think it’s gross.”

Y/N blushes while biting her lip, “Thank you,” she spoke timidly.

“Always, baby, listen, I just pulled up to 7-eleven I’ll let you know when I’m close, okay?”

“Okay, love you,” Y/N smiles.

“Love you too.”

She adored him.

—————————

Erik Stevens had a key to his girls apartment. He opened the door, stepping inside of her darkened living room. The chain lock secured, Erik takes off his sneakers by the door, heading into the kitchen to grab a spoon for her ice cream. Erik walked down the narrow hallway leading to her bedroom, finding Y/N on the bed laying on her right side staring at the TV. She was currently watching Family Fued. She had on a long plaid buttoned shirt that Erik remembers her purchasing from Good Will since she loved thrifting. Her big brown eyes went from sad to happy in a millisecond when she saw her man. She hopes up onto her knees, arms out like she was a toddler asking to be picked up. Erik smirked, walking over to his girl, bringing his arms around her waist and picking her up from the bed so she could straddle him. Her lips found his, kissing him gently at first before the taste of his tongue took over her senses, her kisses more forceful. Erik’s hands ran over her ass, palming it and squeezing it. She made sounds of pleasure in his mouth, her eyes closed.

“How is my baby feeling?” Erik looked up at her, “You look like you need all my love right now.”

“I do,” Y/N played with one of the strings of Erik’s hoodie, “I need my big, strong man.”

“Aww, my baby is so needy right now,” Erik kisses her forehead, “Come on, let’s get you on the bed.”

Erik lays Y/N down delicately before walking away towards her closet. He removes his khaki colored hoodie, revealing a loose fitted white tee underneath since he has so much muscle mass. He had on another pair of sweats too, the same design except they were black. His kinky fro was covered in a beanie but he snatches that off, using the tips of his fingers to pull out his curls. Y/N always found watching Erik undress to some degree satisfying. Erik comes back to the bed, bringing the 7-eleven bag with him and the spoon. He grabs the ice cream, removing the seal, and sank the fork directly in the middle for her to have at it. Y/N sits up, Erik wrapping an arm around her waist, pulling her over in one motion so she would lean against him while his arms rubbed her belly. She went limp against him, making sounds of pleasure and relief to finally have her ice cream and her man.

“Are you going to spend the night with me?” Y/N asks in a sweet voice, “I don’t think I would be able to sleep if you weren’t here.”

“Yeah, baby,” Erik looked from her tongue licking the ice cream from the spoon to her angelic brown eyes, “I’ll keep you nice and warm.”

Y/N giggles, scooping some more ice cream, “You treat me like a princess.”

“It’s because you are.”

Y/N wasn’t helping situations. She smelled like coconut oil, touching her belly made him want to rip the buttons on her plaid shirt so he could see her naked body, the way her curly hair tickles his chin and neck from the pineappled fro she had made his body shiver, and loved to bat those pretty brown eyes at him which got her whatever she wanted. He was horny for her. No sex since a few nights ago. That’s always how it was. Erik craved Y/N every second of every day. Now, his dick was hard and tenting the front of his black sweats. This night was about her and making her feel better but every little thing she did made him horny.

“What do you wanna watch,” Y/N looked over into his eyes, “We can watch Blade.”

“Sure,” Erik was always down to watch that it was a favorite of his, “I really just want to feel your ass on my dick while we cuddle.”

“Baby...stop it,” Y/N rolls her eyes. She was already horny just from him rubbing her belly, “You can’t talk like that when I’m on my period.”

“I can’t help that I’m hard right now and that I need some.”

“You are not helping,” Y/N places the ice cream on her side table in her room, “okay, let’s cuddle.”

Erik helps Y/N down on the bed, pulling the comforter over them both before pulling her close with his big arm. The second Y/N’s ass hit his dick, Erik’s nose went into her curls and his jaw tightened. His hand ran up and down her belly, eyes watching her lashes move up and down from her blinking while she puts on the movie. Erik pushes his dick further between her cheeks, eliciting a tiny moan from Y/N.

“Babyyy,” She complains, “Stop.”

Erik kisses his teeth, “Didn’t you tell me that masturbating and sex helps with cramps?”

“I did,” Y/N looks over her shoulder and back at Erik, “what are you suggesting?”

“I want to have sex so I can make you feel better.”

“Baby...that’s gross,” Y/N chuckles, “Plus, I’m not in the mood I just want to cuddle and be near you.”

“You are in the mood,” Erik reaches up to pinch one of her nipples, “That’s reason number one. Reason number two I can’t figure out since you don’t want me down there.”

“I’m wet regardless because I’m bleeding out,” Y/N cold feel it leaking as she spoke, “It’s messy and too much-“

“I don’t care. It’s a natural thing, Y/N. Period blood doesn’t bother me, girl.”

Y/N didn’t respond, she just turned her head back to watch TV. Even if she did say yes how would that feel? She thought about sex during her probation before but then that all ended because she assumed every guy wouldn’t be in to that. Here comes Erik Stevens, a guy who doesn’t give a fuck and who thinks pussy is pussy no matter what.

“Have you done this before, with another girl?” Y/N was curious.

“Nah. This would be my first time if you let me do it.”

Erik turns Y/N around to face him, using his fingers to stroke some hair from her eyes. Y/N knew that staring into those eyes would make her second guess the disgust she felt about having sex on her cycle. His fingers lightly stroked her lower belly directly over the area that hurt.

“The pain is right there,” Y/N spoke with a crease in her brows.

“Right here?” Erik rubs while looking her in her eyes.

“Uh-huh,” She bites her lip, “That feels good.”

“I can make you feel better though,” Erik pulls the waist band of her floral cotton panties, “Can I see?”

“Why?” Y/N felt her heart race.

“I just wanna see what makes you feel so icky. I wanna see why you’re shying away from me having sex with you.”

“Erik...it’s just not sexy,” She laughs nervously, “I’m bleeding-“

“I don’t care.” Erik reassures her.

“You are serious?” She couldn’t believe it for a second.

“YEAH,” He spoke with annoyance.

“I’m sorry it’s just-I just-I’m shocked I guess.”

Erik gave Y/N a soft smile, “I told you, I’m a different breed of man, Y/N. Consider yourself lucky.”

“Trust me, I do. Everyday.”

Erik leans forward to kiss her before trailing those soft kisses down her neck. He left a wet trail behind each time. Y/N’s body arched and she couldn’t tell the difference between wet pussy versus the blood. What she did feel between her legs however was a throb for attention. Her pussy felt neglected in all of this.

“So, what’s up then? Can you show me?”

Y/N looks away from Erik shyly, “Okay.”

Y/N watches as Erik pulls the comforter back from her legs, her panties revealed. His large hand cupped her pussy, rubbing it up and down. That felt amazing too. Y/N always felt a little sore down there during her cycle. Her legs opened further, her hands shaking from how nervous she was.

“Erik, maybe we shouldn’t-“

“STOP.” He ordered her.

“But, baby,” Y/N gasps when she felt Erik’s finger rub between her pussy lips over her panties.

“Shhh, cut it out,” Erik thumbed her clit, “Stop, tripping, okay?”

“Okay.”

Erik takes his fingers, pulling her panties down and over her knees. She has a tampon on right now. Her panties weren’t stained. Erik folds them and places them on the bed next to him.

“You okay?” He whispered to her.

“Yeah,” She could feel him using the tips of his fingers to spread her, “Baby, Wait, Wait...I have a tampon on,” She was overly bashful, “Why do you want to do this so much? I don’t feel confident.”

“You shouldn’t feel like that. I love you. All of you. I don’t care about blood, ma. It’s the same pussy I fuck when it’s not bleeding. Relax, baby. I got you, okay? Now, let me see.”

“Can I at least remove my tampon first?” Y/N sat up, thighs clenched so blood wouldn’t mess up the bed.

“Go ahead,” Erik helps her from the bed, “I’ll grab a few towels.”

He was dead fucking serious.

Y/N went to her bathroom, closing the door halfway and sitting on her toilet. She removes her tampon, wrapping it, and then throwing it in her trash can. Y/N nibbled on her bottom lip nervously. She wanted to try it and see if she liked it but on the other hand she didn’t want to make a mess and appear disgusting. Even though Erik said he did didn’t care there was still a small part of her that thought he did.

“Baby?” Erik’s voice could be heard calling out to her. He smooth, husky voice, “Do you need my help?”

“No, I’m coming,” Y/N wipes herself before flushing the toilet and washing her hands. Quickly, she made it back to the bedroom, Erik laying out black towels with the sheets pulled from the bed. He was in nothing but his black sweats, shirt off and tempting. She gets onto the bed, laying back on the towels with her thighs tightly shut.

“Are you gonna be difficult?” Erik questions with a raised brow, “Because I told you, I don’t give a fuck. Ain’t gonna stop me.”

“I’ll try not to be,” She spoke truthfully.

“Try really hard for me, okay?” Erik got onto his knees in the bed between her legs, “Now, spread your legs for me.”

With a shake of her thighs, Y/N opens them, her beautiful pussy spread open for Erik to see. She couldn’t look at him while he stared at her pussy. Y/N turned away, eyes closed. His silence is what made her close her thighs.

“Did I tell you to close your thighs?”

“No,” Y/N opened them again, “You just didn’t say anything-“

“It’s because I was admiring that pussy, ma. Stop reading into everything.”

“Ugh, okay,” She opens her thighs again, “Just...day something, anything.”

“It’s beautiful, even with the blood, it’s still beautiful.”

Y/N glances at Erik, “Really?”

“Of course, I wouldn’t lie to you, wouldn’t do you like that,” Erik takes his fingers to spread her more, “Fuck,”

“Huh?” She got up on her elbows, “Is something wrong?”

“No,” Erik didn’t remove his eyes from between her legs, “How could a nigga find this nasty? It ain’t nasty, it’s precious.”

“Erik,” Y/N couldn’t believe that’s how he felt.

“I’m so fucking horny right now,” Erik leans over Y/N while his fingers rubbed her clit, “Damn, baby, you’re so damn pretty down there.”

“Erik,” She couldn’t say much but his name. His free hand unbuttoned her shirt, her breasts with extra hard nipples ready to be sucked on.

“Keep saying my name like that. It’s only gon’ make my dick harder,” Lips sucked on her nipples, “You gon’ let Daddy fuck that pretty pussy to make you feel better?”

“Yes,” Her nipples were electrified from his licking and sucking.

“I just want my baby girl to feel better,” Erik picked up the speed of his fingers on Y/N’s clit.

“Mmm, fuck,” Y/N could feel her hips moving in tandem with his motions, “Erik-“

“What?”

“Fuck, Erik, that feels so good.”

“Your so messy on my fingers,” His teeth lightly grazed her left nipple, “Cum on my fingers, girl.”

“Please,” She begged him to keep going. Y/N was past the point of caring about her bleeding when Erik deliciously rubbed her hardened clit the way he did.

“Say my name again,” Erik ran his tongue up Y/N’s neck.

“Erik”

“Good girl. That pussy cumming ain’t it?”

“Uh-huh,”Y/N gasps and pants heavily, “Yes, I’m gonna cum, baby.” She bites down on her bottom lip as her release rocked through her. Her thighs closed around Erik’s hand. She could feel herself creaming on the towels.

“Damn,” Erik looks at his fingers covered in her wetness mixed with blood, “Fuck, baby, fuck.”

“Y/N reaches out to feel on Erik’s dick, “Umph, baby, it’s so fucking hard.”

“I know, that’s why I need you. You ain’t even gotta suck it,” Erik whips his fingers on the towel before getting off the bed to take of his sweats. He pulls out his wallet, grabbing one gold wrapped condom before crawling back onto the bed. Y/N watched Erik’s dick bounce up and down as it stood straight from how solid it is. He was fully erect, 100% rigid. All of that because of how much he needed to be inside of Y/N no matter how much she bled. Erik pulls Y/N’s thighs up and over his shoulders to decrease the amount of mess. With his dick in his grip, Erik slips inside, no resistance, just sliding right in because of how messy she is. It was so slippery from the blood and her natural lubricant. The sensation sent tingles from the tip of his dick all the way down to his heavy sack filled with cum. Erik looked down between her legs to see his condom covered dick crimson. He couldn’t stop himself from fucking her fast. That’s how good it felt.

Y/N could feel all of Erik inside her aching pussy. The slippery sex felt so damn good that Y/N couldn’t muster a word or a sound. She wanted to kick herself for not trying this before. She felt the exact same pleasure from when she wasn’t on her period but sloppier and wetter. The noises her pussy made turned her on so much. It was like music.

“Fuck, you feel so damn good, girl,” Erik mumbled in her ear, “oooooo I don’t wanna get out of this pussy.”

Y/N drags her nails down Erik’s back, “You don’t have to stop, Daddy, remember, you’re supposed to make me f-feel better,” Y/N’s eyes rolled shut.

“That pussy feeling better already,” He swiveled his hips deeper, “Mmm, girl, I wanna feel you cum on Daddy’s dick while I beat it up.”

“Yes, yes, Daddy, yes,” Y/N felt the pressure from his dick dragging over her G-spot and pulling on her clit, “Shit-shit, Daddy, that dick is on my G-spot, Umph, ima squirt-“

Y/N felt the rush of liquid fall to the towels and on Erik’s dick. Her hips moved up and down with his strokes because she needed to feel him inside of her.

“Keep still, let Daddy fuck you,” Erik held her hips in place, “Ain’t so disgusted now are you? The way you fucking me back let’s me know you don’t care about that silly shit. Who in this pussy?”

“Daddy-“

“Daddy a man, baby, Daddy ain’t no little boy. Daddy don’t give a fuck about some blood,” Erik felt her walls hug him, “mmmm, such a greedy little pussy.”

“YES!” Y/N gave herself to him. She couldn’t keep up with his strokes to her walls.

“Damn, you about to make Daddy bust a nut already?” Erik slows down, “This what you do to me, girl, you always get me like this. It don’t matter what you do, you always get Daddy’s dick hard.”

“Fuck, baby, you’re so big,” Y/N could feel her warm wet pussy leaking, “you feel so good inside of me.”

Y/N tightened her walls around Erik’s dick, pulling him further inside until his hips let hers. His groomed pubic hair was warm and wet from her blood mixed with her wetness. The more he tried to pull his dick out all the way to the tip, the more she pulled him back with her greedy pussy.

“You don’t want me to go huh? You like me in this pussy? You don’t care about making a bloody fucking mess on me? Answer me.”

“Fuck! No!” Y/N shook her head from side to side, “No, Daddy, I just want you to keep fucking me!”

Erik’s sweaty face rested on Y/N’s cheek while his fingers squeezed the fat of her thighs to keep her still and for leverage so he could pound her pussy. Slippery and messy, Y/N squeezed her eyes shut, an arm wrapping around Erik’s neck to hold on while he aggressively pounds her pussy.

“Daddy! Slow down! It’s gonna get everywhere!”

Erik completely ignored her.

“Fuck!!!!! Oh my God, oh, oh, shit, baby, fuck!!!” Y/N opened her mouth and her voice went mute. She beat the on Erik’s back weakly with her fist with her powerful release trying unsuccessfully to get him to slow down since she was overworked and sensitive.

“Baby, fuck, this precious little pussy on you got me cumming, “Y/N’s thighs almost choked him, “Stay fucking still.” He spoke through clenched teeth with a barely audible voice. Y/N stomached the deep penetration she felt and the way her walls tingled while Erik’s dick grew to a cum inspiring length. Filled and stretched, Erik grunts in Y/N’s ear as his cum shot into the condom, filling it up and damn sure almost breaking it with how much he exploded. It was like opening a cap on a shaken soda bottle.

“GODDAMN.” He was swimming in her tight pussy, “GODDAMN GIRL.”

Y/N looked towards the ceiling with disbelief.

“OH MY GOD,” Erik pulled his still hard dick out hesitantly. He still wanted to stay inside of her but his girl was whimpering. The condom was so tight around him from his cum stuffed inside. Erik could see Y/N’s cream coating her clit and labia and all of her menstrual blood mixed with her lubricant making her pretty pink pussy shine and glisten. Her outer lips were puffed and engorged from the beating Erik gave her. Watching her pussy convulse and jump, releasing more cream made Erik want to put on another condom, turn her over, and fuck that pussy some more.

“I actually feel better,” Y/N rubbed her sweaty belly, “I don’t feel the cramps anymore.”

“I told you, baby,” Erik leans forward to kiss her, “Now, you know how we can take care of that, right?”

“Yes,” She smiles weakly, “It was exactly what I needed.”

Erik leans over with a flex of his abs to see her fluids that stained his pubic area. The sight of it turned him on so much. Y/N sat up carefully, her thighs trembling. Even though her cramps were gone, her pussy still aches.

“I’ll run a bath,” Erik walked into the bathroom, flicking on the light and removing the condom. It was heavy with his cum. He grabbed some of Y/N’s natural soak with Aloe Vera, coconut oil, and lavender oil, placing it in her bath and spreading it around with his hand. He walks back to the room, spotting Y/N undressing.

“Come on, we’re taking a bath together.”

“How are you going to fit in my small ass tub. You know your much taller and bigger than me, Erik.”

Erik shrugs, “we’ll make it work. How do you feel though, you’re good?”

“I’m better. You just beat my pussy up, that’s all,” Y/N walks towards him with shaky knees, “Nothing I’m not used to from you, Daddy.”

Erik bites his lip at her, watching her walk past him before his hand reached out to lightly tap her but, “Mhm, that’s right. I’ll beat it up no matter what.”

[ears-awake-eyes-opened]

Toasting

(Hayffie 💕. Loving when we’re afraid is deeply authentic courage. In dystopian reality, loving with arms holding one another close is a fundamental act of civil disobedience and essential for trauma integration.)

His fingers were clumsy as he wrapped a pale blue ribbon around Effie’s hair. She’d pulled it back loosely into a bun with tendrils coiling down the back of her neck. Working with the satin ribbon felt alien compared to the knots Haymitch had tied throughout his life.

In childhood, as soon as he was tall enough to reach the clotheslines, his mother had given him the job of pulling the lines tight and tying them with no slack. Those needed to be ready each week for the task of holding the family’s clean laundry up to the sun. He and his brother were scolded sometimes for playing underneath the damp sheets, which held the fragrance of springtime no matter the season. It must have been the dried flowers his mother put into the soap. Later on and still, each time he passed those flowers in the Meadow, their smell cut straight into his heart. It’s one of the reasons he’d steered clear of that place even before it became a mass grave.

Unlike the pungent flowers, his mother’s voice calling as they played was a faint memory. “If you boys tug those lines down, YOU will be the ones washing that laundry all over again!”

“Those are MY knots. They ain’t gonna be comin’ loose.”

“Your knots WILL NOT be cominG loose, you mean. Don’t allow your speech to conceal your intelligence.”

“Okay, Ma.” He said as he and his brother lay on the grass, sticking their tongues out to catch drips from the sheets like drops of rain at the end of a sunshower.

The clotheslines were made of twine. Haymitch learned to work with thicker rope during training before the Quell. It never took him long to learn something, and once he did, it was committed to memory. In time, having a mind too sharp to forget things had become more of a curse than a gift.

Suddenly here he was with delicate ribbon between his calloused fingertips, and the fine muscles there were forgetting everything they’d ever learned about tying.

“I’m kind of fucking this up, sweetheart. I’m usually UNtying your ribbons, not the other way around.”

“I trust you.” She kept her body still as she knelt on a rug in front of the fireplace. 

When the ribbon was tied, he adjusted the bow until the loops were even. Then he ran his fingers through her wispy curls.

“Your ‘something blue,’” he murmured, sliding his hand down her arm and lacing their fingers together.

She stared at the polished band on her left hand. “Something old...” Haymitch’s father had made the ring 50 years prior from a small metal disk and some tinkering tools.

Effie brought their entwined hands to rest on her stomach. “...And something new.”

A chill ran through him. “Maybe you should have a backup just in case—“

“Do NOT say that! Don’t even THINK it. I’m further along this time. No arguments... our baby is my something new.”

He held her tighter and kissed her neck in apology. “All right. The baby it is.”

She changed the subject before the unspoken word had a chance to start spinning in her mind. “The tongs from the bakery are ‘something borrowed.’”

“Did Peeta ask what you planned to do with them?”

“Yes.”

“What’d you tell him?”

“I said we’ll be using them to toast the loaf of bread that I was there to buy.”

“Shit, Effie. What’d he say?”

“He hugged me, and told me how very happy he was to give us the bread and lend us the tongs.”

“Let me guess... His eyes were all teary.”

“That dear boy.”

“And your eyes were all teary too.”

“Whenever the children cry, I can’t stop myself.”

“He knows now, of course. I thought we we’re keeping this a surprise!”

“I confirmed nothing.”

“The boy knows anyway. You two are thick as thieves.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I’m sure he will ACT surprised when we tell them.”

“So the kids already know. It’s fine. ...Are you ready to do this?”

“Absolutely.” She nodded.

“...With ME,” he teased.

“Come here.” He’d been curled against her back, and she tugged him to kneel beside her. “We’ve done this before, you know.”

“Have we?” He chuckled, “I doubt any amount of liquor would make me forget doing this with you.”

“I was 8, with an big imagination and—“

“That kid on those screens is long gone, honey. You know that better than anybody.”

She pressed her palm to his chest. “This heart is the same. They broke it a thousand times, but they didn’t destroy it. ...I draped a shawl over my head as a veil, and I swore on every doll I owned that nobody would take this heart from me. I’ve kept swearing it... no matter how many pairs of my shoes you vomited on.”

He brushed his thumb along her cheek. “I married you sometimes in my dreams.”

“Does that explain any of the occasions you woke up screaming?” She smirked then caressed his forearm because nightmares were never a light topic regardless of the context.

“No. But it explains the times I woke up with my dick so hard that all I did was move and I was coming.”

She flushed from her chest to her cheeks, wanting him like that right then. “When was the first time?”

“The night after the picnic. Remember? In my dream you were wearing those silky lace gloves, buttering warm chunks of bread with one hand and getting me off with the other.”

“We only spent a few hours together that day, and you dreamed you were marrying me? You hardly knew me.”

“I knew enough to feel you slipping inside me. I tried to fight it a long time, but I couldn’t stop it.”

“So... now it’s full surrender.”

“Being married won’t make this any easier,” he said, “The last thing you and I could ever be is easy.”

“When is anything worth doing easy to do?”

He traced the neckline of her dress with the tip of his finger. The pretty thing dipped so low that he could have slipped his hands inside and filled his palms with her breasts. But he waited. The dress was pale blue like the ribbon, and overlaid with a weaving of tiny pearls.

“Sex,” he answered belatedly, “It’s one thing worth doing that’s always been easy for us.”

She toyed with a button on the shirt she’d picked out for him. “That’s true. Let’s make a fire and toast that bread so we can do that other thing worth doing.”

Haymitch had said no Justice Building, no party, and no singing. So Effie softly hummed the tune she remembered from Katniss and Peeta’s marriage ceremony. She hummed it straight through as Haymitch laid tinder on the andiron and she stacked kindling around it in the shape of a teepee. Then he built a small cabin over that with dry wood. She struck a match and used it to light the one he held. They both lit the tinder and watched as each piece of wood caught fire.

Over the years, she’d started many fires in that fireplace. The first time she tried, Haymitch had passed out in a snowbank on his way home from the Hob. A neighbor saw him lying there and helped him home.

After a warm bath, he was still shaking, so Effie covered him with blankets in front of the fireplace, and she managed to get some flames going as he slept. Her fire died out quickly, so she called the kids to show her the way. Katniss came. “I’m glad you’re here,” the girl told her, “He needs you. He fights it, but it’s a fierce thing to fight against.”

“What is?” Effie asked.

“That kind of hunger. That hollowness that only one thing can fill...” Katniss tapped Haymitch’s foot with the toe of her boot. He was out cold. “Alcohol just covers it up for a moment as it’s passing through.”

“What fills it?”

“When he realizes he’s worth loving, and when he loves himself the way that you love him.”

Effie shuddered at the thought of everything her girl had been through that instilled that kind of knowing in someone so young. “Katniss, I haven’t said anything about love.”

“Good. Hearing you say it would only scare him more.”

Effie said it now as chunks of wood burned down to coals, and flames danced orange and blue. He saw the dance in her eyes. “I love you,” was still difficult for him to reckon with.

“Loving you is the only thing I’ve been sure about in a long time,” he responded as the truth rose up over fear.

“Show me.”

He picked up the loaf of bread with the bakery tongs. “Let’s do this together.”

She put her hands atop his as they toasted the bread over the fire. When the crust was golden brown, they turned the loaf out onto a cutting board.

Effie slipped an oven mitt onto her hand and held the bread with it as she cut a thick slice from the middle. Then she spread it generously with butter, like in Haymitch’s dream. He picked up the slice and broke it in half, holding onto both pieces.

She eyed him warily. “Are you going to smear that on my face?”

“This isn’t the Capitol, sweetheart. No marriage tradition here wastes even a speck of food. ...But I’ll smear butter anywhere you want as long as I get to suck it off you after.”

“Let’s save that for later when I’m not wearing my Nana’s dress.”

He handed her half of the slice and they fed each other, licking the butter from one another’s fingers.

“My heart is yours,” she said, “It always has been, and I swear that’s never changing.”

“Keep swearing, honey, because nobody and nothing’s going to take mine from you either.”

Their kiss was slow, starting at the corners of their mouths, tasting the salty seams of each other’s lips, and opening to the sweetness that only comes with deep familiarity.

“Oh—“ She startled without breaking away. “Butterfly wings! The baby woke up. It must like the bread.”

Haymitch wiped his hands on a towel near the cutting board, then he cradled the bump on Effie’s belly. She cleaned her hands too so she could guide him to the rapid flutter.

He soaked up the movement. With the one they buried, he didn’t get to feel this. They never got to feel her alive. “This one’s strong already.”

Effie simply nodded because she knew if she said anything, then joy would spill from her eyes, and she wanted to keep it all.

“...Strong like my wife,” he said.

Joy spilled regardless, even in silence. Her tears were saltier than the butter, and he kissed every drop. The sunshower was beginning.

[violetwolfraven]

belmerttons?

*panicked singing* it’s after midnight and I can’t fucking sleep so of course I’m writing!!! I have school tomorrow and I’m gonna die!!!

This is gonna be my first time writing this ship as the main focus of a fic, so we’ll see how it goes, I guess. I’m gonna need to figure out how I want to portray their dynamic.

Tw: head injury, referenced child neglect

...

“Ya can’t keep doin’ stuff like this,” Buttons mumbled, “You’re gonna get yourself killed.”

Elmer winced as the other boy tied off the bandage around his head definitely harder than necessary.

His head was already pounding, and seeing Buttons—who barely even pranked back in prank wars even when Race really deserved it—angry wasn’t helping. Especially since he wasn’t quite sure why he was so angry at him.

“We all knew what could happen with the strike.”

“That ain’t what I’m talkin’ ‘bout,” Buttons muttered as he crouched down to start checking out Elmer’s bruised knuckles, “You think I didn’t see ya jump between that thug and Smalls? He had a club, El. He coulda killed you.”

“And if I didn’t jump in, he coulda killed Smalls,” Elmer argued, “What was I supposed to do, huh? She’s a lot smaller than—ow!”

“Sorry.”

Buttons didn’t sound sorry, but he did unwrap the bandage, winding it looser the next time.

“This is what you always do,” he grumbled, “Get hurt defendin’ other people, then I gotta patch you up. What’re ya gonna do when we ain’t Newsies no more and ya can’t come to me anymore, El?”

Elmer shrugged, still annoyed, “I dunno, but what do you want me to do, Buttons? Scab like Sniper, Tommy, and Blink?”

“No.”

“Then what’s the problem? Everyone else is hurt, too! Jack gets soaked fightin’ opponent’s he can’t handle every other month and ya don’t care!”

“I never said I don’t—“

“Oh, so it’s better that the only one ya call on it is me?”

“You have a family, El!” Buttons exclaimed, standing up suddenly, “For Christ’s sake, ya act like you’s the same as everyone else here, but ya ain’t! What would your family do if you didn’t come home, huh? Who’d have to go tell ‘em?”

Elmer was stunned, “Buttons—“

“Me,” Buttons growled, “Jack’s missin’, so it’d be me. I’m the only other one who knows where your family lives.”

Elmer recovered from the shock and promptly got angry again.

“You have a family, too, and I didn’t see you bein�� careful.”

Buttons snorted, “Then you wasn’t payin’ attention.”

Elmer really wished he could say he had been.

In truth, he’d been a bit preoccupied trying to keep that thug distracted long enough for Smalls to escape, then keeping said thug from killing him. After that, everything was kind of hazy until apparently, Davey found him passed out in an alleyway.

He hadn’t been paying attention to where his friend was at all.

“El...” Buttons made a frustrated noise, “You always gotta fight for everyone—and that’s a good thing—it means ya got a big heart, but... I’m serious. Since nothin’ else has made ya listen: what would your family do if you didn’t come home?”

Elmer snorted. He was a little mixed up in the head right now, but he very clearly knew the answer to that one.

“They’s got 8 other children, don’t they?”

“El...”

“Nah,” Elmer chuckled, even though he was pretty sure this wouldn’t be funny under normal circumstances, “I’m just the youngest and smallest. It ain’t like I bring in that much income. And ‘sides, nobody pays attention to me ‘cause I’m the stupid one.”

“Elmer, you ain’t stupid.”

“My big sister spent years tryin’ to teach me to read, but I couldn’t. Polish or English. I just can’t pick it up. It takes me hours to get through a article if I feel like tryin’. Why do ya think Jack reads headlines out loud most mornin’s?”

Dimly, Elmer registered the thought that he’d never told anyone that he couldn’t read, that letters on a page didn’t stay still for him. Jack was the only one who knew, and that was because he’d guessed after Elmer asked the headline several days in a row. Apparently, there’d been boys like him before.

Buttons shrugged, “That don’t make ya stupid. You’s good enough at math to make up for it, anyway, and even if ya can’t read it, you speak two languages. What makes ya stupid is pickin’ fights you can’t handle, constantly.”

Elmer groaned. This again? He thought they’d already covered this.

“My family wouldn’t miss me if I didn’t come home, Buttons, so—“

“And what about everyone else?” Buttons interrupted, “El, maybe your family wouldn’t, but what about Jojo? What about Race, huh? What about me?”

Elmer shrugged, “You wouldn’t have to patch me up anymore.”

He stood up, but it was definitely too fast as purple spots swam before his eyes.

“Oh, shit...”

Buttons tried to catch him as he collapsed, but that just ended in both of them hitting the floor.

“Sorry,” Elmer mumbled against his friend’s chest. He was really tired.

“Nothin’ to be sorry for,” Buttons muttered, and Elmer felt him sigh, “I just... don’t see how ya don’t see it.”

“See what?”

Being curious was helping him want to stay awake.

“Y’know how it is when Crutchie smiles?” Buttons asked quietly, “Really smiles. Not when he’s bein’ sarcastic.”

Elmer nodded, then winced as he regretted it, “It’s like someone lit a candle in the dark.”

“Yeah. That’s how it is.”

Buttons was silent for a second, and Elmer wondered if he was asleep, and they were just going to take a nap on the floor.

“Yours is like that, only... God, Elmer, it’s like someone put the goddamn sun in your smile.”

Elmer was processing things pretty slowly right now, but he was pretty sure he’d be confused even if he wasn’t.

“What?”

“It’s amazing,” Buttons whispered, “It’s like a minute of summer in the middle of winter, but better. It makes everybody else want to smile, too. I wish I could show you, but mine don’t do that.”

“Sure it does,” Elmer mumbled, “I like your smile.”

“Thanks, but it’s not like yours.”

“Your smile is like...” Elmer tried to think through his headache, “Like when the trees start gettin’ green again in spring. I ain’t much good with words, but it’s that.”

Buttons was silent for a second, and when Elmer looked up, he was... he was a little red in the face.

They both sat up, but stayed on the floor.

Elmer was a little surprised when Buttons’s hand found his, but it felt right, so he didn’t pull away.

“How would you feel if ya never saw my smile again, El?”

He frowned, “I don’t wanna imagine it.”

“Okay, well...” Buttons sighed, “I don’t wanna imagine not seein’ your smile, either. So if ya won’t be careful for yourself or your family... do it for me?”

Elmer’s thoughts were still a bit fuzzy, but he was pretty sure he had a grasp of what was going on.

He’d been a newsie since he was 10, and he’d noticed how the older boys usually started getting interested in girls around 13 or 14.

Or, some of them started getting interested in boys. Which, as Manhattan’s old leader had explained it, was dangerous but natural, even if they had to keep it a secret.

Elmer was 15, now, and Buttons was the same age. He was just now realizing that as his friends’ eyes started getting drawn to girls or boys on the street, or each other, in more than a couple cases, he’d never really focused on anyone besides Buttons.

There was a weird feeling in his stomach, but not like he was going to throw up. It was more like... butterflies.

Elmer has done some pretty dumb things—mostly at the encouragement of friends—over the years, but he wasn’t stupid enough not to recognize what he was feeling, and...

Well, he wasn’t sure, but the look in Buttons’s eyes looked almost like how Blink looked at Mush and Jojo looked at Mike.

But he was kind of loopy right now, and not sure enough to act on it.

“I’ll try to be careful. For you.”

Buttons smiled, “Thanks. Next time you’re about to do somethin’ stupid, consider how you’d feel if it was me doin’ it.”

That was actually a good point.

“Uh, Buttons?”

Buttons stopped on the way out the door of the washroom, “Yeah?”

“Thanks for always patchin’ me up.”

“No problem, El.”

[destiel-love-forever]

What a Jerk

It’s Valentine’s Day. For Castiel & Dean, that means war. 

Read below or on AO3: HERE

"What a jerk," Castiel grumbles, closing the door as the delivery man leaves.

"Who?" Benny asks from his spot on the couch a few feet away. He turns to look at Castiel, more words about to come out. Then he sees the giant bouquet of flowers in Castiel's hands and grins. "Oh. Dean."

"Stop smiling. He's an asshole." Castiel storms off to the kitchen. Since his penthouse apartment is an open-floor plan, though, he doesn't escape Benny. He just gets his bitch face from a new angle.

"Yes," Benny says sarcastically. "What an asshole for buying you flowers."

Castiel huffs as he searches for a stupid vase for the stupid flowers. "I told him not to do this."

"Yeah, bad idea. Telling Dean not to do something is pretty much the equivalent of challenging him to a duel."

There's a dusty vase beneath the sink. Castiel takes it out and fills it with water, not bothering to clean it first. When it's filled enough for the flowers to survive - because Castiel isn't a monster, he's not going to purposely kill beautiful flowers - he stuffs the bouquet into the vase.

"There." He sets the vase on his kitchen island and breathes a sigh of relief. "At least it's over now. Right?"

Benny snorts. "Dude, it's 8 AM. There's no way that's all he has planned for the day."

"You work for me, ya know," Castiel says in a voice that's supposed to be threatening but isn't. "You have to take my side."

"I'm your bodyguard. I keep you safe from bullets and kidnappers. Not overbearing lovers."

Castiel sighs in frustration. He pulls out his phone and very aggressively types in Dean Winchester's number.

Dean answers almost instantly. Clearly, he had been waiting for this call.

"Hey, C-"

"This stupid romantic nonsense is a waste of money and I swear Dean Winchester if you get me any more presents today I'm going to break up with your stupid ass!"

"So you got the flowers," Dean says with a smile in his voice. "Good. You should get ready for work, my love. Don't want to be late."

"Don't ignore me, Dean! You promised. You promised not to do this!"

"No. You ordered me not to do this. I never agreed."

"Dean-"

"Have a nice day, babe. I'm sure I'll be hearing from you soon."

"Dean!"

"Oh, and Cas?"

Castiel grits his teeth, fuming. "What?"

"Happy Valentine's Day."

Castiel growls - yes, growls - and hangs up. He throws his hands in the air and turns to Benny. "What a jerk!"

----

When Castiel stops at his favorite coffee shop for his usual morning Americano with cinnamon, the barista already has his order ready. It has a message written on it in Dean's hand writing, black sharpie scrawling its way across the disposable cup.

You are so brew tiful. I love you like I love my coffee - inside me (;

Castiel rolls his eyes. "What a jerk."

"Sorry?" the barista says in confusion.

"He's a jerk." Castiel grabs a disposable cup from the stack beside the register. He pops the top off the one Dean wrote on and pours his coffee into the fresh, non-Valentine cup. Then he tosses the graffitied cup and nods at the barista. "Have a good one."

"Uh… yeah." The barista watches him go, looking crestfallen. Clearly she had found it romantic. Disgusting. "You too."

----

Another bouquet of flowers is waiting for Castiel when he enters his private office. He glares at it from the doorway for a long moment before huffing in annoyance, going over and grabbing the damn thing. Still dressed in his trench coat, still with his briefcase in his left hand, Castiel walks down to the bull-pen and lifts the vase in the air.

"Who fucked up today and needs a Valentine's Day present for their significant other?" he yells, his anger making most of his employees shiver or tense up.

It takes a second but then a woman in the back tentatively raises her hand. Charlie. She's dating Dorothy from accounting. They're a cute couple.

"They're yours," he announces, thrusting them out in the air to silently tell her to come get them.

Blushing, she makes her way to Castiel. She mumbles something about not forgetting but running out of time this morning. Castiel couldn't care less whether Charlie forgot or not. He just doesn't want to stare at the damn flowers all day.

Once they're out of his hands, Castiel waves a hand in the air and says, "As you were."

Benny is smirking when Castiel gets back to his office.

"What's so funny?" Castiel asks in a voice that's supposed to be threatening but just makes Benny's lips lift higher. "What?"

"I'm assuming you didn't see the box of chocolates."

Castiel parts his lips, about to ask what Benny means, when he sees a heart-shaped box beside where the flowers had been. He deflates. Goes over to his chair. Slumps down. Sighs dramatically. Then he takes the box and reads the attached note.

Life was like a box of chocolates.  You never know what you're gonna get. - damn glad I got you, babe ♡

"What a jerk," Castiel growls at the box. He rips the lid off and snatches a piece of chocolate before pushing it toward Benny. "Stop fucking smiling and eat. And don't tell him I ate any of it. That asshole knows I can't resist chocolate so you have to lie."

"Sure thing boss," Benny says with a wink. "Sure thing."

----

"Are you Castiel?" a man dressed in a cupid costume asks.

Castiel shakes his head. "Nope."

Unfortunately, he's in the breakroom at work and his employees think this whole battle between Dean and him is hilarious. Balthazar says, "He's lying" at the same time Chuck says, "He's Castiel."

Castiel decides he's going to fire them both.

The cupid smirks and turns to Castiel. Castiel puts a hand up in protest. "Whatever it is, I don't want-"

"Lord Almighty,

I feel my temperature rising

Higher higher

It's burning through to my soul

Boy, boy, boy,

You gonna set me on fire

My brain is flaming

I don't know which way to go

Your kisses lift me higher

Like the sweet song of a choir

You light my morning sky

With burning love"

"Nope," Castiel mumbles under his breath, grabbing his lunch and heading out the door. "Nope, nope, nope."

The damn telegram follows him. Everyone in the office stares, their jaws dropped open as the goddamn CEO is followed around by a glittery man dressed as cupid singing an Elvis song. Castiel isn't even embarrassed. He's just pissed.

Castiel enters his office and shoots a glare at Benny who had conveniently been gone to the bathroom when this all went down but is now back at his rightful place by Castiel's side. "Make him leave."

"It's coming closer

The flames are now lickin' my body

Please won't you help me-"

"Why? He isn't a threat."

"He has a weapon!"

"It's a plastic bow, boss."

"And my chest is a-heaving

Lord Almighty

I'm burning a hole where I lay."

"I own this goddamn building and I'm telling you, head of my security, to kick him out!"

Benny gives him a wry smile. "I'll get right on it, boss. Highest priority."

"Cause your kisses lift me higher

Like the sweet song of a choir-"

"You're fired."

"Oh, well, in that case I suppose he'll get to stay."

"Ah, ah, burning love

I'm just a hunk, a hunk of burning love."

Castiel grabs his office phone and presses 7, gritting his teeth. With every ring that passes, his rage boils. He's a breath away from exploding.

"Singer's Auto, this is Dean."

Castiel slams a finger down on speaker phone and turns to glare at cupid as he finishes the damn song.

"Just a hunk, a hunk of burning love

Just a hunk, a hunk of burning love

Just a hunk, a hunk of burning love

Just a hunk, a hunk of burning love."

Finally, it's over. Cupid winks at him before leaving. Benny smirks. Dean - the jerk that he is - is laughing hysterically on the other line.

"I hate you," Castiel states very matter-of-factly.

"Oh come on!" Dean snorts a laugh. "It's Elvis! You love Elvis!"

"Not anymore! Congratulations, Winchester. You have officially ruined Elvis for me."

Dean laughs harder. "God, I love you babe."

"Gaaaah, no!" Castiel hangs up the call before Dean can use his mystical powers to sweet talk Castiel into forgiving him. It ain't happening.

Castiel bangs his forehead against his desk a few times before deflating against it. "What a jerk."

----

Castiel walks into the first jewelry store he comes across. He storms past all of the stupid Valentine's decorations and up to a young man in a sharp suit who is smiling far too wide if you ask Castiel's opinion. Castiel smacks the palm of his hand on the glass display in front of the man and growls, "I need a goddamn engagement ring."

----

A ring box heavy in his pocket, Castiel stands outside Dean's small two-bedroom house. The yellow paint is peeling back in places, revealing the blue beneath. They come from two completely different worlds. Dean, the eldest son who sacrificed everything he had to raise his baby brother, dropping out of high school, working two jobs, scraping his father off whatever bar floor or sidewalk he ended up on most nights. Castiel, the eldest son who had the world handed to him, private prep school, undergrad at an Ivy league, two master degrees, no student loan debt, a $100,000 no-strings gift from his father to start up his own company.

Dean lives in a house that was foreclosed and rotting on the inside. He’s owned it for three years now. The floors and roof have been replaced. The staircase rebuilt. The walls repainted. The kitchen remodeled. The bathroom gutted. All Dean’s doing since he couldn’t afford to hire contractors.

Castiel lives in a penthouse apartment in a building that’s only seven years old. He got to pick in a catalogue what model of every room he preferred. Professionals molded his home into exactly what he wanted it to be in two weeks, handing it to him furnished and beautiful.

Dean works 60 hour weeks at his uncle’s auto shop, always smelling of oil and sweat. He drinks Jack Daniels. Listens to classic rock. Wears stained jeans and cotton shirts so worn they have holes in the collars and become see-through in certain lighting.

Castiel works 80 hour weeks, but only 30 of them are spent in the office, the rest spent on his phone or at his home so he can lounge on his couch and peruse documents without worrying about employees bothering him. He’s currently working through a bottle of 1926 Macallan. He listens to classical music, as well as plays it himself on his own grand piano that overlooks the city. Wears tailored Brioni suits and silk ties to work, settling for Gucci denim pants and cashmere sweaters when he's casual.

They should have never even met. Castiel would never take his car to a low-grade dealership like Singers. Never. You just don’t do that. Castiel was sure they wouldn’t even know what to do with a custom built Tesla like his. Yet, there Castiel was, broken down outside of the city with a migraine the size of Texas and stubborn impatience that made waiting for the professionals from the dealership that would take 3 hours a choice he wasn’t willing to make. So, he typed in auto shops on google and picked the one nearest to him.

Singers Auto.

Dean had showed up all southern drawl and warm smiles. Flirted right past Castiel’s foul mood. Stroked the hood of his Tesla like it was a cherished pet. Spoke to Castiel confidently about his knowledge on the vehicle. He offered to tow it into the city for Castiel if Castiel wanted but assured Castiel that if he chose to let Dean bring it to Singer's Auto, Dean would be able to take care of it.

“Easy fix,” Dean had said. “In and out. Twenty minutes.”

Castiel had agreed. It was completely out of character but he couldn’t help himself. He wanted more time with the mechanic.

He left that day with a fixed car and Dean Winchester’s number.

They never once brought up the salary gap between them. Some nights they’d crash at Castiel’s. Some nights at Dean’s. They’d go to five-star restaurants and gorge on filet mignon and lobster. They’d go to McDonalds and demolish burgers and chocolate milkshakes. Neither of them so much as blink.

Castiel smiles to himself as he looks at the house again. Where will they live? Castiel could care less, if he’s being honest. He’ll move here if Dean wants. He can deal with the furnace that needs to be kicked every few days as a reminder to work again. He can deal with the pipes that always freeze in the winter. He can deal with the way the fifth step creaks because Dean messed up when building the staircase. As long as he has Dean Winchester, he has everything.

“The hell you doin’ out here?” Dean yells from the front porch, snapping Castiel from his thoughts.

The ring box in his pocket grows hot in anticipation.

“It’s Valentine’s Day!” Castiel yells back, casually walking across the street from where he parked. “I figured if you’re going to insist on celebrating the idiotic holiday, I might as well win by outdoing you.”

“Oh, really?” Dean huffs a laugh, taking the porch steps two at a time until he’s on the grass of his front lawn. “How do you expect to do that?”

Castiel stops when he’s on the sidewalk, about five or so feet between them. He gives Dean a cocky grin that makes Dean’s smirk fall just an inch. Dean Winchester doesn’t like to lose at things - especially all of these silly competitions they get themselves into.

How long can they go without having sex or masturbating, and who will break first and beg the other to fuck him?

Who can eat the most pie in one sitting?

Which one can buy the best Christmas gift?

Who can win the most tickets at the arcade?

How long can they keep their prank war going, and who will be the one to finally throw in the towel when it goes too far?

Who can scare the other badly enough to make them scream?

Which one of them will win the cheesy romantic award of Valentine’s Day 2020.

Castiel won the 1st, 3rd, and 6th.

Dean won the 2nd and 4th.

Neither have won the prank war bet - it’s still on-going.

But Castiel Novak is going to win this damn Valentine’s Day award. If Dean wants to play this game today, it’s on.

“Cas-”

“Dean Winchester,” Castiel says softly, in a voice sickly sweet and loving. He lowers himself to one knee and reaches into his pocket.

Dean’s eyes flare with rage. “No! Don’t you dare!”

“You’re the love of my life-”

“Stop!”

“I can’t imagine any possible future that doesn’t have you in it-”

“I hate you so much right now,” Dean chokes out, eyes welling up.

Castiel smirks and opens the ring box. “Will you marry me?”

“No,” Dean grumbles with a pouty look on his face. Then he growls low in his throat and shakes his arms like a toddler on the verge of a tantrum. “Fuck - fine! Yes. I’ll marry you.”

Grinning, partly because the love of his life just agreed to marry him but mostly because instead of Dean evening the score Castiel is now 2 points ahead, Castiel pushes to his feet and slips the ring on Dean’s finger. He tugs Dean into his arms and kisses him breathless.

“Proposed to me on Valentine’s Day,” Dean says with an incredulous huff, resting his head on Castiel's shoulder and hugging him. “What a jerk.”

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