#i tried my best to make soap's sister look as much like soap as possible

[natelia-aldelliz]

1 : Soap never had any idea that woman wanted him carnally, he's not the most observant on that front (he never noticed Ghost flirting with him and thought his love was one-sided for the longest time, but tbf Ghost was also very discreet about it)

2 : He sewed the hat, eyepatch and hook himself, because he's the best uncle and then got distracted as he was wrapping it up, so now he's watching a tutorial on youtube about how to build a voice box. Honestly how hard could it be, he builds explosive devices as a hobby (listen, Price doesn't have to know)

3 : He is out to his family, but doesn't want his mum to know he has a boyfriend because he knows she'll insist on meeting him and welcoming him to the family and making a big deal out of this, and he knows that Ghost isn't ready for that.

4 : Christmas is obviously a very hard time for Ghost, but he is very very in love with Soap and some days still can't believe that it's mutual, but then his Johnny does something like that and his head gets quieter while he's melting a bit.

5 : For the people that didn't see my other post : the bird is a Caique parrot, and they're supposedly very energetic, a bit loud, medium sized, unintelligible, very friendly to what they consider their family, adventurous and danger prone, with an explosive personality and a hate of boredom, so basically the adhd bird.

[cuttoothed]

@jonmartinweek day 4, for the prompt "Red String of Fate." As usual, I can never write soulmate/destiny tropes straight. :')

*

Martin doesn’t notice it at first, in the rush of pain and panic. There’s so much blood, he’s not sure if Jon’s breathing; people are crowding around to try and help, and it’s only when they’re in the ambulance, the paramedics giving Jon oxygen and trying to stop the bleeding, that Martin sees it: a slender, translucent red cord that stretches between him and Jon.

He blinks a few times, sure he’s seeing things. The cord is still there, looping around his little finger and then running across the ambulance to Jon. Martin tries to touch it with his other hand, but it’s like trying to grab a stream of running water or a beam of light; his fingers pass right through it, without affecting its cohesion at all. There's a faint tingling sensation in his fingertips, but that's all. The paramedics aren’t paying it any attention as they lean over Jon, and Martin is starting to wonder if maybe he hit his head in the…fall, or whatever you call being flung across dimensions in a tangle of tapes and fear.

“Umm, excuse me?” he asks. “Can you see that?” He lifts his arm and the cord seems to stretch longer, not tugging at Jon’s hand. One of the paramedics gives a confused frown.

“Yeah?” she says, as if Martin’s asked an incredibly obvious, time-wasting question, and turns back to Jon.

“Right,” says Martin. “Okay.” Not something to worry about right now. Not while Jon is hurt, bleeding, maybe dying and it’s his fault, and—

No, not thinking like that right now, Martin decides firmly. Focus on Jon, the rest of it can wait.

When they arrive at the hospital the paramedics wheel Jon rapidly inside, and Martin follows, watching as that strange red cord lengthens, keeping them tethered together. A nurse stops Martin as he’s about to follow the stretcher down the corridor, and Martin flails, realizing he has no way to prove who he is and it’s not as if he’s legally anything to Jon, anyway. But the nurse takes one look down at his hand and gives an efficient nod.

“Oh, you’re threaded,” he says. “Okay, follow me—I’ll take you to the family waiting room.”

Martin doesn’t question it. The waiting room has comfy chairs and a television, an electric kettle for tea and several packets of biscuits, and the nurse leaves Martin with a promise that someone will update him on Jon’s condition soon. Martin makes tea to give himself something to do that isn’t collapsing into a sobbing mess, and crunches miserably on a chocolate Hobnob, staring at the red string that leads from his finger out into the corridor. It’s so translucent now that it’s almost invisible, and Martin can really only see the faint glimmer of it if he turns his head a certain way. It’s as if the distance between him and Jon stretches out its…atoms? Photons? Martin has no idea—and no idea how this is even possible, though the thing it reminds him of most is, unpleasantly, Oliver Banks’ corpse roots.

He doesn’t think it could be related to the Fears, though. If the Fears came here with them they’ve only just arrived, and everyone here seems to think that this is perfectly normal. Threaded, the nurse called it, as if it’s something he sees every day. Besides, the cord connects him to Jon, and Martin can’t believe that could be a bad thing.

He turns on the telly, because the silence is too loud. On one of the channels he finds a soap opera where a couple are having a tearful argument over the man’s childhood best friend, who he claims is like a sister to him. “Why are you still threaded to her and not me?” his partner demands, yanking up his arm to show the red string around his finger that clearly leads nowhere near her.

“Like a sister my arse,” Martin mutters; he thinks he’s starting to understand the significance of the cord. The soap is pretty terrible, but it’s a distraction, and Martin finds himself watching it until a different nurse comes to tell him he can see Jon.

“He’s still unconscious, but he’s stable. His body just needs time to heal.” She continues on to tell him that the police are going to want to talk to Martin about what happened, but Martin scarcely hears anything else she says. He’s following the red cord that stretches down the corridor ahead of him, its form growing brighter and more tangible with each step he takes. At last it leads him into the room where Jon is lying, eyes closed and his chest rising and falling slowly. Martin wants to laugh and cry at the sight of him, but he settles for dragging a chair over to the bedside and cradling Jon’s hand in his.

Jon’s hand is warm, and Martin presses his lips to the back of it, careful not to disturb the cannula inserted there. This close, the red thread gleams between their fingers, vibrant and alive.

“God,” he breathes, feeling like he’s exhaling for the first time since the tower. He can feel the emotions vying for space in his chest: fear and anger, grief and guilt. It’s too much to feel right now, so Martin pushes it down, focuses on the feel of Jon’s hand in his, the strange glow of the red cord between them.

Martin’s never believed in fate, predestination, any of that rubbish. His mum used to say everything happens for a reason, and it’s all part of God’s plan, but he could never bring himself to put any stock in the plans of some unfathomable being. The Web proved him wrong on that, he supposes, but the idea of things being meant to happen? That still doesn’t sit right with him. Is that what this…threading is supposed to be, though? A sign that he and Jon were somehow destined to be together? Something in Martin rebels furiously at the idea; he and Jon might not be perfect, but they chose each other—because they wanted to, not because the universe decided they should.

“You’d better wake up soon,” he tells Jon. “Because I need you to use your…spooky powers and explain exactly what’s going on with this—” He lifts his hand to tug gently on the thread. “—whatever this is.”

It’s a couple of hours later when Jon wakes up. Martin’s back to watching soap operas on the telly mounted on the wall—with the volume down, of course, but he can still follow most of the plot. Jon makes a small, soft noise, and when Martin looks down, Jon’s eyes are fluttering open, focusing on him.

“M’rt’n,” he manages to say, and Martin is so relieved he could cry.

“I’m here,” he says. “It’s okay—we made it. We’re both okay.”

Jon nods faintly, and before Martin can say anything else there are nurses and doctors hustling him out of the way, checking Jon’s pupil response and his blood pressure and making sure his stitches are holding, and Martin’s being pulled aside by a couple of police officers who ask him kindly but insistently to explain what happened. It seems as if he’s not a suspect, since there was no weapon found on him or at the scene, so he spins a story about muggers who took their money and ID, and it seems to satisfy them.

Of course at some point they’re going to have to actually worry about money, and ID, and somewhere to stay, but that’s in the future. For now, Jon is awake and not looking quite as much like death warmed over, and you couldn’t drag Martin away from his side if you tried. The medical staff and police clear out, at last, and Martin sits back down beside Jon, taking his hand again.

“How are you feeling?” he asks. Jon gives a weak laugh, then hisses as if it hurts.

“Like I got stabbed and a building fell on me,” he says. “You?”

“I’m fine—surprisingly so, actually. A few bruises and scrapes is all.”

“Good, I’m glad.” Jon smiles a bit wistfully. “So we’re…somewhere else, then?”

“Seems like it,” Martin says. “You can tell by the way the general population isn't horribly traumatized after months in hell. Oh, and also this.” He raises his hand again, drawing the thread up with him. Jon gives a thoughtful frown.

“That is interesting.”

“They call it threading,” Martin tells him. “I think it’s some kind of relationship marker? Like a, uh, a weird soulmate thing, or something?”

Jon shakes his head, still frowning. “Not soulmates,” he says, in that tone that says he’s knowing something out of thin air. “It grows. Not always, not in every relationship. But it marks the deepest relationships of a person’s life, the most profound connections. It’s seen as a sort of…marriage, though not necessarily romantic in nature. Similar legal status, though.”

“You mean we’re married here?”

Jon smiles. “Yes, I suppose you could say we are.”

“Wow.” Martin isn’t exactly opposed to the idea. “I kind of like the sound of that.”

He returns his hand to Jon’s, the red cord seeming to glow brighter as their fingers lace together. It’s not going to be easy, getting started in a whole new world. And there’s…a lot they need to talk about; that’s not going to be easy, either. But they’re together, and alive, and they have a thread connecting them, that grew because they chose each other—because they keep choosing each other, and Martin believes that it’s enough.

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Bound Blood (Cassandra Dimitrescu/Reader, Soulmate AU) Pt. 2

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village

Rating: T+ for blood, language, nudity, and horny

Warnings: Implied pain/blood kink

Summary: Local vampire tries to give her human soulmate a bath, but the human is feral and loving it. Then it gets a lil horny, to both of their frustration.

Previous Chapters: 1: Sharing Is (Not) Caring

2: Bloodbath, Baby!

“I take it you changed your mind about the clothes? Or am I supposed to use these towels like a makeshift toga?” You asked, glancing around the bathroom, eying the ornate tub with mild interest. This certainly wasn’t where you had expected Cassandra to take you, especially not when she had somewhat promised you garments to wear. There were no pants or shirts (or even dresses) in sight, just a rack of the softest looking towels you had ever seen. It was admittedly difficult for you to resist the urge to use one to wipe the blood off of your shoulder. However, you figured that it would be best to save that for after you were given a good behavior prize. After all, it was much more fun to be a bastard if your “victim” (not that Cassandra really counted as that) knew how polite you were capable of being, and you were, under normal circumstances, very polite. Most of the time. Maybe.

“What did I say about talking?” Cassandra snapped at you, glaring at you from her perch on the counter. She was sitting on the edge, waiting for something, occasionally eying the room’s entrance.

“You told me to shut up for ‘five minutes’. It’s been eight, at the very least! I’ve been holding back, just for you, babe,” you replied, smirking as you did. For a moment your soulmate seems to consider chucking a bar of soap at your head. Eventually she thinks better of it, opting to roll her eyes at you instead. “For the record, I did count, just to be sure. Wouldn’t have wanted to make any assumptions about the passage of time, considering how fast time seems to fly when I’m with a loved one.” Unfortunately, this does not get a rise out of Cassandra, who has shifted to face away from you. Not yet willing to give up your buffoonery (and assuming that you would not, in fact, be getting a good behavior prize anytime soon), you released a loud, exaggerated sigh, before switching tactics.

Standing up with the blanket still curled around yourself, you maneuver over to the tub, eagerly climbing inside. With how large it was, laying down was fairly easy, though you weren’t entirely flat. Wanting to be as comfortable as possible, you adjust yourself and the blanket until it covers you, while letting one end go behind your head like a pillow. It’s nowhere near as nice as you had hoped. On the plus side, however, is the attention it gets from Cassandra. Before long she’s standing adjacent to the tub, staring down with an expression of exasperation.

“What the fuck are you doing?” She asked.

“Napping, obviously. Care to join me?” You answered, without hesitation. Then you gently pat the blanket, as if offering to let her sit on top of you. This only serves to make her angrier. Now she’s leaning over the basin, bracing one hand against it, her other hand reaching to grab your throat and pull you towards her. The two of you are so close that you can’t help but blush, and the feeling of her skin against yours is weirdly attractive. “I should have known you were the kinky type. Not that I mind,” you murmured, gaze wandering a little farther south than her lips. Before you know it she’s shoved you back down and let go of you. She shakes her hand a bit, like she’s just touched something gross, but you see the pink rising on her cheeks. As much as you want to tease her, the sound of approaching footsteps takes priority. Soon the door is opening, revealing a stressed servant, a pile of clothes in her arms. Suddenly you’re glad that Cassandra pushed you away, considering you don’t think she would have enjoyed having someone walk in on the two of you in that position.

“Lady Cassandra, I have what you requested. Would you like me to draw a bath for you? Or-” she pauses when she sees you, clearly unsure of what to make of your behavior. Hell, she almost drops what she’s carrying, and makes a soft ‘oh’ sound. Presumably dying inside, Cassandra quickly takes the bundle from her. Then she stands between the two of you, blocking line of sight, looking as tense as could be.

“Just get back to work, and don’t mention this to anyone,” she growled, gesturing towards the door. As soon as the maiden closes it behind her, Cassandra is turning back to you. “Get rid of that stupid fucking blanket or I’m forcing you to wear wet socks.” Understandably, you start giggling at her request, hardly able to believe that she had really just said those words out loud. “Would you prefer I cut up the soles of your feet? I’ll heal long before you do, asshole.” Now that makes you pause, trying to figure out whether or not her threat held up. Even though everyone had a basic understanding of how blood bonds worked (the less romantic, and more historic, way to refer to soulmates), the specifics were confusing for most people, including yourself. Would your aching wounds bother her? Or only the initial injury?... Somehow you had a feeling you’d figure out the answer within the next few days.

Until then, you decide to err on the side of caution, for once in your life. Still, you roll your eyes before you pull the blanket up and out of the tub. Again you spot a faint rosy tint on Cassandra’s face, and her gaze most definitely lingers on places other than your eyes. In the end you have to bite your lower lip to stop yourself from calling her out on it. Gotta get some clothes first, you think, then back to being a dick. Holding back only gets harder from there.

Wordlessly, Cassandra takes a seat by the front of the tub, where your feet are propped up on the edge. Giving you a judgemental look, she pushes them aside so she can reach the controls knobs easier. You give an exaggerated pout in response, only for her to ignore you completely, trying very hard to look anywhere but at you. It was in stark contrast to how she had looked at you a mere half an hour earlier. There were several interesting things to note about her behavior, and you found yourself almost excited to figure out the puzzle she presented. Did she care about you now? Simply because of your blood bond? Did she have a genuine soft spot for romance?... Those sorts of questions were all you could think about, even as Cassandra turned the handles, letting cold water splash into the tub.

“I’d say ‘fuck you’ but honestly, were I in your position I would likely do the same,” you said, shivering a little. Cassandra raises an eyebrow, staring at you like you were stupid, before turning the handle a bit more. Eventually you figure out what she meant by it. “What, you guys don’t have a quality water heater? This is Romania for fuck’s sake. I would have figured the water would be a hell of a lot hotter by now,” you added, only for her to splash some still very much cold water on your face. “Is this fun for you? Are you enjoying this? God, I hope you assholes have Legos somewhere in this maniac menagerie, so I can step on them while you sleep.”

“Do you always spit in the face of kindness?” Cassandra asked, moving towards the other end of the tub as she spoke. Once more you laugh, though this time it’s much more of a hollow sound, and your smile doesn’t reach your eyes. “My sister wanted to kill you, but I pulled your pathetic corpse out of the basement, now I’m letting you use my bath, and you’re mocking me. This is why I don’t bother with this shit,” she growled, even as she wets a washcloth and starts dabbing at your wounds. On one hand you understand her frustration… but on the other you couldn’t get the image of her past victims out of your head.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’d rather be clean than not,” you started to say, pausing to think for a moment. Then you reach out, putting your hand over Cassandra’s, making her freeze in place. It’s soft enough of a touch to surprise her. Which is why it’s so easy for you to snatch the towel from her hands. “You ‘don’t bother’ with this ‘shit’ because you’re a fucking sadist, who thinks all humans are beneath you, who acts like she has every right to bleed innocent people dry, who thinks she’s God’s gift to this goddamn hellhole we call Earth. Do you think this makes up for your sins? Do you-” her nails dig into your arm and she grits her teeth in pain- “think that I can forget listening to the screams of your victims? Whose graves is this castle built upon? Whose fucking bones am I standing on? Who died to keep you alive? How many other versions of me have you killed, in other timelines, in other lives, where the universe didn’t demand that we be together? I’ve seen your heart, girl, and it’s as raw as they come.”

There’s a brief second of intense, furious eye contact. Then a flash of movement, a rush of pain, tears filling the corner of your eyes. Blood pours from the new hole in your shoulder, but Cassandra is quick to lick it up. She’s groaning in between each run of her tongue across your skin, clearly feeling it every bit that you were, yet she shows no signs of stopping. If anything, her pain seems to spur her on harder. Even you can’t help but blush a little as you struggle beneath her grip. Why did vampires have to use their mouths? Why couldn’t they get blood transfusions, like the rest of society? This way, your pleasure mixes with your misery, leaving you confused, and the fact that you’re still naked is not at all helping.

“Oh fuck off, please,” you gasped, trying to push her off of you. To your surprise, she does as asked, pulling away after one last lick. When you turn to look at her, you see your blood covering her lips and dripping down her chin. “You’re a mess, Cassie. Hot water?” With that you return her favor from earlier, splashing some of the (finally above room temperature) water in her direction. Most of it misses her. A few drops, however, do manage to hit their mark. Then she’s wiping her face on her sleeve, scowling the whole time. There’s still plenty of blood on her face afterwards, but it’s nothing compared to what’s gathering on your shoulder. She eyes the wound, nostrils flaring briefly, a predator dying for one more bite. “If you bite me again, I swear to whoever that one lady y’all worship is, I will bite you. My teeth aren’t made for that shit, but I don’t care. We’ll both be miserable and that’s it, baby! That’s love! I’m threatening you with an unhealthy perception of affection, dipshit!”

This time you expect her to move away, or hit you, or do anything other than what she does. Calling your bluff, she moves around the ever-filling tub, pausing to turn the water off, before hiking the edges of her dress up and… oh. Oh. Somehow she’s in the tub with you now, legs on either side of your waist, presenting the side of her neck to you with a knowing smirk. But you are not known for your cleverness. Nor your ability to make good decisions, at that. Perhaps your blood loss was starting to affect your cognition. Whatever made you so feral, so beautifully unhinged, you embraced it with utter glee. Soon enough your teeth find themselves on Cassandra’s throat, digging in enough for you to feel your blood bond reacting. For a moment she stiffens in response. Then she relaxes, even takes in a rush of air that sounds oddly content, leaning into your touch. What the fuck? You think, almost shocked enough to let go. Almost.

“What’s the matter, pet? I thought you wanted me to know what it felt like on the other side of things?” Cassandra teased, voice quiet and low. Something about her tone sends a familiar, although unwanted, feeling to your core. Still, her words egg you on, and you find yourself biting harder, tugging at the skin a little. More tears gather in your eyes, but you fight through the pain as best as you can. You drag your teeth across her skin, wishing for sharper canines, before letting go to inspect your work. There’s a clear outline where your mouth had been, but not a single drop of blood. Frustrated, you go back in for seconds, choosing a different spot to target. Again you go through the motions, only for no crimson to stain your lips. This cycle repeats several more times, with you running your tongue along her neck in between bites, so focused that you don’t realize that she’s grinding against you until she stops.

“I need to file my teeth,” you mused, trying to forget about what you had just done. Now that it’s over, Cassandra seems to feel the same, and she quickly climbs back out of the tub. She’s refusing to meet your gaze, instead focusing on arranging the clothes the servant had brought earlier. By the time she’s facing you again her blush is almost entirely gone.

“Finish cleaning up, then bandage yourself and get dressed. I’ll have a maiden wait outside to bring you back to my room. Don’t even think about trying to run,” Cassandra said sternly. You’re too distracted by the thought of what happened to give her any snarky response. So she simply nods to herself, then leaves, slamming the door behind her. Though you had expected to be relieved by her absence, you find yourself groaning, holding your head in your hands. Why is she so attractive? This is probably illegal, you think, in at least several countries. Or it should be, at least. Now that she’s gone, there’s nothing to distract you from the price of her attention, with your shoulder and neck aching horribly. Cleaning up was going to hurt even worse. Still, you think, at least I’ll have some time to think of new insults. With that in mind, you begin to wash away the blood, thoughts entirely consumed by your newest ‘partner’.

[stray-kids-react]

02 liner aussie girl joining the group

Masterlist

...

Bang Chan

° Sees you as a little sister, and will baby you nonstop for that reason alone. Expect very long hugs and him trying to beg you for some affection.

° Let Felix take charge in helping you around JYP, watching from afar like a proud father. Even if you aren't much younger than the members, he can't help but become a giddy mess when you literally do anything.

° Since he sees you as a little sister, that also means he is very protective over you. Not even Minho can tease you for too long without Chan becoming a bit tense. He just doesn't want you to ever feel uncomfortable.

° Does many vlives with you, chatting about your life and what parts of Australia you grew up in. Whenever he is introducing you or if you call him during a vlive, he'll call you little sissy.

° Many stays have made edits of Chan babying you or treating you like a literal angel, you both have watched edits like these and neither of you can deny that he doesn't do either of those things.

"My little sissy y/n did great today in our dance practice, isn't that right sissy?" he asked, sitting you on his lap.

"Yeah, Minho Oppa helped me learn quite a bit. But I couldn't have succeeded it without my personal cheerleader Chris." You replied.

Lee Know

° Doesn't make a huge deal out of it, is honestly just really happy to have a new member. He doesn't care that your a girl or a fellow aussie, just sees you as a member.

° If you are ever struggling with Korean he'll do his best to try and help you, even if it is only on small thing such as the way you pronounce words. He admits to finding your struggles pretty adorable.

° Even though he is a huge tease, he'll go easy on you for the first two months. Letting you get settled in and get use to the chaotic behavior of all of them. But after those months pass, he'll start to tease.

° Minho likes to challenge you to dance battles during practice, seeing if you will ever beat him on one. But luckily whenever Snsd comes on you are in your element, showing him the true Gee master.

° Minho has a soft spot fro you due toy your age, he won't tease you too harshly and won't get mad if you don't remember one of his cat's names. All of the members notice his new soft spot for you.

"So I know Soonie, Doongie... And?" you sighed, trying to remember the third cat of Minho's.

"Dori, it's okay. At least you remembered two of them." He reassured, Felix looking at him with shock from across the room.

Changbin

°When he heard that you would be joining the group, he hoped that you wouldn't make fun of him as much as the other members. And if you did, it wouldn't be too harsh.

° Appreciated that you weren't teasing him 24/7, and if you are shorter than him then he would be very smiley and giddy for days. Changbin likes your company and would often want to hang around you.

° Buys you coffee/tea every morning, and only you (occasionally Felix). And when the members ask, he explains that you earned your coffee/tea by not teasing him. Even if they haven't teased him for days.

° You are his favorite member, even if he won't admit it... Everyone knows it. You are his best friend and he doesn't want that relationship to change. Unlike the fan's pov, he sees you only as a best friend.

° Whenever he does a vlive with you, your ship name is all over the chat. Neither of you speak out about it, but both of you don't like each other in that way. And it makes situations awkward when they ship you two.

"I can't believe we're a ship, that is so weird to me." You chuckled, scrolling through Instagram on your phone.

"I know right! I don't get why a girl and a guy can't be friends without people shipping them." He sighed, clearly frustrated.

Hyunjin

° Becomes putty in your hands, he just finds everything about you adorable. It also doesn't help that you are Australian, which he happens to have an interest in.

° He wouldn't describe his feelings towards you as a crush, more as a little sister and der brother relationship. He would feel weird if you ever developed something for him, since he is too close to you to be a couple.

° Very clingy towards you, constantly draping himself across you. Or sitting you on his lap when you are worn out from practice, he often let's you take naps on him. He also treats you to sweets, even when on diets.

° Hyunjin once got frustrated over how JYP was treating you, giving you an extreme diet even though you were already working hard enough. So he'd reassure you that him and Chan would talk with JYP about it.

° Hyunjin can be seen copying your accent, whether it be for fun or just to tease you. He'll copy or pick up on your accent, many fan's hearts melting at his determination to be part of the aussie line.

"I shouldn't be having this cupcake." You sighed, placing the cupcake you've been eyeing for the past few minutes.

"Screw JYP, eat what you want. You are your own person and shouldn't listen to some old man." He defended, passing the cupcake.

Han

° Was the first member you met, even though it was by total accident. You both ran into each other when he was leaving the building and you were entering.

° You dropped the coffee all onto yourself in shock, making him chuckle as he tried to help you clean yourself up. He helped you into JYP, having no clue that you are going to be the new member joining.

° When Chan introduced you to the members the next day, Han was shocked. He was surprised to see a familiar face, but was also pleased knowing you seemed to be quite a sweet and charming person.

° You both are the stars whenever on reality shows together, many seeing you both as a chaotic duo. Doni and Coni once tried to correct you, telling you that women shouldn't be so hyper. Han got pissed.

° Not only did Han correct them on their manners, but also told them that a man shouldn't tell a woman what to do. Many fans and netizens applauded him for protecting his new and sweet Maknae.

"I swear those guys get on my nerves sometimes, don't listen to them." He sighed, patting your head softly.

"It's okay Hannie, I'm glad that I have some older brothers to stand up for me." You reassured, melting his heart.

Felix

° You are nervous to be around Felix, not because he's intimidating or harsh. But because he is so nice and angelic, and you don't want to develop a crush on a member.

° Even if you don't see him in that light at first, it will happen eventually because he has such an addicting energy that surround him. Felix is a sunshine, and it isn't hard to see why everyone loves him.

° Felix wants to make you feel as comfortable as possible, usually being the member picking up pads/tampons for you. He secretly develops a small crush on you, but he knows it would end up bad.

° You both would be worried about it ending bad due to the popularity of the band, Felix's popularity, your new career, and JYP's strict rules. So both of you don't truly progress that side of your relationship.

° It could blossom into something more serious in the future, but for right now it is just a mutual crush that both of you must hide. Your friendship is still very strong nonetheless, and you appreciate that.

"Okay here's a hard question, Back Door or All In?" you asked, as the managers watched you both from behind the camera.

"Neither because you aren't in them." He answered, trying to play it off as playful more so than flirtatious.

Seungmin

° Seungmin is your dorm mate, who always manages to make your nights more calm. He reassures you every night that you are doing great, even if you don't believe him.

° You both wrote down a schedule for dishes, laundry, cooking ect. The only exceptions to it is having a terrible day, birthday, or being sick. Either than that then you must follow the schedule stuck into the fridge.

° You both have derpy photos of each other as your wallpapers, both being taken when both of you just woke up. Seungmin can't help but giggle silently whenever he opens up his phone, looking at your bed head.

° Seungmin helps you out with waking up, letting you get use to the schedule of being an idol. Taking as many pillows to the face as he needs to for you to finally wake up, Once getting feathers in his hair due to it.

° Many think you both knew each other before you became a member, but you both explained that you just understand each other well and clicked when you met. Neither of you grew up together.

"Is today you dish day or mine?" he asked, bottle of soap already in his hand ready to begin cleaning.

"Mine, but I had a terrible day today. JYP critiqued everything about me." You huffed, getting a soft hug from Seungmin.

Jeongin

° Is glad he won't be babied as much since he isn't the maknae anymore, but will miss the benefits of being able to aegyo your way out of responsibilities.

° All of the members call you the babies or the baby line, even if either of you ar taller than some of them. Jeongin is also appreciative that he now has someone to relate to with being a babied quite often.

° He'll still call you noona just to get under your skin, but you honestly don't mind being called noona or unnie. Especially since some stays are younger than you, but you can become playfully annoyed at times.

° Jeongin will warm up to you very fast and treat you like a sister, he'll spoil you with stuffies and share his food with you every meal. Even though mama gets scold him for it, he doesn't care and continues to do it.

° Chan will cover both of your eyes when the members do something sexy, even if you kind of want to see it (mostly to tease them). But you understand why, since both fo you will get flustered by it easily.

"Y/n noona likes to steal my food sometimes." Jeongin admitted to fans, smiling at your playful glare.

"You share your food and insist I eat it Jeongin Oppa." You defend, watching the fans respond to the situation.

[theshelbyclan]

Angel

Summary: You cross paths with famous Thomas Shelby after killing someone he wanted dead, and you can’t help but recognise so much of yourself in this man

(Gif by @nofckingfighting​) A/N: The ever-lovely @psych0crybaby​ requested: good evening my dear. i saw that your request are open again. Could i ask for some Tommy with a total badass reader? Maybe where she saves their asses and no one knows where she is( and she just walks away) and then they see her again and ada explains to them that she mostly kills rapists and guys who harass woman because someone did the same to her when she was in the war? if you are comfortable with, if not have a good evening or day 🌺 I remember the first time I read this request and immediately being drawn to it. I did however want to do it right, you know? Like I really wanted to think about it, so I have. This comes with a warning for anyone familiar with PTSD, and some sexual abuse and assault is mentioned: this may be triggering. Sorry that it took a while to get this out, but I hope you like the result! Words: 4370 *** Breathe in. Look. See. Focus. Remember. Breath out. Throw. The first knife whooshed passed your face and hit the wall opposite you. The second followed quickly, almost magnetically. The third came after a small pause, the silence in which people feel a false sense of safety, and hit the target right in its middle. 

“You’re too pretty to be out here in the mud.” “Again,” you told yourself, “there’s four of them”. Everything comes in four, good or bad. So you moved suddenly, ducked and threw three more knives, previously hidden in your sleeves.

“You know you want it.” Like a cat you jumped up onto a roof and mid-air threw three more, taken from your pockets. But the hardest was yet to come. The last man was always hidden, always late, like that last knife. He too swished and betrayed. So from your boots, you took another knife, jumped down suddenly and planted it in the back of the invisible assailant. “Good girl…” The job was done. Now for the real work. “What happened to you?” And you told yourself, “I’m ready.” ***

“What is your concern, Tommy?” “The one minute. The soldier’s minute. In battle it’s all you get.” Thomas Shelby lived his life looking over his shoulder, but when he turned, there was nothing there. You see it happening, everything at once and there’s no avoiding it. It’s always there, right behind you. Like running through a house with the devil hot on your heels, finally finding the way out, but when you step into the garden, it starts all over again: you’re back at your starting point. You see, your body may be outside in the sunlight, but your mind is back at the house. That’s what it felt like, every day. “We live somewhere between life and death.” This is what existing is: always living somewhere between life and death, between sleep and awake. And the nightmares, they bled into the days, taking over slowly. “Is it another war you’re looking for, Tommy?” There was supposed to be one war, to end all wars. But instead, kids were sent out to die in the mud, and for what? All that blood, smoke, tears, sweat and carnage. Men blowing the whistles, boys praying and crying. Was he looking for another war? That would imply the first one had ended. “I’ll remember everything and forget nothing. I’m thinking ahead, thinking of every possibility, remembering everything that is happening…” As if he could forget. The smallest things could trigger his memories, taking him right back. When John was little, he used to be scared of a monster. Ada had told him that: that there was a witch living in the walls that you could only see in the mirrors. John didn’t sleep for weeks after her little story. And now, the monster turned out to be real, except no one believed in it anymore. Still, it was everywhere and you had to be constantly on your guard. Because it’s not just in the walls and mirrors; it’s always right behind you, creeping, slithering, crawling it’s way up your spine… And so he became a machine, no longer a human being, fuelled by whiskey and cigarettes only, always plotting. “Thomas Shelby against the whole bloody world, right?” And so he wrote, “My name is Thomas Shelby and today, I’m going to kill a man.” *** There had been five of you at home. And home was in Small Heath, though you moved house all the time. When the poverty got bad, the family was split up and you and mother went into a boarding house for women, while father and the oldest brothers went into a boarding house for men. You were alright with this, because father was a bad man, but you feared for your brothers. Mother was the sweetest woman to ever live, always making sure you ate before she did. You never noticed her withering away before it was too late. At twelve, you started working. Walking the docks and shipyards was dangerous, so your brothers tried their best to prepare you. They weren’t like the other men in Small Heath. “Take this,” one brother told you on the morning of your first shift, “Hide it, in those boots.” You’d gotten charity boots, the first one in the family! But walking in them still felt uneasy, and now he expected you to slide in a small knife as well? “When someone comes,” he continued, urging you with his fiery eyes, “you stick ‘m. Don’t wait, don’t hesitate and don’t ask any questions. When he comes, you stick ‘m and you keep on sticking ‘m!” This was the first lesson you’d been taught. Four brothers all taught their little sister and each had but one objective: keeping you safe. One gave you the knife, the other taught you how to fight and the third took the beatings your drunk father had intended for you. The fourth hadn’t any strength or knowledge to share, so he kept close. Wherever you went, he followed in the shadows, and it was like having your own guardian angel, made up of filth and smoke. When the war came, they all enlisted. Of course they did: they were good, strong and brave men. You saw them off, one by one, and after waving goodbye to your guardian angel, something inside you snapped. Inspired by their love and courage, you became a nurse and took up a post at the front. You became a guardian angel yourself. *** Tommy was looking for a war. After France, they’d taken over the Shelby enterprise again and he had ambitions of expansion. Still, there were those in Small Heath who’d forgotten about the Shelby’s and he had to re-establish their reputation. “It’s happened again, Tommy,” John said sombrely, during a family meeting. Tommy sighed and dipped his head forwards, “Will he live?” “Yeah,” his brother replied, “but what are we going to do about this?” Polly, the voice of reason, said, “You need to make an example of him, Thomas. Show him who’s in charge. We can’t have a few Irish rebels killing and beating up our runner-boys. It’s bad for business.” Tommy nodded slowly and was formulating a plan as they spoke, “He drinks at the Horse’s Head. That’s where we’ll get him.” “Are you mad?” Arthur questioned, “On any given night there’s at least fifty Irish in there. It’s like a bloody army!” “We’re not scared of some fucking Irish,” John spat. “We’re not,” Tommy looked at his aunt with whom he shared his strategic skills, “but we need to be smart about this.” “Smoke him out,” Polly added, knowing her nephew’s mind so well. “We need an incentive.” Everything was all planned out. Tommy had an explosion, a staged fight and the rum in place. The men would scatter, the police would be elsewhere and their target would run. As the pub would be set on fire, he would literally be smoked out. That’s where they would be. The plan was good, well thought out and each eventually had been dealt with.

When the night came, the first part worked like a well-oiled machine. A small explosion in the shipyards, John’s, had drawn the police away. It would take them a while too, seeing as the Communists held their meetings there. Danny Whizz-bang would be inside the pub, looking both menacingly and vulnerable enough to not attract attention among the rebels. He was doing good tonight; he’d be able to light the fire. Tommy, Arthur and a few other blinders were waiting in the alleyways. Smoke started emerging from the pub and Tommy’s head shot up at the shouts of men. As he was getting ready mentally, he thought: some day, I won’t be the one doing this work. As men started fighting and chaos ensued, he followed one insignificant figure with his eyes. This man ran, frantically, into the protection of one of the dark alleys. Tommy followed and shouted his name. The man turned and his face fell as he recognised the Shelby. He in turn grabbed his gun and pointed it at him, saying, “Don’t fuck with the Peaky Blinders.” But as Tommy was about to pull the trigger, the man fell forwards. The irritation of an eventuality not anticipated shot through Tommy and as he walked forwards, he saw a small knife sticking out of the Irish’ neck. He died on the spot. His first thought was if he could still pass this off as a killing by the Peaky Blinders, because Polly had been right: they needed to make a statement. Of course he could. His second thought lasted a lot longer and actually drove him to action: who’d done this? The angle of the knife made him look up, towards the roofs. No one was there, but Tommy still ran. As a kid, he used to climb roofs. As an adult, he dug tunnels. It’s funny how both came back to him now. Fearing whomever it was he couldn’t see, he chased the murderer. Once up, he could easily recognise the signs: someone had been on the roofs. There were bits of dust where bricks had been falling, flecks of ash where someone had been smoking and the smell of soap where someone had been waiting. Still, the killer was long gone. *** You weren’t sleeping, but sort of dreaming with one eye open. You did that a lot. Nightmares kept you vigilant, even at night. The boarding house you were living at was positively Dickensian, but you didn’t mind. You came from nothing and had little trouble going back to it. Besides, there was no money coming in at the moment, so you didn’t have the funds for any proper room.

In the dark, you thought of the men on your list. One of the best things about the boarding house was its anonymity. People who lived here were the poorest of the poorest, only surpassed by those on the streets and the working houses. No one asked any questions, no one looked at each other and shame drove people into hiding. The large room was separated into small spaces by a few curtains only, but still, there was some sense of privacy. In the darkness, you could think. The worst thing about the boarding house was the sound. It wasn’t the crying babies, children whining for food or people fighting each other, but the sound of pain. Some women wailed in their sleep and it shook you to your core every time. Your mother had sounded like that. You had too, you knew it. Early in the morning, you left. “Where are you off to, eh?” the old lady who slept next to you asked. In some ways, she was the pauper’s queen and she got away with prying. “Work,” you replied shortly. The old woman laughed a hoarse laugh, “You’re not fooling no one, dearie…” As soon as you walked onto the streets, a calmness came over you. Poverty was familiar, but it frightened you too. It was like a hand around your throat, always squeezing just a little but more. Inside, especially, it was like drowning. In Small Heath, some women had started their first shifts at the factories already and men were shovelling coal into the big machines. Sparks flew and fizzled out in your hair. Soot clung to your already filthy clothing. In other words, nothing about you looked out of the ordinary. The rest of the day was filled with you practising two skills: observing and vanishing. You listened in on conversations everywhere, while timidly looking away when anyone did notice you. Men boasted of their achievements and women complained everywhere. But you listened for any signs of cruelty and found it easily. See, in a city forgotten by civilisation, no one notices cruelty anymore. It’s part of everyday life. You, however, had decided to change that. This was your revenge, or atonement, whichever way you looked at it. One man in particular stood out to you. His eyes were cold and his shoulders broad, and when his wife came to him during his break, he slapped her without warning. Sometimes menace leaves a certain aura and you could sense it in him. When a filthy child came from the factory as well, also on a short break, you motioned the child to come over. “Hey, love,” you said softly. The child didn’t trust you, but his sunken eyes still pleaded, “What?” “Here,” you offered him a bun you’d just stolen, “I need your help.” He hadn’t eaten in days, that much was clear, and with his mouth full of crumbs, he said, “Wiff whaff?” “I’m new here in Birmingham. Where can I get a job?” He pointed, “Ask the foreman.” You smiled gently, “Thanks, love.” “Where’d you get the bun?” he inquired, less shy with each bite. “My husband bought it for me.” “You not hungry?” This child was sweet, so he’d know, “No, you have it. We got more at home.” “Okay,” and he continued absolutely devouring the pastry.   Just before he walked off again, you asked him, off-handedly, “That man, over there?” you pointed at the man with stony eyes, “You know him?” The boy fell still, “Yeah. He works here.” “What’s his name?” “Don’t know,” he whispered, “But mum told us to stay away.” “Why?” The kid shrugged, “He’s a bad man I suppose.” “Like those Shelby’s,” you tried, knowing the kid would know them like everyone around here did. It worked. “Nah,” he laughed, “the Shelby’s would never touch a woman!” “Does he?” you asked, eyes narrowing. “Mum says so. Mum says women are scared of him, because he hurts them. All of them.” You nodded slowly, “Why don’t the Peaky Blinders take care of him?” He shrugged again, “Miss? Thanks for the bun, but I really need to get back. I need my job.” “I know,” you urged him, “Go.” In France, you helped the sick and dying. This is what you had come for and you’d given up everything to do it. With the telegram of each brother found dead, you became more focussed on the work. It was like you turned into a machine, running only on adrenaline. Sometimes you would work shifts of 48 hours, simply because the other nurse had collapsed, or because the bodies wouldn’t stop coming in. Fear became second nature and fatigue had to be ignored. But being tired also made vulnerable: you learned this when one of the superior officers followed you into the halls of the makeshift hospital. Remaining on your feet after working for so long was easy, as long as you kept on moving. But when he grabbed you and you paused, your knees started buckling. Maybe it’d been the fear, maybe it was his rank and maybe it was purely that fucking bloody war, but there was no fight left in you in that moment. He had his way with you and you just… froze. Shame and guilt drove you back to England and back into the shadows you retreated. And then, shame and guilt turned into anger and the guardian angel became an avenging angel. You didn’t have to wait long. After his work was done, you followed the man with the cold eyes, watching his every move. All your fears and the kid’s warnings were confirmed in a dark corner of a filthy street. The woman never stood a chance. And so you vowed: you would end him. *** “What’s up with you?” Ada asked pointedly. Tommy’s head shot up and he stared at his sister with vacant eyes. “Thomas Shelby, the man who never eats. A rare biological mystery, he is,” Ada commented sarcastically. He grabbed a fork and picked up a potato, “I eat.” “Hardly,” Polly commented. “I have work to do, so if you ladies don’t mind…” But Ada wasn’t finished, “You’ve been lost in thought all day. Mind sharing it with us?” “No really.”

“Because we’re just women or…”

“Ada!” Tommy sighed, “Something… happened. Something unexpected and I can’t figure out how.”

“And this bothers you.”

There was something deeply infuriating about having a sister who was reading the newspaper, right next to you, but never made eye contact, and still she was absolutely right about everything. So Tommy threw his head back and admitted defeat, “Someone killed a man.”

“It’s Small Heath.”

“Someone I wanted dead, but he got there before me.”

Polly sat back down and leaned forwards, “The Irish? I though we did that.”

“Yes, that is what I had people believe.”

Ada suddenly looked up, “How?”

“I failed to take it into my calculations…”

“No. How was the Irish killed?”

Tommy blinked a few times, “A knife. Thrown from the roof.”

His sister smiled faintly, didn’t say a word and then went back to her newspaper.

“Ada…” Tommy growled, “If you know something, tell me.”

“Why? I thought you boys were taking care of business now.”

He looked at his aunt for support, almost desperate, but saw from her face that he could hope for little sympathy there.

“Fine, what do you want,” he demanded.

“Respect,” Ada said coldly.

“You have my respect.”

“Good,” she slowly flipped the page, “Now tell me you need me.”

Polly’s smirk grew into a grin and Tommy cursed all women, right there and then.

So he cleared his throat, “Ada, please, tell me.”

“It’s almost like it’s physically painful for him, isn’t it?” Polly said conversationally to Ada.

“Fucking hell…” Tommy groaned, “Ada, I fucking need your help. Please just tell me what you know!”

“Fine,” she abruptly closed the newspaper, “You need to go to that pub in Digbeth.”

“The one by the water?” Tommy frowned.

“That’s the one. Next to that boarding house that should’ve been closed years ago. That’s where you’ll find your killer.”

Immediately, he stood up. Because even though he thought he’d been subtle about it, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the incident for days now. The killer, whoever he was, had taken over his thoughts entirely. It was dark outside already, but still early enough for the pubs to be open. He’d go there at once.

“Tell her I said ‘hi’,” Ada called after him as he left.

And Tommy retraced his steps slowly, “‘Her’?”

“Her.”

He paused for a second, but when nothing else came, “You know they don’t allow women in pubs.”

“They do her,” Ada chuckled.

“Ada, stop playing these fucking games!” he shouted, as he threw down his cap in anger.

She, however, didn’t even blink and repeated, “Her. It’s a woman who killed your Irishman. All the women here know her; she takes care of a certain kind of man for us. She doesn’t want it known and she rids the world of bastards, so we leave her be. It all works out.”

Tommy turned to Polly, “Did you know of this?”

“I’ve heard of her, yes.”

“Then why the fuck has no one told me before?”

Polly sent a stern gaze at her nephew from over her teacup, “I thought you weren’t interested in women’s business.”

***

When you walked into the pub, a small nod to the man behind the bar was all that was needed. Dressing like a man had many advantages and this was definitely one of them. Still, he knew you were a woman, but after helping him out one night, you were allowed in. So you sat in the corner and became one with the furniture, drinking your whiskey in silence.

And then it happened. One man, who had no business being here, walked in. Thomas Shelby of the Peaky Blinders was considered royalty in Small Heath, so why would he be here, in this grimy little cellar pub?

The thought that he came looking for you never even crossed you mind at first. He leaned over the bar and ordered whiskey, asking a few more questions you couldn’t hear. You tried to listen more closely, but the more you did so, the more inaudible his words seemed to become.

Suddenly, he turned and looked you right in the eyes. Without a second thought, you jumped up, kicked the table towards him and made your way to the door.

“Fuck,” you heard him ground out, but still he was quick. In a flash, he had the door barricaded and a gun pointed at your head.

“Out!” he commanded everyone but you.

You felt for the reassuring blades under your clothes and relaxed a little.

“Now, Miss…” he started after everyone had left.

But you didn’t plan on being interrogated, so the first knife whooshed passed his head: a warning.

Thomas Shelby froze. Then it was like an animal awoke in him and he lunged forwards, tackling you down with him. While you were struggling, you tried to plant a second knife into his leg, but he rolled away just in time. With big eyes he stared at the weapon now stuck in the floor.

And so you were standing opposite each other, weapons of choice pointed at each other’s heads.

“Alright,” he said after a while, holding up his hands in a pacifying manner, “There’s no need to fight.”

“Spoken by a man who knows he will lose,” you replied, without missing a beat.

“You want a fight?” Tommy said quickly, “Then fight me like a man. No gun, no fucking knives. If my sister is right about you, you’ll fight me like a man.”

With that you scoffed and threw away the knives, right next to his head, into the door. It gave you such pleasure to see him shudder with each one, but your face betrayed nothing.

“Now what?” you asked.

“You tell me.”

“Fine,” you sighed and punched him in the face, hard.

As his head shot back, you noticed a flicker of surprise in his features, but he quickly recovered and his face turned emotionless yet again.

Your triumph didn’t last long. If anything, you arrogance had distracted you, so the three blows that followed from his fists came out of nowhere. One to the nose, one to the chin and the last one square in the jaw. Thank God you weren’t vain.

You took a breath in, made yourself focus and quickly jabbed him two times, before hitting him right in the eye with a mean left hook.

“Jesus Christ…” he muttered, “Who the fuck taught you how to fight like that?”

“My brothers,” you replied, before you could stop yourself.

Tommy held up his hands and his two punches to your gut literally took your breath away. Meanwhile, he said, “Why aren’t they here to defend you now, eh?”

“Do I look like I need to be fucking defended?” With a sudden kick you were certain you cracked at least on of his ribs.

Wheezing, he leaned over, but managed to grab your leg in the process and flipped you over onto the ground, “Brothers still do.”

“They’re dead,” you said from the floor, “the Somme,” and with one quick motion, you’d tackled him with your legs, “What about you?”

“The Somme too. Verdun…”

Before he could recover, you climbed on top of him and started pounding his pretty face with your fists. Unfortunately, he quickly bucked you off and hit you with a nasty uppercut, which made you wonder about your teeth.

You crawled back a little and felt with a hand at your mouth: blood. Tommy leaned against the wall and was still panting, lightly tracing a hand over his ribs. The chaos subdued and you both rested.

“Are we done?” he growled.

You stared at him with a look that told him you could go on for hours like this, “What is it that you want?”

“I just want to talk.”

Quickly, you started thinking out your options. Clearly, he knew who you were and evidently, you’d killed the wrong person this time. Really, it was bound to happen at some point.

“Who was it?” you asked, “the one you didn’t want dead.”

“I did want him dead,” he said as he slowly lifted his cigarette case from his pocket.

“Then what’s the problem?”

He smiled a little and the gesture was so unexpected that the feeling it gave you caught you completely off-guard, “I wanted to be the one to kill him.”

You furrowed your brows, thought back and suddenly nodded slowly, “The Irishman.”

He pointed at you with his cigarette in hand, “That’s the one.”

In the silence that followed, you watched this man, this broken boy. His eyes started glazing over and you knew he drifted off to placed in the distant past. As he smoked slowly, you recognised the signs of a flashback so well and you suddenly became more curious than ever about this man.

He saw the same thing in you evidently, because out of the blue he said, “You and me. I think we understand each other.”

“Do we?” you said in a voice that demanded distance.

He nodded a little, “We kill.”

You laughed a cold laugh, “Are you insane like me?”

“Maybe I am…”

“Or just in pain like me?” you added.

He didn’t speak for a long time, like he was thinking what to say next, but then, suddenly, he broke the pregnant silence. “Who hurt you?” he asked, in a voice so low it was almost inaudible.

You leaned forwards and locked eyes with him, fire burning inside them, “Everyone.”

Tommy sat back and offered you a cigarette, but soon realised you wouldn’t take it from his hands without expecting abuse from them. So he threw it your way and you grabbed it gratefully. When you lit it, the two of you leaned against the wall in the same manner, postures similar.

“It’s time,” he announced, looking up at the ceiling.

You cocked one eyebrow, “Is it?”

“The minute is almost up.”

“And how does it end?”

He sighed, “With names. You’ve beaten me. I’m no longer Mr. Thomas Shelby. It’s Tommy now.”

And you smiled at him softly and replied with your own vulnerability, “Y/N.”

***

Masterlist

[blessednereid]

First Line Tryouts

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

Mentions/Warnings: Implied Smut, making out, cursing, eating/food mentions, mentions dead bodies, slasher film mention, dementia mention, slight domesticality(?)

Word Count: <4,200

A/N: This took so long im so sorry, tried to sum up the events of ep 1, while adding some isaac moments! Enjoy! LMK If I need to add anymore tw’s or cw’s.

Taglist: @rogershoe Dm me to be added to the taglist. 

~---~---~---~---~

There was a week left until your second semester began. Isaac was determined to thank you for everything you had done for him since he told you about his dad. 

He enlisted Stiles and a reluctant Lydia to help him with the planning. Isaac was going to make a picnic basket with your favorite foods. After that, Stiles would drive him to Lookout Point, and Lydia would take you there right after he gave her the go-ahead to let her know it was ok to leave. 

Lydia would take you to the mall so that Isaac could prepare the picnic basket. He had bought assorted fruits, a platter of ham and cheese pinwheels, passion-fruit fruit champagne, your favorite desserts, and your favorite chips. He packed a picnic blanket as well as two smaller ones so that you both could lay under the stars and watch them dance. 

After everything was packed, Stiles drove him to the point in the woods, and two miles away from his destination, he called Lydia and gave her the signal. 

When he reached the peak, before he could do anything, Stiles scolded him.

"Hey scarf," he barked. Isaac turned his head.

"Don't try anything with my sister tonight, alright? You may not be in the house, but I will still be watching everything?"

Isaac paused. "Aren't you going back to Scott's house?" 

"I have eyes everywhere, Lahey," he stated simply before waltzing away.

~---~---~---~---~

When you arrived, Isaac had everything set up, the picnic cloth was laid down on a flat chunk, the colorful plastic champagne glasses he had bought were carefully placed down on top of the plates, 

When you arrived, Isaac had already laid everything out. The picnic blanket was spread out on a flat chunk of land, and the ceramic plates sat on top of it. There was a bundle of spoons and forks, knives, and colorful plastic champagne glasses for the both of you. 

"I-saac, haha," you chuckled.

He bowed. "Good evening, madame. How can I serve you today?" He walked over to you and led you to the setting. 

"Isaac, you didn't have to do all this, you know?" 

"I know, but you've done so much for me recently, and I wanted to thank you."

You looked at him fondly, and he stared back at you before breaking away to grab the fruit. He fed you a strawberry, and after that, you both took turns tossing berries into the air and trying to catch them. 

~---~---~---~---~

After you both were done eating, Isaac packed all the remaining food (which was a lot) into the basket and tossed you a cover. He pulled you closer to him once you were wrapped in the blanket and laid down to watch the stars with his favorite person in the world. 

"That's Orion's belt, right there," you thought out loud. 

"That's the big dipper then," 

"How do you know so many constellations?" Isaac questioned, and you frowned. 

"I- uh…" 

"What's wrong?" He looked at you with worry.

"It was something me and my mom did before she died. She would go out to the woods with me—" you paused."—and she would show me where all the stars were. Stiles was never interested. My obsession with finding the stars became so big she decided to get me a telescope and a big book of all the constellations." 

"Oh, so I'm guessing it's a touchy subject?" 

You laughed. "It's a subject that brings up memories. To be honest, I haven't tried stargazing since my mom's death. This was nice." 

"You never told me much about your mom…" 

"And you never told me about yours," you hit back. 

"Touché." 

You went first. "Before everything, my mom was…in all aspects… perfect. Every day when we came home from school, she would have lunch ready, even if we already ate, just some chips and cookies on the table for Stiles and me." 

You smiled. "Mom would take us outside to the backyard and play soccer with us, us two against her. I think she would go easy on us." 

"When she got diagnosed, she started becoming less… tolerant of us. She would yell for the tiniest things,  and they didn't hurt me as much because Dad would always remind us that she didn't mean it, but I guess it always hurt Stiles more—"

"How do you mean?" Isaac asked.

"He was always a mommy's boy. One night we went to visit her at the hospital, I went to the vending machine to get snacks for Stiles and me, and he was gone. When he came back, he was crying nonstop. I kept trying to get him to tell me what was wrong, but he wouldn't tell me.  The next day it was like he just forgot about it." 

You both sat there in silence for a while longer. 

"My mom…. My mom was always working. She had her own business making soaps and perfumes and stuff like that." 

"She would always ask—" he gulped. "—she would ask my brother and me to help her with her orders. We would always make a mess, so after we were done, she made bubble baths for us." He giggled at the memory. "When she died, I guess we all changed a bit." 

"I got a little shier, Camden got more impulsive, Dad just lost his filter. He put more effort into making sure we were disciplined." He saw your eyes squint. "He didn't hit us back then. He just had stricter rules." 

You pulled him closer to your chest, and you guys just stayed there, looking at the stars, and feeling, even more, closer to each other than before.

You broke the silence.

"Isaac…" 

"Yes, Y/N?"

"I love you…" 

He leaned down to your face and pecked your lips.

"I love you too," he smiled.

~---~---~---~---~

"Y/n!" Isaac was trying to wake you up. You had fallen asleep watching Nightmare on Elm Street. You had been desensitized to all the blood and gore because you and stiles would always stay up late and watch slasher films. This was when your dad worked extra shifts at the Sheriff's station, and your mom was at the hospital.

"N/n, Wake up!" 

He grabbed your ringing phone and pulled it up to your ear, despite knowing he would face your wrath for doing that later on. Stiles had just called you for the 4th time that night, and you weren't waking up.

When you still wouldn't wake up, he did the only thing he could think of, as illogical as it was. He laid down flat on his back and rolled over, pushing you off the bed. You woke with a start. 

"ISAAC, WHAT THE HELL!!"

"Stiles has called you 4 times in 5 minutes, and you told me to wake you up whenever someone calls you…" He fake-pouted. 

Your expression softened because you couldn't resist his cobalt eyes, but you were still angry. You answered the phone and shouted at Stiles to release your frustration. 

"Stiles, what the hell, you're across the hall. Did you really have to call?"

"Hurry up and get ready, Dad just went out, and we need to go get Scott."

"Why do we have to follow dad? It's his job."

"Someone found a dead body, but half of it is missing,"

"Ok, I'm coming," You said while putting on your jeans. 

"Oh, and leave the golden retriever."

"His name is Isaac, not 'golden retriever,' Stiles!" you scolded. 

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, hurry up!"

You finished putting on Isaac's hoodie and turned to face him. 

"I gotta go, love."

He pouted. "Why can't I go with you?"

You went to give him a hug. "We should go with the least amount of people possible., so we don't get caught…" you lied. 

"Is Scott going?" He was always able to tell when you were lying. He knew all your tells and your poker face before you were even dating. 

"Fine, It's Stiles."

"So, I realized. Do I really look like a golden retriever?"

You shrugged and said in a pitchy voice, "An adorable golden retriever?" 

He sighed. 

"Be safe, and come back before midnight, please? I don't wanna go to sleep without you…"

"Nervous for tomorrow?"

"It's the start of first-line tryouts. I really wanna make it this year,"

"I'm sure that you'll make it Isaac, you are one of the most hand-eye coordinated people I know, and at every game, I will be there to cheer you guys on!"

 He smiled at your statement and kissed you. 

"Be sa—"

"Y/N, Hurry up!" Stiles shouted from downstairs. 

~---~---~---~---~

You stayed in the car while Stiles was getting Scott, silently cursing him for not allowing Isaac to come but going to get Scott. 

Scott and Stiles got out of the house and piled into the car. 

"Next time you wanna leave the 'golden retriever,' Stiles, we're also leaving the poodle," you angrily intoned.

Scott took up an offended expression. "Poodle?"

"Would you rather chihuahua?"

"Nevermind..."

"No, we're not leaving Scott. He's my best friend," Stiles said defensively.

"Oh yeah? Isaac is my boyfriend, yet he couldn't come!" 

"My car, my choice of guests."

"Fuck off, Miechyvslaw!"

~---~---~---~---~

"We're seriously doing this?"

"Obviously," you stated simply.

He started driving the car, and they headed to the woods where the search party for the body and the other half of it would be located. 

"You're the one always bitching that nothing ever happens in this town," Stiles said.

"I was trying to get a good night's sleep before practice tomorrow."

"Right, cause sitting on the bench is such a grueling effort," Stiles sassed.

"No, because I'm playing this year. In fact, I'm making the first line."

"Hey, that's the spirit. Everyone should have a dream, even a pathetically unrealistic one."

You interrupted their bickering. "Just out of curiosity, do either of you know what half of the body we're even looking for?"

"Uhhh-" Stiles stuttered.

"And uh- what if whoever killed the body is still out there," Scott questioned.

"Also, something I did not think about."

"It's comforting to know that you've planned this out with your usual attention to detail," Scott stated. 

Stiles and Scott continued bickering, but soon, you saw a flashlight.

"Shit! Hide!" you warned, but Stiles kept going. You leaped forward, trying to grab his shirt and pull him back, but your dad caught you.

"Hang on. Hang on. These two delinquents belong to me."

Stiles sighed. 

"I told you to hide, you brat!" you whispered to him.

"Daaaaad!" He enunciated. "How are you doing?"

"So, do you, uh, listen into all my phone calls?"

"Not the boring ones," Stiles said. 

"So, where's your usual partner in crime?"

"Wh-who Scott? Scott's home, he said before continuing to ramble.

Your dad had called out for Scott, and when he didn't respond, dragged you and Stiles back to the Jeep. 

~---~---~---~---~

You went back to your room once you got to the house and found Isaac asleep on the bed.

"Izzie!" You grabbed a plush pillow from beside him and whacked him softly with it. 

You went home that night, not knowing where Scott was or what had happened to him while worrying about what Melissa would do to you if Scott got bitten by a coyote and she found out you lured him out there.

He stirred but didn't wake. You groaned and moved beside him.

"Isaac?" you shrilled. "Isaac, you were supposed to wait for me to come back!!"

You shook his body left and right until he woke up groggily.

"N/n?"

He fully opened his eyes and groaned at the comfort that it was you.

"You scared me!" he complained.

You began shuffling towards him and running your hands down his covered pectorals. "Aww… what can I do to make you feel better?"

"Anything?" he said before sucking in a breath.

"Anything, baby," You nodded. 

He pulled you onto his lap and started kissing you passionately, your lips meshing together. He trailed his lips from yours to your cheekbones, then to your jawline, nibbling slightly. You moved your hips forcefully against his, and he brought one hand down to your waist.

"Hey, is this ok?"

You nodded vehemently. 

He pushed your hips back and forth along his while leaving dark red marks towards the base of your neck and your collarbone. He sucked a hickey onto a pulse point, making you let out a moan, which you tried muffling by pressing your lips together. 

He brought his hands to the hem of your shirt and tugged slightly before looking up at you. You replaced his hands and pulled your shirt off of your torso. 

He placed open-mouthed kisses onto the tops of your breasts, causing you to throw your head back in delight. He brought his hand back to the small of your back and shuffled you forwards on his lap. 

He turned you over onto your back and continued to kiss from your chest up. He stood on his knees in front of you and pulled his shirt off of his body. He placed one more brief kiss on your lips before gripping your thighs and lowering down your body.

~---~---~---~---~

Stiles drove you, Isaac, and Scott to school the next day. When you got out of the car, Scott and Stiles were talking about a bite that Scott had gotten when he went to the woods, but he assured you that you wouldn't face Melissa's wrath. 

When you saw Lydia amongst the crowd, you dragged Isaac all the way to her. Lydia had never liked Isaac, feeling like her best friend could do much better than someone who wouldn't even talk to her(you) for extensive periods of time. 

"Hey Lyds!" you said with Isaac's face buried in your neck. He was not fond of Lydia either, not that she had done anything, but he had picked up on her apathy towards him and just decided he would do the same. 

"Hey Y/N! Isaac." You all walked into the building and headed for your respective classes. 

~---~---~---~---~

You had English first, and the teacher was rambling about the dead body found in the woods. 

A familiar faced walked into the room, and you almost squealed. It was your godsister, Allison Argent. You knew that her family was moving to  Beacon Hills, but you hadn't known when they would be arriving. 

Chris Argent, Allison's dad, was your mother's best friend in high school. When she gave birth to you and Stiles, she made Chris your godfather.

You quietly clapped your hands at her appearance. She smiled at you before taking the seat diagonally across from you and right behind Scott. You noticed how when he turned around to give her a pencil, he looked highly flustered. 

Before you could point this out and tease him about it, your teacher began to talk about the novel you were reading as a class.

~---~---~---~---~

When you got out of class, you decided to introduce Lydia to Allison. 

When you both approached Allison, she squealed and ran to give you a hug, almost causing you to stumble. You hugged her back for a good five seconds before letting her go. 

"That jacket is absolutely killer! Where'd you get it?" Lydia asked the brunette.

"My mom was a buyer for a boutique back in San Francisco."

"And, you are my new best friend!" Lydia said before greeting her boyfriend, Jackson, who had come up behind her. 

"Hey? What about me? Already replacing me with my godsister?" you asked before you felt two slender arms wrap around your waist.

"Never!" Lydia smiled. "We can all be friends." 

You could hear a girl talking about Lydia or Allison or both, and you decided you would defend your friends. 

You walked over to where she was talking to Stiles and Scott.

"Hey, what's going on over here?"

"Oh, Audrey here was asking what Allison did to already be hanging out with your exclusive clique."

"Uh, nothing? She's just Allison." You said, looking at Scott and Stiles but directing it towards Aubrey. You then turned on your heels and walked away.

You had found that your friends had told Allison about the upcoming party and were just about to head to the lacrosse practice for the day.

~---~---~---~---~

You gave Isaac a good luck kiss before he went out to the field, and Lydia looked at you weirdly.

"What is it?" you asked, rolling your eyes.

"Nothing, Nothing."

"Why do you have such a problem with my boyfriend?"

She turned to look at you. "I don't know, maybe it's because you caught feelings when he hadn't said a single word to you for a week and didn't for another week after you first kissed him"

"It could be that when you asked him out and actually confessed your feelings, he waited a week to give you a response and made you think that he was rejecting you, which made you cry?"  

You rubbed your temples. "Lydia, I explained all this to you. He's a shy guy. He just doesn't talk much to people, and he thought I was playing a joke on him."

She shook her head. "Mark my words, Y/N, he's going to end up breaking your heart, and when he does, I'll be left to pick up the pieces."

You groaned. "Allison, does Isaac look like someone who would hurt me?"

"No? He looks like… He looks like a golden retriever!"

The three of you burst out laughing, and Lydia promised to try and be tolerant of Isaac.

Suddenly, it was Scott's turn to try guarding the goal. He allowed the first shot through before finding his footing and blocking the rest of the throws. 

"Who is that?" Your godsister asked. 

"Hmm… I'm not sure who he is," Lydia said questioningly.

You scoffed. "That is Scott McCall. Stiles' best friend. Why?"

"He's in our English class. He seems like he's pretty good," she said sagely.

She changed the subject. "Speaking of Stiles, how is he? I haven't talked to him since I got back."

"He's-" you tried answering but stopped short. "Wooh! Go, Isaac!"

He smiled at you before going to shoot lacrosse balls at the goalie.

On the final day of tryouts, you and Isaac had done stretches, though he didn't know why, and they had run laps around the field before practice had started.

The coach started talking to the players, and you, Lydia, and Allison sat in the stands. By the time practice was over, Scott had made the first line, but Stiles and Isaac didn't. To cheer them up, you had taken them to their favorite to-go restaurant and bought dessert for them.

~---~---~---~---~

It was a Friday night. You were particularly sad, not only because Isaac couldn't go with you, but because Isaac had his weekly dinner with his dad today. So, he wouldn't even be there when you fell asleep. 

Scott and Stiles had gotten into a fight earlier, so he wasn't going to the party. This left Jackson to drive you, who was taking Lydia to the party. This didn't make you too happy, seeing as how Jackson was a self-entitled bastard who got his status from his family and isn't grateful for any of it. 

You didn't understand how Lydia had decided it would be a good idea to date him. But, you knew that the same way she couldn't change your mind about Isaac, she wouldn't change your mind about Jackson. 

You wore a pink satin body-con dress that reached your mid-thigh. Isaac had picked it out for you when he realized he wouldn't have been able to attend the party. He was ok with it being as short because he knew all the guys there would remember what happened to Garrett Ferrero after he started hitting on you at a party. He had to get nose surgery because Isaac had broken it, and his nose swelled up so large, he didn't come to school until it shrunk.

You paired it with opaque tights with fishnets on top and a pair of red, 3-inch, cut-out heels. As for makeup, you had outlined your lips with a black lip liner and smeared a cherry red lipstick over it. You applied minimal foundation and went for a nude eyeshadow look. 

When you stepped out of the bathroom in your outfit, Isaac nearly went feral. He lightly kissed the expanse of your neck, knowing you would kill him if he messed up your makeup, and he ended up backing you both into a wall. 

You had to swat him away after a few seconds of this affair because you had to leave soon, and so did he, albeit reluctantly. You put a black jean jacket on top of your outfit before heading downstairs. 

He left your house a few minutes before you did, but just before you left, Stiles pulled you aside.

"Hey, Y/N, just watch out for Scott today, and especially Allison." Stiles was overprotective of both of you. Before Allison and her family began moving around, she was like a sister to both of you. You three did almost everything together. 

"Stiles, what's going on?"

He sighed. "Ok, this is going to be hard to explain, but you have to go. So I'm going to give you the brief version right now and explain later."

You nodded, beckoning him to continue. 

"The night Scott got bit by that 'coyote'... it wasn't a coyote. It was a wolf, and wolf hairs were reported on the autopsy of the dead body. Scott has been experiencing heightened senses, and he's been stronger. Y/N, he hasn't needed his inhaler all week."

Your eyes widened. You didn't know what to say.

"So… you think he's a werewolf."

"Better to be safe and absurd than sorry and sad. Tonight's a full moon, and he just wouldn't cancel that date. Just look out for them, you know?"

You bobbed your head up and down vigorously. 

You left the house, and outside were Jackson and Lydia, in the front seat of his Porsche. It was a nice ride but a bit overly embellished for someone who only just got his license.

 ~---~---~---~---~

Later at the party, you had last seen Allison and Scott as they were dancing. You were dancing with your friend, Marya Cullen. She was a freshman, so she didn't really know most of your other friends. You had met her through your job at Forever 21, and you instantly clicked. 

She was really drunk, so you called another one of her friends and asked them to take her home. Marya had given her friends a list of the people allowed to drive her home if this happened. 

It was just as you were putting Marya in the backseat, you saw Scott walking away from her, dazed. While that happened, a mysterious guy who looked much older than you were approaching Allison. 

"Hey, I'm her friend. I got it, thanks!" 

You walked with Allison back to her house after grabbing all your belongings and immersed in conversation, mostly about how weird Stiles was being. Stiles was driving in his Jeep when he saw you coming from Allison's house. You got into the Jeep, and you both went home. 

When you got there, you changed into your pajamas and laid down onto the surface of a cold bed. You grabbed your thickest pillow and pulled it into your arms, trying to create some semblance of a feeling of Isaac laying down with you.

~---~---~---~---~

You awoke to bright sunlight and a buzzing phone by your head. Isaac had been calling you to ask you to let him in the house. You realized it was high time that he gets a key to the front door. 

You went downstairs to greet your boyfriend, and you noticed that he had brought Starbucks. You almost caused him to fall to the floor had he not caught you in time. He set you on the floor and kissed your lips before heading to the kitchen.

He had gotten your regular order, as well as your favorite drink, and he had gotten his order as well. 

You guys say down to just eat and relax.

He took a sip of his iced coffee before saying anything.

"My dad wants me to work at the graveyard," he said, pensive.

You choked on your food. "What?" 

"Well, he said he's cutting off my allowance." 

"So he said I can either earn it by working at the graveyard or stay broke." 

"That's fine, darling?" 

"I know, but I still want to get a job to save so once I turn 18, I can move out. And, he is willing to let me choose my own hours, or really just give me hours that don't interfere with lacrosse practice."

You gave him a solemn look and whined. "But that means we won't have as much cuddle time?" 

"He shouldn't even be in your room," your dad said, approaching you from behind.

"Hi, dad."

"Good morning, Mr. Stilinsk—"

"Isaac," your dad interjected. "It's fine. You can call me Noah." 

Isaac smiled. 

-------fin--------

[indianamoonshine]

Strawberry | Chapter 12 | Flames

Summary: Will joins the family dinner. The night can hide many things.

Rating: (+18) for…situations.

A/N: I'm SO SORRY for the long hiatus. Please accept this peace offering (jealous!Din) as a token of my gratitude.

TAG LIST: @t3a-bag @lumimon47 @dodgerandevans @hallway5 @dancingwiththeplanets @steeevienicks @orneryscandallousandevil @ficthots @gaiusfrakkinbaltar @reginagina-blog1 @loveme-tenderly @lastphoenixrising @rattlemyb0nes @rebellou @alljusthumans @gaiuswrites @lovecatsnotpeople

The symposium of a midwestern dinner sounds a lot like Bach's work.

Difficult notes with high to reach places and then very low caverns just a moment later. The cicadas in the background are a nice touch; it's something Tchaikovsky might have wished he could capture. Silverware - old enough to be considered vintage now - clank against the porcelain dinner plates. Charlotte lets out her fae-like laughter and Rhea listens intently, eyes gazing dreamily upon Tommy as he carries on conversation. The house is full tonight.

You suppose it was out of the kindness of your father's heart to invite Will to this dinner. Everyone within a two mile radius usually came to these spur-of-the-moment things. Will was an old family friend and his father supplied yours with fresh goat's milk and chicken eggs, so it wasn't all that strange he came along. Still, it made the meal a bit more difficult to swallow. Quite literally.

Din is sitting directly across from you. You think it might have been intentional because Will chose to plop his happy ass right beside you, grinning that lopsided smile and charming his way out of the discomfort with a joke. You play the part by laughing when he tries to outwit everyone in the room or by asking him how the farm manages these days. Will isn't a cocky person by nature, but something about the rigidness of his composure when Din asks for the green beans makes you all too suspicious.

It doesn't make any sense. Will broke things off with you. If he were to be jealous, it wouldn't be for anything but pride and show. A year ago it would've bothered you that Will was cajoling the room for the sake of his vanity, but now it was just embarrassing for everyone involved.

"Din, do you remember the summer of '90?" your father asks across the table, clearly involved in another conversation that pertains to this anecdote.

The man across you hums and shakes his head with a reluctant grin. "I try not to," he fibs, cutting at his steak.

Your father chuckles. "I was nineteen and Din was..." he pauses. "Jeez, Din. How old were ya?"

"Seventeen."

"Ah, right! Rhea hadn't been born yet but Scarlett was pregnant with her by the end of the summer. That was our last free year, wasn't it? Well, mine anyway." You dad points his fork in Rhea's direction, a bit of steak dangling from its end. "And then you came along."

Rhea scoffs. "Well, geez. My bad for existing."

There's no darkness in either of their words so the exchange makes everyone at the table chuckle in good humor. Your father and Din go back and forth about the irresponsible and, well, illegal things that had been done that summer. Underage drinking. Trespassing. And somehow Din always got away with it.

"He never got us caught. Ever. I still don't know how you did it." Your father says to his friend, eyes wrinkling with a genuine smile. "Damn good thing too considering how much pot we smoked. It's a good thing my girls didn't get that rebellious streak."

A witty response is formed upon your lips but only until Will cuts you off.

"I don't know about that," he pipes in.

You're taken aback, quite literally tossing your head to gauge his interjection. "What?"

An indifferent silence hushes the dinner party. Your sisters chew their food carefully, eyes glued upon the scene before them like it was one of their soap operas. Your father awaits an explanation with a rather scandalized look upon his face, but Will's father - Clarence - doesn't seem at all fazed by any probability of illegal activity.

Will rolls his chin to serve you an exasperated look. "Oh, come on. We're adults now; we can come clean." He drenches his steak in more A1 sauce before revealing: "Your daughter was the one to egg the sheriff's house."

The entire room initially goes as silent as a graveyard before everyone chokes on a snort and begins to roar with laughter. Clarence slaps your father on the back as the two of them snicker like a pair of hyenas.

"Will!" you growl. "You said you'd take that to your deathbed!"

The pain in the ass beside you howls with laughter, holding his stomach, and having to pause from drinking his beer. "Daffi, it's fine. They can't do anything about it now."

"That's not the point!" you scowl.

Din is grinning from ear to ear, obviously amused by your humiliation. It was a childish thing to do but the sheriff was a dick in the worst way and you wanted him to know it. That was a hot summer - record breaking, actually - and by the time he'd woken, the egg had dried upon his lawn and across the face of his home. Ole' Sheriff Winslow scoured the town for weeks before finally abandoning his quest altogether.

"You got something to say, Mister Djarin?" you inquire playfully, scolding him with a fire in your eyes.

Din clears his throat and furrows his brows. "No, no. I wouldn't dare."

The two of you exchange a glance that was far too intimate for this dining room. His eyes softened upon meeting yours and his smirk was silly, drunk on something other than the beer in his hand. If it weren't for dear Will's additional reminiscence, you might've fallen under the spell lingering in the space between you.

"Yeah, that was a great summer. We had our first kiss that year, remember?"

You blink, all thoughts of Din's mouth upon yours fizzling away like steam. Instead, it is replaced with the frayed-edged memory of Will's rusted pick-up parked in the darkest corner of the local McDonalds. It was hardly a first kiss worth mentioning if it hadn't been for how good he was at it and how bad you were. Still: what the fuck?

You wanted to say just that but refrained from doing so. Instead you say, "Lots of awkward fumbling if I recall." It comes out sharp - petty. If he wanted to behave like a child, you could do it too.

Din's trying so desperately hard not to glare at Will. You can see it in the deliberate chug of his beer.

-

“What. The. Hell.”

“I know.”

“Wait,” Charlotte holds up a hand, expression dumbstruck. “I’m not done.”

You roll your eyes and scrub at a particularly stubborn dish, waiting for her dramatics to be over.

��…was that?” she finishes.

Rather anti-climactic.

“It’s Will,” you tell her, voice bored but teetering on the edge of fury. “It’s fucking Will. What do you expect?”

Charlotte shakes her head, eyes bulging with disbelief as she blinks over and over again as though trying to compute. She takes a dish from you, sopping wet, and begins to dry it with a rag. You know Charlotte is eager to gossip because she never - never - offers to help clean after supper.

Everyone else is carrying on from the awkward conversation by sitting at the bonfire and making pudgy-pies. It’s the kind of snack one eats when they need to forget about anything other than the impending weight gain. You watch from the window as Rhea slathers Nutella upon a piece of white bread and then some cut strawberries. Honestly, you could really go for one, but the idea of being anywhere near Will makes your skin crawl.

“Did he say anything to you? Before dinner? Or after? Like…why would he say something like that?” Charlotte carefully stacks the delicate plates atop each other. They clank against one another noisily.

Like cymbals within the symphony.

“Nope,” you tell her. “Not a word. I have no idea what’s gotten into him.”

Charlotte goes silent, rubbing at the plates until they’re dry as a bone, and then whispers, “He obviously knows.”

You square your jaw, glancing around to make sure no one is in the vicinity, and then let out a great sigh. “Yeah, I’m sure he does. I was all over Din at the bar.”

Your dear sister brightens at the mention of the night prior. She stops her drying and places her hands upon your shoulders so that you may look her in the eyes. You see mahogany. Deep. Rich. Full of life and excitement. In her eyes, it is proof that she’s a good spirit and in good health. (And…well, maybe a little tipsy, but that’s besides the point.)

“I like him. For you.” Is what she confesses. She places her hands upon your cheeks and squishes them together. You protest, taking her wrists and wrestling her, but giggling all the while. “I mean it. I think he adores you. And so do I.”

You nod in her grasp. “Okay, okay! I know, yes. I know!” you chuckle, breathless from the lack of air supply. She still has you in a chokehold. “Can you please let me go now?!”

Charlotte releases you from her trap and you gasp a throat-full of air, belly aching from laughter. The two of you embrace one another in a hug, attempting to lift the other, and then falling upon the linoleum - sore with serenity.

-

There is something stirring in Din.

It is a fire that has just been fanned from embers he sought to snuff out. But they hadn’t perished, despite how hard he had tried. The coals burned. He burned.

For you.

At the bar, Din ignored Will to the best of his ability; sort of like how one ignores an irritating bumblebee. Leave him be, Din had chanted. He’s harmless. After all, Din had years stacked against Will. How was it possible to be so insecure by this kid?

Because that’s essentially what he is, right? He’s so goddamned young; he looks as though he’s never taken a hit in his life. He’s too pretty, too put together. He’s firm skin and tight abs. And Din, well…

Din was not.

Din was old. He was well past forty years of age now, playing house with a woman over twenty years his senior. No matter how well he managed to keep the façade so believable, it would one day end in disaster - embarrassment. Heartache. And defeat. He can’t bear the thought.

It wasn’t like him. He’s never given a shit about anyone’s perception of him before, nevertheless mulled over the ex of a romantic interest. Not to say that Din’s ever felt the way he did with you; no one has even come close. Xian was his longest “situationship” and when it inevitably burst into flames, he didn’t bat an eye. (He wonders if that makes him a terrible person.) If his toxicity with Xian was worth anything, it was just a testament of his endurance.

But you. The world fucking blurs when you’re near.

So when Will - cocky as Din once was - utters unsolicited bullshit, it takes every ounce of dignity he has left to remain silent.

We had our first kiss that year, remember?

There is a primal urge to reach across the table and wring the smug expression from Will’s face, to grab you with an unfamiliar hunger, carry you across the acre, and toss you onto his bed and just…

No. That was brutish. He wasn’t like that. He couldn’t allow himself to feel possessive over you because you couldn’t be owned. He knew that. But that fire licked at his inner conscious until he had to excuse himself from dinner altogether.

The darkest parts of him pace during the bonfire, though he manages to sit still and interpret Will’s behavior. His youth glows betwixt the crazed flames, an ombré of red and orange dancing across everyone’s skin. Din watches, he listens, he notes every little thing like hunters do. Because for some reason - some ungodly, twisted reason - Din felt as though Will were a bounty now. It’s the only way he could feel superior.

“Daffodil!” Will calls out suddenly. “Get over here!”

The hinges in Din’s jaw pop as he clenches his teeth, grinding them so forcefully he thinks Rhea - who sits beside him - might hear. When you arrive from the house (he guessed you were cleaning up, just as you always do), he notes the skimpy length of your cotton shorts and…

Wait. Is that his shirt?

It is. It’s the very same shirt Din offered you after the rain debacle after the bar. It was one of his favorites despite how plain it was; just a grey t-shirt that fit snugly on him but dwarfed you entirely. It skimmed the top of your knees and pressed against the swell of your chest. That something within him growled once more.

“Come sit,” Will instructs, patting at his lap.

You hesitate. “I…”

Will chuckles, urging you with waggling fingers. “We’ve been like this since we were kids, Daffi. Come on.”

There’s a pathetic attempt to steady himself as Din watches you perch upon Will’s lap.

You’re wearing his shirt. You’re wearing his shirt. You’re wearing his shirt. You’re wearing his shirt…

The group chats a while longer, exchanging stories Din’s never heard, but none of it matters. You’re on another man’s lap. And despite Mark’s very obvious presence, he wants so badly to grip your wrist and run.

“I’ve seen you before,” Will says suddenly. He points a finger in Din’s direction, eyes a little hooded from drink. “Weren’t you at the bar a couple of nights ago?”

Those who partook in the rendezvous go silent. Rhea freezes and Charlotte blanches, looking towards their dear sister who’s pale in the face now. Mark, in his sheer oblivion, raises a brow. Din’s been in every intense situation imaginable, but something about now makes his gut churn.

He could loose you. Right now.

He’s about to lie, to make up some bullshit excuse about having ‘one of those faces’, but Rhea pipes in.

Her voice is strong and firm when she says, “What the hell are you talking about? He wasn’t there.”

Effortless. Shoulders sag, the tension subsiding thanks to Rhea’s impeccable skill.

“Strange. Swore I saw you with…” he shakes his head and shrugs. “Never mind.”

An artificial laugh - so sickly sweet that it’s almost impossible to digest - escapes your lips. “You must’ve drank too much. It wouldn’t be the first time.”

-

His kiss takes you by surprise.

You’re walking back to the house after the men have soiled the fire and everyone’s said their good nights when he just does it.

It’s covertly enough, but it’s shocking. A massive hand encircles your wrist and pulls you behind the shed out back, pressing you against the mossy wood and stealing the breath from your lungs. It’s the biggest risk the two of you have taken. For God’s sake, your father is just now walking inside the main house and Din’s mouth is attached to the hollow of your neck.

You’re dizzy, gripping his shoulders so tightly that the fabric of his shirt warps beneath your fingers. “Din,” you breathe out. He kisses you speechless again and you break for air. “Din, what’s the matter?”

He curses under his breath. It’s sharp. Fuck. It’s not angry, per say, but it is damaged. You weave your fingers through his hair as he settles his breathing, concentrating on the strings of your shorts that he fiddles with.

“I…” He sighs, pressing his nose against your cheek. His breath is warm and you shiver. “He touched you.”

He sounds ashamed. Embarrassed. You can’t imagine how difficult it must be to vocalize your self-doubt as someone who relishes in secrecy. He had a wall built around him and it was made of iron.

“Not like you,” you whisper shyly.

You had some walls of your own. He was tearing them down like that of Jericho.

There’s softness in the air. The two of you are silent, eyes closed, and mouths inches apart. Exchanging of breath. It’s an ancient form of intimacy.

You trust him. You trust him with your life.

His hand feels natural in your own as you lift it to your breast. The trembling of his fingers is almost endearing; the man was far older than you and he still shook at the mere touch of a woman.

“No one can touch me like you.” Your hands glide south, pressing underneath the fabric covering the raw parts of you, until you stop at the band of your panties. “No one can.”

It’s all he needs to hear.

Soon after, he kisses you fiercely, but not without nodding in agreement. And that very hand, which grazes so deliciously at your belly, finally dips.

Sparks.

[anigerrrr]

Girl’s Talk

Natasha Romanoff x Carol Danvers

Word count: 1.5k

Summary: Kamala is introduced to Yelena, and she’s also the biggest fan of her sister’s ship- CarolNat.

Warning: Fluff, Protective Yelena, Kamala ships CarolNat, Slight Thor/Loki(mentioned)

a/n: Just random pieces written after having my covid vaccine yesterday lol I’m not sure how will Marvel deal with Kamala’s superpower in the upcoming series so I only mention a bit of it. Enjoy!

/

“Ok, can anyone tell me why we always have a new kid in the compound?”

Yelena puffed as she entered the compound a bit later than usual, and she saw her sister, Carol and an unfamiliar teenager already standing there.

She came over to join them, gazing at the new girl with distrust.

“Yelena, did you just call yourself in the third person?” Carol teased, and she shrugged suggestively to the redhead who actually couldn’t hold her laugh back for this moment.

“Ha, is it some kind of 90’s joke?” Yelena retaliated. Apparently the younger blonde didn’t get enough sleep hours last night, it always resulted in her grumpy reactions to anybody. “If so, Captain, you really need to update your comedy list on Netflix.”

“Hey,” Natasha chuckled amusedly between the two blonde women as Carol protested, “just because I aged slowly, it didn’t mean I’m out of date.”

“In case you wanna know,” Natasha raised one brow and showed her support to the blonde Captain- “She actually likes to watch The Tonight Show during our dinner time.”

-by telling their sort-of secret aloud. It’s not gonna harm the redhead spy herself, though.

“What?” Kamala finally had a chance to let out her voice, “you can’t tell me the mighty Captain Marvel, my idol, watches late-night talk shows when having some spaghetti. It’s simply out of character.”

Carol frowned, “excuse me?”

“Ugh, ok.” Yelena opened her mouth with hesitation. “No, not ok, I don’t get it. Did you just call her- ” her head was pointing to the other blonde woman, “- your idol ?”

“Am I supposed to feel offended?” Carol mumbled nearby Natasha’s ear, lowering her voice to avoid any foreseeable conflict for now.

“Um, yeah.” Kamala rolled her eyes to the much taller woman standing right in front of her, and her voice sounded genuinely fearless. “Can’t you see that? She’s Carol Danvers!”

Natasha grinned back at the blonde woman, and only teased quietly, “see, someone really has a crush on you.”

Carol blushed in the tiniest way, opening her mouth slightly but had no idea what to argue. Our Captain couldn’t even tell if the redhead was seriously jealous. Fantastic.

“So you like the name or the glowing part?” Yelena hummed, and tried to hide the little noises from her stomach out of hunger.

“All of them, I guess?”

“Oh, I got it now.” The younger widow turned to her sister, and was not surprised that Natasha had been checking on her already. “We’re having a superhero fan tour here.”

Yelena wanted to get her breakfast as soon as possible, so she tried to be nice and not to get involved in this duty. “Enjoy your day then, just don’t touch any fluffy things around here. The cat can literally swallow people, and the raccoon will shoot you in the head.”

“What? No!” The brown haired girl shouted, “I’m not here for a tour.”

“Yelena, she’s a new member in the team- ” Agent Romanoff finally introduced, and took a quick glance at Carol with a playful smile. “- another one with super power, yes.”

“…wait, what?”

“Not that kind of power to control thunder like Thor or to trick like Loki- by the way, aren’t they a lovely couple?” Kamala explained a little bit, and suddenly changed the subject triggered by her interest.

“Ugh, it’s not officially announced.” Natasha was surprised to hear the little girl’s words, a status that not many people had learned about- even in the avengers’ team.

Impressed. Yelena stared at the kid and thought, still needed her breakfast, though.

“New kids.” Carol shrugged, “we’re actually talking about tomorrow’s mission.”

The redhead immediately started glaring at the blonde Captain.

“You’re leaving for days? Tomorrow?” And Yelena tiled her head to her older sister. She’d better not be the last person to know this.

Clearly someone had forgotten their domestic plan for tomorrow.

“Well, not ‘for days’,  I’ll be back before you know it. At least that was the plan.” Natasha looked a bit…nervous, but not speechless. By her side, the Captain who’s in charge of the mission seemed to be awkward for a minute, and they shared a look of silent communication.

“Yelena, you’re welcomed to- ”

“Uh- uh, no. I’m not interested in being the third wheel in your mission date. Besides, I’ve got my own thing to deal with as well. Just remember to pick me up at 8, and feed Fanny before you leave the house, it’s your turn.” Yelena shook her head quickly like nothing’s gonna convince her, and the other young superhero goggled upon hearing some keywords.

“Wait, you two are dating? ” Kamala asked in excitement, “oh my god, CarolNat is real.”

“Well, it’s- we’re…” the blonde Captain suddenly stuttered, “we’re close, yes. That’s true.”

Natasha rolled her eyes back to show her feedback towards Carol’s explanation, and refused to make any eye contact with her sister who just accidentally sold their privacy to the newest avenger.

“Oh, I thought that was your superpower.” Yelena shrugged to the two older women, kind of feeling sorry for the coming out declaration she made for them. “Like, telling the lovebirds in a group of people.”

Kamala gave her a ‘seriously?’ look, “nobody owns a superpower like that.”

“You never can tell.”

“Ok, things got a little tense here.” Carol tried to calm them both down before they made a wrong impression on each other. “It’s time for breakfast, how about I make you guys some really nice omelette?”

“Oh God.” Natasha sighed exaggeratedly, but she didn’t deny the purpose. When Carol turned, she just pushed her sister’s shoulder and forced the younger blonde to follow. “C’mon Yelena, you love eggs.”

“I never said that.”

“Wow, Captain Marvel is making me an omelette…am I dreaming?”

“Never had a nightmare before?”

“Yelena!”

*

“So…”

A half hour later, Yelena was staring at her plate and trying to figure out why it’s not like a normal ‘omelette’ she had seen on television. “In what universe an omelette looks like this?”

“Well, it’s not that bad.” Natasha took a bite of hers, perfectly ignoring the fact that it resembled more scrambled eggs rather than an omelette.

“Stop being rude- ”As they both saw Carol and Kamala on their way to the table, Natasha squeezed her sister’s hand and ordered softly, “and tomorrow I promise to buy you the expensive tweed coat you always stare at in the display window.”

“Huh, it’s exactly why I really can’t stand to undergo a mission with you two. Deal.” Yelena sounded mockingly but she didn’t mean to embarrass her anyway. “You turned weak, Natasha. You knew it, right?”

Natasha only hummed in russian as a response (something like ‘you’d know that when we spar’ ), and grinned when Carol sat next to her as usual. The blonde Captain was finally done with cooking everyone’s breakfast and Kamala had surprisingly finished hers, only sipping a glass of apple juice.

“So, how did you meet?” Said Kamala, aka the newest avenger with extraordinary attention to the secret pairs around the base, “how long have you been dating- I wanna know the whole story.”

“Here we go.” This was the best reaction for Yelena to ‘stop being rude’.

“Well, first of all, I won’t deny or admit any statement of it…” Natasha cleaned her throat and started, her sweet butter sandwich was left on the plate.

“We’re apparently colleagues.” Carol promptly interrupted with a shrug, which made the redhead widen her green eyes in disbelief.

“I met her after the snap, and during the five years, the feelings just kinda grew on us.” The blonde smiled gently as she took Natasha’s hand, “after the end of the war, we started hanging out once a month like normal people, later on it began to be once a week as my main works in space were separated to the new-trained protectors and the Guardians. That’s it.”

Kamala was literally speechless, looking like she just got the best Christmas gift for this year.

“If you kiss her like those cliched soap operas now, I’m gonna kill you both.” Yelena did like the eggs, but obviously she wouldn’t say it. Instead, she ate it up and mumbled her statement after hearing the shorter version of their romance.

“Yelena.” Natasha raised one of her brows, reminding her who’s in charge on this table. And their deals .

“Alright, just kidding.”

“Can I take a picture when you do that?” Kamala immediately stood up and asked Carol, it seemed no one actually cared about the debriefing of tomorrow’s mission anymore. “-when you kiss Black Widow.”

Her Captain was flushed, “w-what?”

To save her partner from the short circus situation, Natasha rolled her eyes and pulled Carol’s arm all in a sudden. All Kamala could do was open her mouth widely in amazement, and tried hard not to scream like a fan who was completely out of control.

Natasha left a rough kiss on the corner of Carol’s lips, her blood red lipstick stained slightly on it.

“Satisfied?” She said with an impeccable grin, leaving the flummoxed blonde behind her.

“This place is harmful for my heart.” - the newest superhero from Jersey City claimed.

“You’re gonna get used to it, kid.” - and the former widow from the red room finally agreed with her.

“I should have stopped leaking the key information.” - the blonde Captain knew it deeply that Natasha’s not gonna take it easy on her tonight.

[kaypeace21]

People seem to misinterpret what I’ve said in the past about mike “projecting his feelings for Will” on to El. So I’ll clarify.

When I say mike is “projecting his romantic feelings” for Will on to el. That doesn’t mean mike doesn’t care about El (at all) as a friend. Or sees El as Will (that’s not even how projection works -or what I’ve said). Although Mike isn’t perfect, he’s naturally empathetic and grateful for all El has done to help him and his friends. And he does see Will & El as 2 different people- despite the romantic projection. And unlike Will, he sees El in a more familial way- rather than romantic (despite him trying to force it to be romantic) .More on that later.Heck, Mike has already incorrectly  projected his NON-ROMANTIC emotions on to 3 other characters other than El (it’s a pattern of his to project his feelings about one person on to another)- which yes I’ll also discuss.

I guess I have to specify what projection is -like i’ve already inferred in prior posts .There’s a difference between projecting  “feelings” you have for one person on to another VS thinking those 2 people are literally the same person with no differences between those 2 people/or not acknowledging the unique personal relationships you have with both.  This misconception is used as a popular counter-argument/strawman argument -rather than just debating the points i’ve made) .  Ex) It’s like if you’re anger at your boss- but you can’t yell at them so you (subconscious or otherwise) are (unfairly) angry/irritable to your romantic partner later. It doesn’t mean you literally think your romantic partner and boss are 1 in the same - or there is no distinction between those 2 relationships. The same goes for how Mike views El and Will, despite “projecting”  his “romantic feelings for Will” on to El (although Mike does so poorly).

 Mike most likely projects his romantic feelings for Will on to El

In s3) he kisses El with a drawing of Will behind her head -that he can look at as he kisses her ... that should be an obvious hint he’s projecting (subconscious or otherwise) . 

That’s Will -light brown hair/bowl cut, has fire powers like ‘Will the wise’.There’s also the fact that multiple characters in s1 mistook El for a boy (specifically Will) . Benny saying to El, “trying to steal from me boy?” Another man at Benny’s place mistook her for Will and said she could be “the byers boy... same height”. Hopper tracked El for most of s1 thinking it was Will. Homophobic Troy who harassed mike / talked about Will being gay said about El “ her head’s shaved she doesn’t even look like a girl”, officer callahan said “what’s Will doing with a shaved head?” The writers of ST are trying to tell you to pay attention to the fact el had a “ boyish /Will-like” appearance (and despite this- Mike was supposedly into her in s1). Then we had s2 byler parallel s3 mileven to show him fail to project his romantic feelings of Will on to el: Crazy together vs blank makes you crazy, , shed scenes: most important thing vs it was the best thing, Will & El calling for mike in the upsidedown (and mike coming for Will only), “they’re not in love they’re not even from the same planet” vs “welcome to my world”,  Will having pics of Mike smiling on Halloween looking at him vs El having a pic of Mike glaring on Halloween,  mileven paralleled to luke/leia & byler to king tristan/Han, byler paralleled to Venkman/Dana a ghost busters couple vs El just being a ghost and mike a ghost hunter, the s3 fight vs breakup  and the various contrasts between all 3 (showing Will upset and El happy - and mike caring more about resolving his fight with Will than El- and never apologizing to El for lying ). I went into more detail here about the parallels between mileven/byer, mileven,stancy,Karen/ted , etc here.

And when he tells El “I can’t lose you again” It’s supposed to be ambiguous-cause Mileven like stobin is a straight bait. The fact is 2 prior times in season 2 (when mike was in the center of the group) he sadly watches Will as Will gets in a car and drives away. 

Hinting to the viewer he’s actually thinking and worrying about losing Will (that 3rd time in s2 when he’s talking to El and seeing the cars with El/ Will drive away) . He once again is in the center of the group like the prior  2 scenes. And he already lost Will before and Will  (like el) also had a fake d*ath. So yeah...we hear mike tell el that line and mike watches both El and Will leave in cars (and starts to cry) since mike knows that Will (unlike superpowered El) may d*e from his possession and he may never see him again. And it’s not like he can tell Will that line when he’s unconscious/possessed (especially in front of his friends) .

Just like in s2, when mike watches El and Will drive away .... he does so again in s3. And it’s similarly ‘ambiguous’, on who he’s upset seeing drive away.  But, Mike turns to looks at the byers house, and  tries to catchup with his friends (which has identically framing to an earlier scene in s3 of Will sadly turning to look at mike leave with El and then turning back to rush and  catchup with the gang). Will turned around cause of Mike (not El) just like Mike turned around thinking of Will (not El). Just like s2,s3 uses earlier scenes in that particular season to give us hints about who he’s actually sad about driving away .

And in that moving away montage -  it only pans to mike and Will .

And has Mike hug his mom in the same way he did in s1.  Both represent moments representing him ‘losing Will’ (through his fake d*ath/moving away).  Mike both times storms into the house and Karen rushes to him nervous and unsure why he’s upset , but goes into hug him when mike reaches for her (needing comfort). Unlike the mileven hug that’s outside and he doesn’t reach for her at all- she hugged him because she was worried  (was he upset -sure but it’s not a parallel to the s3 hug). And they played “we can be heroes” for both hugs - cause both times mike lost Will.

And that s2 car scene where he talked to El (just like the prior s2 car scenes) was indicative of his fear of losing Will (not El).  Which happened at the end of s3. It all ties together. Cause again , he was thinking of Will!

They even had several movies on the st list (altered states / children of paradise) have this concept of projecting romantic feelings of someone they’re in love with on to someone else. Altered states -has a guy just like Will hallucinate flashing to another dimension . People say about him and his wife “he’s crazy and she’s crazy about him”. And when they weren’t together she says she had to pretend everyone she dated was him (but that it only made her feel worse cause it wasn’t him) .And she says about doing so “’it’s crazy”. And her friend says “i think that’s how it’s supposed to be.” CAN THEY GET MORE CLEAR with the projection?

Heck, even El projects on to Mike. While mileven is separated between s1-2 she watches the soap opera (’all my children’) and pretends to be Erica kane (who in the episode El was watching) got into a rushed elopement to MIKE ROY (who was a writer).Aka she projected romance from soap operas/her possible crush of MIKE roy onto MIKE wheeler.And Erica/Mike weren’t endgame- even had a lot of st*liking after the break up (similar to El’s spying)

Mileven and Byler are very different- much to Mike’s annoyance. And Mike projects this anger of not being able to love El romantically on to Max,Will, & Hopper.

Mileven and byler are very different even if mike wishes he had romantic feelings for El (like he does for Will). Mileven is paralleled to hopper/el cause mike truly sees her in a familial way- both teach her the definitions of compromise vs promise (and make promises to her), say to eat “real food” and not eggos, keep her hidden away and safe. Both say her new look is “cool” and El in response to both says it’s “bitchin” and both say back “yeah bitchin”. Both claim someone is “corrupting” El (when trying to dictate her romantic decisions ) and Joyce/Max tell both guys they don’t respect El’s ability to make her own “decisions”. And El says to both of them “you lie” while Max says El should figure out what she likes and not simply listen to Hopper and Mike.  Also similar to what she does with kali /Max (a sister/friend) El copies expressions from all 4 of them ( bitchin,  i make my own rules , not stupid, mouth breather/friends don’t lie).  Mileven is also paralleled to Luke/leia, and multiple people say El is like a “sister “ (lucas) and “cousin” (dustin) in s1. Even El asks before he first kisses her if Mike will he be “like (her) bother.”

In s2, Max (with the gang at Will’s house) asks how mike can still trust Will despite being possessed and in s3 max (with the gang at El’s house) calls out mike for not trusting El.  “El has saved the world twice. And Mike still doesn’t trust her!”And instead of Mike admitting that truth -that he doesn’t trust El who he doesn’t know well (who spied on him) he projects all the blame/distrust wrongly on to max saying “you want to talk about trust ?REALLY?! After YOU made eleven spy on us!” And when max says it was el’s idea he yells exasperated into Max’s face “guess girlfriends don’t lie they spy!” He shows he’s aggravated with the fact El is so against lying but had no qualms with spying. But only yells at Max (not El) and he even tries (incorrectly) claiming Max is “corrupting” El and making her do things she didn’t want to do . Cause he’s still in denial and wants to fall in love with El- and doesn’t want to see any of El’s flaws that would make it harder to do so ( so he just  projects that anger on to max instead).

And we know during the byler fight: Will calls El “stupid” but he was just projecting his own feelings about himself on to EL-since right after this he calls himself “stupid” 4x. So it’s likely when Mike yells back “El’s not stupid. It’s not my fault you don’t like girls!”   Like Will, It’s AGAIN Mike PROJECTING his insecurities about himself (aka not liking girls) and his relationship issues with El - on to Will. Rather than an actual statement on Will’s se*uality. Sort of like Mike lashing out and projecting his anger about his failing romantic relationship with El on to Max .

The simple fact is el is mike’s safe option (she physically resembles Will but is a girl and thus he’s allowed to be attracted to her- in conservative 80s America). However, we see the more El develops into her own person and differs from Will in personality (plus , the fact puberty is making the distinction between genders more apparent) the harder it is for Mike to fool himself and project.The writers in s3 make a telemarketing joke just to have mike say “el, no, not interested” (aka his true feelings).Mileven in s3 was called “b*llshit” like stancy (which have multiple parallels and weren’t in love ). And nancy admitted to Jonathan (a byers ) she wanted to be with him the whole time. But ,despite that, got back with Steve (and continued to kiss Steve all the time, and even lied saying she loved Steve for an entire year) essentially mileven. Karen /ted also is paralleled to Stancy & mileven- who were “never in love” . Then , Max says friends don’t lie but “boyfriends (mike) LIE all the time” (aka he’s lying about his romantic feelings), and when lucas asks WHY he lied to el -it pans to Will (the real reason he lies to El about his feelings for her). When El asks “why do you lie” (he just is silent and stares up guilty).  Lucas says about mileven (right before Dustin says they’re “bullsh*t” that “they’re lying”.And when he tries confessing to El, he never apologizes for lying and just used the similar ‘crazy’ line he used on Will (in s2). Cause if he actually stopped lying - he couldn’t continue to use her as a beard and date her/try and get back together.  Plus he also fought with Hopper in s2 (’about El’) in WILL’S ROOM . He wasn’t actually calling Hopper the liar he  was PROJECTING and calling himself “a stupid disgusting liar”out of self hate .  That scene was foreshadowing his lying to El in s3 (about his feelings for her). He blamed Hopper for his feelings for Will cause he told himself it wouldn’t have escalated if El had been around to ‘fix him’ . “I BLAME YOU! NOTHING ABOUT THIS IS OK! NOTHING ABOUT THIS IS OK. YOU STUPID DISGUSTING liar, liar, liar, liar”.starts crying. And then it zooms to Mike’s crying face and pans to El (who he would lie to constantly the next season).

I  also discussed in detail here how the bathroom stobin confession paralleled the mileven grocery confession- and again 1 in each of the couplets is gay. Heck, the “first i love you” plays only 2x in s3: when steve confesses to gay-robin and  when el confessed to mike and kisses him and Mike doesn’t kiss back or say he loves her back. When she kisses Mike- it’s in WILL’S ROOM room AGAIN,  Will’s old teddybear between them, as they kiss in front of Will open closet door) .  in s2ep1 the lyrics are “just a little more time can open closing doors” (as Mike kisses El and it pans over the ‘Will the wise’  drawing & a rainbow-heart-Mike drawing, that blend together). But , In the same ep- when Will says he won’t fall in love the lyrics are “love that is new to you, you open up the door.” Later in the song it even mentions the “wheeler house”. So yes- after “a little more time” (3 months) mike and El kiss once again like ep 1- but it’s  in front of Will’s open door and Mike is not feeling it- and it shows what is going to begin in s4 (byler). That after some time- despite the byler-doors appearing to ‘close’ they open up again after the mileven breakup/mike realizing the depth of his feelings and the fact he can’t ‘fix himself’ and be straight.El saying she loved him- and him not feeling any different after... was probably the catalyst for that realization.

Before this, we saw him project “his feelings” for Will on to El in romantic situations. But, he refused to integrate her into his friend group like his straight friends did with their gfs-unlike lucas with max, or how dustin tried to do so with Susie) . Cause he’s unfairly used El as a beard and wanted to compartmentalizes his friends and romance as much as possible (since faking it all the time not only with El-but with his friends would be exhausting).

Does he care about El- sure in his own flawed way. But, sorry (in my opinion) to act like mike” loves Will and El equally “ is kind of ludicrous . His actions show the opposite. And he’s only known El for 9 months as opposed to knowing Will for 9 years. And he’s known all of his other guy friends and the Byers much longer. What do they have in common?Are they friends ? Sure...  technically but “friends don’t lie”. And mike has done plenty of that to her - so until they sort that out- and are honest to eachother- they can’t really have a strong foundation of friendship in my opinion. It’ll only improve once they start being honest and respect each other’s autonomy (aka stop dating and actually establish a friendship... and  stop lying /spying on eachother). At the moment- Mike stunts El’s character growth and tries isolating her from the outside world, doesn’t respect her autonomy/ability to make decisions, doesn’t trust her in general, lies to her, and treats her like he’s her overly controlling dad. The relationship isn’t balanced or healthy (like byler or Mike and his other peers). In s1 he called her “a weapon”  they could use to save Will (a lesson he appears to have learned from).But Max has to yell at Mike in s3 “she’s not yours! she’s her own person-fully capable of making her own decisions!” And EL says Mike treats her like “a pet” and “garbage”. So yeah...  I don’t get people being ‘offended’ by me pointing out the romantic projection he does- and saying it supposedly ‘destroys’ the ‘beautiful relationship/friendship’ they have. Before I can consider mileven a “beautiful/loving friendship’: Mike needs to stop projecting and seeing El as a perfect beard to ‘fix him’- AND see El as her own person and NOT someone he needs to ‘take care of’ (cause he wrongly infantilizes her) . I think the 2 will eventually become good friends- and Mike will see he was wrong. But they’re not there yet- in my opinion.

[dc41896]

The Whole Time?!

Pairing: Jake JensenxBlack Reader

⚠️: Maybe a tiny bit of technical angst (🤷🏽‍♀️ lol), fluff💕

“P-Pooch?,” you stammer unable to fathom that your supposedly dead brother was standing in front of you and his wife who was about to give birth to their son in any minute.

“Hey peanut,” he smiles stepping further in the hospital room. “I’d hug you, but I’m w-,”

You didn’t even let him finish before immediately wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face in his shoulder. Good thing he was already wet from the rain, your tears would just be a welcomed addition.

“Wait. D-Does that mean-”

“Hey babe,” the all too familiar voice speaks making more silent tears fall as you lift your head. Just as soaked as Pooch, he nervously smiles removing his hat to reveal his spiked frosted tips. He pretty much looked the same as you last saw him. Toned arms and chest shielded by his dripping jacket along with your personal favorite, his black circular frames bringing even more attention to those crystal baby blues.

There were plenty of times you thought about what you’d do if granted this moment. Cry, scream, maybe jump into his arms clinging onto him like a koala on a tree. Possibly all three even. Now, finally being granted your wish after all these months, there was one main thing on your mind.

“Wow,” he smiles as you slowly move closer to each other. “I didn’t think it was possible, but somehow you’ve gotten more beautiful.” Just as the words left his mouth, the back of your hand connecting with his abdomen in the hardest hit you could muster nearly knocks the wind out of him as he keeled forward.

“And apparently stronger too..,” he coughs.

“How could you?!”

“I didn’t do it on purpose! We had to so we could go after the guy who set us up. And why didn’t you hit Pooch?! He was in it too.”

“He’s got one coming after my nephew safely enters the world, right now though it’s your turn,” you glare before smacking him again.

“Told you she had a strong backhand,” Pooch states quickly closing the room door before his sister decided to direct her rage at him.

The rest of the team merely watch in entertainment as your hits move to his shoulders and biceps until Jensen can grab your wrists pinning them by your sides.

“I’m sorry for putting you through all that, but it’s not like I completely left! I could still see you.”

You tilt your head in confusion ready to ask what he was talking about, until seeing Clay nervously scratch the back of his neck as he and Cougar shift their gaze clues you in on what he meant.

“SERIOUSLY JAKE?!”

“Wha-? I-,”

“Did you really think that would make me feel better?!”

“...Honestly at this point I’m afraid to answer.”

Annoyed groan falling from your lips, you tried to escape his grasp, but his larger hands slightly tightening their grip on yours, along with him following your every movement, keep you in place. “When we go home I can explain everything.”

“Will you? Or are you just gonna lie some more?”

“I promise I’ll tell everything,” he whispers, leaving a chaste kiss on your temple before flashing one of his ‘please don’t stay mad at me forever because I love you’ smiles. So far, it’d gotten him out of any argument you had. Including this one.

Darn those good looks of his.

“Fine,” you reply as you cross your arms, leaving him to find a seat in the nearby waiting room.

“Any tips here Colonel?,” Jake sighs.

“I’m probably not the one you’d want relationship advice from.”

Another heavy sigh leaves his lips as he follows your path down the hall to sit next to you. That is if you’d let him.

“Okay, is anybody else stuck on the fact that Jensen actually has a girlfriend?,” Aisha states breaking the momentary silence and making both men chuckle.

———

It’s the happiest he’s ever been to walk into his small, outdated apartment. Things weren’t exactly the same as he left it with your few new decorations and pieces of furniture trying to make the place a bit of your own, but of course he didn’t mind. It actually warmed his heart that although he was “gone” you still chose to stay, sticking by his side when you easily could’ve moved on with your life.

“Jeez, the faucet always drip that loud?,” he lightly chuckles shedding his coat and placing it on the small hanger by the door.

“It started a bit after you left,” you sigh kicking off your shoes. “Think it’s loud now, it’s even louder when you’re just sitting here alone.”

Following you to the bedroom feeling like a dog with its tail between his legs, he sits at the foot of the bed looking down at his hands as you move about the bathroom getting yourself ready for bed. Your words were like the sharpest sting as his mind vividly showed an image of you just sitting in this apartment with nothing but thoughts of loosing your brother and boyfriend along with the hum of the AC. He knew for the sake of their mission, and the team, he couldn’t say anything, but it still didn’t take away his guilt of what you went through mentally and emotionally.

“I tried to write you.”

“What, your computer go down and you couldn’t watch me anymore?,” you counter over your shoulder before rinsing the soap from your face.

“That was only once okay? I was watching my niece’s soccer game and then I thought about what you were doing and kinda sorta hacked your office’s cameras, which yes I know was wrong. Speaking of, they really should update their software, a fifth grader could easily hack into it just guessing the password,” he answers making you roll your eyes with a chuckle.

“And who’s Tom?”

“Tom?”

“Yea. Curly brown haired guy, cubicle across from yours. Big head you can see a mile away.”

“I’m sorry are you somehow trying to turn things on me when you’re the one that’s supposed to be explaining why I’ve thought you were dead this whole time?,” you ask wiping the remaining moisturizer from your hands before crossing them in front of your chest as you step closer to the now nervous looking man.

“N-no, of course not! But I mean since he’s been mentioned...”

“He’s just this guy at work that apparently likes me and asked me out but I said no, because a small part of me kept hoping that you’d miraculously come back. Happy?”

“I-uh...y-yes?”

Sighing, you sit beside him tucking your bare legs under you and taking his hand in yours to trace the lines on his palm. You never knew how or why you started, but it was something you occasionally did while you two were talking or just lying next to him enjoying each other’s company. It brought a smile and giddy feeling to Jensen, just as it did to you.

“Listen, I’m sorry I’m giving you a hard time, I know you didn’t have a choice, and understand. Selfishly though, I just missed you so much and wish I could’ve known. It definitely would’ve saved some sleepless nights and tears.”

With his other hand, his thumb and index finger gently grab your chin guiding you to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry for everything I put you through having you think I was dead. The second we threw our tags in that fire you and my family were all I could think about. Like I said I wanted to write and give you some sign that I wasn’t gone, but I could never figure out how to start. Plus Clay threatened to cut off little Jensen if I did send anything back home once he found out, which only made it tougher.”

“Yea we wouldn’t want that,” you softly laugh following a short sniffle you were trying to hold back. You really were done with crying, having done so since you got that devastating call so long ago, and just wished your tear ducts would shrivel up already. “Sorry, I thought I was done with the tears.”

“Shh, don’t be.” Leaning forward, his soft as clouds lips meet the single salty droplet in the middle of you cheek erasing its presence before moving to yours in quite possibly the most delicate, tender kiss you’ve ever experienced. Any other time, you’d probably call it painfully slow, trying to take the lead to move things along. But as you both sat there taking everything in from each other’s scents to the feel of how one’s lips and mouth felt on the other, you couldn’t feel more connected.

Just barely pulling away, his swollen lips rest centimeters above yours ready to take them again as soon as he caught his breath.

“I don’t know if I should be embarrassed at myself or amazed at whatever powers you have,” he starts, a light chuckle escaping him. “But I think you just made me-,”

“Jensen!,” you laugh, playfully smacking his shoulder. “Way to ruin a romantic mood.”

“If it’s romance you want, say no more,” he smiles taking your hand in his and placing it on his chest as he clears his throat. To the best of his ability, he begins singing the opening lines to your couple’s song, as Jake proclaimed it, instantly making you fall back on the bed in laughter.

“You actin' kinda shady, ain't callin' me baby, why the sudden change. Say my name, say my name!”

“This is definitely not a couple’s song,” you laugh feeling his forearms rest on either side of your head and chest vibrate from his laughing.

“I’ll admit lyrically wise..yes, you’re right. But it’s still ours which makes it special.”

You’d never forget that day in the grocery store trying to find a pint of your favorite ice cream as the song played overhead. Without really looking, you thought you were on the freezing aisle by yourself and began singing along as you gently bobbed your head. Suddenly hearing a voice singing the background vocals made you slightly jump turning to see the taller man in a grey sweatshirt, blue and white basketball shorts, and sneakers holding up his hands.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. I-It’s Destiny’s Child, I couldn’t resist.”

“It’s okay, and I mean who can?,” you respond, both softly laughing before shyly looking back at your respective sections to get your frozen desserts.

“Soo...you like ice cream?,” he asks interrupting the momentary silence.

“Yea, um my favorite’s moose tracks,” you answer briefly holding up your pint with a smile.

“You know who has a good moose tracks? Bennie & Bailey’s downtown. They make it from scratch and I don’t know what all they put in it, but it’s amazing.”

“Oh, okay thanks. I don’t think I’ve ever been there.”

“Well you should definitely go one day. I mean if you want,” he nervously chuckles.

“Will do,” you smile. “Only if you’ll take me though?”

At first, being met with his shocked, speechless expression made your newfound confidence falter thinking you might’ve been too bold with the cute stranger, whom you hadn’t even asked if he was single or not. However seeing his eyes shine bright and adorable smile grace his pink lips, your excitement returned as he moved closer handing you his phone.

Years later, the rest is history as you lie in bed with the man you were sure was the love of your life.

“Hey what’s going on in there?,” he asks brushing his fingertips across your forehead noticing you become quiet. Lightly scratching his goatee, you feel your eyes start to water again causing you to blink a few times trying to keep them at bay.

“I just don’t want you to leave again,” you whisper, moving your fingers to card through his chestnut and blonde mixed strands.

“I’m not going anywhere unless you ask me too.”

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If anybody wants to be tagged, has asked to be tagged but don’t see your name, only want to be tagged for certain people I write for (can be found in masterlist), or no longer wish to be tagged just let me know🤓!

[lag1995-fics]

Hii. Can I request a fanfic for the song and Evan character thing? Could it be That's all by Genesis and Kai Anderson please?

I hope you like smut cause this one came out spicy 🌶. Apologies in advance I suck at writing Kai.

That’s All

Pairing:Kai x female reader

Warnings:Kai Anderson being Kai Anderson. Stalking, murder, derogatory language towards women, unhealthy relationship, language, smut

Words: 2190

Summary: Kai and reader share an unhealthy relationship but hey they love each other

Song Fic Masterlist

You were a self professed nasty woman, you had voted proudly for Hillary. She had clearly been the lesser of two evils. Plus it was about god damned time a woman broke that glass ceiling. You were pretty much everything Kai Anderson hated about women in general.

Kai should hate you, he should want to torment you but you intrigued him. It had started simply enough, hun being the entitled creep that he is had watched you do yoga in your backyard. You didn’t know of course, not then at least, that you had gained a stalker.

It hadn’t taken Kai long to realize that he wanted you to be his. He wanted to possess every part of you, he wanted you to be his and only his. He had a very unhealthy obsession with you.

That wasn’t all though he had also caught your eye. You had been out getting your mail one day dressed in nothing but a large t-shirt and shorts so short they couldn’t be seen beneath the hem of the shirt. You had seen him staring you down his blue hair thrown messily up into a bun on top of his head.

You were struck by his Beauty, he truly was a beautiful man. With brown eyes so dark they looked like two pieces of coal staring into your soul. You waved, flashing him a bright grin. He flashed you a grin of his own and as much as it made your panties dampen it also had an unhinged quality.

When you had got inside an uncharacteristically girlish giggle escaped your lips. Your roommate looked at you like you had grown three heads. You could feel your cheeks fill with fire. You were supposed to be a strong woman that didn’t need a man to complete her. Your neighbor was something else though.

“Who is this person giggling like a schoolgirl, that replaced my good friend y/n.” She cackled and you could feel the fire in your cheeks spread to your chest and ears.

“Our neighbor is kind of cute,” you replied waspishly.

“No really where is my roommate, the man hating feminist activist?” She joked.

“I don’t hate all men. I just think that men in general are problematic at best,” you defended huffily.

“He’s probably a raging trumpy,” she teased, lightheartedly.

“Oh is not he had long blue hair that was in a bun” you defended despite not knowing anything about this man. You didn’t know why you felt the need to defend him like you were.

“Oh you got it bad!” she collapsed into a fit of laughter when you threw a throw pillow at her.

***

It was another two weeks before you saw your mysterious neighbor again. He was talking to a shorter girl who was wearing a t-shirt that had “pussy power” emblazoned on her chest. This gave you the burst of confidence you needed as you strode over to them before you could talk yourself out of it.

“I love your shirt” you addressed the girl and she flashed you a grin.

“Thanks,” She replied, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. You could feel his eyes boring into the side of your head and flashed him a smile as well. You couldn’t help but admit to being a bit disappointed when he rolled his eyes.

“Ignore him. I’m Winter and this is my brother Kai” she introduced herself holding out a hand for you to shake which you did.

Kai the name rolled around in your head. You couldn’t help but entertain some mild fantasy of screaming out his name as he fucked you into a mattress. You shook the dirty fantasy from your mind.

“Nice to meet you I’m y/n,” you held out a hand to the blue haired man letting yourself take him in up close.

He had messy stubble along his chin and his blue hair hung around his face. His eyes were even more haunting up close and you felt like you could get lost in them. He took your hand wrapping his larger one around it, he had a firm grip. You couldn’t help but physically gulp from the skin to skin contact.

“We’ve met before, you live across the street. You like the power puff girls right?” He teased and you suddenly remembered what shirt you had been wearing.

“The power puff girls are fucking rad Kai” Winter defended and you smiled at her. Something in the way he looked at you made you want to submit to him. It was overwhelming to say the least.

“Whatever” he rolled his eyes again.

***

You and winter only grew closer and she quickly became part of your friend group. You tried to forget about Kai after finding out his political affiliations. He was everything you fought against. He was proud of being a chauvinistic pig.

You had decided to move on after a heated debate on men’s rights. You had tried to point out that all feminists wanted was equality. Men in this country as it stood right now had more rights than women did. It was a travesty.

He wouldn’t listen to you at all and went out of his way to call you a Misandrist. You had boiled over at that loudly proclaiming that you had really liked him up until the point he started spewing this nonsense. He was a pig and didn’t deserve the time of day you had already given him.

You would think that the polar opposite political opinions would cut the sexual tension like a hot king through butter; it didn’t though. If anything you were even more attracted to the man and Kai who normally had minimal patience for mouthy women was even more interested in making you his. He didn’t want to break you the fighting was too much fun but he definitely wanted to bend you to his will enough that you would never leave him.

You on the other hand had forced yourself to start dating other people. None of them compared to the man who fucked you everynight in your dreams. Kai Anderson was a force to be reckoned with.

***

Kai was sitting in the basement when Winter trudged down with her arms full of pizza. His eyes snapped to his sister and he couldn’t help but ask about y/n.

“Is y/n coming for dinner?” He asked, eyeing the pizza. Winter couldn’t help but roll her eyes at her brother who had developed an unhealthy obsession with her newest friend.

“No she’s got a date tonight some dude called Brad” Winter shrugged nonchalantly, knowing it would rile up her brother.

“What the fuck, she can’t go on a date with another dude” Kai spat possessively.

“Well tell her that because she definitely went on a date tonight” Winter laughed leaving her brother to stew in his resentment before he could snap at her.

“BULLSHIT!” He roared, flipping the coffee table in his anger.

He angrily grabbed his laptop logging into Facebook, whoever this Brad fucker was; was a deadman. He found your profile going to your profile ignoring the hideous cat eared beanie covering your beautiful hair in your profile picture. There were only three Brads on your friends list, one of them was well into his fifties and married, the other shared your last name and was probably a cousin. That left only one option, the man who appeared in the photo was everything Kai wasn’t. He was clean cut and wore a goofy ass bow tie.

He made a call ordering a hit on him but only if he was alone. He couldn’t risk you possibly getting hurt in the crossfire.

***

It was only two days after your disastrous tinder date that you found out Brad had been murdered. You were sad for his family. The date hadn’t been great but he had been nice in a dweeby, Silicon Valley sort of way. It seemed Kai had ruined you for all other men. You couldn’t help but compare them to him.

Winter had called you telling you how sorry she was. Winter was sorry she hadn’t thought Kai would murder someone just for dating you. She had only meant to piss him off; she didn’t want to be responsible for this man’s death.

***

You were at the Anderson’s again eating Chinese this time. It had almost become a every other day ritual. She would go hang out with Winter and argue with her brother.

“Women should be put back in their place,” he had started in before you cut him off glaring at him.

“Oh and what place would that be because I think it should be in a place of power. You know like the office of the presidency,” you snarled.

“Oh my god would you guys just fuck already and get it over with?” Winter who was fed up rolled her eyes walking up the stairs leaving you alone with Kai. Your eyes flashed to Kai’s and you could clearly read the hunger in them.

“She’s got a point,” he said lowly, tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip. You didn’t even realize you had unconsciously been walking toward him until you felt his strong arms wrap around your waist pulling you into him making you squeak.

“Fuck” you whispered looking into his eyes.

“A pretty girl like you should use such whorish language, I might have to wash that dirty slut mouth out with soap,” he groaned pushing his need against your pelvis.

“Oh god,” you whined grasping at his strong shoulders for stability.

“Say my name whore,” he snapped, his hand reaching under your comfortable sweat shirt and undoing your bra.

“Kai,” you breathed before pressing your lips into his own. He quickly took control of the kiss fighting your tongue and biting down sharply when he won.

“Fuck, I’ve wanted to do this to you since you started teasing me with your slutty little yoga moves” he ground himself into you.

You couldn’t find the right words so you just moaned as he started stripping both of you of your clothes. When he slipped your yoga pants from you body and saw that you were wearing any underwear underneath he got a maniacal look in his eyes.

“Fuck you are a little whore,” he slipped his fingers into the folds of your sopping cunt.

“You like that slut?” He punctuated each word with the curl of his fingers against that sweet spot. When you didn’t answer he proceeded to add two more fingers and you could feel the burning stretch.

“I asked you a question,” he demanded fucking your pussy with his fingers and rubbing your clit with his thumb.

“I love it,” you managed to choke out, “please Kai I need you”

“Fuck,” he his pulling his finishers from you wet pussy lips and shoved them into your mouth to suck on them, slowly thrusting them into your pretty little mouth.

“That’s what a woman’s mouth should be used for, not mouthing off,” he chuckled darkly.

You gasped as you felt the blunt head of his cock against your pussy. Without warning he slammed into you to the hilt sending your already sensitive body off the edge and into a wave of pleasure.

“That’s right cum on my cock bitch,” he gasped as he pounded into you hard and fast. You could feel the build of another orgasm cresting. Your walls began to flutter around him causing him to lose some control as his thrusting became erratic. The two of you sailed off the precipice together.

With more care then you would have expected he pulled out of you kissing your forehead. He grabbed his soft t-shirt using it to wipe you as you lay cuddled to his chest. Your mind was whirling at the fact that you had just let Kai fucking Anderson fuck the shit out of you while he called you every name in the book. It would be easier to find someone that held the same viewpoints as you. They just never seemed to strike your heart strings the way Kai did. You could be wearing a white shirt and prove to him it was white and he would still say it was black. You were yin and yang, and you knew now you wouldn’t be able to leave.

“Y/n, I love you” he said and if you hadn’t been listening you wouldn’t have heard it. Your eyes widened, Kai didn’t love anyone, not even Winter. He also wasn’t a liar and if he said that he loved you , it was true no matter how unhealthy their relationship was.

“I love you too. It had slipped out before you could think about the consequences of this. What the two of you had was pure and primal.

“You do know that I will never stop arguing with you though?” You added. You still believed wholeheartedly that women deserved the same advantages as men.

“I’d be disappointed if you did” he confessed and you leaned up to kiss him melting once again into his touch.

——//////———-//////———

Send me a song and an Evan Peters Character and I’ll write you a fic.

[missjanjie]

Taste of a Poison Paradise | Chapter 8

Title: Taste of a Poison Paradise Summary: Life at Jackie Cox’s strip club, Poison Paradise, isn’t just lapdances and g-strings. There’s enough drama, lust, and heartache to rival any soap opera. None of the girls know what to expect on any given shift, especially while navigating their torrid, complicated relationships. Word Count: ~3k (this chapter) / ~24.2k (total) Relationship(s): Lemyanka (Lemon/Priyanka), Crygi (Crystal Methyd/Gigi Goode), Sportsdoll (Jan Sport/Nicky Doll), Jaidie (Jaida Essence Hall/Jackie Cox), BVK (Brooke Lynn Hytes/Vanessa Vanjie Mateo/Kameron Michaels), Rosnali (Rosé/Denali Foxx) Rating: E

Read on AO3 | Ko-Fi

Chapter Summary: Things seem to be going well for Lemon until they go really bad really fast. Things are actually going well for Jackie and Jaida.

-

For the next couple of weeks, it seemed like Lemon was on the mend. She had finished her finals, gotten through her senior year, and now it was time to celebrate. Hers and Gigi’s graduations were only a couple of days apart, so the group decided to combine their graduation party that weekend.

It was one of the rare times the club was closed on a Saturday, but Jackie wanted to make sure everyone could celebrate together and turned the main room into their party space. “Cheers,” she said, raising her glass, “to Lemon and Gigi, college graduates!”

The group clinked their glasses together and drank, everyone resuming their casual conversation, relaxed, and enjoying one another’s company. With the exception, of course, of Lemon and Priyanka, who were still trying to avoid each other like the plague.

“Look, I love those two as much as the rest of y’all, but I’ve stopped feeling sorry for them — at this point, it’s just annoying,” Kameron remarked as she watched the way they behaved with a grimace. “Not that it’s any of my business, but it kind of is considering how often I have to witness them, but how long were they hooking up for anyway?”

Vanessa furrowed her brows as she counted on her fingers. “Dunno, like four months?”

“Shit, that’s like a lesbian year,” she murmured, sipping her drink. “This isn’t gonna fix itself is it?”

“Not as long as Pri’s got that rock on her finger.”

“It could be worse,” Brooke Lynn chimed in, her lips pursed around the straw in her glass, “at least she doesn’t wear it to work, can you imagine the fit Lemon would throw if she had to stare down a diamond every day?”

The three of them looked at Lemon, who, at least for the moment, appeared to be enjoying herself, then at Priyanka, who was talking to Crystal and looking stressed.

“So, dress shopping is happening on Wednesday?” Crystal asked. “Does she know?”

“Of course she doesn’t know,” Priyanka scoffed and shook her head, “I have no idea how to keep her from knowing, no one can keep a secret in their family.”

Crystal winced but nodded. “Well, good luck,” she offered before Gigi made their way to her side and her attention immediately became divided.

“Thanks,” Priyanka mumbled, her gaze drifting to Lemon, who was talking animatedly to Jan and Rosé, “I’ll need it.”

------

By the time Wednesday rolled around, Priyanka’s nerves hadn’t quelled in the slightest. Lucky for her, at least, those with her — her mother, sister, and future mother-in-law wrote it off as pre-wedding jitters. Scarlett knew better, but there was no need to blow up her best friend’s spot like that.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to a more traditional store?” The mother-in-law asked, “I know Mark doesn’t want your culture to be ignored.”

“It will be two separate ceremonies,” Priyanka’s mom cut in before she could speak for herself, “she will be wearing her grandmother’s sari for that.”

Priyanka had to fight off the pained expression that tried to twist its way onto her face. It was only when she had broken the news to her family that she remembered what a big event weddings were in her family. She wasn’t about to get off lightly with this. Instead, she let the assistant at the shop lead her to a rack of dresses and suggested a few. She agreed to them without giving them a proper look, figuring she would let a majority rule.

Once she was in the first dress, she returned to the main room and stepped up on the platform in front of the mirrors. Right away, the women began discussing and debating the pros and cons of the dress — where it fit right, where it’d need to be taken in. But she couldn’t bring herself to focus on anything, instead zoning out to the song playing through the store’s speakers.

I'm living for the only thing I know I'm running and not quite sure where to go And I don't know what I'm diving into Just hanging by a moment here with you

Normally, Priyanka would roll her eyes at this sort of song, at the cheesy love in the lyrics. But with her only alternative being actively participating in shopping for a wedding dress, she listened to the music and let it resonate.

Desperate for changing Starving for truth I'm closer to where I started I'm chasing after you

She winced but blamed it on accidentally being stuck with a pin. They didn’t have to play a song that hit so close to home, she thought. It made it that much harder to ignore the feelings that bubbled up inside her. It was only then that she realized someone was talking to her. “Huh?”

“I asked if you liked the dress,” Scarlett replied.

“Oh,” she cleared her throat. “Yeah, it’s fine.” She then realized she should have been more convincing because she found herself ushered back into the dressing room to try on dress number two, which she would then force enthusiasm for so the day would end as soon as possible.

“Are you okay?” her mother asked with sincere concern.

Priyanka nodded as she stepped off the platform. “Just a little lightheaded, I didn’t have breakfast.”

“Well, let’s get this dress taken care of, then we’ll go get something to eat.”

She nodded again as she went back to change into her regular clothes. Maybe she did just need to eat, she thought. Maybe some food or a nap would bring her back into reality. The reality where she was preparing to get married. The reality that Lemon could no longer be the main character in, no matter what some stupid song was trying to tell her. Or even worse, no matter how much she wanted her to be.

------

“You don’t normally ask me to make house calls,” Jaida remarked as Jackie let her into the apartment, “is everything okay?”

Jackie exhaled deeply. No matter how many times she had rehearsed what she was going to say, she still ended up tongue-tied the second she laid eyes on her. But she was determined to work her way through this and not let nerves get the best of her. “I watched the video you did with Denali. I… I watched it more times than I’d like to admit,” she confessed. “And I can’t get the image of you fucking her out of my mind. But more specifically… I can’t stop picturing myself in her place.”

Jaida had to put all of her mental energy into fighting off a smug grin. She wanted to choose her words carefully, not wanting to overwhelm an already anxious Jackie. “Since we’re being honest here, that’s kinda what I was aiming for,” at Jackie’s confused reaction, she continued, “you could have been less obvious with your username and how you talk online. Maybe it’s ‘cause I know you so well, but I could read all of your messages in your voice.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

She shrugged. “I didn’t want you to feel pressured to confront how you felt, considering your coming out was still fresh for you. I just wanted you to know that the option was there whenever you were ready.”

There was a silent beat before Jackie swallowed thickly and told her, “I’m ready.”

“Then tell me what you want, baby.”

“I want you to fuck me.” The words felt foreign for Jackie to say, the phrase has never left her lips with any sort of sincerity before. But at the same time, she had never been more certain in her life about what she wanted and how badly she wanted it.

Jaida moved to Jackie, wrapping her arms around her waist and kissing her deeply. “I’m gonna take good care of you, okay?” she promised as they made their way to the bedroom.

And Jackie trusted her, she trusted her more than she would have anyone else in this position. She let Jaida take her to bed, let her take her time undressing her and pressing kisses to every newly exposed inch of skin. She eagerly helped her clothes off as well, letting her hands roam her body in ways she had only fantasized about.

“I don’t want you to be afraid of being loud,” Jaida told her. “I wanna hear you, wanna know how good I’m making you feel.” As she spoke, her fingers glided down Jackie’s body, stopping between her thighs before starting to rub her clit in small, firm circles.

Jackie’s head tilted back into the pillows, soft moans spilling from her lips. Her body yielded to Jaida’s touch and her moans grew louder as the other woman eased one finger into her, thrusting and curling it before adding another and picking up a steady rhythm.

“Good girl,” she praised, trailing kisses down her body. She then slowly eased her fingers out and replaced them with her tongue, licking and thrusting at a similar pace while her fingers moved to rub her clit in tandem.

It wasn’t long before the sensation became overwhelming and Jackie’s hips started to jerk erratically. She barely managed to squeak out a warning before she came harder than she ever had before, her body trembling when she was spent. “Oh my god…”

Jaida came back up and laid beside her. “Are you okay?” she asked softly, pushing the hair out of her face.

“I’m good,” Jackie assured. “I just… I haven’t… it, um…”

“Jackie…” she furrowed her brows and sat up a bit, “have you ever been with a woman before?”

Jackie’s face turned a deep shade of red. “I have, kind of. It’s been hard to work through so many years of repression and internalized homophobia, you know? I’ve made out with girls, fooled around a bit. But I guess no, I’ve never properly had sex with another woman before. I wouldn’t have wanted to put that pressure on you anyway. Besides, I couldn’t have asked for a better first time.”

Jaida exhaled deeply, suddenly becoming aware of the weight that’d built upon her chest. “Then that’s all I needed to hear.”

------

“There’s a birthday party out there tonight,” Gigi remarked offhandedly as they and Lemon got ready in the quick-change room. “I know how much you love those,” they added with an overly exaggerated eye roll.

Lemon groaned. Birthdays and bachelor parties were tied for the worst groups of men to deal with as clients, the only exceptions being the ones that take it as an opportunity to go all out and tip well. “And you’re on the stage next?” she let out another disgruntled whine when they nodded, finishing off her cocktail. “Gonna get a refill, gonna need it for doing rounds.” Naturally, when she went to the bar, she went right to Crystal. The downside was Crystal knew to cut her off after three drinks and she had to flirt with men to keep the drinks coming.

“You’re getting your third one this early?” Crystal questioned as she mixed it for her. “Something on your mind?”

“Nope. Just got a birthday party that’s probably all gonna want lap dances,” she replied, taking a swig as soon as she got the drink in her hand. Sure, it didn’t help that she had seen Scarlett’s instagram post of Priyanka in her wedding dress earlier, but she wasn’t about to hash that out, especially not with the bride-to-be all of four feet away.

And Crystal wasn’t entirely convinced, but she knew there was no use in pushing further. “Well, good luck,” she offered.

Lemon set her empty glass on the counter before making her way through the crowd. It took a little while before she ended up in the vicinity of the group of men, and not long after that, they flagged her down. At first, it was business as usual, though she couldn’t shake the feeling that one of the men seemed familiar.

“Hey Mark,” the man celebrating his birthday remarked, “maybe we should come back here for your bachelor party. I bet Priyanka won’t mind!” he laughed.

That made Lemon freeze in her tracks as it all clicked. She saw red and her blood boiled with a wave of anger and loathing she had never felt before. Something inside of her took over, she hadn’t even realized she had thrown a drink in his face and screamed at him until Kameron was pulling her away and all eyes in the club were on her, including Priyanka’s, who had dropped everything to run over the second she heard Lemon scream.

“Who the hell are you?” Mark asked incredulously.

“I’m who your fianceé thinks about while you’re fucking her,” Lemon snarled while locked in Kameron’s grasp.

It was then that both Mark and Lemon realized Priyanka was right there. “What the fuck is she talking about, Pri?”

Priyanka felt her heart drop into the pit of her stomach as she prayed for the floor to open up beneath her so the ground would swallow her whole. She knew she had been playing a dangerous game, but she could have never predicted that it would blow up in her face this badly. “I-”

“She’s never gonna love you,” Lemon continued with disdain in her voice. But then her tone softened to a calm, albeit distant one. “But don’t worry,” she looked towards Priyanka, their eyes meeting, “she’s never gonna love me either.”

Other than the music playing in the background, the room was silent as Lemon let Kameron take her upstairs to the common room. “How are you feeling?” she asked gently as she sat at the other end of the couch, resting her hand on the smaller girl’s leg. “You really caused a scene back there.”

“Whatever,” she mumbled. “He was gonna find out eventually. You can’t live a lie forever,” she hiccuped as she sprawled her barely-dressed body out. “I need another drink.”

“The only thing you’re drinking is water,” she said sternly, getting up and grabbing a water bottle from the fridge and bringing it back, propping Lemon up enough so she could drink. “I’m gonna call Rosé and have her take you home, I don’t think you should stick around tonight,” she told her as she fished her phone from her pocket.

Lemon nodded and pushed herself to sit up properly. She hung her head down, intentionally hiding her face from Kameron as she sniffled quietly. “Pri’s gonna hate me now, isn’t she?”

Kameron winced, unsure of how honest she should be with someone both drunk and emotionally unstable. “I think once the dust settles, you two are going to have to have a long talk. It’s not gonna be easy, but it’s gonna be the only way you two have a shot at healing.”

“I ruined her marriage.”

She shook her head. “She ruined her marriage the moment she said yes to someone she didn’t want to be with. She probably would’ve gotten cold feet and left him at the altar,” she mused, both out of her honest belief and the hope that she could get Lemon to crack a smile. And once she did, she felt comfortable getting back up and calling Rosé, warning her of exactly what happened.

“I got here as fast as I could,” Rosé announced once she made it upstairs. “Three different guys tried to buy lap dances off me on the way, sorry,” she added before rushing to her cousin’s side. “You’ve done it now, huh, Lem?” she shook her head as she helped her to her feet.

Vanessa emerged from the locker room with the rest of Lemon’s belongings. “Here, you might wanna get her changed before you take her back outta here.”

Kameron furrowed her brows. “You know her locker combination?”

“Um… yes?” she tucked a bobby pin into her back pocket. “This ain’t about me,” she was quick to change the subject and helped Lemon get changed.

Rosé effectively ignored the entire exchange, saying her goodbyes to the other women before driving Lemon back home and getting her changed again, this time into pajamas. “Mik isn’t home, you can sleep in her bed,” she offered.

Lemon chewed her lip for a moment, then shook her head. “Can I stay with you? I just… I don’t wanna be by myself.”

“Of course, baby,” she assured and tucked her into bed. “Do you need anything? Water? Something to eat?”

“Need to wake up in a world where none of this happened.”

Rosé sighed sadly. “Fresh out, unfortunately.” She changed as well before joining her in bed. “Just wake me if you need anything, okay?” When she got a nod of confirmation, she turned the lights off and called it a night.

But that wasn’t the case for Lemon. No, she wouldn’t be so lucky. Even though she had been drunk, the incident replayed in her mind in great detail no matter how many times she tried to shut it off. That, coupled with struggling to sort through the mix of emotions still swirling through her, kept her awake for another hour or so before exhaustion took over and she passed out.

And back at the club, everyone else was left to pick up the pieces of the explosive incident. But as much as the clientele was willing to move past what they’d witnessed, none of the employees could get themselves to carry on. So, with Jackie’s blessing, they called it an early night and nearly everyone went back home.

Priyanka hung back, seeking solace in Jackie’s office, knowing her boss might be the only one that could understand the gravity of the fallout. “What the fuck am I supposed to do now, Jackie? This is effectively outing me to everyone. And I look bad too, they’re gonna find out I’m gay and a cheater in one go. What should I do?”

Jackie sighed, her heart truly breaking for her. “I wish there was an easy answer for this. I think, for now, you just need to get through the night.”

And Priyanka would, though she was afraid to fall asleep, overwhelmed with the need to postpone tomorrow as long as she could, because she had run out of ways to hide or lie her way out of it.

[hubz88]

So Aaron asking Ben to move in and this plot about his dad seemed to be more about the parallels with Liv’s drinking problem then any real character development for Ben or their relationship.  Surprise, surprise. 

I had a few people jumping on a twitter response of mine last week, don't really do twitter much and wasn’t hoping to invite a conversation from Ben fans, Ben/Aaron fans, but anyway I was completely baffled, fascinated and mad and had to get my thoughts down.

Firstly my comment was about how weird I find it that on top of having this abusive father his whole life, Ben was so happy to forgive and forget the bullying that Aaron put him through, that made him want to die, within a day and a vague apology wanted to date him and it was brushed under the carpet.  I got two different responses from the fans that I want to look into because it has been on my mind all weekend.

1) About 2 or 3 people commented that I have clearly missed some episodes

This is hilarious to me, not only have I never missed an episode, but I have over analysed all Ben and Aaron scenes a thousand times over, without ever watching back I remember a great detail of what was said, weird dialog, acting/directing choices and facial expressions.

But mainly on this I am just hugely confused by what scenes they actually think I missed? There have been very little actually story about this bullying backstory full stop, no real content and no real resolution or explanation as to how come Ben got over it so quickly.  Given that I was referring to the first week or so on screen, it literally went like this.  Ben having no words in the Hop whilst Liv was acting like Aaron goes their all the time to see Ben at the Hop.  Ben orders a jacket potato and chilli whilst Chas awkwardly tries to suggest that Aaron gets back on the dating horse, hint hint hint to this random man who we know nothing about at this point and if he is even gay/into men.  Ben with Al and Kayak’s getting introduced to Aaron.  Aaron going back on his own to ask about Kayak lesson when Ben flips with the you don’t remember me, now I can hit back and you made me want to die etc. Ben’s car breaks down, Aaron says he can help, gets his number to text about parts or something.  They go for a drink as you do with your school bully.  Aaron explains vaguely about having a tough up-bringing and struggling with sexuality.  Ben has no reason to really trust him at this point or take his word for it but decides to awkwardly start trying to flirt and talks about the bullying he suffered as “reminiscing”, (weirdest line to use in context, I certainly don't reminisce about the kid that used to call me names at school let alone actually kick my head in on the daily). Then Aaron goes to the Hop and asks about a lesson, clear indication of a date.  This was all over a few days episodes, but one actual date time-wise.  That is is, whole story wrapped up.  No Ben talking to other people in the village that tell him to give Aaron a chance, no forced to work together, share friendship group, locked in a room together or whatever contrived plots soaps like to use to get people talking.  No longer story of getting to know each other, Aaron proving he had changed.  Just one conversation and it was all fine. Like what was the point?

Then from that point on we got a couple of episodes were Ben turned up out of nowhere, no build up, no aftermath, again no discussions with other people in the village, friends, co-workers, so we never saw his motivations or reasons for wanting to be with Aaron he just showed up apologizing for their disaster pint or Aaron apologised.  So much so that Ben was only in 11 episodes from September to January and many of those were like one or a couple of scenes, which is so poor when you compare to the other new characters introduction, interactions and multiple mini stories that played out.

The 4.5 months Ben was off screen was also used as a reason some how to explain how the lack of actual relationship discussion makes sense, like they talked again when he came back, (about his sister being an alcoholic), as if that suddenly makes it ok that they haven’t address the bullying or that argument again before Ben became a literal cardboard cut out glued to Aaron’s side. 

2) There was one person who replied saying it wasn’t a date at that point with the first lot of pints, which those terrible pint plots arguably were meant to be a date, but in any case they were still planning to meet up just the two of them, Ben kicked off after Ben didn’t turn up after divorce papers and Kayak lesson etc. So it still doesn’t make sense to want to get so pally with your ex bully. Through-out this point Aaron was pretty hot and cold and damn right rude at times.  Yet Ben kept following him around and showing up wanting to talk and try again and they suggest a pint several times.  One person did not like my response about him following Aaron around as if it was Aaron following Ben around because Aaron was the one that suggested the Kayak lesson to begin with.  But this person clearly hadn’t seen the scenes where Ben kept showing up out of nowhere wanting to get in Aaron’s orbit, Aaron largely seemed uninterested and said about them being friends beginning of December, (I think), which was never shown on screen and apparently didn’t happen according to January scenes at Aaron’s birthday when Ben said the friendship thing hadn’t worked out. 

3) There were the comments of the conversations on his return in May and the scene in the Hop discussing the bullying over some table football, you know do completely casual.  Again ignoring this does not change the facts of how this story started and how poorly it was executed regarding the bullying. Also in my opinion that chat was way little too late, they were official at this point and had only really been seen discussing Liv, her drinking problem, Liv being missing, Ben’s alcoholic dad and oh the mystery guy Ben put in a taxi.  Therefore no actual relationship or feelings chat anyway at this point, other than I’m miserable and we apparently have a laugh despite the fact we haven’t seen that onscreen. So why would I expect any in depth relationship story.  Even the Aaron Ben fan said they “try” with the Hop chat.  And like fair play, if you are happy with such shit a story and effort, then go live your best life hun.  But wow really, what are you liking here?

In actual fact Aaron still seemed quite offish on many occasions with Ben and snappy upon Ben’s initial return once again and yeah he was worried about his sister but why would Ben want to be around this permeantly, with someone he barely knows still, and would have possibly been triggering for him but yet he is promising to support him no matter what, you aren’t on your own Aaron, you have me, we and us etc. .

On the point of proving Aaron had changed the show has made a point this last year of many characters talking about how aggressive Aaron is, Liv about how he pushed her instead of Luke that whole time and calling him a control freak and lots of nasty names.  Mandy calling him a bully when Paul first died before she found out the truth.  Luke calling him a violent thug or something whilst Ben was there and talking about bad boys and stuff moments later, Ethan and Charles talking about him being scary and the same from Vinny at as well.  On top of the Pollard nonsense plot with the brooch and Ben was well aware that he was up for a bulgary/assault charge of which Ben had no real reason to believe he was innocent again he didn’t really know. He had only just re-connected with him after months off screen following the toxic argument, which also never got resolved, no sorry I didn’t realise Liv had a drink problem, I get your concern now, sorry for what I said, sorry for how I treated you, which as much as I don’t like Ben I feel he sort of would have deserved after how Aaron spoke to him.

Finally, and I realise no one is going to read this haha.  In one of my responses to these people before I gave up and said we are never going to agree, let’s leave it. I said content wise the story has been poor, there has been such little effort with the writing and Ben isn’t really a character right now, still only serving for other Aaron related plot and after 10 months on the show has only one small chat about gay marriage with Charles and the weird gay app conversation with Vic, Ethan and Luke outside of Aaron which is just not a proper character on a soap that it is 6 times a week.  Funnily enough, I got no response on that, no comeback or pathetic or disillusioned excuse. So do they all know how bad the story is and choosing to fight on the missing episodes I haven’t seen, whether those pints were dates or the fact they spoke after Ben’s disappearing act, which does nothing but really prove what a nothing of a character he actually is more than anything as there is no way I really believe it was all just down to COVID when other plots didn’t suffer the same way.

I will shut up now!

[jlalafics]

With everything going on now I wonder how Everlark would handle the social climate of the country/world. Especially if she was pregnant or something. Just an interesting one-shot idea 👀

This is not much, but I hope you enjoy. Believe or not, I know a lot of people who are pregnant or have been pregnant during this pandemic. Keep safe, love!

Katniss turns off the television, images of the violence in Washington D.C. still burning in her vision.

It’s too early to feel this world weary, even though they’ve been going through it for a year.

Instead, she must look to better things, like the fact that Willow is finally potty-trained or that Prim, her sister, who’s a nurse in the ICU, tested negative once again.

She holds her breath every time Prim gets tested.

Her gaze goes to Willow, their three-year-old, sitting in front of the computer screen, in the middle of her preschool class. 

Katniss prays by the end of this, their daughter will be able to go to preschool and properly socialize with kids her age. Willow is the only kid in the Everdeen-Mellark clan. Prim and Peeta’s brothers, Cal and Rye, are all unmarried so their daughter has no one to play with.

For now.

Both hands go to her belly, large and taut, she is just about to burst.

They had planned Willow’s pregnancy; this one took her and Peeta by surprise. She had been laid off in March and Peeta’s bakery had to close for a bit due to being a non-essential business, so they had a lot more time on their hands to just get back into their groove with one another.

They must’ve grooved too much.

However, they were thrilled.

They say every pregnancy is different, but she did not expect to have to go to her appointments alone, a mask on her face, because they were limiting the amount of people in the medical buildings. Or prepare for the possibility that if the pandemic got worse, she would be checking into the hospital for her delivery by herself until Peeta was tested.

Katniss tries to stay calm, but sometimes the feeling of the walls closing in takes over. She thinks of what kind of world will this baby be coming into. What will Willow remember about this period when she is older? Will it affect her daughter in some way?

“You’re thinking too hard.”

Peeta walks into the living room, just returning from having to check on the bakery. Vandalism has been common in the commercial district, so he goes once in a while to make sure that the boards on the display windows are alright. He takes off his face mask with the Mellark Bakery logo on it—a gift from Finnick, his best friend—and leans in to give her a kiss.

“Come with me while I wash my hands.” They go into the kitchen and Peeta turns to her as he reaches the sink. “Backstreet or N’Sync?”

Katniss chuckles. “Backstreet, duh.”

Peeta turns on the faucet and pumps some hand soap from the nearby bottle. Then as he lathers up, he starts his medley:

He continues when he hears her laugh, and she suddenly feels lighter than she has all morning.

“Tell me why

Ain't nothin' but a heartache

Tell me why

Ain't nothin' but a mistake

Tell me why

I never wanna hear you say

I want it that way…”

Taking a paper towel from the stand next to the sink, Peeta dries his hands and then takes another towel to turn off the sink.

“Am I your fire?

Your one desire

Yes I know it's too late

But I want it that way…”

“You are no Nick Carter,” Katniss tells him with an amused smile. “But it’s been a hell of a morning, so I thoroughly enjoyed your performance.”

“I know it’s looking grim,” her husband says as he approaches her. “But we just have to keep looking to the future and keep moving forward.” He presses a gentle kiss on her lips. “We’re together and that’s what matters.”

“I just wonder what kind of world we’re bringing this little one into,” she muses.

“We’re bringing this baby into a world of love because we’re creating it,” Peeta says. “We can’t control what goes on outside, but we can in our home. Our children will know strength…and kindness…and bravery because we will have shown them that it’s the only way to get through hard times—just like what we’re going through now.”

Katniss nods, capturing him by the nape of his neck to give him a much more thorough hello kiss.

“I knew there was a reason I married you.”

Peeta waggles his brows. “Beside my buns?”

“Turn around and let me see them,” she quips. He indulges her and turns around so Katniss can swat him lightly on his rear. “Ah yes, the secret to a lasting marriage—nice, firm buns.”

“Daddy!” Willow calls out from the living room. “It’s time for art!”

Peeta kisses her one last time before heading out to join their daughter in whatever project her teacher has assigned.

Katniss looks down at her stomach once more, giving it a tender caress.

“Hope,” she says softly. “We’re going to teach you hope.”

FIN.

Song: “I Want It That Way”-Backstreet Boys

*Remember to wash your hands for 20 seconds! Keep safe everyone!

[scullydubois]

Only the Light Ch. 20

20/? | AU where Melissa moves in with Scully after Scully’s abduction | angst, msr slow-burn, occasional fluff | currently: mid-s3 (canon-divergent) | T | 4.7k | previous chapters | read on ao3 | tagging: @today-in-fic <3

I now present to you a chapter that is filled with more angst than Chris Carter could ever dream of, and for that, I am truly sorry. 

Scully and Mulder's foray into domesticity with Emily is interrupted by the past catching up to them. Faced with despair, they cling even tighter to each other.

--------------------------------

Scully is granted maternity leave, though it’s only for two weeks, which Missy let her know is “a piss-poor bargain.” And she knows this is true, but she also has more incentive to stay at her job than ever, so she’d like not to lose it. The fact that advocating for herself and her child would mean risking her job is a mess in itself, but one lone woman can’t be expected to take down the patriarchy, and besides, she’s already tried and failed. 

As for she and Mulder, they hide their flirtation in plain sight. Mulder’s perpetually present in body or spirit, but his behavior never reveals anything more than it did before. Every morning he swings by to say hi, brings Scully coffee and a bagel with full-fat cream cheese, and checks if Emily’s picked up any new words. Personally, he’s working on “alien” and if you ask him, she’ll get it soon. She knows that it refers to her UFO stuffie, so sounding out the letters can’t be far behind, much to her mother’s dismay.

On Wednesday of the first week, he shows up at 6pm with takeout carbonara from a local Italian joint. His presence makes every Scully girl happy, but it makes one in particular the happiest, and Melissa realizes that there are definitely things her sister has failed to mention. She doesn’t question it, but watches with glee as the situation unfolds. 

After that first night, Mulder keeps coming back with dinner and refuses to let either sister shoulder the cost. On Friday, he stays for a movie too and gets to participate in Emily’s nightly tucking-in ritual (a tickle on the left foot, a tickle on the right foot, and a big smooch on the forehead). 

Saturday afternoon, he joins them for a stroller push through the park, earning some serious side-eye from Scully when he suggests that they stop at the playground because, according to the mama bear, “Em can only take six steps at a time, Mulder.” So instead they buy hotdogs from a vendor and eat them on a bench, Emily sandwiched between her mother, her aunt, and her...Mulder. They couldn’t ask for more.

That night, Mulder hangs around after dinner because what else is he gonna do? Go home and watch old baseball games until he falls asleep? A new leaf has been offered to him, and he’s gotta turn it. 

He’s baffled when, upon announcing that it’s Emily’s bathtime, Scully goes to the kitchen and switches on the sink. 

Scully raises an eyebrow at him. “What, your mother never washed you in the sink when you were a baby?” 

“Not that I know of...I have a hard time envisioning myself ever fitting in a sink.”

Scully scoffs. “I forget. You were a Vineyard boy.” 

Before he can come up with a smart response to that (as if there actually is one), Missy pipes up. “Oh, I bet you were the kid that took baths with your mother,” she teases. “Care to confirm or deny?”

“If I did I blocked it out of memory, thank god,” he testifies. 

Having spread a towel on the counter, Scully strips Emily down and perches the girl on her hip. She sticks her hand under the faucet. 

“That’s not too hot, do you think?” she asks Missy, who tests it as well.

“That should be fine.”

Mulder joins in too, and immediately regrets it. He shrinks away from the water, shaking droplets all over the room. “Jesus, Scully! Are you trying to boil her?”

“Babies lose heat quickly because of their body surface to weight ratio,” she says matter-of-factly. “They’re more susceptible to the cold.”

“I think the cold will be the least of her worries,” Mulder quips.

“If you really think it’s too hot, I’ll turn it down…” There’s a concerned crease beneath her eyes, and it makes Mulder feel bad about his joking.

“No, no, you know what you’re doing,” he assures her. “You’re her mother.”

As she lowers Em into the sink, Scully’s heart twinges. Her. A mother. How many times will she have to hear this before it stops feeling like news to her? 

One week and bathtime has already become routine. Missy fills a plastic cup and pours it gently over her niece, the water cascading down Em like she is nature’s own. Scully soaps her palms, then glides over her daughter’s skin with such care that its memory may blight any future affection Em is graced with. And then another waterfall, and the gentle brush of a wash cloth against eyes and nose. 

Scully squeezes a penny’s worth of baby shampoo into her hand, looks to Mulder. “Come on, get in here. You’re not afraid to get your hands dirty, are you?” she says with a smirk.

He smirks back and shakes his head as she lifts his open palm and shrinks her accumulation to a dime. “Although, technically I am getting my hands cleaner…”

She boops him right on the nose with a shampooed finger. He laughs.

Missy smiles. Oh, to see destiny play out right in front of you. “Someone’s cracking dad jokes,” she points out, unable to resist. This observation is much too on-the-nose for the pair (quite literally for Mulder), who simultaneously blush but say nothing.

Mulder wipes the shampoo from his nose and plants it on Emily’s head, joining his partner in making soapy circles over the girl’s tuft of strawberry hair. Scully’s full attention is directed toward her daughter. As soon as the lather is sufficient, she dons the lifted lilt of motherhood. “Okay, time to rinse! Missy, will you do the honors?”

Missy turns the faucet, fills the cup, and lets it flow over Emily. Mulder and Scully wash their hands off in the stream. 

And as Scully leans for the towel, a splash of red dirties its fresh white surface. Mulder notices it first. He points at his partner’s porcelain face. “Scully, you’re bleeding.”

Her hand shoots to her nose. Sure enough, it stains her fingers. “Shit.” She turns away, goes for a tissue. “I haven’t had nosebleeds since I was fourteen,” she tells them, as if that invalidates this one. She wipes away a glob of blood, her stomach turning. “Missy--” her voice shakes involuntarily, “--will you dry Em off?”

“Uh-huh.” She nudges Mulder. “Will you grab a new towel from the linen closet?” she whispers, not wanting to further upset her sister.

Mulder goes off without a word, and Missy squeezes out Em’s hair as best she can. “What a pretty girl!” she gushes. “All clean!”

“Yee!” Emily throws her little fists in the air, injecting joy back into the room. 

“Time to put your PJs on, and get a tickle, tickle, smooch.”

Mulder scrambles back in with a new towel, skirting around Scully, who remains occupied with her own situation. He slides the soiled towel away and helps Missy swaddle Em. Mulder ruffles the little girl’s hair, and she laughs like a music box. 

“Mol-dy.” She spits it out in halves, as if she’s been rehearsing. 

Mulder’s eyes water with recognition. “Mulder? Mul-der? Is that what you’re trying to say?”

“Moldy,” the girl declares again, certain of herself.

Missy adjusts Em on her hip, smiles at Mulder. “Looks like you’re Moldy now.”

Mulder bites his lip to hide his overwhelming delight. “Yeah, I...I never thought I'd be so happy to be called moldy.”

Next thing he knows, Scully is at his shoulder with a tissue stuffed up her nostrils. “Wait, what’s going on?”

“Em called me Moldy,” he tells her, full of satisfaction.

“Oh.” It comes out relatively unimpressed, but really, she’s just distracted. “Missy, will you get a diaper on her before there’s an accident? I would but I’m still--” She gestures to her nose. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Missy smiles at the baby in her arms. “PJ time, Em!” They go off toward the bedroom, a happy pair.

As soon as Em is out of sight, Mulder spirals toward his partner, panic-stricken. The glee of moments ago has evaporated. 

“Are you okay?” He touches her hair, shoulders, and the familiar small of her back, unsure of where he should land. 

“I’m fine, it’s fine.” Her grip on his elbows--keeping his hands firmly placed on her waistline--suggests otherwise. 

“You’ve got to see a doctor,” he pleads. “This could be...”

“This could be what, Mulder?” The steel in her blue eyes is a death grip. She’s never liked being told the obvious. 

“Scully…” He sighs, rubs his neck, wills her to say what they both know. When she doesn’t, he takes his hands off her and wrings them together. “The Mufon women...they said it would happen to all of them eventually.” He’s careful not to lump Scully in with their group. 

“And what do they know?” she retorts. “One of them was sick. One.”

“Okay, well, don’t you think it’s better to be safe than sorry?” he reasons. “You have Emily to look out for now.”

Scully rolls her eyes. “Don’t guilt trip me. It’s a nosebleed. Those happen all the time for completely benign reasons.”

“Yeah, but they don’t happen to you. You just said--you haven’t had one since you were fourteen.”

She clenches her jaw. He’s right, and she’s playing the fool. His position is the one she would take if this were anyone other than herself. She’s gonna have to lose this fight with as much grace as possible.

“Fine. I’ll get it checked out, but they’re gonna think I’m insane for coming in because of one nosebleed.”

“That’s a nice change of pace--you being the insane one for once.”

“Well, you’re the one who wants me to go, so you’re not out of the woods.”

“Good, I’ve finally got some company!”

Scully smiles in spite of herself. “Yes, yes you do.”

--------------------------------------

It happens very quickly, as most calamities of life can be said to. This gives it the unreal quality of a nightmare that might soon be woken up from, if there is any justice in the world.

Scully snags a doctor’s appointment for three days after the initial nosebleed. By the time she walks into the waiting room, one nosebleed has quadrupled into four, and her minor concern has snowballed into abject terror. 

Margaret Scully drove into the city to watch Emily so Missy could join her sister. Scully insisted that she would go alone, but Missy wouldn’t accept this. She threatened to tell Mulder the details of the appointment if Dana didn’t let her go, and that was enough to earn her a spot in the passenger seat. Scully can’t take the thought of Mulder witnessing the worst--let alone her reaction to the worst. 

And so it goes something like this: they are taken to an exam room, at which point Scully explains her situation to a nurse, including that she has recently learned she is at high risk for cancer. The nurse assures her that such a diagnosis is highly unlikely, but makes a note for the doctor. The doctor comes in with knitted eyebrows and listens to Scully describe the aftermath of her abduction experience with a heavy emphasis on the convoluted but substantial claims of the Mufon women. She asks if Scully has had any other symptoms, to which Scully replies that it’s hard to tell because she has an infant in the house and thus, a marked lack of sleep. 

The doctor laughs, but it’s not a haha laugh, more of an I feel your pain. She agrees that the women’s claims are concerning, but tells her patient not to fret. They’ll take all the precautions, run any test that might assuage her worries. There’s a quip about how it’ll be on the government’s dime since it covers Scully’s insurance, and then the doctor leaves to order an MRI. 

A full body MRI, which Scully has never had, and which she hoped she would never require. There’s no deeper sickness than one that cannot be pinpointed, and no greater fear than of the unknown turning into the worst case scenario. 

The MRI is completed that same day. As she slides into the machine, Scully thinks of Betsy Hagopian and wonders how she’s doing. It has been many months since she stood outside an exam room and watched Betsy enter one of these. Has fate been kind to her?

For a few minutes, her world is limited to the mere inches between her face and this life-saving yet life-ruining contraption. It is noisy and sometimes bright and altogether disorientating. She is glad when it’s over. 

The images return almost immediately, and maybe it would all have been okay if Scully weren’t trained in radiology herself, if she wasn’t able to recognize the glaring speck of light in her nasal cavity for what it is. But that one glance is all she needs to know that waiting by the phone isn’t an option. 

“It’s a tumor, isn’t it?” she blurts as the radiologist tries to escort her and Melissa from the room. “In the nasal cavity. I have a M.D. I saw.”

“Your doctor will call with the results,” the radiologist insists, standing by the open doorway.

“No, no, you can’t do this to me,” Scully sputters. “I know what I saw, and I don’t have any time to waste.” Her eye twitches in a combination of stress and anger. “I have an infant daughter.”

The radiologist sighs, pity on top of pity. “Perhaps your doctor will talk it through with you now.”

“Yes. Please.”

And it is talked through, though there’s no need to make it complicated: nasopharyngeal carcinoma. Inoperable, and just barely in the realm of treatable. That’s the kicker, the coyote in the pasture, the cloud covering the sun. In the words of Scully’s doctor, it is auspiciously rare. And in Scully’s brain, it is the bottom she’s been expecting to drop out from under since she held her daughter in her arms.

Melissa drives home. The sisters cannot fathom how they will tell their mother. Cannot fathom ruining her blissful time with the granddaughter she’s just met. When they turn onto their street, Scully swallows hard and coughs on her own spit. “Will you do something for me?” 

Missy looks over, eager to do anything she can, yet terrified by the possibility of the request.

“Will you take me to Mulder’s?” Scully mumbles. “I would just take the car but...I can’t face mom right now. I don’t want to risk it.”

Missy bites her lip. “And what am I supposed to tell mom when she asks where you are?”

“The truth,” Scully says curtly. “She doesn’t need the backstory.”

Missy drives past their building, though she’s not completely sold on her sister’s reasoning. “Don’t you think she might wonder why you aren’t coming home to your daughter?”

“I know she’ll wonder, Melissa, I know all of this,” Scully snaps because she needs to. “I don’t care.”

“Okay.” Missy’s voice is barely perceptible. I don’t care; she knows how low her sister has to be to say those words. 

They complete the drive in silence, Scully biting her nails--a habit which she has never possessed, and perhaps just acquired. The car idles as Missy pulls up to the curb of Mulder’s building. 

“I can pick you up when you need it,” she tells her sister as she pulls herself out of the car. “I’ll bring Em.”

“I’ll figure it out,” Scully says, closing the passenger door and edging toward the building. Missy hears a thanks float toward the car, then her sister is gone like a teenage girl embarrassed by her mother.

-------------------------------------

They sit on Mulder’s couch, muted. Words cannot fathom the injustice of this situation, nor can they suffice as empathy. Their hands are clasped together, a throughline of strength between them. This is what they need now; the most primitive language of all.

Scully’s watery eyes brush Mulder’s face. His own eyes, more pained than usual, look into hers. Without a word, she drapes an arm around her partner’s shoulders and scoots into his lap. He is surprised but not distressed. What else is left for them, now?

She is tiny, so tiny. And she is his. 

Their eyes meet once again, speaking in tongues. Scully nods, and then Mulder does too. This is it. This is it.

Permission granted at last, Scully’s lips travel to her partner’s jawline. The first time her lips have touched his body, and this is where they go. She is a constant box of wonders, a fortune he can never predict. Her lips are much like he has fantasized they would be: wondrously soft and silky, stroking him like they have always meant to be there. Yet he couldn’t have imagined the urgency with which they burrow into his skin. As if she’s making a mental map of his bone structure. He never expected that she would want him this much. 

His hands find her hips and grip the cotton of her shirt between his fingers. It is enough to tear her away from his flesh. Mission accomplished. His breath travels past her ear, hitting her neck. It is shallow and warm as he breathes her name. Her real name, the one her family calls her. She breathes his own back to him, like a bird responding to a mating call.

She feels his lips on her neck, wet and aching. It feels like God. This is the most blasphemous thought she has ever had. She throws her head back, exposing the whole of her skin to him. What is holiness, if not this moment?

He showers her in tattoo kisses, and she lets him, she lets him, she lets him. This is not just what she wants, but what she needs. No one will save her now, she knows this. So she has decided not to be saved. 

Her shirt ripples as he clutches it. “May I?” He is breathy, awe-struck. 

“Only if I can do the same.” Always about equality, his Scully is. He lifts his arms, lets her strip him first. He is fraught with the temptation to feel insecure, inadequate, but this is not about him--this is all for her. There is no time to dwell on this anyway. Scully takes in the sight, then puts her own arms up with a hint of impatience. He pulls her shirt over her head, and goosebumps adorn her as the air hits her bare stomach. 

It is unimaginable, the significance of this moment. All Mulder can do is keep going, lest the emotion hit him and he find himself blubbering all over her. His hands travel her body...it is slender and white, but so solid, so strong. Cartilage forming ligaments forming joints connecting bones. And her skin, stretching over her hips and framing it all. The masterpiece that is Dana Katherine Scully. 

He fears for the day she will cave in on herself. Already, one of his hands covers her whole rib cage. Right now he can cradle her body comfortably against his own, but the day will come when a single cautious touch will crush her, and his heart along with it. He wants her as she is now forever.

Seeing that he wants to pamper her, Scully lets herself be pampered. He showers the taut length of her collar bone in kisses. The vibration resonates throughout her bone structure, and already she can feel him in places she’s only fantasized about having him. He is going to heal me, she thinks. If anyone could heal her in any way, it would be him doing this. 

She shows her gratitude by kneading circles into his soft tissues, so tense from all their days chasing ghosts. The sinew relaxes beneath the pads of her fingers, and she feels like she has solved the most important X-File of all. 

Mulder traces his way along her spine. He has never touched her here, nor ever even fantasized about it, and there is an erotic tension--like a needle about to drop on a record--that neither one of them could have seen coming. Inevitably, his hands converge at the hooks of her bra. She arches her back in approval. He slides the hooks away from each other, and both of them feel the release. She shimmies off the garment before he can pull it out of the way. No secrets, not anymore.

Mulder didn’t expect to cry and is aware that most women wouldn’t take that as a positive sign, but seeing her, like this, knowing what they both know, tears feel like the least he could offer up. She is...beautiful is too weak a word to describe it. He needs to invent a new word to capture the essence of his emotions, the reverence with which he views her. He is not a religious man, but he will worship her until the end of time. 

He has known this, intuitively, for a while, and now he’s putting it into practice. He wants to do everything he can for her, give her everything she wants. Yet he doesn’t know how to, and this scares him. She has always slipped through his fingers, always turned on a dime just when he thought he figured her out. Tonight is no exception. How was he to know that he’d be on his couch with a half-naked Scully in his lap?

He fears the tears will offend her, so he nuzzles into her heartspace, his nose pressed against the heart that is--by the grace of that God she worships--still beating. His lips meet the plush of her left breast. 

Where does he go from here? The dusty routine he’s used with other women--the few who have given themselves to him or let him hand himself over--is not worthy enough for Scully. He could never touch Scully in the ways he’s touched the women before because she is not like the women before. There is no mere giving or taking here, no detached exchange of commodities or pleasure for the sake of pleasure. This is survival. They are symbiotically keeping each other alive.

A drop of water hits Scully’s skin, slides down the curvature of her breast. She shudders. A tear. That’s what it is, she realizes. Mulder is crying. It’s a baptism of unfortunate proportions. 

She cups her hand against his chin, tilts it up so his bleary eyes meet hers. She rests her forehead against his. “Shh, shh, it’s okay.” She kisses each eye closed, his lids fluttering beneath her lips. “It’s okay.” 

His breathing steadies. He is quite certain that it is not okay, that it never will be, but he listens to her, lets himself pretend. 

Hands still on his chin, she careens their lips together. His mouth on hers; a godsend. They caress each other for a moment, then Scully opens wide, and Mulder does too. They are reflecting. 

If Scully could compress herself, pushing every particle of air out of her lungs and into his, she would. As a sort of thank you, for everything. For what he has done, what is doing, what he will do...She will never have to live without him. She knows this now, and it makes this easier. But he will have to live without her, and so she must make sure he gets the memories he needs to carry on. This is how grief works, she’s acquainted with it. These moments, these feelings, these bated breaths and tender touches, will be his survival mechanism for awhile. Until the day when he can throw them off and go on without her ghost. It will happen one day, and she will be glad that he made it. 

She feels him pressing against her stomach, which is certainly not where she wants him. “Fox…” Her hands hover above his belt. She unzips his fly first, her hand warm against him. He is dizzy with want as her fingers curl against his belt buckle, loosening it with confidence. In a sweeping gesture,  she pushes his jeans off his hips, exposing him. The thrill she feels, seeing him big and bare in front of her, is a new kind of livelihood. She’s overcome with the desire to take him in her mouth--and that has never, never been her first instinct. She ducks down, but he stops her.

“Dana, no. You.”

She doesn’t need to hear it twice. She sucks in a breath, arches her back, and slides onto him. Slowly, gasping as they go. 

“Am I hurting you?”

Scully shakes her head, lips parted. It has been nothing like this before...nothing so fulfilling. She crosses her ankles, binding them completely together at last. 

Unity triumphs against the self, their union abolishing the world’s insistence on the solitude of the individual. This is what it’s about, isn’t it? Being joined, not only in spirit, but in body? Knowing that whatever horrors are to come, he will feel them as she does. Her dwindling will be his too, her losses an equally empty space within him. 

She is teetering on the edge of something she can never come back from. She is not afraid. 

She careens her fingernails into his back as the pressure builds. If it doesn’t come to a head, she’ll die right here, she thinks. 

She barely registers the cathartic noises coming out of her, though they give Mulder great delight. He thought she would be quiet, and the fact that she’s not trying to hold anything in--after holding everything in for so goddamn long--is the most moving part of the experience. 

And they want this to go on forever, but they want the release. Mulder swivels his hips into her, bringing them both closer to climax. Scully curls against him. 

“I’m sorry,” she cries into his ear.

“What?” He nearly pulls out of her, fearing that she’s hurt. 

“No, no--” She scrambles to stay with him. “This--” she pants “--is so good.” She lowers her lips onto his as confirmation, then speaks into his open mouth. “I’m just sorry to be the one to go.”

He frames her ribcage, thumbs arching toward her belly button. “Fuck, honey...don’t say that, don’t even think that…”

They won’t linger on the choice of pet name, the tenderness with which it settles over her, nor the absolute devastation of her words. There is simply no time. 

Scully hides her face in his neck as the wave breaks over both of them. There is no world anymore, only the two of them on this couch. They have forsaken the physical realm, ascending to heaven in time with their heartbeats. 

Mulder understands then what his reciprocal means when she says she needs proof to believe. Now that he’s been there and felt it, he knows that heaven exists, and holy shit, what does that mean for the life he has lived and the time he has left? What did it mean for Samantha?...What will it mean for Scully?

They collapse into each other, a melted mass of skin and bone. Two becoming one, becoming two again. Mulder strokes the back of his partner’s head, presses his lips to her temple. Her chest rises against him in jagged breaths.

“You are the only proof I’ll ever need that this life is worth it,” he murmurs. “Just you.”

Scully looks up at him, tears running down her cheeks. He kisses them away and wraps his arms around her. “I don’t know if you got the memo, but I love you, Dana Scully.”

She rests her cheek against his. “I love you too, F--Mulder.”

Mulder chuckles, his amusement shaking both of them. Scully closes her eyes and snuggles into him. He puts his hand over her heart, feels it beating steadily into his palm, and longs for it to stay like that forever.

[gretavanfleetlove]

Not mad?

AN: this is unedited and I’m pretty sure really bad 😬 but I’ve been working on it for awhile so here you go! 💕. And I’m gonna tag @joshstambourine and @kill-fear-the-power-of-lies because I shared the fic with them beforehand :) Summary: y/n and Josh have liked each other for awhile but have been too afraid to admit their feelings especially because of y/n’s protective little brother.

I nervously knocked on the Kiszka’s door. Danny, my brother, has been bugging me to go to one of his band practices and at least play a song or two with them for awhile now. It’s only a couple songs though right? It’s nothing bad, and plus Danny is one of your best friends and your brother. I can’t let him down. So here I am. I wanted to go with Danny so it wouldn’t be so awkward but, of course he was already there.

As I was nervously twiddling my thumbs, Sammy opened the door with Danny standing right next to him.

“Hey y/n!!” Sam happily said. That makes me feel a little more comfortable.

“Hi Sammy, what's up?” I asked, trying to hide my nerves.

“Nothin much we were just waiting for you.” He said, moving to the side to let you in the door.

“Oh awesome sorry I’m a little late.” I said with a smile. Which got cut off by Danny tackling me in a hug from behind.

Sam told me everything was fine and went to get me a soda, when Josh walked out. “Oh hey y/n/n.” He said nonchalantly. “H-hey Josh,” I managed to get out. See what I forgot to mention before is that I’ve had a huge crush on Josh since about 8th grade. Which is completely stupid since he’s one of my little brothers best friends but still. How could I not be head over heels for him?

He’s always been a gentleman, he’s kind, he’s talented, and loves his mother I mean come on he has everything!

But here I am at his house tripping over every word like an idiot.

“Hey y/n!” Jake said happily coming in from the garage. “Hey!” I replied, taking my attention away from Josh.

“Is everyone ready?” Danny asked, walking over next to me.

“Hold on,” Sam exclaimed and started chugging his soda.

“You probably don’t wanna see the rest of that come on.” Laughed Josh as he lightly took my hand, leading me into the garage. “You can ask Jake where to set everything up because well I don’t know.”

I chuckled at the fact he didn’t know where his own band, in his own house sets up their things.

“K thanks.” I replied shyly.

“Of course.” He said with a smirk, making eye contact.

(TIME SKIP)

I just finished up with the band, and it was amazing! Danny made sure I was comfortable and he and Sammy gave me a little tour of the house after I set my things up. And Jake was great, he was very welcoming to another guitarist and we fed off of each other really well. And Josh, Josh is incredible. I tried to give him compliments on his voice without sounding, I don’t know, needy. But, all feelings aside, his voice is insanely beautiful. He looked insanely beautiful singing too! “Y/n y/n y/n!!!” Daniel's loud voice snapped me out of my thoughts. “Danny Danny Danny!!” I yelled back matching his energy.

“How was it I think it was great you sounded really good so yeah and like I think I was good too and you and Josh seemed to click well and-“

“Shhhhh” I cut him off, laughing. And also impressed he said that in one breath.

“It was great Danny. I loved it, and yes you sounded amazing. Hopefully the other guys think the same?” That last part I phrased as more of a question, pretty much asking if the boys said anything in particular about it.

“Oh they did!” Danny says with a smile.

(TIME SKIP again don’t hate me*two months later*)

“That was great y/n really.” Josh said quietly to me as we walked off the small stage.

“Thanks,” I replied blushing. My crush on Josh has only grown since I’ve joined the band. Being together all the time, performing together, and even staying up late drinking coffee together.

It all just makes me fall for him harder.

“No problem,” he said with a smile. “Are you just gonna go home with Danny?”

“Yeah probably why?” I asked slightly, hoping he might be disappointed.

“I was wondering if you guys wanted to come over to our place? We’re just gonna eat dinner and you know, I don’t know just hang out?” He looked nervous, looking down scratching behind his neck.

“Oh yeah I’m sure Danny wants to also!”

“Ok awesome!” He smiled at me and started walking back to the group. I followed close behind.

“Are you coming y/n/n?” Sam asked, putting his head on my shoulder. He’s always been like a second brother to me, since him and Danny are so close.

“Yeah I am!” I said with a smile petting his hair. I saw Josh from the corner of my eye sigh looking at Sam and I, and walked past Jake into our van.

And after a long car ride, singing along to Bob Dylan, we got to the Kiszka’s.

Their parents and sister me and Danny when we came in asking how we are. Then we all made our way outside. We all decided we would start a small fire since it’s getting dark out.

“Y/n y/n who’s better Donovan or Bob Dylan??” Danny turned around and asked, from his conversation with Sam.

“Don’t drag me into this Daniel!” I yelled at him shaking my head.

“We all know Bob Dylan is better!” Jake argued, looking at Sam.

“But think about it really, I mean you know I love Bob. I was just considering the possibility-“ Sam tried to say but got cut off my Jake yelling “ no, no nope negatory.”

Now in the middle of this argument I was sitting in between Danny and Josh when Josh slipped his hand into mine.

“You really did do really well today.” He whispered so only I could hear him.

“Oh thanks,” I replied taking a breath. It’s not unusual for Josh to be touchy, he was like this with nearly everyone.

“No problem.” He smiled, giving my hand a squeeze.

I wish I could date him, or at least kiss him. I’ve always wished that. But I couldn’t. Even though Danny is my younger brother he’s always been over protective, plus, Josh is one of his best friends and I can’t intrude on that. It would be like me dating his brother or something. And I couldn’t do that. But it’s tempting, especially right now, to just be with Josh.

“Are you ok?” That familiar voice of Josh snapped me out of my thoughts.

“Oh yeah, why?” I asked, but quickly realized tears starting to form in my eyes.

“You look like you’re about to cry.” Concern started to cover his face.

“No, I’m fine, I’m ok, sorry.” I quickly replied, wiping my eyes a bit.

“You’re good.” He said with a tone of comfort and also, still some concern.

“Y/n?” Sam turned back to me.

“What?” I asked, his voice scared me a little since Josh and I were talking so quiet.

“Tell your brother that he needs to open his musical horizons!”

“What?” I asked again confused what conversation topic has come up this time.

“He needs to hear some good jazz!”

“No no I do not y/n tell him!” Danny intruded.

“I mean I say listen to jazz!” I said just trying to get under his skin.

“Oh shut up.” He replied with a roll of his eyes.

Everyone laughed at the poor guy being forced into smooth jazz.

“Hey hey what’s that?” Jake yelled over everyone.

A chorus of curious “what’s” were heard.

“That.” He said tilting his sunglasses below his eyes (why was he wearing sunglasses at this hour, don’t ask me). He was looking at mine and Josh’s hands.

Of course Sam and Danny looked over.

“Nothing.” I answered shortly while Danny gave me that ‘ok sureee’ face.

“Doesn’t look like nothing.” Sam said, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s- we’re just holding hands.” Josh was blushing. Why was he blushing? Probably just because the guys will make fun of him. “Friends do that you idiots!” He defended.

“Friends do that?” Danny questioned.

“Yes.” Josh replied looking at me, I nodded trying to back him up.

“Josh I love you man but I’d never just hold your hand.” Danny said with a completely straight face.

“Well-“ is all Josh got the chance to say before gasps and “ooo”s were heard.

“Shut up!” I yelled at the boys too smitten to say anything else.

“Are you guys dating?” Jake asked.

“Y/n and Joshy sittin in a tree!” Sam started singing.

“Not yet.” Josh replied with a smirk. I’m gonna kill him. Or Danny will kill him. But was that his way of admitting he liked me? It kind of sounded like it. I meant to do something but I just sat there, still clinging to Josh’s hand, blushing.

“What?” Danny asked. Smiling?

“I said not yet.” Josh replied very matter-of-factly.

“You like him?” My little brother whispered, like the other guys couldn’t hear.

“Oh my gosh I ship it !” I heard Sam exclaim.

“Same” Jake squealed.

I responded to Danny with a quiet “yeah.”

“Do you like her?” He now questioned a hilariously scared looking Joshua.

“I mean yeah.” He nearly whispered.

“How much?” Danny asked again, with a straight face.

“I mean, honestly, like a lot a lot. You know?” Josh replied nervously twiddling his thumbs.

“And what about you? How much?” He turned back to me, looking more at ease now. And smirking a bit.

“A lot, a lot.” I replied, also too afraid to look Danny in the eye.

“YES!” He yelled suddenly, scaring all of us especially Jake and Sam who were watching this like it was a soap opera.

“Ok ok you guys are gonna be adorable! I mean if you want to be a couple which I assume you do, and Josh we could be brothers!” He excitedly exclaimed.

“Wait, so you’re not mad at me?” I was shocked my brain barely processed what he said.

“Nope.” He said with a dopey smile on his face.

“So you wouldn’t kill me if I dated her… or kissed her?” Josh hesitantly questioned.

“No, unless you hurt her then I just might kill you.” He said cooly. Then pointed at me and said “same goes for you, and don’t kiss in front of me because that’s weird.”

Josh and I were completely relieved but I was much too afraid to look at him after that extremely awkward situation.

“So Jake and I will be on wedding planning duty?” Sam asked with a grin matching Danny’s.

“If they would let us. But Danny has to have some say too.” Jake said thoughtfully.

“Who said we were getting married?” I asked.

“Who said we weren’t?” Josh asked with a wink.

“Ew.” Was all Danny said. And honestly all I could hear before Josh grabbed my hand and started dragging me in the direction of their house.