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atmostories · 4 years ago

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Johnny Lawrence x Reader

Matter - Chapter Three Tags: Angst, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Alcohol Abuse, Depression That was how you found yourself falling into the routine. Each week you'd go to the dojo and work on all of the administration that needed to be done. Johnny would always call and say when he needed you to come in. Most of the time you'd be there while a class was going on, or when Miguel was training with Johnny by himself. Occasionally it would just be the two of you late in the evening. At least with the kids there was something to distract from his company. He was nothing but civil and polite, and that was the problem. You were beginning to hate how he spoke to you. The warmth and the intimacy your conversations used to have wasn't there anymore. It was like it had never existed.

There would be times when he'd make a joke, but there was always something reserved about it, like he was holding back, like he couldn't be himself with you.

It was devastating.

Sometimes you tried to convince yourself to tell Johnny that you couldn't make it, or that you were busy. But he wouldn't ask for your help if he didn't need it. In a way going to the dojo had become your punishment. You couldn't simply walk away from all the hurt and the damage that you'd caused. You had to watch firsthand how little you meant to Johnny now.

It was getting harder to sleep. No matter how tired you were after work your mind kept racing, endlessly imagining what could have happened if you'd stayed with him.

At least the kids started to warm up to you. They'd come into the office and give you their forms, most would smile or say hi. They seemed to be getting used to you being there. Miguel and Aisha would interact with you the most. They'd make small talk when the opportunity arose, ask how things were going, how much work you had to do. It was rather sweet of them. The kid with the mohawk, aptly named Hawk, preferred to keep his distance.

One day during the advanced class, the students were doing some practice fights. Johnny had got the medkit out in preparation and left it on the desk. Fifteen minutes passed without incident until one of the students got kicked in the gut and threw up on the mat. The class groaned in disgust. Looking through the window, you watched Johnny kneel down by the kid and help him up. He told Hawk to go fetch a mop. It looked as if he was the one who had kicked the other kid. Hawk wasn't happy about it but he did what he was told.

Johnny came to the office door with the kid, asking whether you could grab a spare shirt from the filing cabinet. There was some vomit on the kid's gi. He didn't wait for a reply before taking the kid to the bathroom. When you found the shirt, the smell of sick hit your nostrils and your body stiffened.

Suddenly your chest started to hurt, your heart was beating too hard. As you forced yourself to go to the bathroom, your hands started to shake so much that you dropped the shirt onto the ground. You were unsteady on your feet as you picked it up and had to brace against the wall for a brief moment. The door to the bathroom was open, the kid was washing his mouth out in the sink. Johnny barely glanced at you as he took the shirt and thanked you for getting it. He immediately turned his attention back to his student.

Rather than returning to the office, you managed to go out through the back of the dojo. You gasped in the fresh air, not quite able to get enough of it. Your back hit the wall and you slid down onto the ground. That smell, that smell, it was there for hours, all through the night, all through the fucking night. You couldn't leave Johnny to go clean it up, you couldn't leave him, you were too scared, you were terrified. His body started to convulse, he made that strange sound as he choked on his own vomit. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't fucking breathe.

He was okay, Johnny was okay now. You'd held onto him for hours, you had felt the constant rise and fall of his chest, you had made sure he was fine. But what if you hadn't? What if you hadn't gotten out of bed? What if you had woken up in the morning and found him lying there cold-

No. No, you couldn't think about it. You couldn't. He was fine. That's all that mattered. He was fine. He was helping one of his students, he'd probably be resuming the class by now. Focusing on the cars driving past and the people walking on the other side of the street offered a much needed distraction.

Your heart didn't seem to be beating as hard now, it was easier to breathe. A muscle car drove past, its engine loud and bassy as it stopped at the lights. Johnny would love to take a spin in that, thrash it down the highway to see what it's made of, turn up the music to full volume to see how the speakers-

“Are you okay?” You looked up and saw Miguel standing next to you on the sidewalk. He wasn't wearing any shoes.

“Yeah,” you mumbled. He didn't look convinced, if anything he seemed more worried. “I'm not good with sick,” you lied, hoping it would be enough of an explanation.

“Oh, that sucks. My Yaya's like that, a slight whiff and she's out of it for ages. Do you want some water or something?”

“No, I'm alright. I'll be back in a minute.” He went back inside before you could thank him. He was a good kid, you felt bad lying to him. Did you really say you'd come back in a minute? You supposed your hands weren't shaking that much now, your lungs still hurt but it wasn't as bad as before. Getting up off the ground, you were a little unsteady so you waited for a minute or two. When you walked back into the dojo, Johnny had his back turned as he watched his students practice. The mat had been cleaned. The kid who'd thrown up was sitting on the edge of the mat and was wearing the clean shirt.

You sat down heavily on the office chair. You hadn't thought about what happened that night for a long time, it had been buried away. You'd never really come to terms with it, you didn't think you could.

Not having the focus to do any work, you stared blankly at the forms on the desk and shuffled them round every now and then. Even though you'd calmed down from earlier, you couldn't settle. As soon as the class finished, you left the dojo, saying goodbye to Johnny with a glancing wave. Hopefully he wouldn't notice how little work you'd got done.

Later than night, you bought some weed which managed to calm you down and it helped you get some sleep. When things got bad, you figured you could smoke some. It would take the edge off.

Johnny called you only a few days later, explaining that there'd been some changes with the requirements he had to supply to the insurance company. Each student required two additional copies of their forms. You agreed and went back to the dojo later that day, unable to say no to him even though you were exhausted from work.

You were back in the office, trying your best not to yawn when Johnny or any of the kids were around. You sorted through the forms for the next few hours, with no end in sight. The phone finally rang, offering a welcome distraction.

“Cobra Kai Karate, how can I help?” You answered.

“Are you that teacher?” A lady questioned, annoyance heavy in her tone.

“No, Sensei Lawrence is busy with a class at the moment. Can I help you with something?”

“Help? You've gotta be joking! You can tell Mr. Lawrence that my lawyer is going to be in touch with him after what he did to my boy!” The woman on the phone angrily described how her son had come home one day with a bloody nose after Johnny elbowed him in the face because he was texting.

You tried not to swear under your breath, wondering how Johnny had done something so stupid. Holding your head in your hand, you kept pulling the phone away from your ear when she got particularly loud. She went on for the better part of ten minutes before she began to go through the story all over again. You half-listened as you searched through the files to find the consent form she signed.

“He shouldn't be allowed anywhere near children let alone teaching a class full of them!” While she was catching her breath, you took the opportunity to tell her that Sensei Lawrence doesn't use corporal punishment. You then began to cite the due diligence and individual liability clause on the form and personal injury waiver which states that the student agrees to be responsible for their own well-being.

You explained that if she was confirming that her child intentionally broke the liability clause by texting and not paying attention during class, then she has broken the agreement she signed on his behalf. She became even more agitated and continued to raise her voice. You pressed against your temple to try and relieve the growing headache to little success. She kept threatening to sue Johnny for aggravated assault and grievous bodily harm, saying that she'd make sure Cobra Kai was closed down for good.

You explicitly stated that there were no legal grounds for her to sue as she was responsible for the agreement being broken. Whether that was true or not you didn't know. You tried to calm her down by apologising for the incident several times over and insinuating that Johnny had done it by accident.

“I understand that it is distressing to see your child hurt, but there is always that element of risk in a martial art,” you told her. “That risk also exists in the real world and Cobra Kai is about being ready for the challenges that your child may have to face. I can assure you that the welfare and safety of every student is of paramount importance to Sensei Lawrence.”

Rather than mentioning her lawyer again, she said she would be writing a letter of complaint to the martial arts board, whoever they were. She continued to complain about Johnny's behaviour and made sure she got in the last word before hanging up. You put the phone down and huffed out a breath. The main class was over, through the window you saw only Aisha, Miguel and Hawk practising their kicks. Johnny had his arms crossed as he watched how they were doing.

You waved at him to get his attention and signalled him into the office when he looked your way.

“You need something?” He asked when he came in.

“Can you close the door?”

“What for?”

“I need to speak to you.” He didn't move and simply continued to stare at you curiously. “About something private.”

Thankfully he listened and closed the door behind him.

“Did you elbow a kid in the face because they were texting?”

“It's not like he didn't deserve it. He was disrespecting my class,” he shrugged nonchalantly.

“I've been trying to convince that kid's mother not to sue you for bodily harm. What the fuck were thinking?”

“I barely touched the kid.”

“Things aren't how they used to be, Johnny.”

“They're just a bunch of pansy ass-”

“You can't pull this shit again,” you interrupted him angrily. “You can get sued, or they'll have you arrested for assault and they'll make sure you never go near kids again. And that includes Robby.” He stood silently. He clenched his jaw and pressed his lips together. Eventually he nodded in understanding. Johnny's eyes dropped away from you.

The frustration and the anger quickly faded as you realised how you had just spoken to him. You didn't stop to think how it wasn't your place. Rubbing your hands over your eyes, you stood up from the desk, knowing that you had to leave.

“I didn't. . .I didn't mean to raise my voice,” you told him honestly. He wasn't going to call you again.

“I just. . .” you trailed off. I care about you, was what you wanted to say, I care about you so much you stupid fucking bastard. “I should go.”

He didn't move from his position by the door as you approached him. Reaching around his body, you grabbed onto the handle but he placed his hand on top of yours.

“It's okay,” he murmured. You stared at his hand, unable to pull away from him even though you knew you should. “You're right.”

He gripped onto your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours. Neither of you moved for a long moment as you stood right next to him. He sounded so sincere. You wanted to close your eyes, savour the feeling of his touch. The urge to put your arms around him was growing more intense with every second. This had to stop, you didn't trust yourself. Wrenching your hand away, you moved back to the other side of the desk, putting as much space between you as possible.

You didn't sit down, you didn't know whether to leave or to stay. At least with some distance from him it was easier to think clearly. He seemed to have listened to you. It was unfair that he had to be threatened with the prospect of not being able to visit his son for him to actually see reason. He found it so difficult to navigate past the depths of his rage, it always held him back. But in a way it had been the only thing that had protected him for so long.

“I'll be more careful,” he said wearily. “I should get back.”

He opened the door and resumed his teaching, telling Hawk to adjust his footing. You leant against the wall by the window so no one could see your hands covering your face. You were so fucking tired.

- - -

The tension with Johnny got worse. He seemed to be keeping his distance more than usual. You tried your best to ignore it, to put a polite smile on your face and keep focusing on the work at hand. But it was becoming exhausting. Each time you came back from the dojo, you smoked some weed, otherwise you wouldn't get any sleep.

You weren't able to keep up with the paperwork like you used to and frequently making mistakes certainly didn't help either. Sometimes you wondered whether there was a point in you being there at all. Johnny didn't say anything about it. But the fact that he was regularly asking you to come in twice a week rather than just the once, said more than enough.

You'd been in the dojo for about fifteen minutes and had made a decent start on processing a batch of student fees. Class wouldn't start for another half hour, but Miguel was already there doing some stretches. You heard Johnny tell him he was going next door to the mini-mall. A few moments later, Miguel was in the office saying hi to you again like he hadn't said it earlier when you came in. He didn't quite seem to know what to do with his hands.

“Are you um. . .you know. . .dating anyone?” He asked, trying to sound as casual as possible. You raised your eyebrows at him. “I mean I know you and Sensei used to. . .be together.”

“He told you that?”

“Uhh yeah.” Your hunch was proven right, it explained those meaningful looks Miguel had given you after first meeting him. “So. . .are you?”

“No. I'm not.” Miguel nodded and pursed his lips together. There was a weird sort of brightness in his eyes.

“Sensei isn't either,” he informed you. “In case you were wondering.” Before you could reply, the bell above the front door rang and Miguel promptly left the office without another word. Through the window you saw Johnny hand him a bag of ice to put away. You turned back to the paperwork, trying to convince yourself that he wasn't purposefully keeping away from you.

Miguel tucked the bag of ice into the freezer compartment of the refrigerator. Johnny called out to him from the dojo, asking him to grab his bag. Johnny had left it on the fold out chair on the other side of the desk, his black gi was in there. Did he want to avoid you that badly? You rankled at the thought and managed not to heave out a sigh until Miguel had left.

Over the duration of class, little progress had been made with the student fees. You couldn't focus on the numbers, only on the bleak thought of Johnny actively avoiding you. The next time he called, you needed to tell him you couldn't make it. This wasn't working out, maybe you could go once every couple of weeks, or once a month, it wouldn't be as bad then. You didn't know how much longer-

The sound of a hushed argument interrupted the thought. Hawk was almost brimming with anger as Miguel and Aisha spoke to him. Class must have finished a little while ago, a fair number of the kids had already left. Hawk then turned his attention to you and he glared. His body was tense, his hands were twitching like he was going to ball them into fists. The other two spoke to him for a few moments until he brushed past them to grab his bag.

Returning to your work, you briefly wondered what he was upset about, dismissing the idea of his anger being directed at you. It wasn't long until Aisha and Miguel came into the office and stood in front of the desk, neither of them bothering to take the lone seat.

“Is Hawk okay?” You queried, glancing through the window and noticing that he seemed to have left.

“He's fine,” Miguel replied but he didn't elaborate any further.

"We're all having a movie night next Saturday here in the dojo, and we were wondering if you wanted to join us?" Aisha asked, a hopeful expression on her face.

"Here?"

"Yeah, my dad's letting us borrow his projector.”

“It's kind of you to ask but-”

“Oh and we're gonna bring pillows and blankets for the mats rather than using chairs and Sensei's going to order pizza for us,” Miguel chimed in, doing his best to convince you to accept the offer. You wondered whether this was their way to try and break the tension between you and Johnny. Had they been picking up on it? You hadn't even considered whether it might be affecting them.

“I'm sure you'll have a great time,” you replied, wanting to let them down gently. “I won't be able to make it but thanks for asking.”

“Why? Are you busy?” Miguel questioned, he wasn't going to make this easy for you. There was a smug expression on his face when you hesitated to answer, as if he had caught you out and you supposed he had. You had to be honest with these kids.

“It's really not my place. If your Sensei is okay with me being there, then he can ask me,” you told them, hoping that they'd understand. Thankfully they appeared to and Miguel nodded before the two of them went back into the dojo. They were trying to clear the air. Were things really that bad? Was it that noticeable? Maybe coming back once a month was too optimistic.

You finished things about half an hour later and hoped you could leave without another awkward encounter with Johnny. He was holding up some pads for Miguel to kick. You waved them goodbye as you walked past and left the dojo. Before you could open up your car, Johnny called your name. You turned around and saw him approaching you, he stopped on the sidewalk.

“You're coming to movie night, yeah?” He asked obviously expecting a yes. You nervously played with the car keys, unsure of what to say. “The kids asked you, didn't they?”

“Yeah, they did.”

“So?”

“Um. . .I don't know.”

“We're watching the Last Dragon. None of them have seen it, can you believe that?” Johnny grumbled jokingly. He'd made you watch that cheesy action movie with him before, it must have been a couple of times at least. He moved closer until he was standing only a few feet from you. “Come on, it'll be fun.”

“The Last Dragon, huh? How many times have you made me watch that now?”

“Clearly not enough if you haven't said yes already,” he countered, you couldn't help but smile. The smirk that pulled up his lip made your heart ache pleasantly. He wasn't politely asking on behalf of the kids, he wanted you to be there.

“Next Saturday?”

“You can make it?”

“Yeah. . .I think so.”

“Great. I'm ordering pizza, you want your usual right?” For a moment, his casual question took you back but you were able to thank him. He said goodbye after that and your eyes followed him intently as he walked back into the dojo.

- - -

You were nervous.

It was stupid really, you were only going to watch a movie with a bunch of kids after all. But you hadn't done anything casual with Johnny for months, not since. . .before.

The work you did in the office held a level of civility and professionalism that you could hide behind. Now there would be nothing. On the way to the dojo, you stopped off at a grocery store and bought seven big bottles of soda for the kids and a couple stacks of soda cups. If they were having pizza, you figured soda wouldn't do too much damage. It wasn't as good a contribution, but at least it was something.

The Firebird was already there when you parked up. You hefted a few bags with all of the soda in and elbowed the front door open without dropping anything. Miguel and Aisha noticed you coming in and said hello, it looked as if they were in the process of setting up the projector and a laptop. Johnny's voice was coming from the office, but there was no one else around. Were you early? You got chatting to the two kids as you put the bags down in the corner. While you unpacked the soda and the cups, Miguel complimented the selection and joked whether he should hide a bottle or two from the others.

Before you could ask if they needed any help setting up the movie, Johnny walked into the dojo.

“Pizza's gonna be ready by the time I get there,” he announced, stopping when he spotted you. “Hey.”

“Hey, Johnny.” You offered something a little warmer than a polite smile as he came up to you. He was wearing jeans and a Zebra shirt with the sleeves rolled up. It had been a while since you'd seen him wear anything aside from the gi.

“You got all this?” He asked after he came up to you and took in the soda.

"Yeah, it's not much."

"Not much? This will keep them on a sugar high for a week," he joked. Johnny pulled out his car keys and went to move to the door but he hesitated. "Would you. . .mind coming with me? I could use all the help I can get."

"How much did you order?"

"Ten. . .extra large." Your eyebrows raised at his admission.

"You trying to feed them all week too?"

"I don't know how much these kids can put away." You were amused by the clueless expression on his face. “Let's go.”

You followed Johnny out to the Firebird and got into the passenger seat. It wasn't until after he'd pulled out of the lot that you remembered what happened the last time you were here. You had met him at some diner. He didn't say anything for a while, and when he did, he never apologised. After a brief look of guilt, he got angry at you, angrier than you'd ever seen him. You hadn't thrown away his apartment key like he'd suggested, how could you? Instead you'd kept it, for some reason holding out hope even though it was futile. Forcing your leg to stop bouncing, you concentrated on Johnny.

He was driving fast as usual with one hand on the wheel, he had some music playing at a rather low volume. For the most part he seemed pretty relaxed, he was strangely being more friendly with you than he had been for weeks. Slowly shifting in the seat, you tried to angle yourself slightly in his direction so you could see more of him. As it was almost dark outside, you hoped he wouldn't notice.

He looked good, much better than he was the last few months you were together. Part of you felt distraught, knowing that he was doing better without you, but those selfish thoughts needed to be ignored. His happiness was far more important. You just wished you could have given him that, you wished you could have given him the life he deserved. Maybe you'd been the one holding him back the whole time. Listening properly to the music, you recognised the song was one of Van Halen's, you couldn't quite remember what it was called but Johnny had played this one before.

The streets weren't busy so he could stretch the Firebird's legs out. The silence between you wasn't uncomfortable, but you were already missing that easy flow of conversation from earlier.

“What, no Zebra?” You wondered out loud. He glanced at you briefly before turning his attention back to the road.

“Huh?”

“Your shirt,” you explained. You almost laughed when he looked down at himself, like he'd forgotten what he was wearing. Automatically you reached over to the glove compartment, but stopped yourself to check whether he minded.

“You don't need to ask,” he replied, something a little off in his tone. Did he catch the amusement on your face? You didn't want him to think you were mocking him.

After rifling through the cassettes, you found one of Zebra's and got 'Tell Me What You Want' playing. Johnny turned up the volume and that was all the confirmation needed to know that he approved. Your feet started tapping in time with the music, the bass from the speakers was reverberating through your chest. You kept wanting to look over at Johnny to see whether he'd start singing, he couldn't help himself when a good song came on.

When he used to take you on long drives down the coast, he'd sing his heart. Sometimes he'd over do it and his voice would be hoarse by the end. He used to encourage you to sing and gently prod you if you clammed up with nerves. He was carefree, he didn't give a shit about keeping in tune or staying in the right key, it was about enjoying the moment.

You didn't realise how much you missed this, the open road, the music, just you and him. After the guitar solo, there was something about the shift in the song's rhythm and the lyrics that made your chest ache in longing. Somehow you always seemed to miss him the closer he was. Looking out the window, you tried to imagine that everything was okay, that you were still together and he had convinced you that he could splurge on some pizza tonight and when he took you home you'd have an Iron Eagle marathon long into the night.

“How are you doing?” He asked, pulling you out of the daydream. He'd turned the music down so he could hear your reply.

“I'm alright, how about you?”

“Just alright? Work causing you trouble?”

“It's not too bad at the moment. And you?

“Are you taking it easy like I said?”

“When I can, but how are you doing?”

“Hungry.”

“Not for long.”

“Those kids are Cobra Kai and they work hard so they're gonna have big appetites. Come to think of it, maybe ten wasn't enough. . .”

“We'd struggle to eat one large pizza between us, so I'm pretty sure there'll be enough.”

“Yeah but we had popcorn too and those stupid little candies that you like.”

“They're not stupid.”

“Yeah, they are, and don't even get me started on your pizza toppings.”

“My taste buds are just more developed than yours.”

“Developed huh? Isn't that what kids these days say to mean stupid?” You couldn't help but laugh heartily as Johnny pulled up to the pizza place. After he turned off the ignition, he gave you a strange look before getting out of the car. Though he didn't ask for you to go with him, you went anyway, figuring he'd need help carrying everything. He was walking a few steps ahead and you weren't sure if it would be weird to hurry up and match his pace.

There wasn't much of a queue in the pizza joint so it didn't take long before Johnny was taking out his wallet and paying for the order. You knew ten pizzas would cost a lot, but to see him hand it all over made it hit home uncomfortably. There was a crumpled up twenty in your pocket, it would barely make a dent but it was better than nothing. He wouldn't accept it so you'd have to find a way of sneaking it to him, maybe you could shove in the glove compartment when he wasn't looking.

Rather than putting the pizzas in the trunk, you offered to hold them as you got into the car. Johnny didn't protest and balanced the rest on top of what you had. Though the boxes were hot, they smelled damn good. He turned up the music and he drove to the dojo without striking up another conversation. You couldn't help but feel disappointed by that.

After parking up in front of the dojo, Johnny took half the pizzas from you and headed inside. You quickly grabbed the twenty dollars from your pocket and tossed it into the glove compartment before following him. He held open the door for you and your quiet thanks was drowned out by the sound of cheering.

All of the kids had turned up and the mats were covered in blankets and pillows. The soda had already been divvied out, the cups were everywhere. You wondered whether to get the mop out ready for the inevitable spill. Miguel and Aisha had set up the projector and the movie was paused on the opening credits. There were a couple of speakers on the floor too which you hadn't noticed before. Johnny coordinated handing the pizza out to everyone and made sure each of them got a slice of their choice.

With most of the kids settling down on the mats, you moved towards the empty space behind them. Hawk bumped into your shoulder, giving you a sarcastic woops before sitting down close to the front. You tried not to think much of it. He was being protective of his Sensei after all.

Sitting down behind the kids, you leant up against the wall. Johnny gave Aisha the go ahead to start the movie and turned off the main lights. The kids were still chatting amongst themselves whilst the credits played.

Johnny came over with a box of pizza, a blanket and two pillows. He didn't hesitate to settle down right next to you and hand over one of the pillows. Weren't they from his bed? While you eyed him questioningly, he went in for a slice and then encouraged you to do the same. As the movie got going, both of you made good progress on the pizza before you had to call it quits. You couldn't remember the last time you'd eaten this much.

When Johnny had finished, he put the box to one side and unfolded the blanket. He covered up his legs before doing the same to yours. For a moment, your body stilled, but you soon realised from the neutral expression on his face that you were assuming an intimacy that wasn't there. He was just being courteous, there was nothing more to do it. After taking off your shoes, you laid down on the floor to get more comfortable. You breathed in the smell from the pillow and barely stopped yourself from groaning. That was all Johnny, that was his smell. Fuck, you'd missed it, and the blanket smelled of him too.

Pulling up the blanket to reach your face, you watched Johnny as he enjoyed the movie. He'd have to turn his head and look down to get a proper look at you. A particular loud scene had you focusing on the movie for a while. You tried to appreciate the fight scenes, but it was a struggle to keep your eyes open. You were just too comfortable, and you were in that haze after eating too much food.

You closed your eyes and figured you could rest for a little while. When another particularly good scene came up, the kids would wake you up soon enough with their hollering and cheering and their oohs and ahhs. You snuggled against the blanket, more relaxed than you had been for a long time.

Johnny was close enough that you could feel the heat coming from him. He was warm. He always had been so warm. He'd never let you get cold. Even when you couldn't afford the heating bills.

On those rare cold winter nights, he made sure you were wrapped tight against him. . .tucked under the blanket and the bed sheets.

He always kept you warm. . .kept you safe- z z z Hope you enjoyed this one! I had originally planned to write my own story for Nanowrimo, but I figured I would get this one finished for you guys instead. Thanks for your support, it really helps me focus on getting each chapter finished. Was the angst sufficient for you? Hehe x Taglist: @whyhaveyouwritten-mehere @lacontroller1991 @stressedstark @wndrcarol @carissakingofthecastle92 @witchcraftandwit @magicwithaknife @80strashbag @jem-my-greatest-sin @masonsbitch @wholesomehen @chlqefrazer @actuallydrew @jem-my-greatest-sin @masonsbitch @wholesomehen @deadpoolgirl23

#johnny lawrence #johnny lawrence x reader #william zabka #cobra kai #atmo-x #i finally finished this chapter!#it's about 6k so enjoy #and happy halloween!!! x

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boop-le-snoot · 4 years ago

Text

PARTY FAVOURS | CHAPTER 1

Rating: Explicit. 18+

‼️TW: Reader is EIGHTEEN! Recreational drug use, smoking and alcohol consumption, deeply internalised self-loathing, very questionable moral standards. Daddy kink taken half-seriously. BDSM themes in later chapters - explicit content will come with it's own TWs. FIRST PERSON POV.

Summary: You're Peter's classmate, a child of rich and famous but uncaring parents. Getting paired up for a lengthy project with the boy was an interesting turn of events and you don't know whether to feel blessed or cursed when you develop, seemingly, a perfectly normal, harmless crush on Tony Stark. Fueled by feelings of inadequacy and boredom, your life spirals out of control - and you're lucky your newfound friends are there to pick up the pieces even if you cannot find it in yourself to believe these amazing human (and not so human) beings voluntarily give you more than a fleeting glance and an offhanded thought. And they brought cake!

A/N: Bad girls are sad girls! Always wondered what goes through the mind of a spoiled, rich but intelligent and perceptive teenager? Have you found yourself craving that adrenaline rush, the danger of a forbidden fruit? Okay. That was cheesy as hell. Gross.

Let's try again. Sarcasm? Check. Vine references? Hell yes! Crude humour? Check. Blunt honesty? Double check. We're living in a Lana del Rey song, ladies.

The author doesn't actually condone codependent relationships in real life. This is a filthy little fantasy. Enjoy, deviants.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub @mostly-marvel-musings

Beta read by the lovely and patient @miscmarvelwritings ! She deserves all the love 💙

Pining. I was pining after Stark and it made me upset. I thought I was better than that. Better than acting the part of a lovesick puppy, begging for scraps of attention- a kind word, a pat on the shoulder, a blanket thrown over me in my sleep. Even if he was my Mount Olympus, I wasn't exactly on board with starting the whole damn journey in the first place.

Most of all, I hated being a cliché. I tried my best to avoid showing how I felt and with time, I think I excelled at it. I am really good with things if I really put my mind to it. Was it a blessing, or was it a curse? Only the future will tell. I try not to think about it, as I prefer not to stress out too much. Peter was the anxious kid and I was the calm one. I was the Ying to his Yang. He flipped his shit often and I always calmed him down and cleaned up after him. No complaints there, Pete is pure and precious and I would kill everybody and then myself if he actually got hurt.

I'm only a year older than him and that year feels like an uncrossable bridge to me. We get along like a house on fire and I delight in the way he starts smiling when we're paired together for a project. Deep inside I'm sure he thinks of me as one of his best friends, his homies but-and there's always a but-I can't reciprocitate that. He goes to decathlon after school with his wholesome BFF duo, I go to a local dive bar with a fake ID I'd made sometime when I was about 15.

Peter has everything I wish I've ever had. Good for him. I'm not going to mess that up, no matter how much my angst demands I throw a tantrum and become, like, a supervillain or something.

I banter, instead. I chit-chat. I laugh and I repeatedly make a joke out of myself. Nobody suspects a thing, and I'm not surprised. People always see what they want to see. I've been the weird loner since middle school. Not the sad kind, of course, my pride wouldn't let me. I'm too good at things to be completely ignored. Teachers adore me, the event planning committee approaches me every year with tentative pleas for advice. The list goes on and on; what they don't understand is that it's just High School. Another year and I'll be out of there and nobody will be wiser.

I feel like a liar every time I'm excited. Because I'm not that - I don't care about their stupid field trips or collaborative projects. My mind is five steps and two hops ahead of that bullshit. It has to be or I just won't make it in the world.

"Parker-pen, Mr. Stark. G'day, sirs," I nodded, entering the lab, looking straight ahead. They both were hunched over... Something vaguely mechanical and I was terribly, horribly hungover. Saturday night was Science night but I'd gone to bed around 2PM after a party ran way too late.

"Hi," and "Powerpuff girl," came from them respectively, and they didn't even lift their heads.

I wondered if I could just skedaddle and leave them to their big brain time. "Is this a bad time? I can come tomorrow instead," I immediately regretted speaking, even to my own ears my voice sounds scratchy.

"No, actually, Dr. Ban-Bruce-wanted to talk to you," Peter mumbled out half-coherently. Tony kept ignoring me and I was fine with that. The less temptation I have the less trouble there will be.

"I'm not playing with his zucchini again," I groaned, causing the intricate pile of metal to squeak sadly as Pete tripped over his own damn body, jostling the prototype in the process. I could have sworn the room got several degrees hotter from the boy's blush alone.

Tony cackled, shuffling away from the newly ruined prototype. "He won the damn contest, you should've seen the judges faces," The engineer's grin threatened to split his face in half. I poked at my phone in muted interest. "Hold up, Friday has a recording. I definitely recorded the thing."

A holo-screen popped up. Tranquil scenes of a local fair, gourds and other assorted vegetables of various grotesque sizes were scattered throughout the square. An unmistakable mop of curly greying hair posed proudly next to a zucchini half the size of Hulk - I was fairly certain genetically engineering the plant was cheating and warned him so but somehow Banner managed to persuade the judges into letting him participate, and ultimately win, the competition for the Biggest Zucchini. Some of them were quite shocked at the size of that thing and well - well, their glances were quite contemplative to say the least.

"Damn, Tony, that blonde chick's face tells me all I need to know," I gave a lopsided smirk in the engineer's general direction. That was our thing, you see? He called me these ridiculous cutesy nicknames and asked me about getting my nails done or going to the mall and I'd make salacious comments and go on an occasional flirtatious spree. That was comfortable. We both enjoyed making Peter blush and giggle like the little schoolboy that he was.

"Our Brucie bear is a freak, don't let him tell you any different, Princess," Tony winked at me.

"Oh, I know all about it, Tones," I suggestively wiggled my eyebrows. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Peter groan and palm his face. I briefly bumped my knuckles to Tony's outstretched hand and made my way to the adjacent lab that hosted the second resident crazy scientist.

"Bruce?"

"Oh, hi there, come on in," He smiled warmly at me and I relaxed, shrugging off the tension in my limbs that seemed to appear every time Tony was around me. Banner's soft, friendly nature always made me feel welcomed and appreciated.

We made small talk as I threw on a lab coat and some protective glasses and discarded my bag in the far corner, away from any possible explosions. I congratulated him on his recent victory - here is when I say that despite what most will say, Banner has a serious competitive mean streak and isn't afraid to get down and dirty when it comes to matters of his personal pride.

That's what makes us alike, I think. I have too much dignity and self-respect to walk around Tony with stars in my eyes and hang around his neck like yesterday's tie.

The quiet, even pace of doing lab work made me completely lose track of time. Some time passed as I felt the crick in my neck become noticeable, and the deep ache in my calves from standing and dancing yesterday worsened. I hopped onto the nearest table, hunched over a tablet, eyes skimming over research articles - most of it didn't register at all in the wake of a dull throb behind my temples. My hair limply hung over my face - I had to wash it to get rid of the stench-hard liquor and cigarettes - but I was way too lazy to style it properly.

I ignored the swaying strands until a large palm gently tucked them behind my ear, a white lab coat coming into my field of view. "You okay?" Banner's quiet voice interrupted my reading. I lifted eyes enough to see he was wearing a dorky button-up in some gross shade of blue under the lab coat. His eyes were affectionate behind thinly rimmed glasses.

"Rough Friday night?" He questioned.

I chuckled. "Yeah, I'm hungover as fuck." There was no point in hiding the obvious; I'm sure the bags under my eyes already had tattled on me.

He chuckled, too, leaning his hip against the table, one broad arm coming to wrap around me in a hug. Usually he wasn't so touchy-feely; but I wasn't complaining. Banner was really, really warm. "I'll spare you the lecture on underage drinking," He said with another chuckle.

"Yeah, it's pretty pointless. You'd be three years too late."

A deep sigh left him, both of his arms wrapping around me in a comfortable embrace. I rested my chin on his shoulder, trying my best to really avoid showing how touch-starved I was. I was a hundred percent sure they all figured out my family life was difficult; the last thing I needed was their pity.

"Y'know, we should sit down and talk someday," He said after a brief moment of hesitation. "About your future. College, maybe?"

I gave a non-committal hum, basking in the warmth of the hug, staring straight ahead with unseeing eyes - behind the glass divide, I could faintly distinguish Tony's and Peter's shapes, still bent over that bench the pile of metal.

"You have a lot of potential," Banner continued, his tone developing a gently admonishing hint. "I understand if you want to take some time off from your studies but I'd rather you succeed and not let all that potential go to waste," He finished, patting me on the back with a gentle hand.

I tried not to preen under his touch. "Are you attempting to guilt-trip me over a party, doctor Banner?" I teased him, expecting the smile that I felt being hidden by my hair. Sometimes I felt that I could read the man like an open book, he was so earnest about his interactions.

"I just - we want you to stay safe, okay? Don't blow your future for a little bit of fun," He shrugged carefully.

"Okay, Bruce," I simply replied, meaning it this time

He kept hugging me, running his hand over my back absentmindedly. Probably thinking about his recent science bender. I wasn't upset: my own brain tended to get tangled in personal projects, too. I had only one complaint and it was that the cuddle was making me sleepy.

I yawned, startling the man. Pulling away from the hug wasn't really an option. He was broad and quite strong, probably courtesy of the Hulk and radiation in his blood.

"Why don't we put you in a guest room for tonight?" He inquired and I nodded. "Call your parents for me, okay?"

"My mother is in Vancouver for the week and I doubt she would care anyway," I rolled my eyes. "She's in the middle of some shitstorm with OsCorp and their marketing department." If anything, I was grateful my mother was preoccupied with her job. Being around her was like hanging out on top of an iceberg in the far end of the ocean.

I felt Bruce's frown. His body tensed briefly, blink and you'll miss the hunch of his shoulders. "What about your dad?"

I cringed. "He's been in Ibiza since the season opened, no doubt snorting miles of coke and... " I hesitated. "You can guess the rest."

My dad was kind of a dick, but I don't blame him at all for being the way he is. My parents have been married for twenty years. They were happy, once - I saw their college pictures with my mother's bright smiles and bushy hair, and my dad's terrible fashion sense and their dog, a funny little runt with an atrocious name. Then mother had me and for a while, they were happy too, but it lasted about until she landed her first prospective job. Kind of cliché.

Bruce sighed again. "Okay. You hungry?"

"No, I'm not going near food until tomorrow. Nu-uh," I fake-retched next to his ear, making Bruce shiver and playfully pinch my side.

"It'll help with your hangover. Doctor's advice."

"You're not even that kind of doctor," I laughed, very gently poking him back, somewhere around his stomach. He squirmed.

"I have seven PhDs," Bruce smiled as he rested his chin on top of my head as he adjusted his torso to prevent my fingers from reaching his ticklish spots. I poked him again in retaliation, fully enjoying the snort and squirm I caused. Soft™. "Let's go get you settled in," Bruce, seemingly without any difficulty, picked me up, propping me against his hip like a toddler. It probably looked awkward but what the hell, I haven't been carried around since I can remember myself. My legs wrapped around his hips for balance, butt resting on his forearm.

"You're a showoff," I couldn't help but snort, getting a lopsided smirk in return.

He made his way over to the elevator with me dangling and examining my nails in an expectant fashion. Tony's jokes aside, I really enjoyed getting them done and weird colors were a quest of entertainment for me. I obviously couldn't have them very long because I worked in a lab so I chose outrageous prints and decorations instead. This week, each of my nails had a different style - thankfully my aesthetician was professional enough to make it look somewhat put together even if it took a good chunk of my allowance and an hour long Uber ride to get to her salon.

I noticed the dimmed lights in Tony's lab and none of Peter's usual mess scattered on the tables, figuring he'd already left. Stark himself stood propped against a table, watching something, smoothie in hand.

For only a brief moment, I let my eyes rake over his body, his beautiful, sculpted physique hugged by a pair of fitted jeans and an old Led Zeppelin tee. Tony's handsomeness wasn't obvious, it wasn't in-your-face kind of appearance like Captain America's, but the engineer was built sturdy and his arms - the only bare part of him - were riddled with scars. He used his strong, bulky body for work.

I turned away before I got too ahead of myself. Bruce smelled like lab equipment and rubbing alcohol, something that made me sober up and snap out of my daydream before Stark took notice and started teasing me about ogling him. My once-over lasted barely three seconds yet with Tony's genius, I always had to be on my toes.

I saw movement in my peripheral. Banner waved before entering the elevator - at Tony, probably, so I looked back, seeing the man watching us, content replaced with a contemplating frown. I waved at him, resting my cheek on Bruce's shoulder. "Tony's having a big mood," I noted quietly in the scientist's ear.

"You know Tony," Bruce sighed, adjusting his hold on me as the car ascended to the housing floors. "His brain runs a mile a minute and he can't make sense of it for the biggest part. Give him some time and he'll be back to his annoying self."

I didn't see Tony as annoying in any way, but then again, I was severely biased. The billionaire was quirky venturing into absurd but also clever and brilliant.

We had reached our destination and Bruce carefully set me down on my feet once the door to my room was open. A large queen bed, TV and another door to an adjacent bathroom. It was really simple but luxurious nonetheless - I had the exact same carpet at home, having heard my mother bitch about it's cost after seeing me spill soda on it way too many times.

"I'll let you get settled in. Ask Friday if you need something," Bruce awkwardly shuffled his feet, taking off his glasses and briefly examining them before putting them back on again. "Breakfast here is on the 74th floor starting around 7AM, someone will probably get you around nine if you sleep in," He finished, giving a shy tilt of his lips.

"Thanks, Brucie-bear," The nickname easily slipped from my lips. I didn't resist the urge to hug the kind scientist, quickly wrapping my arms around his middle, delightfully sighing when he immediately returned the gesture.

"Good night, Princess," I had to suppress a happy squeak when the man kissed my forehead before retreating and closing the door behind himself. A quick shower and a quest to find a power outlet to plug my charger into preceded my less than graceful flop into the bed. It felt like sleeping on a cloud, honestly, it had nothing on my mother's orthopaedic memory foam mattresses. I passed out faster than I’d ever had.

#Bun writes #party favours #Tony Stark x y/n #Tony Stark x reader #Bruce Banner x reader #Bruce Banner x y/n #Stephen Strange x reader #Stephen Strange x y/n #We're going to Hell y'all

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hogwartsfirebolt · 5 years ago

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Aaaand we’re back!!! I can’t believe it’s been a year since the last time I found myself typing one of these, but here we are, and WHAT. A. YEAR. Full of the highest ups and the lowest downs and through it all, so, so many wonderful stories that have made this my best reading year in fandom, ever. If you’re interested, in no particular order, I’d like to share some of my absolute favorites with you ❤️ Banner art is by the immensely talented @upthehillart and with nothing else to add, here’s my

FAVORITE FICS I READ IN 2019 PART ONE

1. Grounds for Divorce - @tepre - 122k - Malfoy finds a coin. Harry finds a letter. A story about histories, a story about families. A story about a lemon tree somewhere in Upper Egypt.

This is the only thing on this list that is actually in order because DAMN. Because HOLY SHIT. This is my absolute favorite fic of all time and that’s not... I’m not exaggerating. I have INFINITE things to say about it, and actually, I have. Let me refer you to my long, gushy rec specifically about this masterpiece and just BEG you again to read it because it’s beautiful and it will change you and and and-

2. amid this warm and steady sweetness - warmfoothills - 21k - Harry is not living in a period drama, no matter what his friends or his new house or Malfoy’s sudden affinity for horse-riding might suggest, and if one more person uses the word courting, he’s going to start hexing people.

This is just beautiful. Every word feels like it’s been laid down with gentleness and the entire setting is vibrant, sweet, so lovely it’s almost palpable. I had never read anything for this pairing that was modeled after a period drama, and it was perfectly done, it made me laugh at the outfits and the teasing and the ridiculous situations all around, and go “awww” when it became sweet and now I just want to keep it close inside my heart. You simply have to read this.

3. Star Quality - who_la_hoop - 118k - Two years after the war, and Harry’s content with his life. OK, so it’s a little annoying that he keeps winning Witch Weekly’s Most Eligible Bachelor award, and he’s really not looking forward to the unveiling of an enormous gold statue of himself, but he loves his friends, and he loves being an Auror. And if he yearns for something more, something he can barely bring himself to think about, well, he’ll probably get over it. No one’s happy all the time, are they? But then everything changes, and Harry’s thrown into a new and dazzling world he’s not sure he can actually escape from. And as time goes on, he starts to wonder: does he actually want to?

Incredibly creative and executed so masterfully that I couldn’t stop reading and finished it in a day. Features a fed up Harry (always appreciated in this house), alternate realities, concerts, retail jobs, wishes upon stars, balloons, boys not knowing how to communicate but still inevitably falling in love, and just hours and hours of FUN.

4. And One To Play - @tackytigerfic - 21k - Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter are the best team in the Auror Department, even when they're driving Gawain Robards up the wall. When Malfoy is injured on a mission, it causes Harry's magic to go haywire. Meanwhile, a mysterious criminal is draining people's magical cores and turning them into Squibs. Can Harry stop blowing Malfoy away in time to solve the case? And will Malfoy ever stop trying to get the last word?

GUYS THEIR DYNAMIC IN THIS ONE IS JUST PERFECT. The author wrote this absolutely incredible relationship where they trust each other and have so much fun and are so perfectly attuned to each other and I just sucked it right up because it’s so good. The case is interesting and engaging, Harry’s little predicament makes such a mess, and still their dynamic and friendship is the backdrop of it all. This fic is a really, really good time all around.

5. That Old Black Magic - @bixgirl1 - 77k - Centuries ago, marriage contracts were the norm — ready-made alliances between families, expected and complied with, without complaint. But norms have a way of changing, and when a long-dormant contract flares to life, Harry has to navigate an unexpected splintering of the path he'd thought would be easy after the war... with Draco Malfoy.

Reading this was one of the best moments of my entire year. I read it in a day, couldn’t put it down because the writing and the pacing and the dynamic are so incredibly good it blew my mind a little bit. It’s a slightly different take on the arranged marriage trope than what I was used to, and I loved it so, so much. It might be my favorite fic of Bix’s, ever.

6. On a Clear Day - saras_girl - 41k - Draco Malfoy is waiting for his real life to begin, and it appears that he’s not the only one. Coffee, charity, and the wisdom of the elderly.

!!!!!! That’s all I can think to say!!!! In trying to read ALL of saras_girl fics I have found such ABSOLUTE GEMS and this is definitely, definitely one of the best of them in my opinion, it’s just so incredibly lovely in every way and I’m so weak for when they slowly let themselves be vulnerable with each other the more they get to know each other, and help each other be brave and !!!! again. This paints it so beautifully I just want to read it again and again.

7. Renaissance - dysonrules - 33k - Harry awakens after a long sleep to find things terribly changed. He's not in an alternate universe... it just seems like it.

Surly, moody Harry is a weakness of mine, and the way he navigates the extremely difficult situation he finds himself in in this one was so interesting to read. I always do love Draco being capable and good at what he does, trying to become a better person through his work. A really, really good fic with fantastic characterizations and a plot that kept me on my toes the whole time. Definitely recommended.

8. At the End of the Day - sara_holmes - 7k - No brooms, a distinct lack of balls, no comprehension of the offside rule and a Malfoy who apparently has magic feet. Harry never knew this stupid game could be so much fun.

This fic is so light, so lovely and young that I went back to it over and over again during the year. It carries that feeling of tentative new beginnings, letting go and reconnecting with those around you after going through terrible things, all of that in a way that never loses sight of the fact that they’re still teenagers and still deserve some fun and light in their lives. So, so cute.

9. take my hand once more - @candybarrnerd - 8k - Harry finds himself standing in front of the door to the Room of Requirement with no memory of having walked there or having walked past the required three times either.-Everything feels like it's falling apart, his second marriage is failing, and he would actually kill for a decent nights sleep, which must be why the Room of Requirement provides him with the solution of a bed when Harry steps through the door. When he wakes though, he finds it's so much more.

Oh god I ache just remembering this. It’s so, so good. Every word paints every feeling so effectively that I felt it etched into my chest and all of Harry’s love for Draco was mine and his sorrow was mine and what he felt after the Room of Requirement gives him what he needs is what I felt too and I was just broken and repaired completely in 8k words in the best way ever. You MUST read this now.

10. Eternally Consistent - @alychelms - 44k - Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter assumed they would never be anything but civil enemies, until Potter lands on Malfoy's doorstep, bleeding, covered in curses, and acting very strangely indeed.

THIS IS EXCELLENT, REMARKABLE, EXTRAORDINARY!!! Omg every word, I swear every word had me on the edge of my seat and you see that time turner tag? Do you see it? It’s played in the BEST possible way, the case is so freaky and incredible and the work with the destroyed time turners and those... wizarding physics applied to it were so incredibly interesting. The characterizations are delicious, every moment Draco and Harry work together is fantastic, and in the end, when everything falls into place, it’s perfect. I LOVE THIS SO MUCH. 1000000/10.

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Each of these fics is incredibly close to my heart and I enjoyed them immensely. I hope they bring you all joy as well, and I’m ALWAYS here to gush about any of them ❤️ Happy holidays!

#drarry #drarry fic #drarry fanfic #drarry fic recs #ficrec #2019rec #draco malfoy #harry potter #drarry rec list

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nightklok · 3 years ago

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Title: 'Cause I've been hurt so many times, I need someone who will try to soothe me, and not use me Pairing: Abigail Remeltindtdrinc/Pickles the Drummer Rating: E (For one future smut scene but chapter one is T-rated) Tags: Fake dating, Additional tags on AO3 Summary: Abigail considers herself great at her job; she knows how to make a successful album and her track record shows it. Dethklok proved to be the biggest challenge yet but she learned to overcome any hurdle thrown her way. However, what she didn’t anticipate was Seth’s second wedding. Specifically, Pickles’ mother getting on his case about finding a date to the wedding. Logically, she decides to be his fake date for the wedding. Just fake a relationship for a few months until the wedding then 'mutually' break it off; should be easy enough. It’s just the most renowned music producer and most popular musician fake dating. Surely no feelings or trouble will rise out of this.

Chapter One on Ao3 Here! Chapter one is also under the cut

Abigail had learned quickly that working with Dethklok was oftentimes like walking through those Halloween hay mazes blindfolded. Years upon years of working with pretentious celebrities, tight deadlines, and challenges that were thrown her way would never prepare her for working with them. For a group of five who lived together and knew each other the best, it didn’t always mean that they thought the same way and one would think they finally learned what worked best for them after years of working. But for some reason, they continuously went with the same method that never worked out because it seemed like the best to them. And clearly, it wasn’t.

She was no stranger to challenges so when Dethklok proved to be one, she did her usual process of breaking through to them. And that was asking questions to the right people. Charles stated it was just how they were. Knubbler said they were a bunch of dumb jackoffs so she had to hold the least amount of expectations for them...and lower it. Melmord had offered her weed because it would be the only way she could ever handle working with them. Twinkletits had suggested unresolved trauma and perhaps banana stickers would solve it.

She would find soon enough that everyone was right in their own suggestions but it didn’t mean she followed through with any of them. It didn’t take long to figure out that scheduling private sessions with each individual band member was a lot better compared to them being together only to yell at each other. Within a few days of the focus being more on private sessions, the difference being made was incredible. They seemed to thrive better under one-on-one time and having the group meetings at the end of the day so they could go over their progress had helped incredibly.

The only problem that she couldn’t solve was their old habits. Most of the time the sessions were either forgotten or recordings had to take a week or longer just to make sure the sound was perfect. They were still five people with different ideas of how the album could be better; it would be hard to find common ground and even harder to get them to be responsible under her schedule.

It didn’t mean every member was a thorn in her side though. Pickles and Skwisgaar were some of the more responsible ones compared to the rest. They’d sometimes forget to show up but that was expected.

Skwisgaar did have a certain way of speaking about music she couldn’t quite understand but she found herself slowly understanding him the more they recorded his sessions. It became like learning a new language but less on the fun part. Luckily, he was never one to speak much regardless; music did the talking for him and that was a good enough language for them to understand.

And Pickles, despite his years of experience under the spotlight, wasn’t the pretentious celebrity she expected him to be when they recorded together. He did his work without much complaint, left when she was satisfied and his first-week recording for a song would be the last as there generally wasn’t much left for him to retake. He normally trusted her judgment and any criticisms offered were never given for the sake of belittling her. It came from a place of experience and knowledge and it became something she quickly respected him for. He still occasionally missed his recordings, however, but with how time felt so rapid in getting things in order, she didn’t notice he actually began showing up more often.

He couldn’t show up one day due to a last-minute scheduling conflict that day and since he had a valid excuse, she didn’t expect him to show up at all. Deciding to not let those hours go to waste, she spent it contacting Knubbler for a quick meeting. He sent her the tracks he finished for her to listen to and she offered her critique. They were tossing track after track at one another to see what sticks and eventually something did. After sending him the latest track to fix-up by the end of their meeting, she checked her email to go more into the boring parts of her job.

She loved her job without a doubt but it didn’t mean there were some parts she actually dreaded doing. Emails were one of them; business language, having to wait up to a day for a response, and everything else just to show she was a professional despite her name being tied to so many influential things. Maybe she was famous enough to sign off her emails with a ‘k thx’ but didn't quite know if it was even worth the impending backlash soon after. She was known for her professionalism, not lack of.

But the album wouldn’t be finished for quite a while so she simply had to make do with what she could. Regardless, the marketing director wanted to listen to one of the demo songs. The day was winding down, she just had to spend an extra hour or two in the recording studio, then she could grab food, take a long bath and watch a movie until she fell asleep.

The motivation of food and a chance to relax was enough to look through her emails once more as she played the finished track. She didn’t hear the knock on the door but she did hear the door opening but didn’t turn around. She had expected it to be a klokateer doing some late cleaning.

“Abigail?” A voice all too familiar filled the silence. As she turned around, Pickles closed the door behind him quietly as if to not disturb her (even though he already did). He seemed a bit sheepish as he put his hands in his pockets to play off a calm attitude, “I just wanted to know if you still needed me.”

“Well, it’s not the first time you didn’t show up to a session, Pickles.” She answered a little too bluntly. It came off harsher and she had almost expected him to be offended by it but he shrugged instead, “Charles told me you wouldn’t have been able to come today, anyway.”

“Okay, yeah, that’s true I have bailed out on a few sessions, but I was planning on showing up to today’s session. I promise.”

She folded her arms, leaning back against the chair. It was new territory having Pickles actually show up when he wasn’t meant to. It didn’t seem like he was there for anything else too, “And you really mean that?”

He casually held up his right hand in a three-finger salute, “Scout’s honor...if I was a Boy Scout, that is. But I’m here now. That should be enough proof, right?” He grinned at her before he walked to the recording booth, “I got this beat stuck in my head I wanna get out of my system. Won’t take too much of your time.”

She glanced at the clock; it was still early enough to record a few takes and he did seem excited to record. Might as well give some time to humor him, “Alright, you get one hour to impress me.”

“I’ll make it count,” He finished her sentence as he closed the door. Taking the drumsticks and headphones, he took a seat in front of the drum kit and quickly prepared, “This is for uhhh...what did we call 8?”

“ Uncensor My Songs On The Radio You Fucking Tool. ”

“Yeah, that’s it! Anyway, I think I figured out why it doesn’t fit on my end. Can you play from the beginning?”

“Sure, get ready in five seconds” It took just a few clicks to get to the song he wanted. She let the metronome play for just a few seconds for him to get the beat before hitting the record button as soon as the song played.

As soon as the song played, Pickles began without hesitation. The sound was much different compared to his other takes...and it fit perfectly as he had said. She waited though; listened to every hit and snare intensely for a mistake to come and screw his take over. But that moment never happened and before she knew it the song was over.

“How did I do?” He grinned at her as he wiped his sweaty forehead with his arm, “Not bad for one take, right?”

Impressive. “Not bad at all. I think this might be just the parts we needed to get the song to be finally done,” She answered as she hit the record button to pause the recording. She made sure to save the file and backed up the file into her work email. (Charles had requested she make backup copies of each recording without the boys’ knowledge when she began working. Just in case).

She watched as Pickles removed his headphones but quickly stopped him, “It’s great but I think another take would be good to have, right?”

“Oh C’mon! Isn’t it great as it is?!” He pleaded. He was foolish to think he could impress her with just one take.

“I’m not denying that it’s great but I’m sure you would be able to do another take if you got it all memorized, right?” She answered. The tone of her voice just shifted slightly enough to indicate a challenge and that’s all that Pickles needed to hear from her.

“Don’t think I can do it, huh?” He smiled back at her as he put the headphones back on. It was a challenge he could easily win, after all, but she was never one to even let him believe it would be easy. The rush of it and the feeling of adrenaline starting to kick in made it all the more tempting, “Well get the song playing again. I won’t stop until you’re satisfied.”

“You’re gonna end up tiring yourself out, Pickles.”

“You can let me off the hook then if you’re so worried about me.” He answered with the signature lopsided grin he gave out as freely as sweets, “I think there are some restaurants around that we can go to if you still haven’t eaten yet.”

Bargaining and banter had become something that they learned to communicate with. If there was anyone else in the room, there was no way she would be talking so loosely with him. They were alone however and would be for a long time so it became easier to shake off the layer of professionalism she had to keep up with all day. However, the remaining part of her brain that was still in work mode rejected his offer despite the temptation being far too great, “Not a chance; you walked yourself into this one...But if you wow me just early enough, I might take you up on your offer.”

“Get the song playing again and tell me when to stop.”

The truth was she was already satisfied by the third take but she did let him keep going at least two more times for good measure. By the time she said he was finished, Pickles’ legs were sore but it was nothing he wasn’t used to. Five takes weren’t bad at all and he found himself confident in the progress.

“Not bad, Pickles. I think there’s something there I can take for the recording.” Abigail answered with a grin that he tiredly returned.

“Hm, not satisfied yet, or just wanna keep my ego down?”

“Maybe.” She watched him put the headphones and drumsticks away before exiting the recording studio.

“I wanna hear it though. Play the best track.” He went to the mini-fridge and offered her a beer which she declined.

“Just get me a coke. The drink, I mean. I’ll play the best track in a second,” She had already labeled the track files by a number scale and taken notes so she didn’t need to relisten. He set the can of coke beside her as he watched her take a few moments to look through the notes before finally deciding on the best track. She quickly spliced it in with the demo and hit play.

Pickles already flopped on the couch, on his second can of beer already somehow (She didn’t know if it was impressive or horrifying). He didn’t say anything while the song played, leaned back against the couch. When it ended he asked, “Is that the best one?”

“Well, I think it is. It’s the one that doesn’t even need much editing. The others are just as great too, in all honesty,” She answered as she checked her notes briefly. She could go into great detail over the tracks, maybe even explain why the tracks were a perfect fit for a song but she didn’t want to ramble. And besides, he seemed a little bit bothered, “But what do you think?”

“Hm. Not as good as I thought it would be,” He said a little sullenly, “Nate’s gonna wanna delete it. I just know it.”

“Are you sure? I don’t think he’d want you to delete them especially when he knows you’re having a hard time with this song. They’re all pretty good but if you want to talk with Knubbler since he’ll be doing most of the editing, just give him a call tomorrow.”

“Do you even think it’s good?”

“Of course. If I wasn’t satisfied enough, I would’ve had you still record a few more takes.”

That was an answer that seemed to satisfy him at least as he didn’t say anything else in retaliation. He only asked to play the track again, and finished his second can of beer, “I guess if you think it’s fine, I’ll take your word for it. It’s probably getting late isn’t it?”

“Come in tomorrow and you can listen to it again. If you really aren’t satisfied with it, you can try again,” She offered. She checked at her watch briefly; 10:45 PM. How has it been almost two hours already?

“Yeah, I think that sounds like a plan. We can put a stop to it for now. But uh, sorry for wasting your time.”

She shrugged, “You’re not, Pickles. Don’t worry about it. I would’ve left around this time anyway.”

“Okay, if you say so.” With a shrug, he shifted his mood and stood up. He didn’t seem to sulk longer than he usually did, probably because it was already late and they were both tired, “Did you still wanna eat?”

“Don’t you usually eat with your bandmates?” Usually, mealtimes were the quickest and easiest ways to find them if she needed to. Having memorized that schedule, she knew that dinner was about a few hours ago...or a few hours from now depending on what they did that day.

“Yeah but not today; Offdensen really had us doing interviews all fuckin’ day. I don’t think I’ve eaten lunch yet and I guess you didn’t get dinner either?”

“Nope. I was planning to, anyway.” A late dinner invitation was not rare to get but it was rarer to get one by someone she wouldn’t mind having dinner with. Their relationship with each other was always professional, and he also had years of experience in the music business outside Dethklok. It always felt refreshing to talk to someone who shared the same interests as her. She put her laptop away in her briefcase once she saved all her files; her night was officially done, “Is there someone even able to make dinner at this time?”

“There should be. If not, there are probably leftovers in the fridge. Or we can order pizza, it’s completely your call.”

She slung the briefcase over her shoulder, following him to the hallway. After shutting and locking the door to the recording studio (Charles gave the only keys to her and Knubbler), she walked with him to the kitchen where the conversation of dinner slowly shifted to music and almost anything they could cram in the next two hours.

And by the end of that night, the late dinner invitations became frequent and she had accepted every single one. He always hung around by her last hour of work, even if it meant staying up late. It only meant ordering food to be delivered to them as Pickles convinced her to watch a film she hadn’t seen in years or her convincing him to watch one of her favorite guilty pleasure sitcoms.

For the most part, it was assumed she was just working with him on the album. No one really needed to know about the breaks where they shared a beer and gossiped about the celebrities they had interacted with before. As far as Knubbler and everyone knew, she was using most of the two hours to perfect his recording.

But just a few months later, the hangouts and late-night dinner invitations stopped in their tracks with no warning whatsoever.

She wondered at first if it was something she had done. But then it began affecting his work and it was clear he was distracted about something. She knew and learned enough about him that he was a perfectionist when it came to the drums; he was always a person who wanted to do his job correctly when it came to something he really did care about at the end of the day. Music was his passion, after all. And if he didn’t have passion for the things he cared about the most, then something was going on.

“Do you want to take a break, Pickles?” She asked. It was currently her fifth time asking the same question that week alone.

“No, it’s fine. Let’s keep going.” He answered as he picked up his drums and waited for her to press record.

She didn’t say anything else after that and she let him leave after a few hours. He left before she could get a word out and she would be met with the rising feeling that something bad was about to happen and recordings that not even Knubbler could salvage.

A few days later, she figured out what happened. It took a text from the staff group chat and an email that contained a video to piece the puzzle together.

“Hey, Neon Genesis Evan gail ion. It’s me, your coworker, Seth.”

She did not watch the rest of the video (sober) and instead asked about the video in the group chat. Seth was never invited to the chat for the same reason Melmord was not invited to the second wedding of Seth and whatever poor woman he got roped up with.

Just by that video and conversation, she had connected why Pickles might be upset. It had something to do with the wedding, sure, but what specifically about it? Was it that he had known the girl Seth planned to marry? She wanted to ask so many questions but limited herself to three. But even those three questions were quickly narrowed down to one, then none at all when she realized it would be harder to pry anything out of him.

But, as advised by Knubbler, it was best to keep going. He’d probably breakthrough midway through a recording session. Being someone who knew to listen to others, she listened to his advice for at least a few more days.

She waited those few days and then two more. It was clear whatever was bothering him was still going to continue bothering him until the end of time probably. She had to talk to him against their better judgments; it felt like the only option available to her.

It was a session that lasted over seven hours and she was sure both of them were getting frustrated on their own ends. No amount of coffee or whiskey could even cure the boredom and annoyance that was of a session that would lead to nowhere. It was better to just cut things short and talk about it. If not even the drums could help him feel better, how serious was the situation?

She pressed the intercom button when the song finished and she immediately hit delete. There was no way to salvage the song, “Pickles, would you mind if we talk?”

His expression was perplexed for a moment before he resigned to his fate, not giving much of a protest, “Alright,” he answered with a sigh. He set his drumsticks down as he walked out of the booth, taking a seat by the couch.

She was never all that good at talking to people about feelings in all honesty. And he seemed like a rather emotional guy, to begin with. There were a few moments of awkward silence between them as she tried to find what a good way to start the conversation would be, “I think we know that you seem distracted lately. What’s been bothering you?”

And despite all her mental preparations that he would find it hard to pry open, he actually opened up quite honestly, “Well you know about the wedding right?”

“Yeah, he invited me too.” She answered as she thought back to the weird video message Seth had sent her. She wondered if she should even make a comment about that but decided against it, “You don’t want him to get married or something?”

“I don’t care about that. He could get married as many times as he wants; He’s still getting a fucking Vitamix. But it’s not about that,” He answered, “It’s my mom. She’s been blowing up my phone all week asking about who I’m bringing with me to Seth’s wedding. Keeps talking about how I should settle down, find someone to marry, or whatever. But I don’t have the time to date!”

She stared at him and didn’t say a single word until he caved in.

“Okay, time’s not the problem but dating while you’re this famous is fucking hard. You must’ve seen that public divorce in ‘89 right?”

She definitely remembered. She was on college radio at the time and had taken over someone’s show. It was either some debate or public opinion show and that was probably one of the more shows she had ever experienced. Did it help that she was a fan of his music back in the day? No, but she would not admit that “I kind of knew about it. It sounded like it was an awful divorce for you. But you were only nineteen, weren’t you? You shouldn't stop yourself from dating for something that happened when you were just a teen.”

“Nineteen, thirty-five, ninety, does it matter? It was as awful behind the scenes as it was in public. I’m not gonna bore you with that but basically, I’m done with dating. And she won’t see that!”

“Well...maybe one of your bandmates can be your date?” She offered.

“Nah, been there, done that, it didn’t work out. And plus, would you even fake date any of them?”

She thought for a moment, “Yeah, smart choice.”

“It’s gotta be someone she has never met before to make it more believable.”

“I see,” Abigail paused. She had waited, expecting almost, for Pickles to look at her, drop the ‘except…’, and plead for her to be his fake date but he didn’t. He only reached into the mini-fridge to pull out a beer, offering one to Abigail who accepted. She didn’t like the beer and had to hide her disgusted look as she took a sip and tried to set it down casually.

The conversation had died out like that. She kept on sipping the beer and hoping he would say something. But he didn’t and it became clear that she had to be the one to speak up. There was only one possible solution to it and it felt like the most obvious., “If you can’t find anyone else, I can be your date.” She offered.

Pickles looked at her like she had asked him to play the drums with his mouth, “I respect you too much to get you involved with my family. They’re like...leeches that suck the fuckin’ life out of you! This is a me problem, you don’t need to fix that. ”

“Well...it’s affecting your drumming too.” she pointed out as she looked at him, “And trust me, I know what I’m getting into. I can handle it, Pickles. I work for Dethklok and I’ve certainly been through a lot more than just a wedding party. I appreciate your concern, but let me help.”

“Abigail...” He almost pleaded.

“I owe you, remember?”

He clearly did remember, “but-”

“He invited me anyway, Pickles. I’m still going out of work obligations; I promise this won’t bother me at all.”

“But you know it’s gonna have to be a lot more than just going to my brother’s wedding right? My mom will want to meet you and who knows what other folks are gonna try and meet you too.”

That was one thing more terrifying than the branding ceremony. Was it even worth it to complete the album?, “Then basically we’d just be faking a relationship until the ceremony?”

“I guess yeah...and that’s...three months from now? You really don’t-”

“As I said, I know what I’m getting into. I want to help you and if we have to do this for a week, months, or a year, it’s okay with me.”

Pickles said nothing for the longest time. He held the half-empty can of beer, nulling over his options that probably didn’t help with him being slightly intoxicated, “You won’t hate me right?”

It caught her off guard almost but she remained on track, “Of course not. I promise,” If she hated him, that would mean there would be no more all-nighters together but she wouldn’t admit that.

“Okay. Just so you know you can back out of this anytime, I won’t be offended if you do.” He said finally and that had sealed the deal, “But we need to keep this a secret which I know is probably obvious enough. If the guys find out, they’ll never stop teasing us about it.”

“But if all we really need to do is just please your parents, I don’t think that will be a problem. Don’t worry about me, Pickles; it’ll be fine. I promise that I will back out if I don’t want to do this anymore.”

It was clear he was unsure still and she didn’t know how much more convincing he would really need. But perhaps that was something to let sit and process; and hopefully, in time, he’d warm up to the idea enough to feel like a weight was lifted off his shoulders.

There was nothing else she could really do at this point she knew. It was a quick resolution but a slow payoff and she had done what she could for the day, "How about you take the rest of the day off? If you wanna give recording the song a shot tomorrow, we can."

“Alright,” He threw out the half-finished beer can, beer spilled from the can, some of it splashing into the sides of the trash can and leaving a potent smell of beer. She made a reminder to herself to have a klokateer replace the trash can later. But it would be quickly forgotten when he spoke up again, “I uh, appreciate it, Abigail. I really do."

"It's not a problem at all. I hope you know that you can always turn to me if you need anything?"

"I do, yeah, and uh the same right back," He paused for a moment, "I'll take you out to dinner sometime if you want. It's the least I can do."

"That would be nice but I don't need a big fancy dinner. I'm fine eating here, and watching a movie." She answered. She wanted to speak more but her phone began ringing and she saw that it was from Charles, "I should probably take this."

"Oh yeah, go ahead. And uh, if you wanna grab some dinner again you know where to find me. I'm sorry I bailed out on you this week, I'll make it up to you." He quickly left before she could speak.

All alone in the studio, she took a moment to compose herself. Refusing to give herself even more time to let what she had gotten herself into sink in, she answered the phone.

It was only three months but somehow this new task felt like it would end up being the hardest task yet. But, she had an album to finish. It was just part of the job, right?

#metalocalypse #abigail remeltindtdrinc #pickles the drummer #picklegail #my writing #goddd im not sure about this but this has been sitting in my drafts for nearly...4 months now its time to release it sdflj

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everyhowlmarksthedead · 4 years ago

Text

CALI COAST.

Filip “Chibs” Telford x Reader

Anon asked: Hiya, love your writing!! I’d like to request a chibs Imagine about a him falling for a female mechanic at TM. Thank you 😊

Word Count: 3.6k

Thanks to my lovely beta reader @chibsytelford 💘

Author comments: I hope you all enjoy. Gif credits to the author.

Tag list: @starrynite7114 @chibsytelford @dazzledamazon @mara-mpou @sammskellington @gemini0410 @1-800-imagines @briana-mishell24 @sassymox @whyisgmora @aquamento @sadeyesgf @viviansafizada ✨ (if you wanna be tagged, send me a message!)

Driving the car crane, carrying a blue sedan that you were trying to seize for three days, but the owner was such a dickhead till he finally pissed you off and you had to point him with a gun. Tig told you to do it, even if you've never fired one. His face was worth the risk of being reprimanded by Hale. Danny claps at you, when getting off of the crane, you point your new acquisition with both hands and a huge smile on the corner of your lips.

“Tada!” You say with a melodic voice, jumping one time.

“Good job, rookie”. He says urging you to high-five, giving you the ‘seized’ sticker.

Very proud of your work, you take it to stick it on the front glass, crossing your arms after it to admire your piece of art.

“Ok, let's pull down this big guy”. Danny palms your back, ready to drop the tow and park the car with the rest.

“Ya’, man, who's that lass?” Chibs steps slow down, some meters away from you, hitting Tig's chest with his palm, actually hurting him.

“What the fuck?!” He yells rubbing himself over the kutt.

“She's (Y/N), the new Teller-Morrow mechanic”. Happy comes from nowhere, scaring both men, with no gesture in his face. “She's like a Pop Tart. Sweet and crunchy”.

“Did you already fuck her?” Tig sighs staring at him.

“No”.

“Then, how 'you know she's crunchy?”

“She broke Juice's nose yesterday”.

The men break in laughter, now understanding why his face looks like shit.

“Wha' happened?” Chibs tries to talk, starting to cough because of the loud laughs.

“She just got scared, 'cause he was behind her in silence”. Happy turns at them, narrowing on of his shoulder, making a move with his head to follow him.

The SOA president has been out of Charming for two weeks, taking care of the gun's business at southern Cali. For you, he was just traveling. The guys talked about him a lot in his absence of the club and you were pretty excited to meet him. At least, he's also your boss. So, when Tig shouts your new nickname making you turn, you go immediately with the same smile on your face.

“What's'ap, boss?” You say placing your hands behind your back, covered by the green jumpsuit of the workshop.

“The president”. He says pushing the man into you, with a singsong voice, making the scottish clicks his tongue.

“Just Chibs”. He adds, offering you a hand in somewhat formal greeting.

“Finally!” You say excited narrowing it, actually feeling a little nervous. “I'm (Y/N), but they call me ‘rookie’”.

“Rooke'”?

“Yeah, like a prospect for the club”. You explain then, getting back your hand with the own other.

“And she likes whisky”. Happy puts a forearm on one of the president's shoulder, taking off the toothbrush of his lips.

“Really? Ya' wan' one? So ya' can tell me where did ya' come from”. The man offers then, turning an arm to the club entrance, and you obviously can't say ‘no’ even if it's ten am and you just finished the first coffee of the day. You nod in silence.

Tig and Happy continue their way to the workshop, whilst you're walking by the scottish side with the nerves running through your whole anatomy. Everybody knows the Sons of Anarchy, everybody knows what they do even if they didn't see it. You know you don't have to be afraid, nor scared, but you can't help feeling it anyway. In a gentle gesture, the president holds the door for you, smiling slightly coming in. The club is empty, not even music is being played and it's kinda strange. Maybe they prepared before this meeting, so no one could bother you.

Even if you have been working for the last two weeks, if Filip decides to fire you 'cause you're not what he was looking for Teller-Morrow, he can do it without needing the support of anyone. You like your job and they pay you quite well, having a very flexible schedule, and treating you like another one of the family. So losing it, it's not an option.

You can see the man turning around towards the bar, grabbing two glasses to serve a whisky from an old bottle. You can recognize it. An special edition of Blue Label of Johnnie Walker. You have never tasted before, but you heard about it. Honey and vanilla are the first nuances you can taste having a sip. Chibs is staring at you with a raised eyebrow, waiting for an opinion. Snapping

“It's sweet, but bitter because of the citrics”.

“Dammet', lass!” He yells excited, hitting the bar, provoking you a chill. “Its true ya' like wheske'”.

“Yea', I... do”. You nod with pursed lips, seeing him walk towards the sofa.

Sitting there, you doubt for a second carrying a chair next to him and leaving your drink on the table, looking around for a second expecting what he wants to know.

“So tel'me. Where 'ya from, where ya' worken'... All thes' thengs'”. Chibs finally says, placing his whisky above the table, leaning towards you with his forearm supported on his lap.

“I'm from Los Angeles, my father had a workshop too, so it's family business”. You explain yourself, not sure what more you can say about your life. “When he died thr—”.

“'Am sorre'bout that”. The president holds your right hand for a while, narrowing it.

“Yea', life's things, I guess”. His touch is firm, looking at both hands sideway, before continue. “Well, ah... It was three years ago. He left me the workshop, but I was alone and I couldn't do it without help, so I had to sell it. I was working with my uncle, till I decided to move on. And... a friend told me about yours and I said... Why not? So, here I am”.

“Hm...” Chibs nods thoughtful resting his back on the sofa, moving his gaze from one side to another in nowhere.

“Listen, ah... I know it took me three days to seize that sedan, and I have no excuses, but I really like this job. I mean, work here”. You look desperate licking your lips and gesticulating more than necessary, not trying to give pity, but asking for another chance.

“Relax, rooke', I'm not gonna keck'yar ass”. His loud laughter, shaking his chin, infects you chuckling. Not sure if because you want, or because you're doing it to please him. “The bike in the backyard, is yars'?”

“It was my father's. He used to run Cali with it, till he couldn't do it anymore. But it's not working. I have to fix it”.

“You wan'me to help ye'?”

The question takes you by surprise, twisting your neck as a dog would do when he's confused. Until now, you have been doing it by yourself, even though you can take her to a workshop and not worry about it. But someone offering himself to help you it's something new. Not actually ‘someone’, but the Sons of Anarchy president. And your boss.

“Yes, yes... I mean, sure. If you have time”.

“Aye! 'Course, lass. Wha' ya' have is a fuckin' gem! Wha'bout tonigh'?”

You don't say anything, but it sounds like a date. And it doesn't surprised you by the way he had to greeting you, when you two met minutes ago. His fingers were a little shaky and you can swear that even his hand was somewhat sweaty. Finally, you nod before he could start to think that you're kinda dumb, having a sip of your whiskey.

“Ya ken'? I had one simila' when I was younga'”. He comments, seeming like the man wants to continue your talk, but doesn't knows how to do it. “I toured Scotlan' whet'et'”.

“I've never been there, but I saw it in photographs. It's an amazing country”.

“Aye! Et'e—

Some yells outside call your attention, and you recognize the voice by heart, 'cause you have been hearing it for the last three days. Rolling your eyes and getting up, down by the scottish's gaze following you, you walk towards the workshop with a serious gesture on your face and your arms crossed above your chest. The sedan' owner is there, with Hale by his side. You're fucked.

“She was! She was!” The blonde man is pointing at you accusatory, seeing how the sheriff rubs his eyes. “That bitch pointed me with a gun!”

“Did you?” Hale asks you with a hand resting in the butt of his own gun, hanging from his belt, and the other hanging by a side of his body.

“No, sir. I did—”.

“You, fucking liar!” The man practically jumps to you, being blocked by the SOA president, hitting him straight to his face.

Everything goes so fast that you can't even react. But the scottish is putting you behind his body, after punch the sedan' owner, with a hand thrown back slightly touching your abdomen. Hale is handcuffing him, growling and cursing at you lying on the ground by the sheriff.

“If you say anything else, I'm gonna accuse you of obstruction, do you hear me?” The cop says putting him down, starting to walk next to the car so his co-worker can sit him inside the car. “Do you want to file a complaint?”

This time is coming back towards you, with a sigh on his lips rolling his eyes. You shake your head, hiding out from Chib's back, frowning at the blonde man.

“Don' worry, sir, it's ok”. You say then.

“Tel'im fi' me that he won't get his car back”.

And without saying anything else, he turns at you placing an arm on your shoulders to urge you start to walking back to the workshop.

┅┅ ┅ ┅ ┅┅

When your turn is already finish, you drive back home the enough time to have a shower and changing your clothes for something more comfy taking into account the plan you are going to have. You're also trying to not think that it's a date, even if it was like it sounded. And you can't help but feeling nervous parking by a side of the yard, frowning missed when you notice the fact that there's only a bike. So, your suspicions get confirmed. Actually it's not something that bothers you, after all you've heard about him. Loyalty, strength, sincerity, self-confidence, kind and polite. And an accent pretty funny. So, why not?

“Wha' ya' thenken'?” Chibs comes from nowhere, scaring you and making you scream.

The man starts to laugh loud, while your face becomes rude with pursed lips and a hand on your chest trying to calm your heart beat.

“Jesus Christ...”

“Dammet, rooke', it's true ya're ease' to scare!” You sigh rolling your eyes because of his words. “Com'ere, I've alrede' brought yar' bike”.

“DaMmEt, RoOkE”. You joke on him with a high-pitched tone, whilst he's laughing louder.

“Ya' amaze me, lassie. Dinnae' know you talk scottesh'”.

“What the...?” You find yourself laughing too in a relaxed way after a long time, shaking your head with a sigh, going to the workshop illuminated by some lights.

Turning over your steps you notice that the place is practically empty, guessing that Juice took off all the cars by Chibs' petition, playing fool when you find with your gaze two cardboard boxes from your favorite burger joint. Hiding your curiosity and moving your feet next to the old Harley Davidson, you let your fingers travel over the metallic handlebar. Memories crowd your head, one on top of the other, until you collapse. You still haven't driven it, because your father kept it for almost eight years on his garage, till he left. And it doesn't need a lot of fixes, but you haven't been able to get started before. You couldn't, 'cause it's the only thing you have of him.

“When was the... fers' time ya' ride't?”

Turning to the man, finding him supporting his back against the wall with a big cup of coke in his left hand, sipping from the straw. You shrugs your shoulders, taking the other drink to imitate him with your gaze on the matt black motorbike.

“I didn', yet. Alone, I mean... But by my father's back”. You say almost in a whisper. “I was five years old. We toured Cali coast”.

“Cali coast amaze me, et's a good ferst' ride”. He says then, after some seconds in silence. “Ded'ya by night?”

“Dawn, actually”. You answer with a goofy smile on your lips and your eyes on the drink between your hands, playing with the straw. “I... remember that... my father came to my room, to wake me up saying ‘let's go, bunny, adventure time’! He was very excited”.

It's the first time in years that you're talking about him and Chibs looks pretty curious about it, but you're trying not to break your voice. Smiling sideways, you stare at the scottish man, shrugging your shoulders again, not knowing how continue.

“Why ‘bunny’?”

“I like velocity”.

“Oh, realle'? Wha' bike ded'ya have before et'?”

Your cheeks turning red and your lips pursuing second by second, containing a laugh, makes him raises both eyebrows with curiosity.

“A Vespa...?” You mutters biting the straw, while Chibs laughs again. You're starting to love his laugh, no regrets. “Ah, ah, but...! I have a Mustang, so, boom!”

Your left hand imitates the typical gesture of dropping a mic, getting up from the wall to walk towards the food with innocent air, opening one of the bags with your forefinger and having a quickly look.

“Ya'hungre?” He asks then, following your steps to grab boths bags, twisting his neck in a soft gesture to tell you without words about to have a seat.

So you do, on one of the cair placed on the front yard, next to a corner.

“So, what et' needs?”

“Brakes. I need to change them. Now it has ones that are obsolete and I was thinking to put an ABS”. Leaving your drink between your feet, you take the burger Chibs is offering you to unwrap it on your lap.

“Sounds good. Do ya' have them?”

“Yea', I bought them in LA. And I think could be good change the tires, the oil and the handlebar grips, they're a little worn”.

“Tha's'ease fo' ya'”.

“Yeah, but... I didn't want to fix it, actually?”

“Why?”

“I'm scared to have an accident or something, and destroy it. I don' have anything of my father, but his bike”. Having a bite with your gaze on him, you cover your mouth to keep talking. “So, I just... was telling... myself that I didn't have time... to fix it”.

“But we're gonna do 'et!” Chibs exclaim excitedly, opening his arms for a second and holding the burger and the beer in each hand. “I know yar' father prefers to fac'ap his bike, than keep'et in a garage with dust on 'et”.

“Yea', I think so...”.

━━━━━━ ﹅ ━━━━━━

First, knocks on your door. Then your bell ringing. Palming the mattress till you find your phone to watch the clock, you read all the notifications in the locked screen. There are almost eleven lost calls from Chibs and a lot of messages. And it in silence. You practically jump off of your bed, running as never before to the main door, opening it.

“Finally! Jesus Christ, I thought ya' were dead!”

“What happened? It's everything ok? Sorry, I just fell asleep an—”. You're talking so fast that your tongue ends up making a mess.

Chibs enraptured looking at you from top to down with a goofy smile on his lips, very interested in the Black Sabbath' shirt you're wearing. Clearing his throat, while your gaze travels to the dark van parked in front of your house. Tig and Juice are taking off of it your motorbike. Pushing him away from you, with your left hand on his chest, you take some steps barefoot above the cesped. You're face shows surprise and confusion, believing for a while that you're dreaming or something like that.

One of his hands wrap your left wrist, urging you to look at him. You're legs shaking for a second.

“Ya're prette' with messy hair and tha' shirt, but I wanna ride with ya'”. He says then, trying to hide his excitement.

And you want to hide yours, but you can't. You hug him, but not with a normal one. You're rousing and thankful, surrounding his neck with yours arms leaning on your toes. You know he wasn't expecting by the “oh” he mutters kinda surprised, taking some seconds till he finally is able to wrap your back and your waist pushing you closer into him, resting his forehead on your shoulder. Then, Chibs understands why Happy said like you're like a Pop Tart. He knows it tooks you just one second to make him fall in love with you and that the fact of worrying about your favorite take away restaurant, it wasn't only 'cause you're ‘the rookie’.

The scottish have a deep breathe from your hair, starting to wish he hadn't, because he's falling a little more. And he can't watch his mouth.

“Ya' smell really good”. He tells you with a husky tone on his voice that bristles the skin of your arms.

“Honey and vanilla”. You mutter with pursed lips, before the man making you a gesture to come in your house.

You nod in a hurry, running back to your room looking for the perfect clothes to drive. A comfy pair of jeans, a vaporous shirt, your boots and a leather jacket. Keeping your principal stuff in a bag and grabbing your helmet, you walk towards the main door sooner as you can. The van isn't there anymore but your bike and Chib's one, close to yours, are parked on the sidewalk. He's already waiting sitting on his, turning on the engine when you're wearing the black helmet before keep the bag under the seat, the scottish stares at you with a hug smile and a dearly gesture on his face.

It has been eight years since you heard your father's Harley roaring, and feeling how your body vibrates on it it's simply amazing. You can't even describe how you feel right now, looking at Chibs with that gesture mixing incredulity and surprise. Pressing the brake, but also the gas, the back wheel squeaks without caring if you wake up your neighbors.

“Let's go, lass!”

You release the brake, letting your motorbike rolls above the road with a hoarse growl flying off from the engine, being followed by the scottish. He didn't tell you where you're going, but after five days talking about your childhood in Cali, it's pretty clear that he wants to ride the coast with you after seeing the emotions that provokes you the memories doing it with your father. You know well he wants to be part of it, part of your routine and part of your life. And you're letting him come in 'cause, why not?

You know the road by heart, touring it with the fresh dawn's air hitting your face, till it turns with a salty smell after some hours driving in silence, enjoying the landscape views. You're closer to the ocean and you can feel it inside your lungs, closing your eyes for second. Time enough to make you fly back to your childhood. The sound of the engine, the seagull, the waves breaking. Everything is the same as you remember. But you're not a child anymore, you're ridding California with Filip Telford by your side, who can say that? Only you. And it's not because who he is, but because of who you want him to be for you.

It's sunrising. In the horizon, the sky is mixed with blue, orange and soft pink. It's your favorite part of the day, but now it's different. You're /living/ it, breathing it, enjoying it totally relaxed as never before, with Chibs' eyes on you for a ephemeral instant, fully spellbound. And that's what makes it special this time.

“Don'ya thenk' it's time fo' a coffee?” He asks loud enough for you to hear him. You nod laughing, 'cause you really need it after sleeping for just four hours.

Some mills away, you finally stop in a rest area on top of a small cliff. Taking off your helmet, you walk towards the wooden railings looking down. You're too close of the sea that almost some salty drops splash your face interspersed with the sea breeze. You couldn't get tired of a place like that. The smell of hot coffee pushes you into reality, turning to Chibs so you can hold the metallic mug.

“Maybe I put some Cardhu in'et”.

“Maybe?” You break in laugh, leaning your nose over it.

“When I say ‘maybe’, et's because I alrede' ded'et”.

“So... the other night, at the workshop, maybe it was a date?”

“Maybe”. He nods, blowing his drink, before taking a drink. “Maybe that's the second one”.

“Maybe you already won me, fixing my bike and bringing me here”. Giving him your most smooth smile, you drink too, turning to the ocean while he puts an arm on your shoulders letting you rest your cheek on his. “Maybe you put a lot of Cardhu”.

“Yea', maybe”.

#sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy imagine #sons of anarchy x reader #chibs x reader #chibs telford #chibs telford x reader #chibs telford imagine #filip telford x reader #filip telford #filip chibs telford #filip chibs telford x reader

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shesclearlya3 · 4 years ago

Text

Summer of ‘84

Xavier Plympton x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3,426

Warnings: smut, language, sex in a public place, au!, all characters are 18+, i’m sorry if this is bad lmao

**using my current tag-list so feel free to ignore**

It was June of 1984 when you and your close friends returned to your jobs at the local drive-in theatre the last Summer before you started college.

It was your second year working here, and you were sad that it would be the last. It was an easy job. You'd work nights only five days a week. It was nice being able to make your own money and have fun with your friends while doing it.

You were working the concession stand tonight with Xavier Plympton. You had been friends with him the longest out of the bunch. He was one of the best co-workers you could ever ask for. Despite his constant complaining about dealing with customers, he was always armed with perfect comebacks when you were stuck dealing with a Karen. Plus, he did work hard, which was a relief. Some of the other teenagers you worked with were only there for the paycheck, clearly.

You were particularly excited because you were able to see the screen playing Gremlins and Ghostbusters. You rarely got to enjoy the movies. You were either working the ticket booth or continuously walking around, making sure nobody tried to sneak under the rotting wooden gates surrounding the lot.

It was just after 9:30 when Gremlins started, and you and Xavier had just finished up the line.

"Let's hope the crowd stays away so we can clean up." he sighed, stretching his arms above his head. The ugly yellow shirts you had to wear rode up a little, and you caught yourself staring before a pair of hands covered your eyes.

"Gah!" you said, and you heard the loud laugh of Montana Duke behind you.

"Sheesh, you're such a scaredy-cat!"

"I was distracted!" you said, your cheeks burning as you started to wipe down the counter, which was covered in popcorn kernels. "Shouldn't you be with Brooke right now?"

Montana slid over the countertops, going to the pop machine where she started filling up two cups. "We're parched, it's just now starting to cool down a bit. Larry is making us patrol for the next forty-five minutes before the others take over."

You nodded, scrubbing a particularly stubborn spot of butter that was probably from the night before.

Xavier had laughed at what Montana said, and you immediately knew why. They had been caught in quite the compromising position the first night the theatre was opened this season. You were surprised they hadn't been fired, and Brooke had given two shifts away after the fact to avoid being questioned about it.

"He's a fucking pervert anyway," Montana said, putting lids on both cups. "I gotta go. Be good!" she called sweetly before she bounced out of the rickety building.

"I wish these fucking fans would work!" Xavier grumbled, fumbling with the switch of the nearest overhead fan. It made a creaking noise, the metal blades moving an inch before it stopped.

"They're ancient," you laughed, finally getting the spot cleaned. "Candace told me they've been here since this place opened."

"These are like forty years old then, how fucking convenient," he grumbled, before giving up. "You'd think they could afford to replace them."

"Watch your language," you scolded. "We don't need another complaint."

Xavier smirked at you, starting to restock the popcorn buckets. "y/n, you should really stop being so uptight, babe." he teased you.

"I am not uptight!" you gasped, your mouth falling open as you dropped the rag into the sanitizer bucket.

"Exactly what someone uptight would say!" he retorted, laughing at you, his hands methodically stacking the buckets handful by handful.

"You won't think it's amusing when you're fired, you ass!" you said, causing Xavier to throw his head back and laugh rambunctiously.

"That's the least of my worries, babe," he grinned at you, and you felt your heart swell. "What would you do without me?" he said.

"I'd probably actually get some work done..." you mumbled, starting to refill the popcorn machine with fresh kernels. "But I'd have to deal with the bitchy Karens all on my own."

"Watch your language!" Xavier mocked you, balling up the plastic and tossing it in the nearest trash-can. "Hey y/n- oh, someone is coming."

You told Xavier you would take care of the customer as he started restocking the cups, watching as you showed the young boy all of the ice creams you had. He was cute, probably no older than eleven with thick-framed glasses and a toothy smile.

"Thank you, Miss," he said, before hurrying out.

"I think he liked you," Xavier said as you closed the register. "That's cute."

You rolled your eyes, seeing Larry sitting in the projection room, already asleep. "Shut up, he's young."

The next half-an-hour you only helped two other customers. Many people came to use the bathrooms, but other than that, you were alone with Xavier. You had cleaned up everything there was to clean, and you decided to dig out the book you brought to pass the time.

Xavier watched the screen through the large window next to the entrance, the portable stereo tuned into the theatre's station. He was very amused by Gizmo, even gushing at the little creature.

"That's cute," you mumbled to yourself, chewing on your lip to keep from giggling.

"I heard that," he said crossly, his eyes on you now.

"I didn't say anything," you shrugged, bookmarking your page. "I'm hungry, I want a pretzel."

"Lucky for you, I popped one in for you," Xavier said, gesturing towards the pretzel heater right next to him. "It should be done now."

"Thank you, Xavier!" you said happily, coming over and taking it out. Xavier watched you, and he reached next to him for a bucket of popcorn he had gotten for himself. He put a handful in his mouth as you started pouring nacho cheese into a plastic container.

"Hey, y/n?" he asked again, looking at you.

"Yes?" you asked, watching the hot cheese, feeling your stomach growl with hunger.

"Do you remember my friend Chet? He graduated last year?"

You nodded, moving to sit next to him on the counter. "The cute dark-haired kid who is really athletic?"

"That's him," Xavier said, stuffing more popcorn into his mouth. "I ran into him the other day, and I told him I was working here again. He said he worked here for a season before we met."

You encouraged him to keep going, wondering where this was going. You knew Chet Clancy, mainly because he was a popular jock who dated multiple girls throughout the years. You have only spoken a few words with him in your entire life, but he was sweet enough.

"Uhm..." he said, looking a little nervous now. You thought it was odd, he rarely became this way around you. "He asked about you."

You perked up, tearing your pretzel in half as you watched him see if he were joking. He wasn't, looking you dead in the eyes, and you could see he was honest.

"He asked about me?" you asked, shocked.

"Yeah, he kind of... Hinted, that he was interested in you."

You found yourself smiling. "Really? I never really talked to him..."

Xavier nodded, "I know. I was a little shocked myself."

You ate some of your food, now thinking about dating Chet Clancy. You never would have imagined it, and not even because you rarely knew him. He just seemed so out of reach. You weren't the "normal" crowd he hung out with.

"Wow... That's insane," you said simply.

"Yeah... But I kind of choked up and said we were dating."

You spit out your tiny bite of food, covering your mouth as Xavier looked at you with wide eyes. "WE'RE NOT DATING!"

"Shh!" Xavier said, almost dropping his popcorn in an attempt to cover your mouth. "I know, y/n, I don't even know what happened," he growled, tossing the bucket aside. "I panicked."

"Why would you panic?" you asked, wrinkling your nose as you picked up your un-chewed food with a napkin and tossed it in the bin. "We're friends."

"I got... Jealous," he replied lamely.

You glanced up at him, and he was looking at his lap, his face wrinkled in embarrassment. You were thrown for a loop. As long as you had known each other, not once did there seem to be any romantic inclination. Of course, you've crushed on him a bit, I mean, who wouldn't? He was funny, charismatic, gorgeous, and saw something in you that he wanted to be your friend.

"Why?" was all you managed, your voice hushed and confused.

"It made me realize that I like you. And we're not little kids anymore. If I didn't tell you how I felt, then I might lose the opportunity to tell you." he said, before laughing dryly, "I guess it took another guy being interested in you for me to wise up and stop being an idiot."

You started to grin at him, and Xavier looked relieved. "Does this mean you're not mad?"

"I'm not mad," you assured him, putting your food to the side. "I'm just surprised. I never would have thought..."

"Babe, I'm clearly head over heels for you, I tease you relentlessly because I like to make you laugh. And I like when you get snappy with me." he grinned at you, his eyes sparkling as you heard a group of teenagers pile into the bathroom, giggling.

You scooted closer to Xavier, and you could smell his body wash. "I just thought it meant you liked to pick on me."

He threw his arm over your shoulder, pulling you into his side. "I do, with love."

After that, you had spent the rest of Gremlins talking, sitting close to each other, and giggling madly. You had to go back to work once intermission started, and you felt your heart-beating wildly every time you heard Xavier's voice. You listened as girls giggled and whispered about him, cashing them out with a broad smile. At one point, you heard him go, "Sorry, ladies, I'm taken."

When the last movie started, you turned off all the machines, cleaning everything down quickly. The one thing you liked about this theatre is that intermission was the final call. You'd have time to clean up and be on your way home before the second movie was even half-way through.

You had set aside some food for the others while you finished up. Brooke Thompson and Montana came in, taking some leftovers and asking if you wanted to watch Ghostbusters.

"We'll be out in a bit," Xavier said, gesturing to the broom he was holding. "Whoever worked in here last time did a shit job."

"Cool, we'll be in my car!" Montana said, before scurrying out with Brooke, their arms full of popcorn, soda, and nachos.

"I'm so ready to skip this joint!" Xavier said after he finished swimming, and you switched off the first set of lights.

"Me too. Are there any nachos left?" you asked, locking up the safe.

"Just enough for the both of us," he replied. You stood up, walking over to him, and you ended up tripping over your shoes, colliding with his chest.

"Oh shit, you alright?" he asked, grabbing you tightly.

"I'm fine!" you laughed, looking up at his figure towering over you. "I think I tripped over the crack in the floor..."

Xavier stared down at you, and you felt his hand come up and brush against your cheek. You felt your skin tingle underneath his touch. "We're gonna get caught."

"I don't care," Xavier whispered before he leaned down and pressed his lips to yours.

You held your breath as you melted into his touch. You've been in a few relationships before in your time, but nothing ever compared to what you were currently feeling. Xavier held your head in his hands, your kiss becoming more heated until you felt him pulling you towards the back, where the storage was kept.

"We're gonna get-."

Xavier cupped a hand over your mouth, pulling you into the closet before shutting the door. There was a single light hanging above you that he flicked on, and you could barely see the movie screen from the rectangular window sitting high above your heads.

"Trust me, Babe. If you're quiet, we'll be fine."

You nodded, holding onto him as Xavier pushed an empty box onto the floor, lifting you up and setting you on top of a sturdy table. There wasn't a whole lot of room. He reached over to lock the door.

"What are you doing?" You asked, kicking off your shoes. You were wearing denim shorts, and the air around you was much colder than you expected. You got goosebumps as Xavier played with the button of your shorts.

"Could I take these off?" He asked.

You nodded shyly, biting your lip as he slowly unbuttoned them, the only sound being your shared breathing and the zipper being lowered down.

"Have you done this before, y/n?" He asked, his hands gripping the waistband of your shorts.

"I've done a few things..." you said, your cheeks becoming hot.

"I'll be gentle, I promise." He said, before starting to tug your undergarments off. You lifted your hips, and he quickly let them drop to the floor. Outside you could hear the audience collectively laughing at something.

Xavier shed out of his shirt, throwing it on the nearest shelf. He wasn't overly muscular but was nicely toned. You've seen him shirtless many times over the years, but this time was different. He was beautiful.

"Are you enjoying the view?" He asked arrogantly, flashing you a smile as you instinctively crossed your legs. "Ah, spread them for me, babe." He kindly scolded.

"Of course, I am!" You respond, "You're hot, and you know it, babe."

"Cute," he winked at you, before looping his arms underneath your legs. Your breath caught in your throat as he pulled you closer, spreading your legs out for him. You could feel how wet you were against the crisp air, and you wanted to die from embarrassment at how easily you became aroused.

"Remember to stay quiet." He said, grinning at you mischievously. "You don't want to get caught."

You squeezed your eyes shut at his arrogance. "Fuck you."

The words had barely left your mouth when you felt his tongue lick a quick swipe along your thigh. You shuddered at the feeling; your stomach trembling as Xavier purposely teased you. You weren't lying when you said you have a little experience. But, you never received oral before. You gave it once, and that was it.

You let out a quiet gasp as he finally licked along your folds, your hands itching to grab onto his hair already. You refrained, lifting them above your head to keep from messing anything up.

Xavier was skilled as he ran his tongue gingerly along your folds, before pushing his tongue inside. The feeling caused hundreds of butterflies to fly over your stomach. Your thighs clenched as he adjusted his hold on you, kneeling down to push his head deeper between your legs.

"Oh, fuck!" You said a little too loudly before you felt his hand covering your mouth. You mewled and sighed against him as Xavier slowly ate you out. You always heard from Montana that it was one of the best feelings in the world, but you never imagined it being quite like this.

Nor did you ever expect to be here with Xavier, but life was crazy.

You grabbed onto Xavier's arm as he started sucking on your clit. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head when he teased your entrance with a single finger, barely testing the waters.

You were lost in the feeling when suddenly the door handle rattled. You jumped out of your skin, nearly trapping Xavier between your thighs when you heard the security guards' high-pitched voice. "Fuck! Larry must have locked it before he left."

Xavier freed himself, prepared to cover you with his body when the voice of Mason, a co-worker say, "It's fine, we'll just have to look in there tomorrow. I can't find the key anywhere."

You heard their footsteps fade away, and you and Xavier both glanced at each other, before giggling madly.

"I'm sorry, y/n," he whispered in your ear.

"It's not your fault?" You said, running your hand along his face now.

"I'm gonna go back down here now," he said, kissing your hand before slinking down your body again. You let him go, now covering your own mouth as he grabbed your legs, his mouth instantly closing over your clit.

"That's it, baby," he encouraged, his fingers once again teasing your entrance. "I'm gonna make you cum in my mouth."

Xavier continued until you were shaking so severely that he had to hold you down by the hips, almost forcing you to keep your legs open. Xavier pumped a finger inside of you, his thumb meeting your clit while his tongue teased it simultaneously.

You came in minutes, sighing loudly against your hand as Xavier cleaned you up, before placing kisses along your thighs. You breathed heavily as you sat up, quickly taking off your shirt, revealing your bra.

"Fuck, y/n," he said, allowing you to unbutton his pants, your hands fumbling to get them off as soon as possible. "You're hot."

"And horny, so please take off your pants." You begged, reaching behind you to unclasp your bra. When you were completely naked, you stared at Xavier's dick, wondering how in the hell it was supposed to fit.

"Don't look so scared, babe," Xavier said, cupping your cheeks in his hands. "Have you?..."

You shook your head, "I never got this far."

Xavier nuzzled your neck, and you wrapped your legs around him as he kissed along your skin, trailing along your collarbone before placing kisses on your jawline.

"Do you have a condom?" You asked, suddenly having an epiphany on the importance of safe sex.

"There's a box behind the pack of lightbulbs," he said, and you pulled back to look at him. "Chet told me about them, I swear."

Xavier wasted no time grabbing a condom from said hiding place, and you watched as he slid it on with ease. You wrapped a leg around his hips again, and he hugged you while he pressed kisses to your face.

"Let me know if I'm hurting you, baby girl," he whispered, and you nodded, holding him tightly.

You focused on the sound of more laughter from the audience, keeping your breathing under control as Xavier slowly pushed inside of you. He felt you tense up, holding you tightly and not moving until you encouraged him to do so.

After a few moments, you told him to move, figuring it would worsen before it got better. Xavier nodded, still holding you tight as he rocked his hips into yours, both of you panting as you grew more comfortable having his dick inside of you.

When you felt a lot better, you laid flat against the table, keeping a leg wrapped around him while he increased his pace. Xavier's face was screwed up as the pleasure coursed throughout your body. His large hand reached forward, grabbing at your breasts while you attempted to keep your moans at bay.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck," you said, trying to keep your leg from slipping off his hip.

"You're so fucking hot, babe," he said, leaning over you until you were almost nose to nose. "I want you to come for me, y/n,"

You shook your head, not wanting this to stop.

Xavier hid his laugh, increasing his face slightly. "You're going to fucking come for me, y/n."

"Make. Me." You said through clenched teeth.

Xavier laughed now, adjusting your free leg enough to easily slip his hand over your clit. He rubbed you out with his thumb, focusing on you, wanting you to come before he did.

"That's it," Xavier cooed as you finally clinched around him, crying out behind your hand as he slowed down, watching as you coated his length. "Fuck..."

You dug your heel into his skin as Xavier came, his hips stilling as he kneeled over you, kissing you deeply. You were breathless as he kissed you fiercely, hardly allowing you a break until he climbed off you.

You sat up, feeling light. "That was amazing."

Xavier grinned at you, pulling on his boxers after taking off the condom. "It's all you babe, not me."

taglist:

@the-walking-daryl @trichy-knitts @shydragonrider @thefandomzoneisdangerous @lemonwhiskers @jetblackpayne @langdonsvcrd @okoktrinity22 @uwonman @stefanmikaleson1864 @sevenwonderwitch @rubbrninja @iamnotjesha @leatherduncan @imshakingandcryingrn @bratzblitz @goblackcat69 @brookethompsonownsme @bookoffracturedescapes @zodiyack @bitchchatter @shydragonrider @guiltyfiend @psychobitchtess @aangrana @thexmancometh @wtfcas @pleasforhelp @capshoney @agentnightshade44 @frenchlangdon @morganelizabeth-99 @fathoe69333

#xavier plympton x reader #xavier plympton imagine #xavier plympton smut #ahs imagine #ahs 1984 #ahs smut #michael langdon x reader #brooke thompson #montana duke

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peaceoutofthepieces · 4 years ago

Text

Sink Or Swim

tag list: @cleocc @feeling-kinda-so-so @hopelessromanticvirgo @dreamy-slytherin @adora8 @lockerfivethreefive @painfully-oblivious @poeticinemaa @jjustonemorething @saraben00 @wedarkacademia @coolguyssyndrome @hischbabe @suckerforsobbe @tayspots @starmansander @theah0lt @zoenneforever

~^~

Wednesday, 10:57

Song: lauv, Troye Sivan - i’m so tired

Jens can’t wait to get home. No, that’s not right. He has no particular interest in going home. He just can’t wait to be done with classes for the day.

He has to manage another hour or so, and then he’s free to go. Right now, he’s lingering with the boys by Moyo’s locker in the few minutes between classes, resting his head against the metal with his eyes closed. He’d had the worst night’s sleep and his head is splitting and Aaron’s loud cackles aren’t really helping. Robbe’s soft giggles mellow it out, however, and Moyo’s antics are usually enough to drag a smile out of him, so he endures. It’s better than sitting in any of these classrooms for longer than he has to.

Robbe pokes his side and Jens lolls his head around to look at him. Robbe smiles softly. “You okay? You look tired.”

“I am tired,” Jens admits, shrugging. “Bad sleep. I just need to start doing my assignments on time. Nothing to worry about.”

A tiny crinkle forms on Robbe’s brow, like he disagrees. “You know if you ever want help with anything, you can ask. I’ve been told I’m actually a good study partner.”

“I don’t think anatomy is what I really need to be studying and I don’t think Sander’s opinion counts,” Jens raises his brows.

Robbe shoves him and blushes. “I was talking about Yasmina.”

Jens mock gasps. “Does Sander know about this?”

Robbe smacks him over the head and Jens whines a complaint, stepping away. “Okay, okay, I concede, don’t, I have a headache.”

“Excuses,” Robbe jokes, but he gives his arm an apologetic squeeze. Jens raises his hand with a questioning flick of his brows. Robbe rolls his eyes, but nods and braces himself. Jens cuffs the back of his head.

Jens smiles. “You wanna come to the skatepark after?”

Robbe gives him an apologetic smile. “I promised I’d meet Sander for lunch, so I can’t go right after. But maybe later? You could go do your homework for an hour and then meet me?” he suggests.

Jens narrows his eyes at him, then settles back against the lockers again and shrugs. “Can’t do homework. Headache. Need fresh air.”

“You’re a mess,” Robbe shakes his head, smiling fondly. Jens doesn’t need anyone to tell him that. He’s fully aware. “But I still can’t meet you until later.”

Jens sighs, but it’s what he had expected. He’d be surprised if Robbe didn’t have plans with Sander. He understands it, he does. During his relationship with Jana, she’d monopolised a lot of his time. He knows that it’s different for Robbe, that Sander is not only his current loving boyfriend but his first meaningful relationship. More than anything, he’s proof that Robbe can now truly be himself, and Jens has never seen his friend at peace the way he is with the blonde. Jens doesn’t think he’s ever felt that peace. He’d thought, maybe. But looking at Robbe and Sander, that isn’t like him and Jana. Even before their problems.

So, he understands. If he had a Sander, he’d skip out on his friends every now and again, too.

And it’s not like Robbe has completely ditched the Broerrrs, or Jens. He’s still their Robbe. Even when he does abandon them for Sander, on a lot of occasions both boys then end up joining them. It’s as nice for Sander to have them, Jens knows, as it is for Robbe.

“Okay, fine,” he relents eventually. He shifts the textbook in his grasp and uses it to hit Aaron’s shoulder, causing the other two boys to look at him. “What about you two? Skatepark?”

“I can’t, man, Amber wants me to take her on a date,” Aaron shrugs.

Jens rolls his eyes. That’s a subject he isn’t going to touch. That’s another new coupling he’s just had to accept. Amber doesn’t quite enjoy joining their outings the way Sander does, so it’s not quite as easy. “Okay. Moyo? You don’t have anyone to ditch me for, right?”

“Not in the gross, lovesick way these two do, but yes in that I need to go home and watch Izzy.” Moyo grimaces apologetically as Jens groans. “Sorry, man. You can take some of my stash with you if you want, though?”

Jens closes his eyes for a moment and lets out a breath. It’s fine, he tells himself. It would’ve been nice to hang out with his friends and take a break for a while, sure, but he also likes going by himself. He nods, accepting Moyo’s after, reminding himself to find him after school. He is, admittedly, running out of anything to smoke. He hasn’t been smoking as often lately. It doesn’t seem to have the same effect as usual, but it’s better than nothing. At the least, it might help him sleep, and it’s something he’s capable of doing on his own. He likes having time to be on his own and find some peace and let himself think.

He’s been thinking too much, lately.

“Hey.”

The sudden voice startles them all. Jens looks around and immediately comes face to face with a smiling Jana, teeth on show and fringe perfectly straight. It’s a recent addition that Jens had noticed instantly, had stopped himself from asking about, had berated himself for paying too much attention to. It’s been almost two years since they broke up. Jens shouldn’t still be thrown by a new hairstyle. It’s none of his business. It doesn’t matter what he thinks.

He notices Amber, Luca and Zoë with her, Amber sidling up to Aaron and placing a kiss on his cheek as Luca wrinkles her nose, making Zoë stifle a laugh. Before he can force out a response, Robbe is cheerfully greeting, “Hey,” and moving forward to accept Zoë’s kiss on the cheek. “Everything okay? Where’s Yasmina?”

“Last minute revision for a biology test,” Zoë says. “Don’t you have that too?”

Robbe raises a hand to his face and curses, and Jens laughs at him as Zoë ‘aw’s apologetically, biting back her own amusement. Robbe flips Jens off with a sigh and turns back to Zoë, shaking his head. “And what did you all want then?”

“We’re just here to pass on information, as usual,” Zoë shrugs.

“Good information?” Jens raises a brow.

“Party on Friday,” Luca shrugs, clapping her hands. “Very rare event.”

Robbe giggles quietly and Jens smiles, shaking his head. “Whose party?”

The girls share a look before Jana eventually says, “Luka’s.”

Jens very purposefully does not stiffen or scoff. He doesn’t roll his eyes. He doesn’t do anything that would indicate the pure discomfort and distaste that swims through him at just the sound of the name, right out of Jana’s mouth. He doesn’t care. It’s not his place to care.

They’re all looking at him anyway.

He raises a brow. “So...when is it?”

“Ah,” Jana blinks, then looks at Zoë where she stands under Robbe’s arm.

“Senne and I usually show up a little after ten and it’s already in full swing,” she shrugs. Then she smiles, reaching up to pinch Robbe’s cheek. “Of course Sander is welcome too.”

“Of course Sander’s welcome, they like Sander more than us,” Moyo rolls his eyes. “Seriously Robbe, you could’ve gotten your boyfriend a lot earlier and we might’ve actually been popular.”

Robbe protests, “Sander only talks to Senne and he’s interacted with Luka like, once.”

“And he instantly fell in love,” Aaron adds dramatically, hugging Amber to his chest and making her laugh.

“Hard not to, with that hair,” Jana nods.

Jens heaves a sigh, fanning himself as he says, “And that everything else.”

They laugh as Robbe shoves him again, almost sending his textbook tumbling to the floor. Jana reaches out to steady it amidst her giggles and keeps her easy smile when she meets Jens’s gaze. It makes it easy for him to return it. It used to be so easy, with Jana. He’s trying to get there again. He’s really really trying.

Luca eventually interrupts to ask, “So, everyone’s coming then?”

“Yeah, of course,” Robbe smiles, and that’s that, because they aren’t going to say no to Robbe.

“Nice.” Luca grins, already turning to ask Amber, “Who else have we left to invite?”

“You have friends other than us?” Moyo teases, fake-shocked. Luca flips him off and otherwise doesn’t respond.

“We still have to invite Noor and Britt, and Lucas maybe?”

“Definitely,” Luca nods, grin returning. “Come on then, let’s go see if we can find them if we take the long route.”

Amber pecks Aaron’s cheek and asks, “Are we still on for after?” She waits for Aaron’s affirmation before shooting them a bright smile and heading off after Luca. With a pat to Robbe’s arm from Zoë and a little wave from Jana, they follow.

Moyo instantly turns his attention to Jens. “Since when is she back with Luka?”

Jens purses his lips, shaking his head as he shrugs. “Since at least that party at the weekend I guess. Why should I know? It’s probably not what she’d tell me about if she was talking to me anyway.”

Moyo raises his hands apologetically and turns back to his earlier conversation with Aaron. Robbe takes the opportunity to turn back to Jens, gaze vaguely inquisitive. “I thought you and Jana had been talking more again. I knew there was kind of a bump there for a while over the summer but it wasn’t a big deal, right?”

“Yeah, we have. Nothing’s wrong with Jana. That doesn’t mean I have to know everything that’s going on with her.”

“I know that, Jens,” Robbe says gently. He does that even more than he used to, now. Employ that soft-spoken tone, and use it to probe and question in a way that’s subtle and non-pushy. “And you know it’s okay to still be upset by it?”

The late bell rings and Jens once again pushes himself away from the locker, hiking his bag further up his shoulder. “There’s nothing to be upset about,” he shrugs. “I can’t be any later, I’m already behind in this class. Text me if you can come to the park, okay?”

He barely gives Robbe time to nod before starting off down the hallway, closing his eyes briefly as the pounding returns to his temples and makes his ears ring. He’s brushing Robbe off, yes, but he also means it. There’s nothing to be upset about. Jana dating someone now has nothing to do with him. He’s had time to get well over that and move on. She can date or hook up with whoever she wants. Sure, it’d probably be better if it wasn’t Luka, but Jens has no say in the matter. It has nothing to do with him, so he has no reason to be upset. Not about Jana.

He just kind of misses having someone as his. He just kind of wants someone to talk to who doesn’t have their own partner as their number one. Who actually wants to listen and talk to him. Someone who isn’t Moyo, who just wants to smoke with him most of the time, or Robbe, who always has Sander in the back of his mind, or Jana, who was obviously right about being better without Jens. He just kind of wants to talk to someone like him, is what he understands he’s feeling, even though he isn’t sure what that means. He isn’t sure what he’s like.

He just feels a little left out right now, is all. A little behind.

He’s just a little stuck.

#van der stoffels #vds #wtfock #skam nl #sink or swim #vds season fic #sos clip

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thewatermelloncat · 4 years ago

Text

Glancing Over

Summary: On a mission and completely out of their depth, the Umbrella Academy realises that it isn’t just their powers that make them a formidable team. It only took them their most underestimated sibling to show them that.

Author’s Note: Inspired by an idea I posted about a while ago. I am so stoked to finally be posting this, let me know what you think.

Warnings: Swearing and violence (not graphic but still be warned).

Tag list:

@alive-and-afraid

@atrono

@candydancey

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If Klaus never heard that alarm again it would be too soon. Groaning dramatically, he rolls over in his tangle of sheets throwing a pillow over his ears. From the darkness outside his window he guesses it can’t be too far past midnight - and honestly, fuck that alarm for waking him up on one of the few nights he had been able to sleep with his insomnia.

Maybe he can fall back asleep, the edges of unconsciousness are still around him. Gripping the pillow tighter over his ears, he closes his eyes and wills himself to drift off again.

“Get up!” Diego calls out from his doorway, throwing a pair of bundled up socks at him.

Klaus growls dramatically turning over to face him, throwing him a glare that would be a lot more threatening if he weren’t still half asleep.

“Everyone’s almost ready to leave” Diego tells him, leaning against the door frame making it clear that he’s not moving.

“I didn’t know the thing still worked” he groans as he quite literally rolls out of his bed before stumbling around to find a change of clothes off his floor.

“We reactivated it after we agreed on doing missions again last week” Diego furrows his brow as Klaus shoves on a shirt – he thought he would have remembered that.

“Oh yeah, right” Klaus recalls, part of him now regretting agreeing to do missions again. “We don’t have to wear those stupid domino masks again, do we?”

Diego scoffs with a dismissive roll of his eyes. “Nah, you’ll never see me in one of those again.”

“What is it anyway?” Klaus asks after jumping his way into a pair of pants and grabbing a pair of boots off the floor.

“Some sort of heist. Luther’s going to brief us in the car” Diego tells him as they set off through the hallways.

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“They’ve boarded up all the entrances” Allison informs as she runs up to them. Her, Five and Vanya having got to the scene before them in their own car.

“We should really invest in a minivan” Klaus notes as the groups join up with each other, but his comment is ignored.

“There’s no other way inside?” Luther asks, looking over to the museum where he can just make out various objects positioned behind the glass doors.

“Not without causing a racket and giving away our position” she tells him.

“Can you jump us inside?” Luther turns to Five.

The smaller boy hums his answer and shrugs his shoulders before they all latch hands and are whisked away.

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“How do you do that all the time?” Diego swallows forcefully after the portal dissipates leaving them standing in the middle of a gallery. “Anyone else feel sick?”

In the corner of his vision he sees Klaus raise his hand but all further of his complaints cut off as Five stumbles next to him.

“You get used to it” Five pants as Diego reaches out to stabilise him. After a few seconds to get his bearings he pushes himself away.

“You would do amazing on rollercoasters” Klaus raises as he pushes himself off the exhibit case he leant against, the world finally stopping spinning.

In a perfect scenario they would have landed in a secluded area where they could analyse the situation and plan a response from the inside. They quickly find this is not the case when a yell sounds from the mezzanine floor behind them. Abruptly they all turn around to see a man dressed in black combat gear raising his gun.

“Five” Luther says lowly.

Five nods his head, taking a step forward to disappear through a portal, though his path is blocked with the air unwilling to part for him. He growls in frustration, his hands clenching into fists and arms tensing as he tries again, only succeeding in turning the air around him blue. For a moment his arms fall limply to his sides as he tries to gather himself. Though before he can try for a third time Diego puts a hand on his shoulder and a knife wizzes past his ear, sinking into the chest of the man before he can pull the trigger.

Gratefully Five nods to him.

“You good?” Diego looks down at him.

“Tired” is all Five says as he rolls his shoulders.

Diego purses his lips and clasps a hand to his brother’s chest as Vanya speaks.

“You don’t think anyone else would have heard him yell?”

“Probably” Luther admits. “Klaus, can you summon the dead to scout the area?”

“I can’t” Klaus says.

“Why not? Have you even tried?”

“Well, Luther – of course I've tried” he quickly adds irritably when the last point registers. “I can’t say that the spirits are exactly happy about having the artefacts that they are connected to stolen.”

“But we’re trying to save them” Luther doesn’t quite understand.

“I’m not talking about the guys stealing them now, they’ve already been stolen” he gestures to the various cultural exhibits around them. “Besides, it’s not like they care that we weren’t the ones who took them.”

Luther draws a blank and goes quiet for a few seconds. “Just use Ben” he suddenly says like it’s obvious.

“I can’t reach him, there’s so many of them. Everything’s too loud.”

“Just settle down” Diego holds out a hand, playing peacemaker. He doesn’t want to imagine the amount of ghosts Klaus is seeing in a place like this, so he pushes for them to move on. “We’ll pair up and scout the surrounding area.”

Everyone falls silent and looks toward him.

“Purely recon, no engaging. Then meet back here in two minutes.”

“Well, anyone got a better idea?” Five asks after a few moments of silence. Habitually they all look to Luther.

“Nope” he shakes his head. “Pair up.”

If purely on habit they pair up in sequential order, moving to stand by their partner.

“Allison and Klaus, take the doors to the left. Five and Vanya, go up the mezzanine. Diego and I will take doors to the right” Luther assigns and they nod at their instructions. “If you run into any trouble yell out and meet back here.”

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It becomes clear as soon as they all separate that they are out of their depth. There are far more people than they thought and they are more heavily armed than anticipated. Each of the pairs barely make it 100 metres into their route before they are forced to turn back.

“There’s a group of about four coming this way” Allison pants as she and Klaus run to re-join the group already waiting back in the gallery. As soon as her words cut off, the offending party step into view behind them.

With a swift motion Diego releases a knife curving through the air, sending the bodies falling to the floor before their guns can be raised.

“We have to get out. This was a mistake” he turns back to the group after catching the knife back in his hand.

“And let them take everything?” Allison snaps at him.

“Better that than die” Diego scoffs.

“Where’s your superhero complex now?”

“Hate to break it to you but Diego’s right. Almost half of us are out of commission” Vanya points out, looking over at Five poking around the unconscious bodies, then at Klaus still standing amongst the group.

“The whole area is surrounded” Five’s voice draws their attention to him studying a screen he’d detached from someone’s belt. “There’s a squad of six heading for us. About 30 seconds.”

The rest of them look away from him then at each other fearfully.

“Did anyone find any exits?” Luther asks to which they all shake their heads. “Five, how many of us can you get out?”

“Maybe one or two” he says but he sounds unsure.

“No way” Diego shakes his head. “We’re not splitting up.”

“I just want to say, that I may not have been the easiest person to” – Klaus’ goodbye speech is cut off by Five calling out his name and a gun being thrown into his hands. Reflexively he catches it as Five picks up one for himself.

“We’re not dying” he says with a cock of his head and a raise of an eyebrow.

Habitually Klaus’ hands go about disarming the safety while Five turns to one of the large doorways, lifting his gun to hold at the ready.

The sound of Klaus’ safety latch clicking off is masked by the echoes of bullets flying around the room. A quick glance back at his siblings shows none of them are ducking for cover and all the bullets are from Five’s gun, the enemy being disastrously unprepared for an attack.

After a short ringing silence, a series of yells and thundering footsteps draws Klaus’ attention back to the doorway, more of their adversaries having been alerted of their presence. Following Five’s lead he finds cover behind an exhibit plinth, his eyes brushing over the bodies that already lie on the floor beneath the doorway. With a soldiering breath Klaus raises his own gun, the metal feels somewhat familiar in his hands but the weight feels heavy in his arms.

He almost feels sick with adrenaline as his finger pushes against the trigger. His eyes focusing on each target just before they collapse. Next to him Five moves positions to get closer to his targets and Klaus shifts to follow him only to freeze suddenly when a glass cabinet shatters to his right.

Spinning on his knees, still crouched on the floor he traces the trajectory of the bullet to the mezzanine behind him. Wasting no time in shooting down the man stationed above.

The limp body folds forward over the balustrade, falling to the floor with a sickening thud a few meters away from the group of huddled siblings. None of them startle, too mesmerised by their two remaining siblings working unexpectedly together.

“Shit!” Five curses throwing away an empty magazine, his ammo having run out.

Without sparing his brother a glance, Klaus finishes off the rest of the targets in the room before they both rise from their cover. No one speaks and the room falls into an uneasy silence as Klaus grabs a magazine from a fallen criminal and throws it to Five. Neither of them pays any mind to their siblings still frozen in shock.

“Any more coming?” Klaus asks Five.

“Try all of them, we’re not exactly being subtle” he quips, shoving the magazine into his gun before reaching to check the stolen screen he’d attached to his belt. “Two groups of about three coming in immediately.”

“What doors?” Klaus asks, staying on the spot making it clear that he’s waiting for Five to direct him.

“Both left and right. No time for anything special, just take cover.”

Klaus makes no argument and they both duck behind a set of shelves barely sparing enough time before bullets start raining over their heads. With their backs against the shelves and their eyes on their siblings they’re thankful to find that the bullets missing them are also missing their siblings – Vanya having thrown a shield up to protect them. Though no one else makes any attempt to do anything to help them, and for the moment neither Five nor Klaus think anything of it.

The short gap between the shooting only allows Five a second to pop up for quick survey of the area before the barrage starts again.

Sinking back behind the shelf Five looks to Klaus and moves his hand in the air like he’s drawing a square before holding up three fingers, not bothering to try and talk over the shots echoing around the gallery.

“What?” Klaus draws his head back, his eyebrows knitting in confusion. He doubts Five can hear him over the weapons firing, but he can lipread.

For a quick second it’s Five’s turn to look at Klaus confused, like he doesn’t know what wasn’t to understand about that. But he soon snaps out of it and repeats himself. “Window” he explains redrawing the square, “three people.”

Klaus can’t help but pick up on a slightly annoyed tone as Five holds up three fingers. Though he’s able to chalk it down to the intensity of the situation and not anything necessarily directed at him.

When the round of fire ends, they both rise from behind their cover and gun down the three men in front of the windows.

“The barriers are too high, we’ll never get a shot from here” Klaus observes after spotting the remaining three men who are spread throughout the room, sheltering behind some of the higher exhibition cases.

“I might be able to get the one on the left” Five says before he pivots away from their shelter. Creeping closer towards his new target he ducks behind new barriers every now and again although it’s unlikely that the men spot him with his small stature, too focused on remaining sheltered. Unfortunately, the man on left’s shelter wasn’t sufficient as Five delivers on his promise, the body finding its final resting place amongst a scatter of glass shards.

With the target down Five looks at the other two men and then back to Klaus before shaking his head, clear that he can’t get the shot. Klaus isn’t sure why, but he looks back after that and an idea pops into his head, seeing the mezzanine floor above him.

Quickly turning back to Five he brings all the fingers of one hand to the top of his head before lowering it again.

“What the fuck?!” Five mouths, throwing his hands in the air.

Klaus spares a moment to roll his eyes. Why did their tactical signals have to not be compatible?

“Cover me!” he clarifies in a language that he knows Five will understand. Part of him half expects Five ask him why or what his plan is, but he doesn’t. He just trusts him as he moves back closer to him so he can be his defence.

He doesn’t even bother to ask what direction Klaus plans to move in, just senses where he goes and moves along with him. None of his shots hit the remaining targets but he isn’t exactly aiming for them to. His round of fire purely meant to keep them hiding behind their shelter and unwilling to risk taking a hit. He continues to fire, ducking behind a display case near the base of the stairs as Klaus mounts them to get to the better vantage point on the mezzanine.

On the second level Klaus doesn’t bother to crouch behind the railing which has far too many gaps in it to be useful. Knowing that he will have to work quickly, he raises his gun and lines up the shots. The first target goes down without a hitch though he barely registers it as he immediately lines up the second.

His final shot seems to echo for eternity in the now silent room. If he allowed himself to, he could probably get lost in the moment of peace and quiet. Though that isn’t something he can allow himself to do quite yet. Instead he lowers his gun and pivots on his heel back to the staircase, descending the steps two at a time on the way back down to Five.

“Any more?”

“Can’t see any – unless they ran off” Five considers as he looks back down at the screen.

And now without an immediate threat Klaus can allow himself to catch his breath. Cool air fills his lungs as he draws in deep breaths, his heartrate slowing. Though before his thoughts can stray too far, he hears Five inhale suddenly like he finally decided on saying something.

“You’re not bad… just so you know” he doesn’t look at Klaus while he says it, choosing to take the magazine out of his gun and throw it across the room, but Klaus can see that he’s impressed from the way his lips are pursed.

He doesn’t know how to respond to that but before he can cover it up with awkward laughter, he sees his siblings step apart as Vanya’s shield comes down.

None of them say anything at first as they take in the sight around them. They are no strangers to a crime scene, the shattered glass and the bodies on the floor don’t phase them, yet they are frozen on their feet and at a loss for words.

“Whoa” Vanya eventually breaths out quietly, her mouth barely moving and her eyes wide.

She’d expected something like that from Five but Klaus had been a wildcard to her. She’s sure that the rest of her siblings could say the same. Apart from Five who had strangely known about their brother’s capabilities far better than the rest of them. In all honesty her brain isn’t working well enough to question that at the moment so she decides to shelve it for later as she steps away from the group.

At Vanya moving from his side Luther steps forward as well, mumbling something about going back to the car and the authorities dealing with the rest of it. None of his words come out making sense sounding like a child learning to speak for the first time, clear that he’s struggling believe what he just saw.

Allison tries to say something a couple of times but words fall short and she gives up. Letting out a breathless scoffing sound she shakes her head in disbelief, blinking a few times. A smile begins to play on the corners of her lips as goes over to join Luther and Vanya waiting for the rest of them.

Words also fail Diego as he walks forward to join the congregating siblings. Uncoordinatedly patting Klaus on the chest a couple of times before clasping a hand on Five’s shoulder as he moves past them.

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The ride home is near soundless aside from gravel under tyres and the occasional passing car. Without anyone willing to speak Klaus spends his time flicking his eyes between Luther taking up the whole front of the car and Diego sitting next to him, mostly staring out the window but sometimes flicking him quick glances when he thinks he’s not looking.

It isn’t until they get inside and Diego sits down next to him at the bar for celebratory drinks, that Klaus realises he hasn’t said anything since the museum. With Allison beginning to pour out the alcohol, Klaus draws in a breath and turns toward him, opening his mouth to say something.

Though as his chair stops spinning, he sees Diego turned to him fixing him with a sceptical gaze, already prepared to speak.

“You scare me.”

#tua #The Umbrella Academy #umbrella academy fanfiction #klaus hargreeves #the seancé #five hargreeves #the boy #luther hargreeves #Space boy #diego hargreeves #the kraken #allison hargreeves #the rumour #vanya hargreeves #the white violin

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astralaffairs · 5 years ago

Text

put a ring on it 03 | philip hamilton

title: put a ring on it

pairing: philip hamilton x reader

words: 11k 🤪

warnings: rlly none! hectic families, stupid pet names, uncomfy emotions, compromising positions. also dont any of u dare get as close to another human as is depicted here anytime soon. pls flatten the curve. social distancing is cool i swear.

a/n: lmao remember on part 2 when i said i wouldn’t take as long to update this time? here we are, almost exactly a year later, even tho i wrote 8k words of this in the past couple days. enjoy!!! better late than never ig.

desc: You’ve never liked Philip Hamilton, and have always assumed the feeling has been mutual. But when you’re roped into pretending to be his girlfriend for a family reunion, you feel all your truths beginning to melt away, and find them instead taking form in his smile.

tags: @stargazelaurens @ivory-haired-queens @exoticxchicken8 @assbuttstyles777 @superbarriobrothers @tf2germanvillain @ela-ena @abundant-stars @heytheredee-lilah @abovethyfold - lmk if you want to be added; sorry if i missed anyone!!

Philip had brought you coffee without you asking.

It was mid-morning after your shower; the carpet of Philip's room was soft under your feet as you grabbed your phone off the marble countertop of his sink, just enjoying the peaceful silence. You scrolled briefly through your texts, smiling as you declined an offer for a manufactured emergency from Patsy (not before you seriously considered it, though). You slid it into your back pocket before padding down the stairs to find wherever Philip had gotten off to.

And thus, you were met with the distinctly strong smell of coffee.

Your footsteps stalled only a moment. You furrowed your brow; the corners of your lips quirked as you continued into his kitchen. You found him sitting at the end of the table opposite where you stood, glasses pushed down the bridge of his nose, reading a newspaper and sipping coffee from a paper cup. Your smile grew as he didn't even realize you were there; you leaned forward, resting on the chair nearest you as you bit your lip.

"Hey." Your voice was soft as he looked up, giving you a soft smile as he met your eyes.

"Morning, princess," he hummed, taking another sip from his cup as he eyed you, his eyes crinkling at the corners with his smile. "How'd you sleep?"

"Pretty well." Your yawn came through in your voice despite your words, and he nodded, averting his eyes back to his paper. Neither of you dared mention how you'd woken up tangled in each other, your legs intertwined with his, hands in his hair and with his arms wrapped loosely around your waist, your head against his bare chest. Instead, you broke the silence with, "So, you gonna share any of that coffee with me, Hamilton? Or were you just gonna ignore these bags under my eyes?"

You pointed to yourself with mock annoyance, and he chuckled, putting down the newspaper. "What, you don't think I picked up anything for my girlfriend?" He raised an eyebrow, and you rolled your eyes, slumping into the seat opposite him.

"Oh yeah? What'd you get me?" Your tone was flat as you pinned him with a skeptical stare. He only grinned, leaning back and grabbing another paper cup from the counter behind him. You raised your eyebrows, eyes widening in the slightest. It probably shouldn't have come as a shock to you, but you couldn't help your surprise at the gesture.

He chuckled at your expression. "I can't believe you'd underestimate me like this." He put a hand on his heart with a mock pout as he passed the coffee across the table to you, and you took a seat, rolling your eyes.

"What's the catch?" you asked dryly.

"Does there have to be a catch?"

"Last time you brought me coffee I ended up here." You raised your eyebrows, looking at him knowingly, and he chuckled, raising his hands in mock surrender.

"Alright, I get it. Point made." He grinned as he reached again behind him, grabbing a small brown bag and holding it out to you by its rolled opening. "But I brought you a croissant to make up for it."

Your eyebrows shot up when you saw the other bag, eyes widening in the least. "Coffee and food? Now there's definitely something up." You shot him a questioning look, and his obvious self-content didn't waver.

"Think of it as a "thank you'." Your skepticism far from dissipated, but something in the soft smile he wore made you take the bag from him with no further questions, a soft smile of your own gracing your lips.

You breathed in the warm, sweet air from the bag as you opened it, sighing at the smell of the croissant. As you broke a piece of it off, you looked up at him with an eyebrow raised. "So anyway, where's your family? House seems eerily empty."

He chuckled, raking a hand through his loose curls. "Yeah, it is. My siblings are all still at school for the next couple hours, and Mom and Pops are out getting breakfast with the Lafayettes. Said something about wanting to 'give the happy couple some time to themselves'."

You rolled your eyes. "So no one else is home?"

"So we're finally alone." He wiggled his eyebrows at you suggestively, and you scoffed.

"Just 'cause you brought me a croissant doesn't mean I'm about to jump your bones, Hamilton. Don't get your hopes up," you informed him dryly, but his amused grin didn't waver.

"Since we have the day free, though," he continued just as brightly, ignoring your unimpressed expression, "I figured I'd show you around the town a little, take you a few of the places I used to go."

You raised a brow. "Oh, yeah? I'm getting the grand tour?" A smile had at that point worked it's way back into your expression, sitting slightly lopsided as it played at your lips, though you tried to contain it. "Where are you gonna take me, Hamilton?"

His grin grew at your words, taking another sip of his coffee to hide his self-content. "You'll see."

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

"Where are we going?" you groaned as he tugged you around another corner in the quaint downtown of his small city. His grin never faltered; he seemed very much to have a set agenda. There were people and places he wanted to see. Seeing as this was his family reunion weekend, you couldn't have blamed him.

"C'mon, we're on the block now," he assured you, pulling you along in his haste to find the little storefront, wondering if it had yet changed the aging display in its frosted glass windows. You scoffed audibly, and he let out a little laugh. "What, don't believe me?"

"You'll forgive me for not trusting the eighth time you've told me we were almost there," you said dryly, letting him pull you along regardless. He shot you a look over his shoulder.

"No need to exaggerate, princess."

"Don't think I haven't been counting, Hamilton," you shot back, giving him a pointed look, and he rolled his eyes.

"Just come on."

You (grudgingly) allowed him to drag you along three more blocks, unsure what had overtaken you -- your feet were getting sore, your stomach was starting to cramp (you needed to work out more), and you really just wanted to sit down. Yet, something about how earnestly excited Philip was managed to keep you going, just a few more yards, just a few more yards. You tried to ignore the lopsided grin thrown over his shoulder and the teasing lilt to his voice that met your complaints.

"Here we are." He skidded to a halt in front of three stairs, a stone stoop, leading up to a glass door. You raised an eyebrow, turned your gaze to him.

"Where, exactly?"

His smile grew, and he nodded forward. "See for yourself."

You rolled your eyes as you followed him up, and he reached for the handle just before you, holding it open. You didn't acknowledge the action, just continued forward into the small shop.

It was an adorable space, dimly lit and colorful. Leafy plants spilled over from pots above the windows, contrasting with the bright red window frames on the sunny morning, interspersed with framed photos and paintings packed tightly together on the limited wall space. Soft guitar music drifted through under the buzz of chattering customers who'd arrived for their morning coffee. You could smell the coffee brewing behind the counter, the scent mixing with the sweeter one wafting from the ovens behind a swinging door.

"C'mon." You yelped in surprise as Philip's arm found its way around your waist, and he shot you an amused glance. You let him lead you forward, though, fighting the heat that began to rise in the back of your neck.

You neared the back of the store together, your gaze still wandering around the adorable coffee shop as you walked, and as the woman behind the counter caught sight of you, her eyes lit up in recognition.

"Philip!" She dropped the rag she'd been wiping her hands with onto the counter, rushing out from behind it to greet him as his arm came back around from your waist, instead pulling her into a tight embrace. You sighed internally as his warmth left your side.

"Hey, Aunt Maria," he said, grinning as he pulled back from the hug. "How've you been?"

"Worse without you," she scolded, whacking his chest lightly. "It's been what, four years since you've been home? Felt like an eternity."

He laughed, eyes still shining as he spoke to her. "Yeah, it's been too long. I've just been so busy."

Maria scoffed and promptly turned her attention to you, clearly not caring for any excuses for Philip's absence. "And who is this?"

“I’m Y/N,” you started, your smile unsure. At this, Philip also turned his gaze back to where you stood, grin growing on his face. “His girlfriend.”

Her face lit up again at this, immediately pulling you into a bone-crushing embrace. "Oh, you're the pretty thing I've been hearing about from Philip's parents for so long? It's so great to meet you."

You laughed as she finally pulled away, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. "I guess that must be me, unless there's another woman, hm?" You raised an eyebrow at Philip, grinning, and he just rolled his eyes. "It's good to meet you too, though."

Philip rested a hand on Maria's shoulder as she released your forearms, an affectionate look in his eyes as he glanced down at her. "Aunt Maria's an old family friend, Y/N. Pops helped her out of a tough spot when I was younger, and we’ve forced her to stick around with us ever since."

She smiled, putting a hand on his as she looked over at you. "I owe the Hamiltons big. They really changed my life a while back, helped me get away from my ex-husband, start a new life on my own. Can't thank them enough, honestly."

Philip rolled his eyes at that, giving a dramatic huff. "You owe us nothing. You’re all we need."

"Then stop spending so much time in the city!" she lectured him, giving a shell of a glare, and he laughed.

"I'll keep it in mind."

She glanced back at the counter over her shoulder, where her employees were still diligently taking orders, making coffee. "Anyway, I've gotta get back to work, but can I get you two a cup of coffee? Donuts? Crêpes?"

Philip looked at you as he came back around, pulled you softly to his side with an arm around your waist and a raised eyebrow. You gave Maria a warm smile.

"Just a coffee would be great."

"Same for me, then," Philip added, and Maria winked at the two of you as she made her way back to the counter.

"Two coffees coming right up for the happy couple. Feel free to have a seat anywhere," she called to you over her shoulder, and you grinned.

"Wanna sit down?" Philip asked, and you pursed your lips, pinching the hand that was squeezing your waist. He yelped, withdrew his arm from you with a wince, and you nodded and gave an easy smile.

"Let's go by the window."

He rolled his eyes as he followed you. You slid comfortably into one of the smooth wooden seats, glancing out at the sunny morning before you, and he sat across, an eyebrow raised.

"So, what do you think of my hometown so far?"

You looked back at him wearing a soft, mischievous smile and cocked an eyebrow at him. "You really wanna know?"

He fixed his stare on yours, and your grin grew (though you tried to suppress it). "Yeah."

"It'd be better without you here."

He scoffed loudly at that, turning his head from where he had sat facing you, his grin near indistinguishable in his indignant expression, and you couldn't suppress your full-bodied laugh at his reaction.

"C'mon, really?" While he tried to maintain his scowl, turning back to you had his smile widening at your repressed giggles. He fixed a glare over his gaze as you tried to swallow your grin. "God damn, I ask you a legitimate question, and you can't resist ripping on me?"

"It was just too easy!" you defended, brushing your hair away from your face as you looked sheepishly back at where he sat, shaking his head. "Honestly, though?"

"I dunno, am I gonna get an honest answer?"

You knew very well his skeptical expression was well-earned, and you grinned, rolling your eyes as you defended yourself. "Yes!"

He shrugged, motioning to the space between you, a silent go-ahead. You sighed.

"It's really nice." You glanced around the coffee shop as you spoke, your eyes ultimately finding his again, though now a dreamy look was painted across your features. "It's... homey."

"'Homey'?" he repeated your answer with a breathy laugh, and you rolled your eyes, playfully shoving the arm he had resting on the table.

"See, this is why I don't take your questions seriously, Hamilton," you scowled, feeling your face begin to grow hot at his reaction. "Give you an answer and you just make fun of me."

He chuckled as he reached for your hands, still resting on the table as the heat did not subside from the back of your neck. He took them in his, enveloping them as he gave you a simper. "Aw, c'mon, I'm not trying to tease you." His simper turned to a mocking pout, and you scoffed, rolled your eyes.

"Oh, whatever, Hamilton." You didn't pull your hands out of his grasp, though, refusing out of sheer spite to meet his eyes.

"I'm not kidding!" he defended himself, and you could see out of the corner of your eye the grin return to his face, seemingly entertained by your reaction. You were a bit preoccupied, though, with inhibiting the blush from your cheeks as you couldn't seem to focus on anything other than, God, how warm his hands were. You were painstakingly aware of every time they shifted against yours.

"'M glad you feel at home in my old town." Your annoyed gaze was still fixed on the table before you as you heard him let out a sigh, dropping his face to break your line of vision. "Princess?"

"Don't call me that, Hamilton."

He deadpanned. "Y/N."

You met his eyes with an expectant look, and for a moment, you just held his stare, almost didn't notice when your breath caught as the corners of his lips quirked upward. You frowned.

His grin only grew at your adverse reaction, breath coming out in a puff of laughter. He shook his head, tongue in cheek. "Loosen up."

The way he squeezed your hands reminded you how close the proximity between the two of you was. You could feel your heart jump in your chest. When his thumb smoothed over your knuckle, you felt suddenly very self-conscious about how sweaty your hands were.

You took a deep breath, feeling unable to hold his gaze any longer, looking out the window beside you. Thankfully, Maria chose that exact moment to arrive with your drinks.

"Two black coffees, right up!" You froze when you met her beaming expression, flinching as you almost tried to yank your hands from Philip's, feeling like a deer in headlights. He squeezed your hands softly, his expression concerned at how panicked you looked. You plastered on a smile, reminding yourself as your face heated up that you were there as his girlfriend, this was supposed to be normal, it was expected. What made you uncomfortable was exactly how normal it felt.

"Thanks, Maria." You withdrew your hands with a smile to take your coffee from her. You ignored her raised eyebrow, her pleased half-smile.

"You sure there's nothing else I can get you?" The maternal look in her eyes turned playful as she folded her arms. "Anything else to drink? Some lunch?" Her eyes narrowed a fraction of an inch. "Some privacy?"

You choked on the long sip of coffee you'd been taking, trying to catch your breath as Philip just laughed. You set the mug down as you coughed into the back of your hand, trying to stifle it.

"I think this'll be all for now," he said, "We probably aren't gonna loiter too much longer, don't worry."

Maria gave him a warm smile, a smile you only caught a glimpse of as you emerged from your coughing fit. (You also caught a glimpse of Philip suppressing a laugh at you, and made a mental note to chew him out for it later on.)

"You know you could spend forever here and I wouldn't mind."

"I know." You couldn't help but notice that his smile in return didn't quite meet his eyes; something melancholy lay behind them as well.

As she pursed her lips, you thought her expression looked quite a bit like your mother's when you left for college, almost tearing up, but holding it together for you. "Well, let me know before you all leave," she said softly, "You know I don't see enough of you around here as is."

"I know. We'll see you tomorrow, though? At the reunion?"

"Wouldn't miss it." The quiet sadness in her eyes disappeared as quickly as it came, and she reached down to squeeze your shoulder affectionately. "Looking forward to seeing the both of you there." Her wink before she turned away was blatant. You couldn't help your soft smile.

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

"So, when do I get to meet the rest of your family?" He'd taken you out through the middle of town, refusing to let on to your destination. It was a nice day out, luckily for you, but you still weren't fond of having to reach all your destinations on foot -- if you'd wanted a walking tour, you'd have asked.

He shrugged, hands in his pockets as he walked alongside you down the sidewalk, appreciating the lush greenery that lined the streets, and your gaze rested on his faraway expression as you raised an eyebrow.

"Dunno. Whenever my siblings get home. Angie'll be coming in before they all get outta school, so she might even be there when we get back, but the rest of them have classes for a few more hours."

"'The rest of them'? How many siblings do you have, Hamilton?"

"Just six."

"Six?!" you repeated, eyes wide, and he just nodded.

"Yeah. The youngest is four, that's Eliza, and I'm the oldest."

"How old are the others?"

He pursed his lips, as though deep in thought, and you really couldn't imagine having to strain to remember a sibling's age. "There's William, at seven, then John, who's eleven, James is fifteen and Alex is seventeen -- they're the ones in high school right now -- and then there's Angelica, who's nineteen."

You couldn't help but let out a low whistle at that. "Sounds exhausting for your parents."

"Really. I was the easy child, and it was all downhill from there." He grinned, and you rolled your eyes.

"You were the easy child? Tell me why I find that hard to believe." Your challenging tone just made him shrug.

"Dunno, princess. I've just always been so responsible that my parents had an easy time with me."

"And at what point did you lose the responsibility trait?"

"I mean, when I found out I could pawn off all my responsibilities onto you..." He trailed off with a grin, laughing when he saw your glare. "Aw, c'mon, I'm just kidding."

"What, about being responsible? Or about pawning your responsibilities off on me?" You raised a skeptical eyebrow as he shrugged. "Because we both know it's not the latter."

"Hey, let's not forget that you're here because you didn't wanna take on a responsibility."

"A responsibility you pawned off on me!" You scoffed, and his amused smile only grew, hands stuffed in his pockets as you walked alongside him.

"Why must you be so focused on pointing fingers, Y/N?"

"I'm not pointing fingers, you just--"

"We're here." You skidded to a halt as he cut off your rant at it's beginning, too absorbed in your argument (despite how obviously he was baiting you) to have realized he stopped walking. You raised an eyebrow, turning to face exactly what he was looking at, and while he began walking in without a second thought, you paused a moment, taking it in.

What stood before you was the oldest building you'd seen so far in town, its structure essentially in ruins, ivy crawling up the eroding brick, moss running down it. The only thing that tipped you off to the fact that you weren't being lead to a remote location where no one could hear your screams was a small metal sign above a descending staircase, a single light above the path. By the time the full sight had processed, Philip had since reached the staircase and was watching your reaction with an eyebrow raised, a soft smile gracing his lips.

"You coming?"

You exhaled. "See, I'm not trying to make any accusations, but all I'm saying is that if I were to murder someone in this town, this would be the place for it."

You followed him, though, as he grinned at your hesitance, and what you found at the bottom of the staircase was far from what you'd expected. You entered behind Philip into a sleek but old-fashioned bar, somehow teetering on the line between an antiquated tavern and a nightclub. Your eyes were wide as you scanned the place, empty at the moment, save one person standing behind the bar, wiping down glasses. The chairs were up on the tables, the televisions were shut down -- you assumed Philip hadn't brought you there for drinks, but instead for the handsome stranger who had just caught Philip's eye with a growing grin.

"Philip Hamilton?" he called out the moment the door shut behind us, his disbelieving smile echoed in Philip's reaction. "Never thought I'd see the day. Thought you'd abandoned us all for city living by now."

Philip let out a huff of laughter as he reached the counter, pulling the man in for a hug over the bar. "Whatever, man. I don't wanna hear it." He pulled back with a skeptical look in his eye, holding him by the forearms. "It's been two years since I've been home, but I've never gone three damn months without seeing you since college."

"Touché. It's good to have you back." With that, though, the man's gaze flickered over to you, eyeing your form with an eyebrow raised, a small but triumphant smile. "But you've still managed to keep your lady from me ever since you and her got together. Afraid I was gonna steal her?"

"More afraid she'd meet my friends and immediately run for the hills," Philip snorted, causing the other man to shove him lightly from across the counter.

"Anyway, I take it you're Y/N?" He seemed to be ignoring Philip's jab at him in favor of redirecting the conversation from him.

"That'd be me," you said as you went to join Philip, smile wary and your hands tucked in your pockets.

When you reached the bar, he narrowed his eyes, leaning down to eye you skeptically. "Tell me, how much is Philip paying you? Hm?" Your eyebrows shot up, and he continued, "I mean, we both know he has the money to be battin' above his league, but I didn't think he'd be willing to fork over that much just for a weekend."

While his manner had you hesitant at first, his words made you laugh. If this was what Philip's friends were like, the weekend might go by quicker than you'd expected.

"This is actually pro bono," you sighed, raising your eyebrows as though you were confiding in him. "I've always been a bit of a philanthropist, so I took pity and decided to help out the less fortunate--" You gave Philip a pointed look, though he just rolled his eyes. His entertained smile betrayed his feigned annoyance. "--for a few days."

"You really are a saint."

"I consider myself more of a martyr." While his friend laughed, Philip raised an eyebrow at you, expression toeing the line between amused and exasperated. You extended your hand. "It's great to meet you, though, um..."

"Georges Lafayette," he supplied, shaking your hand. "I'm an old friend."

"Ahh, so that's you," you folded your arms, smile growing. You stole a glance to your right, and Philip was busy feigning shock that you'd actually listened to his friends-and-family crash course. When he met your gaze, you rolled your eyes. "Philip speaks fondly of you, regardless of how he may speak to you." There was a teasing lilt to the tail end of your sentence, and while Philip scoffed, Georges cracked a grin.

"Hope he's been doing me justice." He sent you a wink as he went back to wiping down the rims of the glasses that sat before him, pulling them from the dishwasher and shelving them. "Knowing him, I'm betting it's nothing compared to how he talks about you, though. Ever since you joined his office, it's been nonstop."

"Oh, really?" You raised an eyebrow at Philip, but he didn't meet your eyes as he took a seat next to you at the bar.

"You'd better bet. You've become something of a household name these past few years."

"Should that worry me?" you teased, electing to sit as well. You hopped up onto the barstool.

"Not this time." He chuckled, nudging Philip where he sat, leaning forward on the bar. "Worried me at the start of the whole thing. I figured he'd immediately fucked this up." He motioned between the two of you. "By the time you got together, I'd already found him three eligible rebounds."

"Aww, babe." You plastered on a teasingly contrived pout, turning to rest a hand on Philip's knee, meeting his unimpressed gaze. "Maybe if you hadn't spent three years pawning your responsibilities off on me, I would've been more receptive to your total lack of tact."

Georges laughed, and you grinned unabashedly as Philip let out a huff devoid of annoyance. "Oh, c'mon; let's not pretend I was the tactless one." The corner of his lips twitched as you raised an eyebrow.

"Excuse me?"

"Really, now, be honest." You hadn't the slightest clue where this was going, and Philip looked increasingly satisfied with your expression. "You were the one always yelling at me for leaving early, chewing me out for showing up late, finding excuses to come talk to me--"

"We work together," you interjected, unimpressed. Your words didn't seem to hinder his monologue.

"Now that I think about it, is that why you always looked so agitated when Theo came around?" He raised an eyebrow, looking thoroughly pleased, and you ignored the heat creeping up the back of your neck. You chalked it up to annoyance. “I’ve gotta say, jealousy actually is a good look on you.”

"Whatever," you scoffed. "I had to come to talk to you about the projects I was working on because they were the ones you pawned off onto me. And you know Theo has been obnoxious since day one."

He laughed, disregarding your vexation. "I mean, yeah, but she brings me coffee."

You narrowed your eyes, genuinely in disbelief. "Is the fact that you're just using her for coffee supposed to make me feel better?"

"Of course." He shrugged, as though it was obvious, and you caught Georges's amused expression out of the corner of your eye. Philip winked. "You know I've only got eyes for you, princess." You groaned, turning away from him in your chair, not wanting to look at the satisfaction you caught dancing in his eyes. You didn't like how consoled you felt.

You turned to Georges, deadpan. "Has he always been this unbearable? Or did that develop after the manipulative streak kicked in?"

"In our Philip? What manipulative streak?" He furrowed his brow in contrived disbelief. The two men shared a look, their smiles mirroring one another. "But if you wanna know if he's always been this tactful, then for sure."

It appeared Georges had decided to take Philip's side on this one. You groaned internally. "Don't you start now!"

"Sorry, Y/N, Philip claimed my loyalty years ago. You're on your own."

You pinned the pair of them with an accusatory stare, a smile playing on your lips nonetheless. You didn't love that it was turned against you, but you couldn't help but find their rapport entertaining. "You two are insufferable, you know that?"

"We've heard." Georges shrugged.

"Usually from each other," Philip chimed in.

"Or your siblings." Georges glanced at Philip. Neither of them was addressing you anymore.

"Or your ladies," Philip shot back, "Usually your exes by the time we heard it."

"We were always a little hard of hearing, huh?"

"Always. Think we heard that one from Emilie, though." Philip raised his eyebrows, gaze playful. You could only assume that was one of Georges's exes. He huffed.

"You leave my wife outta this!" Indignant was the only word you could use to describe his expression, and Philip snickered as he ducked away from the rag Georges had tried to hit him with.

"You're still lucky she took you back after that."

"She loved me too much not to." He looked smug with that, but his voice had softened. "Anyway, it's your girl we're talking about this time, so you'd better tread carefully. Right, Y/N?" He looked over at you, an eyebrow raised, obviously expecting you to jump on the chance to tease Philip. You folded your arms.

"Oh, so now you're on my side?"

Philip grinned, obviously pleased with your response, whereas Georges groaned. "Hey, I'm tryna balance the scales back out, alright? Didn't wanna let Philip get too cocky, but it looks like you let that one happen anyway."

"Don't you blame me!" You jabbed your finger at him, eyes narrowed. "You took his side first; I didn't take his side at all!"

"Sure seems like you're on his side now." Georges raised his eyebrows at Philip, who looked positively smug.

"I'm against you now. This isn't about him."

He laughed. "Tough. Looks like your girl's already cutting you out, Pip."

Philip's face fell as he grumbled, "Don't call me--"

"You call him Pip?" You hoped your expression came off as endeared. Blatantly finding ways to antagonize him didn't seem like it would've fit your role. "That's adorable!"

"Y/N." His tone was warning. Your grin didn't falter.

"Oh, can I steal that?"

"All yours."

You let out a soft aww, a hand held to your heart, and put your other hand on Georges's forearm. "I can't thank you enough."

Philip stood with a huff, seemingly having had enough of you two. You raised an eyebrow -- were you leaving already? "I'm gonna run to the bathroom," he said, annoyed gaze never breaking from Georges's. "Don't cause too much trouble while I'm gone."

"I dunno, Pip; I was never the responsible one." Georges shrugged innocently, and Philip couldn't seem to help his amusement at his antics. "Do my best, though."

"Can't thank you enough," Philip mocked you to Georges as he turned, walking off toward the back.

Georges called after him, "You're welcome!"

Philip didn't respond, but Georges seemed more amused given that. He turned to you with a grin, leaning on the bar.

"So, Y/N." You raised an eyebrow. "I need to hear more about you; Philip's been holding out on us all these years. Took the entire family to even convince him to bring you home to meet us."

"Then I guess I shouldn't mention how long it took him to convince me to come here, huh?" The words were truer than he knew; however, he interpreted them very differently from the truth. You raised a playful eyebrow, and he laughed.

"That's tough."

"You asked."

"Sort of," he corrected you, brow furrowed, and you grinned.

"No, but really," you started, deciding to actually explain yourself. "We've just been busy, couldn't find a time to get down here together."

"Oh yeah? Been getting a little too busy down in NYC?" He raised his eyebrows suggestively, and you rolled your eyes with a huff.

"You know I didn't mean it like that!" You swatted at his arm, coaxing a laugh from him. "Our schedules just didn't line up. We never had the same weeks or weekends free to get out of the city."

"So this is your first time traveling together?"

"Guess so."

"Try not to kill him before the weekend's up." He winked. You kept quiet; Georges didn't need to know quite how high the odds of that happening really were. "But really, enough about him. Where are you from? Where'd you go to school? When are you and Philip getting married?"

You ignored the last question altogether, knowing that reacting to it one way or another would only encourage him. "I'm from the west coast. I was born just outside of LA, moved later on to Chicago, and then came to New York City for college."

"Yeah? What made you choose NYC?"

"My ex, actually."

"Oh, really?" He looked surprised at that tidbit of information, and you tried to just shrug it off. "Must've been pretty serious then, huh?"

"It was." He noticed how quiet you went at that, and he didn't press the point, deciding instead to change the subject.

"So Philip must've been a pretty good rebound?" He nudged you, wiggling his eyebrows, and you couldn't help but laugh.

"He..." You paused, considering how you were supposed to respond to that. "He's definitely exceeded expectations, to be perfectly honest."

"Hmm, I dunno how good that sounds, Y/N." He raised a skeptical eyebrow, small smile playing at his lips. "How low, exactly, were your expectations?"

You pursed your lips, but your amusement betrayed you. You hadn't expected to be called out on the truth behind your statement. Your gaze dropped to the bar before you, and you drummed your fingers on the varnished wood. You shrugged. "Not that low."

He let out a snort of laughter. "What an absolutely glowing review. I'll be sure to let him know."

"Hey, don't you betray me like this!"

"I've made it clear where my loyalties lie." He held up his hands in mock surrender. "In all seriousness, though, why were your expectations so low?"

Again, you were unsure of how much to reveal. "Let's just say that Philip isn't much for first impressions."

"Really?" His surprise appeared genuine, before he tilted his head to the side, considering it, and shrugged. "I guess, with you, that shouldn't surprise me."

"What's that supposed to mean?" You folded your arms, needing more information before you could decide whether you were offended. He saw your furrowed brow and grinned.

"I don't mean that as a bad thing. Honest." He paused, considering himself, and you raised an eyebrow, prompting him to continue. He leaned onto the bar, and he spoke matter-of-factly, beginning to explain. "So, Philip's always been good with people. And he's definitely never had any problems with girls. He was in and out of casual relationships all through high school and college just for the hell of it."

Your eyebrows shot up. "Really?" The disbelief in your voice was blatant, and he cracked a smile.

"Yeah, he actually did have some tact, once upon a time. Was a charming kid; I never could figure out how he did it." He shook his head, amusement in his eyes. "But... well, when something matters to him -- or someone -- he goes looking for advice, and everyone else's input just ends up shaking him up. Think I mighta given him advice about you once or twice, so I guess you have me to thank for that."

For a moment, you were stunned. You swallowed, trying not to get too caught up in your head with the information he’d shared, but given its nature, it was hard not to overthink. You tried to match his lighthearted expression. "And what advice would you have given him?"

"Well, five years ago..." He squinted ever-so-slightly as he considered your question. A silent laugh slowly etched itself into his features. "Y'know what, it doesn't matter. Just trust me when I tell you, it was bad advice."

"Georges!"

"Seriously, you don't wanna know." You glared at him, leaning onto the bar where you sat. "I'm sorry to leave you hangin', but I promise, telling you helps no one."

You huffed as you slumped back in your seat. "Are you that bad at relationship advice?"

"Worse than what you're imagining," he assured you, and you shook your head, exasperated.

"How in the world are you married?" The question was a joke, but despite his chuckle, his answer wasn't.

"I think some things are just meant to happen." You raised an eyebrow. He shrugged, wearing a small smile. "Seriously, I was an absolute fool in college -- and I mean that -- but no matter how many times I fucked up with Emilie, she always ended up back in my life. It was usually just coincidence. We were taking the same classes; we had the same advisor; we were on the same subway through town; our dorm rooms were right across from each other.

"And honestly? She kinda hated me at some point, but we kept being thrown together, and we got to know each other pretty well. Call me crazy, but it felt like fate." The distant look in his eyes shifted to something akin to entertainment, after that. "Similar thing happened with Philip, actually."

"Really? When?" You were genuinely invested by that point.

"Junior year of high school." He nodded to himself, thinking back with a grin. "Yeah, that was a hell of a time. Like, one week in, Philip and I had this huge fight. Don't even remember what it was about, but it had us really heated."

"Honestly, I can't imagine you two fighting," you said, and he gave a shrug, his smile agreeable.

"Nah, not anymore, not like that, but we were teenagers," he said, as though that entirely explained it. "But I was only supposed to have one class with him that year, so he tried to switch out of it to get away from me. They ended up having to remake his schedule so he was in every other class with me. Poor kid couldn't escape it, but if it wasn't for some underpaid high-school administrator, we probably wouldn't be friends."

"Sounds like you have a lot of luck," you said, and he grinned.

"That's just it, though." He pinned you with a thoughtful look. "Was it luck, or was it just meant to turn out that way?"

You considered it for a moment. His stories did sound like the longest odds imaginable, but when you thought about your own life, you couldn't help but hope he was delusional. You'd had more than your fair share of bad luck in your life, and once upon a time, it had driven away almost everything you cared about. You didn't like to think that your misery could just have been some cruel twist of fate.

You opened your mouth to respond, uncertain, but Philip had apparently chosen that moment to re-emerge, inadvertently cutting you off.

"Speak of the devil!" Georges called out, his grin wide, and Philip eyed you both skeptically.

"You two are still talking about me?"

Georges glanced at you, and you told him, "I'm hearing all about your high school years."

Philip groaned. "Oh, c'mon man, what are you telling her?"

"We just covered your junior-year mullet and your fez-wearing phase," he informed him, meeting your eyes with a playful smile. "I was just about to fill her in on when you joined the bowling team in our senior year, but--"

"Alright, that's enough outta you." Georges shot you a conspiratory wink as Philip cut him off, though neither you nor Philip could hide your amusement. He, however, tried to play it off as annoyance. "Sounds like we're gonna need to get out of here before you get to the highlights of college."

"Aw, but Pip, I'm learning so much," you pouted, and he looked mildly exasperated as he met your eyes.

"That's what concerns me." Georges laughed while you groaned, and Philip's smile reappeared as he took a seat to your right.

"Then just wait'll I tell her about middle school."

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

The rest of your evening was a whirlwind. Having grown up with only an older brother, you hadn't realized quite how many six siblings were -- that changed quickly. You really couldn't believe Angelica had managed to grow up with five brothers without losing her mind. Family dinner stretched on into the night, chaotic to the brink of your comfort zone. You found yourself enjoying it much more than you'd expected to, however. The Hamiltons were as lively as they were numerous, and you couldn't help but laugh along.

"But you were the one who got the room alone!" It took an hour or two, but you'd gotten Philip's siblings' names down. That was James, the younger high-schooler, yelling across the table at Angelica, who made a face.

"I was a seventeen-year-old girl! I couldn't keep sharing a room with my younger brothers!" she shot back, "You scared away three of my boyfriends! Three!"

"You never had to bring them up to our room, but you wanted some alone time with them." It was John, the eleven-year-old, who chimed in this time, making kissy sounds at Angelica who just mocked him.

"I had a right to some privacy!" she shot back. You didn't remember how they'd wandered down this line of discussion, but it seemed to be an impassioned one. Alex Jr. scoffed loudly.

"Hey, I'm seventeen, and I don't have my own room," he interjected, glaring down the table at their dad. "This is a double standard!"

"We have a toddler in the house; grow up," Alex Sr. sighed, which only seemed to further upset Alex Jr.

"Hey, William was Eliza's age when Ang was my age! That's not fair!"

"It doesn't matter; you aren't getting any girls anyway." The sneer came from John.

"Hey, I'm getting plenty--"

"Oh, yeah? Where are they?"

"I haven't brought them home because you can't seem to--"

"Boys! Relax!" Eliza did her best to quell the growing argument, but it seemed to be to little avail. Alex put a hand on her shoulder with a suppressed laugh as she huffed, clearly exasperated.

"Don't make this about me! I'm an incredible roommate!"

"Have you seen our bathroom lately?"

"Come on," Angelica groaned, her annoyance getting lost in the growing cacophony. John was shouting now, leaning over the table at his brother, and you jumped in your seat when James yelled back, deciding it was now his place to join the conversation.

You didn't realize you had grabbed Philip's forearm in your startled fit until he broke your train of thought.

"Alright, princess?"

Your head whipped toward him, surprised to see him leaning in to talk to you, and he looked thoroughly amused by your reaction. You released his arm from your grasp, giving him a sheepish smile. "Your family really is something."

"Believe me now that I was the easy child?" he asked, and you let out a snort of laughter, gaze falling back to his family.

"There is absolutely no doubt in my mind that you were like this ten years ago."

"Hurtful," he scoffed, mocking offense, and you just shrugged, smile growing.

"They had to learn it somewhere."

"It was all Angelica."

"I'm sure."

The woman in question broke the wall of noise at almost exactly that moment, raising her head from her hands. "This is exactly why I needed my own room!" That just turned the younger boys into a united front against her, and she looked to Philip with a sigh. "I'm starting to understand why you waited so long to bring Y/N home."

"No idea what you could be referring to. They're so charismatic!" Philip shrugged, plastering on over-exaggerated confusion, seemingly just to get a rise out of his sister. She rolled her eyes with a groan; it appeared to be working. She turned to you.

"Please don't run for the hills just because our younger brothers are absolute monsters," she said, gaze pleading as she reached for your hand. You smiled, amused despite yourself. "We really need some sanity in this family. I can't take family dinners being just me with six boys."

"Aw, Angie, are you saying I'm not one of the absolute monsters?" Philip interjected with a pout. "I'm touched, really."

You and Angelica both rolled your eyes at his antics. It was then that you decided you liked her.

You leaned over the table toward where her hand was desperately clutching yours. "You've got me for the rest of the weekend, but I'm not sure I can promise more."

She groaned exaggeratedly, and Philip nudged you lightly in the side, grinning mischievously. "What, don't you love my family so far?"

His words were teasing, but your soft smile as you looked back at the people surrounding him was anything but. "I do, actually."

When you met his eyes again, his gaze was softer, grin less pronounced. "Good."

The table had slowly grown quieter throughout your interaction, and it seemed you'd held Philip's gaze for just a moment too long, and you turned to see the entire family watching the two of you. You felt your face heat up, took a sip of your water. From then, there was silence, until a grinning William decided to break it.

He'd been quiet for the majority of the meal, so it surprised you when he turned to you, eyes shining. "So, Y/N," he addressed you, tone businesslike.

"I think we've spent enough time questioning Y/N already," Philip interjected before he could continue, resting a near-protective hand on your arm. You cast him a grateful look.

"C'mon, humor him," James said, his grin matching William's. "It's hardly eight; we have plenty of time."

"We started dinner at five." Philip sounded unamused.

"We haven't spent that whole time interrogating her," he defended, and Philip gave him a pointed look. James turned to you. "Right, Y/N?"

While you sighed playfully, playing up your exasperation, you really didn't mind it. You'd never had a family like this before. "I suppose not."

"Anyway," William interjected, looking as stern as a seven-year-old could. You pursed your lips, fighting back a laugh as you folded your hands and leaned toward him, mirroring his expression. "Y/N."

"William." You did your best to imitate his tone.

"When are you and Pip going to have a baby?"

Your eyes widened immediately, and your mouth fell open in shock, if only for a moment. Philip groaned beside you, leaning back in his chair, and you could hear his parents laughing at the end of the table. Some of his siblings looked exasperated; others waited eagerly for your answer.

"Well, um..." You trailed off as you glanced at Philip desperately, hoping he'd shut his family down so you didn't have to. He hadn't yet seemed to have recovered. Your face was burning as you tried to continue. "We aren't married, so not anytime soon, but--"

"When are you getting married?" William pressed, seemingly unaffected by everyone's reactions to his words. You leaned forward, had to take a sip of your drink to hide your surprised laugh.

"Sorry to say it, but right now, we don't know that we are getting married, so I'll have to get back to you on that question." You gave him an apologetic smile before you looked back at Philip, eyes wide. This was territory you didn't think you'd have to cover. He just shook his head and mouthed, 'I'm sorry.' He appeared wholly exhausted.

"Surely you've talked about it before, though, haven't you?" It was the older Alex who chimed in that time, hesitant. Eliza gave him a look. "I mean, getting married, having kids and all that. You've been together for two years; you must have considered it at some point."

"Pops," Philip said through gritted teeth, the word carrying an unsaid warning.

"What? I'm just curious," he defended, despite Eliza swatting his shoulder. He raised his hands in mock surrender as he glanced at her, eyes wide. "If you haven't, it's fine. I don't mean to rush you kids into anything, but I just wanted to know."

By then, though she sighed, you could see Eliza looking at the two of you hopefully. The whole table fell silent, expecting an answer you didn't have. "It's just... not something we've taken into consideration at this point. We aren't really set on making decisions about that anytime soon."

"Do you want kids, though?" Angelica asked you, and Philip sighed. Like you, he'd hoped the topic would fall away after your weak explanation. You hesitated, not sure whether giving them a legitimate answer would only egg them on. Ultimately, you shrugged.

"I mean, personally? Yeah, probably at some point," you offered, playing nervously with the edge of your napkin. You didn't want to look at Philip. "The whole 'settling down and starting a family' thing is something I've kind of always pictured"

"Is it more appealing now that you see how great having a big family is for us?" Alex Jr. asked, words saturated with sarcasm. You laughed as he grinned exaggeratedly, gesturing to everyone down the table.

"I know you're joking and all, but I really wouldn't mind this being my day-by-day."

"Really?" Philip chose that moment to finally interject, an eyebrow raised, and you nodded, feeling suddenly defensive.

"I mean, yeah." You shrugged, shoulders tense. "What, wouldn't you?"

"I would.” His lips quirked as he sat forward in his chair once again. “But, honestly, I didn’t think this was your style.”

"I'm not totally set on anything, but..." You didn't elaborate further. Confessing to him the future you wanted had you feeling uncomfortably vulnerable. His smile was soft as he faintly nodded, eyes crinkling at the corners.

There was a pregnant pause before Alex Sr. spoke.

"I guess now you've talked about it."

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

Dinner ended much later than it needed to, and afterward, they just herded you into their living room. It seemed that now since they all had you in front of them, they were going to take advantage of the opportunity to ask you anything and everything about yourself and your love life (with a focus on Philip, of course). You did your best to field the seemingly endless barrage of questions, and though it took you a while, you finally figured out how to deflect the more uncomfortable ones onto Philip. It wasn't until you yawned -- rather loudly, too -- that the conversation reached any sort of stopping point.

"Tired, princess?" Philip wrapped an arm around your waist, lightly squeezing your side, and you sighed, not having enough energy to push back on the pet name.

"Little bit," you mumbled, a weary smile still adorning your lips. He chuckled, and you couldn't help but lean into his embrace, feeling more drained than anything, and rested your head on his shoulder.

"You two should head up and get some sleep," Eliza said. The look in her eyes as you met her gaze was affectionate. You didn't notice your smile growing.

"I second that. You look exhausted, Y/N," Alex added, looking to you and Philip sympathetically.

You chuckled at that, and you couldn't help the lazy sarcasm that leaked into your voice as you responded, "Thanks, Mr. Hamilton; glad to hear it."

"Alex," he corrected you, his smile kind. He didn't seem to take any offense at your tone; instead, amusement danced in his eyes, and you nodded, matching his expression.

"Alex."

You couldn't decide whether the warm feeling in your chest as you bid everyone goodnight, letting Philip lead you to the stairs, was the result of your fatigue, the merlot Eliza had offered you around seven (and then three more times in the hours that followed), or if it just came from being around his family. It had to be some combination of the three, but you had a sneaking suspicion it leaned mainly toward the latter.

The two of you walked in easy silence, you still reminiscing on everything that had happened that day, everyone you'd met, and you didn't notice Philip watching you as you hung onto the railing to your left. You weren't in any sort of headspace for vigilant observation. Instead, you were fixated fondly on his family. It was never an environment you'd been in, so rowdy and energetic, but tender and caring all the while. You'd been dreading this weekend -- seriously, you spent about an hour on the drive down drowning out Philip's soliloquy, spaced out and wondering whether it was too late to just turn around and dump him off on the side of the road. (Patsy wouldn't have even questioned it when you arrived home.) The past however-many-hours, though, almost since you'd just woken up, had you questioning a number of assumptions you'd made, and not just about the family reunion.

You stumbled over one of the last stairs as you lost yourself in your train of thought. Your eyes snapped wide open; your grip on the railing tightened. Just as you felt yourself beginning to tip backward, you found yourself in Philip's arms, his grip on your waist steadying you as he looked down at you, amused.

"You alright?" The air hadn't yet returned to your lungs; your pseudo-crisis must have begun and ended in under a second, and you stared up at him blankly. You blinked, just beginning to process your surroundings.

Catching your breath was more of a struggle than it should've been, however. All you could discern was the feeling of his fingertips pressing into your skin, the feeling of his breath on your neck as he looked down at you. You weren't even that close together, but clinging to his arms for what seemed like dear life had you feeling mildly defenseless. You couldn't miss the growing concern in his eyes.

"Yeah," you breathed as you realized you'd let the silence stretch on too long, long enough for Philip to question it. Being tired (and gravitating toward wine-tipsy) must have just heightened the panic in your system, must have slowed your reaction time. Another beat passed, and you finally pulled yourself upright, taking a deep breath as you continued up the last couple of stairs and down the hallway. Philip's concern didn't dissipate as he came up after you, but your mind was elsewhere.

You had to promise yourself to keep from drinking the next day, feeling exasperated with yourself as you couldn't seem to collect your thoughts. He caught up to you as you entered his room, and pulled the door shut behind him with an eyebrow raised. You didn't see him watching you, a silent question in his gaze, as you dragged yourself over to your suitcase.

You turned around after pulling your pajamas out and froze when you met his eyes. "What?"

He pursed his lips. "You sure you're okay?"

"Of course," you reassured him, giving a weary smile. "I'm just tired; don't worry."

You didn't let yourself ponder any longer, and though you could see your answer hadn't quite appeased him, you ignored it. The room was quiet as you both picked through your suitcases, brushed past each other entering and exiting the bathroom. You were both more than ready to get some sleep.

Just before you were about to climb into bed, you paused, unable to help your drifting gaze. Philip was still in the adjacent bathroom, brushing his teeth, and you glanced back at him. Considering the circumstances, briefly vetting his room felt like fair game.

Your eyes scanned the walls, noting the different posters he still had hung up, appearing to all be from different times in his life -- some were much more worn than others, and you couldn't imagine he'd been anxiously awaiting the new Scooby-Doo movie anytime recently. You wandered over to the desk, the corners of your mouth twitching up into a small smile as you noticed the books and pictures stacked high on the surface. Your fingertips brushed against one photo, and your gaze fell to it, seeing Philip and three other people all in party hats, their celebration frozen in time.

You could hear his footsteps stall behind you as you poked into his belongings, but it didn't discourage you.

"When's this from?" you asked, turning to him with the polaroid you'd uncovered. He chuckled as he walked over, plucking the picture from your hand.

"Eighteenth birthday party," he said, eyes crinkling at the corners as he eyed the photograph. He turned his gaze back to you with a small smile. "You're actually gonna meet all the people in this photo this weekend, assuming they all show up."

You raised an eyebrow, stifling a yawn as you took a seat on the perfectly made bed a few feet in front of him. "What, couldn't get anyone but family to celebrate your eighteenth with you?"

"Hardly." He hummed, ignoring the aim behind the insult. "My dad lost most of his family when he was young, though, so while you'll meet all of Mom's family this weekend, Pop's is all just his friends who he's adopted into the family, and then their families. These three are his friends' kids who I grew up with," he said, motioning again to the photograph.

"That's sweet," you said softly, pushing yourself further up the bed, hugging your knees to your chest.

"Hmm?"

"That your dad chose this entirely new family, I mean." He shrugged, walking over to join you on the bed.

"Yeah, I guess so," he said, "Never really thought much of it, I guess." He paused, eyeing you with a raised eyebrow where you sat. "What's your family like? You don't talk about them much."

You pursed your lips. "Small."

"Yeah?" He took a seat next to you after pulling himself onto the bed. Your skin jumped as the outside of his thigh rested against yours, his hip less than an inch away, and you could feel his body heat radiating off of him. You nodded, swallowing hard as a soft smile grew on your lips.

"Just me, my parents and my brother."

"That's it?" He looked surprised at your explanation, and you just shrugged. "What about cousins, grandparents, aunts, uncles?"

"Two aunts, no grandparents, no cousins."

"Really," he sighed, seemingly still in disbelief. A teasing grin worked its way onto his face as he elbowed you lightly. "So I won't be going to any family reunions in the L/N household anytime soon, then, huh?"

You laughed despite yourself. "Doesn't look like it. The closest we ever get is when my brother and I are together in NYC and Mom and Dad drive up to meet us for a couple days. Not much of a production."

"Sounds nice, though." His grin had grown by then as he looked over at you, leaning back to meet you where you sat. By then, he was sitting angled toward you with his legs crossed, reclining back on his hands. You shifted, and the hand behind you brushed against his. "Next time the L/Ns get together in New York, though, I'd better be invited. Quid pro quo, princess."

"Oh, of course," you replied jokingly, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Might be a little quieter than what you're used to, though."

He rolled his eyes. "At least you're letting me know ahead of time." You shifted to turn yourself toward him, again finding him only inches from you. He looked as surprised as you did, but neither of you moved, and he continued, tone light. "Speaking of, sorry for not warning you about how... chaotic my family gets. It's been a while since I've been with them all at once, and I forgot to consider that this isn't how everyone's families work."

You chuckled, your smile growing. "No, don't apologize. They're sweet."

"Not the word that comes to mind." He pursed his lips, looking down at you skeptically. You rolled your eyes, but he couldn't have missed the mirth in your expression. "Then again, considering that, it's no wonder you get along with them."

Your jaw dropped in mock outrage. "What's that supposed to mean?!"

He shrugged, feigning innocence despite his smirk. "Nothing much. Just that I'm glad you feel at home with my family."

You huffed out a laugh, pulling yourself up to jab a finger in his chest. "Now don't you dare even pretend that wasn't an insult!"

"I don't know what you're talking about." His grin didn't waver.

"Oh, don't play dumb," you scoffed. You both knew the fury in your voice was contrived, and his amusement seemed to grow. "We both know what you meant."

"Oh, yeah?" He pushed back on you, leaning in against your hand, an eyebrow raised. "What'd I mean, princess?"

"I said don't pretend," you warned him. He was looking increasingly smug the more indignant you became, and you narrowed your eyes.

"Who said I was?

"I'm not stupid." You raised your eyebrows.

"'Course not." He mocked your expression. "So you must already know I would never mean anything other than praise by that, huh?"

You rolled your eyes with a groan, having had about enough, despite the smile you were failing to stifle. He laughed, and you reached out to shove him away by the chest, but just as you did, he tried to grab your wrist, eyebrows raised.

He was too late.

As he grabbed your wrist, you couldn't pull back to where you were sitting, and your eyes widened as you lost your balance. Your momentum turned what would've hardly tipped him over into a much more forceful push, and you sent him falling backward, his legs unfolding as he tried to catch himself, with you, in turn, collapsing forward with a yelp. You ended up on top of him, one hand still held to his chest, the other beside his head, and you knelt straddling his waist. Both of you had wide eyes as you realized the position you were in, nose-to-nose, and your breath caught in the back of your throat.

He was the first to speak, eyes shining, his voice low. "Y'know, this wasn't quite what I had in mind when I asked you to come home with me for the weekend."

However, you were still stunned into silence, hyper-aware of any movement either of you made. You had to focus on your breathing in an effort to calm your pounding heart. (With your hand on his chest, you could tell you weren't the only one.)

You felt your hair brushing against your cheek as it fell forward, draped beside your head over Philip. It must have been subconscious when you found yourself leaning in further yet, must have been instinct based on the situation. Nonetheless, when you did, the side of your nose brushed against his, and you felt his heartbeat quicken, saw his eyes widen.

You paused when you must have been less than an inch above him.

"Y/N," he murmured, voice cautious as his free hand found its way up to your waist. You stalled, though, for another moment, shivering when you felt his breath fan across your lips. He was all but immobile beneath you, too apprehensive to make any move one way or another.

The anticipation in his eyes only heightened with each passing second.

It was then that you pushed yourself off of him, blinking hard, and you couldn't decide whether you had lost your nerve or regained your sense. You swallowed, took a deep breath. "Sorry, I... I didn't mean to, um--" You cut yourself off. What in the world were you thinking? The question arose in your mind desperately as you scrambled further back, further from him. Your face was burning. "I wasn't--"

"You're ok," he said softly, giving you a reassuring (yet, slightly worried) smile. You didn't meet his gaze. "It was a mistake." You were so lost in your own train of thought that you didn't notice when Philip finally stood, walked to the empty side of the bed to join you.

"We should get some sleep," he said, turning on the lamp beside him, and you nodded. The past few minutes had you spiraling. All his actions were hesitant; had you scared him? You didn't mean to end up in that position. He knew it was just a mishap, right? Did you know that it was?

He stood briefly to hit the light, and you crawled under one side of the covers. After a moment, he joined you. Neither of you knew quite what to say next.

"G'night, princess," he finally murmured, voice as wary as it was soft as you curled into the sheets, and he pulled them over himself alongside you. You closed your eyes in an effort to forget that you were still facing him, shifted over to give him space. Your calf brushed against his knee, but you didn't pull away.

When you heard the lamp turn off, you finally spoke again. "Night, Pip."

The room was completely silent after that, but neither of you was at rest. You lay with your eyes tightly shut, your thoughts running a mile a minute as you willed yourself to stop replaying one specific moment on a loop.

You didn't realize your brow was furrowed, but Philip did, watching you for just a moment longer with smiling eyes.

The bed was just a little bit warmer that night.

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kendrixtermina · 3 years ago

Text

On the great selfishness of forced “reconcilliation”or, what’s in it for me? (A Thinkpiece)

It’s very clear and easy to see what he would get out of it: A great relief to his ego, self-image and pride. A feeling of attaining his goal. He’d no longer have to explain to himself or anyone why his daughter isn’t speaking to him. He would be more comform with the image and values he wants to attain. He would have piece of mind.

I’m even gonna be generous and grant that he would feel happy about the connection and being able to show his love, though I personally don’t buy it.

But what do I get?

A common retort here tends to be that I’d get “peace of mind”, and I grant that this can be true for a person who hates conflict and feels distres from disharmony, but I am really quite comfortable with some conflict. I don’t care to be friends with everyone. I get that not everyone will like me, and I’m fine with that.

It’s actually rather arrogant for someone to inflate their own importance to the point that they think your mentsal wholeness, hapiness and peace of mind depends wholly on themselves - like all your other relationships, your job, your hobbies and any self-improvement efforts you might be doing don’t matter at all. It’s jarring that anyone would think claiming that would make you forgive them, especially if your initial complaint was that they are arrogant and treated you as an extension of themselves rather than a whole person. They’re claiming that they changed and in the same breath showing that they still think your life revolves around them, that they get to have the relationship by default without ever having to build it.

And even such a person for whom forgiveness would bring piece of mind could just forgive the person in the quiet of their own heat for their own betterment without reestablishing relations. They wouldn’t be keeping to themselves because of a grudge, but simply because there is no good reason to connect.

Do you need a reason?

Well, if you didn’t, then you would have to connect to every single person who has not given you reason to loathe them. That’s impossible.

Consider that there are seven billion human beings on this planet. Most of them I will never meet. I couldn’t be friends with all of them even if I wanted. We all have limited time and energy. So, I have to pick some.

And to pick all the ones who just happen to be nearby seems like leaving a very important part of your life up to randomness. Your social contacts, after all, influence what values ideas you’re exposed to and what kind of support is available to you, and what experiences and energies you invite into your life.

It makes sense to first consider your family: They’re already nearby, you get to know them very well by virtue of living together, they’re biologically programmed to get attached to you, and they are likely to have things in common with you.

So if you know nothing else, it makes good sense to assume that a family member is a good candidate for a social contact.

But there are also family members who are NOT good choices for company. I think most of us can agree to this as a principle at least for extreme cases like rape.

So, it’s rather like this: A family member is a good candidate for social contact unless proven otherwise.

If we were like god who can be everywhere at once and needs nothing and never gets tired, then maybe we could be friends with everyone who is not an irreedemable sinner, but I am not god.

Any relationship costs time and energy. Yet, this can be very worthwhile, because human relationships also have great benefits.

For a relationship to be worth keeping up, the benefits have to equal or outweigh the work.

In our christianity-influenced culture it is still considered shameful to admit that you “want” something out of a relationship, but really, all of us do - that’s why we start and maintain relationships. Not being aware of that makes us blind.

By ‘benefits’ I don’t just mean shallow things like sex, attention or status. If you are longing for deep, meaningful experiences, that’s your benefit. If you love to give and see others thrive, that’s your benefit.

And I don’t mean that as a clever gotcha or as some cynical assertion that all relationships are inherently transactional, but as an useful mental framework to make oneself aware of the desired end result and check if one’s actions are in accordance with that.

If you want your children to trust you, you can’t judge and humiliate them when it’s convenient because that destroys the trust that keeps them listening to you & sustains the relationship. In the book “7 habits of extraordinaryly efficient people” this is called Production vs. Production Capacity or “The Goose and the Golden Egg”.

And don’t get me wrong, nortmally, there are great benefits to keeping in touch with your parent as an adult:

They typically have more ressources and are more advanced in their careers, so they can help you if you’re in trouble

They might be wiser, more experienced and more mature than you, so they can give you valuable advice

And lastly, you have all the benefits you’d get from any close social bond: Companionship and emotional support. They can listen to your woes, share you joy, you can tell them your thoughts, liven up your everyday life, and they can also introduce you to new ideas and viewpoints, and motivate you to go beyond your comfort zone. What’s more, being with a loved one can give you a feeling of meaning and community all on its own. Just seeing them on its own can make you feel happy, satisfied and meaningful. They don’t even need to do anything. They might be interesting and loveable and just all around enjoyable to be around and fill your heart with warm fondness.

People who have even 1 decent parent should be aware how lucky they are compared to ppl with no parents or two unforgiveable asshat parents. Every time you spend a good time with your parent, think of all the orphans, thrown-out gay kids etc. who don’t have that. Having a nice parent who supports you well into adulthood is a cause for great gratitude.

But now let’s look at an abusive jerk parent.

Could I get material support? No, because it comes with a proce tag of emotional distress. You will be guilt tripped even for the baby wipes that wiped your newborn butt! Super not worth it. If I wanted to pretend to like someone for money, I would just open an onlyFans, it’d be much less stressful

Could I get valuable advice? Is he wise? No. He is a fool. All his opinions are copypasted from rightwing websites. H e was telling us to heard hydroxy last year. Is he mature? He has the maturity of a toddler My 20 year old sister is a hundred times more mature.

Could I get emotional support? No, you have to walk on eggshells around him

Could i share my thoughts? No. he flies into a range if anyone voices any opinion that isn’t to his liking

Could we have fun together? No. He hates my lifestyle and values, and I loathe his. I think his politics are deeply immoral and he probably thinks the same about mine. We have zero interests in common. He only ever mocked my music and interests and tried to force me into sharing his so that I now associate them with bad memories. I would never be friends with such a person normally. I would count to ten so that O don’t waste time having pointless arguments with them on youtube comments. He says people like me are destroying Europe and that we are lazy degenerates. And this is assuming I believe that he didnt mean all the other outrageous things hes since made flimsy pretend apologies for.

Could I relax around him? No. I’m rather efficiently pavlov trained to associate him with pain and humiliation. Speaking to him tires me alot. It would cost me much, much more effort than any other relationship, and much time I could be spending doing useful things or interacting with people that I don’t have bad blood with & that don’t trigger emotional flashbacks with their mere presence

Would I enjoy being near him? No. He has zero traits that I like, value or enjoy. I absolutely do not enjoy being near him. I might have suffered him to touch me as I child because I was told to by my mother whom I trusted, but it was always with fear. He’s also never shown much signs of being interested in me. He would always yell at me if I entered a room and cried and whined about what a burden and a punishment I was. That is, except for making me take courses so he could then brag about having a child that does this & that, ignoring my wishes completely. In effect he brushed my real instincts and personality aside to mold me into his fantasy of having a child prodigy, exerting extreme pressure, and then humiliated and abused me when I remained a perfectly ordinary, non-genius child.

None of the normal reasons for having a social bond is present. There are only downsides for me: I have to shut up, bottle up my feelings, play nice, censure my thoughts etc.

I could see the point of doing that for a boss who pays me money, or to get into a social group that gets me prestige and energy, or maybe to get along with the friends and family of spouse I love and enjoy.

But what do I get here?

I mean, I’m not a child. I get that you sometimes have to play nice to get paid or archieve a cause. But my private relationships in my private life should be pleasurable. It’s where I go to recover from the work where fakery maybe can’t be avoided.

So why, why in the name of god would I ever chose THIS person to spend time with out of all the seven billion humans on earth? Aside from murderesrs, rapists and evil politicians, he’s probably among the worst choices.

Obviously this “reconcilliation” could only benefit him. There is no joy for me, no benefit. It’s purely letting myself be used for his ego like he has always done for the first 20 years of my life. If he was capable of providing the benefits normally associated with having a father, he would have done so already.

Considering that the whole problem was that he used me to fill his needs instead of thinking about my needs like a parent is supposed to, it’s insuit to injury and salt in the wounds.

And if I wanted such benefits, I would have much better odds of getting them by trying to find a mentor, tutor, life coach, therapist, friend etc. who is an older male.

So why would I believe that he is changed if in the next breath he makes such a profoundly, deeply selfish request?

If anything it shows me that he still doesn’t have the capacity to consider things from my PoV and see me as an adult independent human with logic, feelings and will.��

This is not about not wanting to make the effort. No one makes an effort for effort’s sake; They do it because something worthwhile is at the other end.

There is nothing for me to gain here, nothing at all.

I see the point of making an effort to salvage a once good relationship that has gotten sour because of mistakes: The hope is that you can have that good relationship once again, or even a better, more evolved version of it.

But here there was never any good to begin with, and any hypothetical good that come in the future is questionable and dubious from past experience.

If he come then and ask, “Then what is he supposed to do then?” that would just be proof of that same objectifying mindset, that he just need to throw some coins in and out pops a relationship.

You’re just going to have to live with the consequences of your actions, just as I do every day.

Once upon a time when I was younger, I might have said “show real interest in me”, there’s people that know me that you can ask. Heck, I’ve got an internet presence. Nowadays, I do NOT want that. I’ve learned not to let him have any information or acess about me because I’ve seen time and time again that it will just be used as ammunition to clubber me. The benefit of the doubt is fucking gone.

But I have always believed in free will & not putting people into fixed unchangeable categories like, say, “narcissist” that give themselves easily to easy juddgement and fundamental attribution & stigmatize mentally ill people. It’s much more sensible to label behavior.

So in the name ofintellectual integrity, I’m going to try & name something that might lead me to reconsider. Not immediately agree, because that would presuppose that he’s entitled to it somehow. Just think about it.

It’s really pretty simple: Actually change.

When I visit my mother and don’t have to witnesses her getting yelled at, pressured and emotionally blackmailed over the phone, when my younger sisters tell me of all the great quality time theyare spending and how much he listens and cares about their feelings, when he behaves like he understands what he did, maybe then I’ll believe.

But as of now it seems about as unlikely to me as a giant sucker on the backside of Pluto. I can’t prove 100% it isn’t there, but it seems unreasonable to live my life assuming it exists.

99% sure isn’t the same as 100% sure, but both those things are very different from 0%. then again its a pretty common trope of far right rhetorics to act like every degree of uncertainty is the same

#emotional abuse #abuse #forgiveness discourse #child abuse #abusive father #abusive parents #physical abuse

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phantomechospics · 5 years ago

Text

Twist of Fate

Rating: Teen and Up

Fandom: Detective Conan, Magic Kaito

Relationship: Kudou Shinichi X Kuroba Kaito

Tags: Soulmate AU, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, No Smut, Black Org Takedown, Slow Burn, Happy Ending

Language: English

Word Count: 7348

Extra Notes: For my 100th follower @altumvidetur. This has also been posted on AO3, in case of formatting errors.

“Oi, KID. I found you.”

Kaito stiffened at the call of his moniker. He tried to act as natural as possible when he turned to the steely-eyed child glaring up at him. He held onto his police issue hat, as if to check his disguise was still in place, even though he knew it was. “I’m sorry little one, but I’m not sure who you’re talking to? There are no other children here and, as you can see, I am clearly an adult.”

“Yeah, yeah. And I’m the Queen of England.” The boy, Tantei-kun, gave him a very unimpressed look. “Now, either I can go tell Nakamori-keibu that one of his officers has been replaced with a wolf in sheep’s skin—or, you can hand it over.”

Kaito grimaced at the kid’s ultimatum.

Because it wasn’t a gem or stolen good the kid was asking for. It wasn’t even candy or a cup of coffee, which might also be reasonable. No, it was a small two-ounce container of KID’s special concealer mix. He used it for everything from hiding bruises and marks to blending a fake face with his natural skin tone.

And Tantei-kun had taken to accosting him every few months for a new container. If Kaito didn’t prepare the stuff by hand, he would have been out a fortune in make-up costs.

What use did the little detective have for make-up anyway? He was six, for crying out loud! How did KID end up as his black-market make-up dealer?

Kaito sighed at the thought.

No, he knew how this had happened. Or at least when it had happened.

It was the second heist with little Tantei-kun in the ring. The Suzuki Company had put out a challenge to steal the lady of the company’s jewel. KID, of course, answered the call and took the disguise of Mouri Ran in order to remain close enough to pull off the heist and still get away cleanly.

Not as cleanly as he had hoped, since the boy he now knew as Edogawa Conan, Tantei-kun, managed to corner him before he could make his escape. Instead of calling the inspector on him, though, Tantei-kun had asked him a question.

“What’s that stuff on your wrist?” the boy had asked, a field ball caught beneath his foot.

At the question, Kaito had blinked. He had been surprised the boy had even noticed the thin, dry coating that covered his Mark. After having worn it for years, Kaito had managed to blend the paste seamlessly with his skin. Like there was never a Mark to begin with.

“It’s a special concoction that can conceal any mark. It goes on like make-up and dries to the texture and flexibility of skin. It’s water-resistant and lasts for days, so long as you don’t treat it too roughly.” Kaito had held up his arm, ignoring the panicked rush that came with displaying his Marked wrist so easily.

It didn’t matter that it was concealed. It didn’t matter that it couldn’t be traced back to his civilian self. It didn’t matter that his civilian self had been ‘Markless’ for years by this point. The knowledge of what lay underneath the thin veneer of lies still caused his heart to quicken.

He dutifully kept his face blank of those fears, choosing a taunting smile instead. “I’m surprised you noticed it at all.”

“I’m observant like that,” the boy had said, gaze dark. “Where do you buy it?”

“I don’t.” KID had laughed at the unimpressed look the boy shot him. “Klepto-urges aside, I didn’t buy this. I made it. None of that commercial stuff could compare.”

The boy had given a contemplative hum, obviously deep in thought. Just as KID had secreted a flash grenade into his hand and plucked his emergency sunglasses from their hiding place, the boy had spoken. “I want some.”

KID had paused in his escape attempt. “… Heh?”

“I want some,” the boy had repeated. “Give me some, or I’ll turn you over to the Inspector.”

“… What if I don’t have any on me?” KID had asked, curious beyond measure.

“Nakamori-Keibu it is,” the kid had said and thrown back his head to call to the searching officers.

“Ah, ah, ah! Wait! Okay, okay!” KID had frantically waved his hands and pulled out a small bottle that he always kept on him. It was supposed to be for emergencies, but bargaining with a six-year-old wasn’t too far out of that territory. Plus, it meant he didn’t have to waste a light grenade. The materials to make those cost far more than the little bottle of concealer did.

The boy had looked all too pleased with the trade-off and let KID go without a complaint. Kaito had thought that would be the end of it, but oh how wrong he’d been.

Every few months since then, the boy would track him down and demand another bottle in return for letting KID escape. Now, it wasn’t to say that KID didn’t like Tantei-kun coming to his heists. He loved showing off to his little critic and making those blue eyes widen in awe at a trick the other had never seen before. It quite honestly made Kaito’s whole month, just to get the boy to smile.

But there were times, like now, where the boy was a bit too serious, saw through KID’s disguises a bit too quickly, that made KID wonder just what the boy needed the concealer for.

Though he would never get a straight answer, it never hurt to ask. “What does a kid like you even need concealer for?”

“Reasons that you don’t need to worry about.” Tantei-kun raised an eyebrow at him. “I can always go find Nakamori-keibu if you refuse.”

“I wasn’t refusing,” Kaito grumbled. “Just stalling.”

“Stalling? Really? And you’re supposed to be good at lying.” Tantei-kun scowled at him. “Now, hand it over. Ran will be looking for me soon.”

“Hold up! You didn’t answer my question.” Kaito crossed his arms with a huff. “What does a kid like you need with professional-grade concealer?”

“It’s none of your business—!”

“It is my business if you go through four bottles in a year.” Kaito frowned at him. “You know those are supposed to last twice the time, right?”

Tantei-kun glared at him. “If you don’t hand it over right now, I’ll-!”

“What? Go tell Nakamori on me?” Kaito let a grin play at his lips despite the stab of fear he felt. “Then who would you get your black-market make-up from? Your Onee-chan certainly won’t get you any, not without the same questions I’m asking.”

By the look on the kid’s face, KID knew he’d caught him. Tantei-kun tried to hold a brave mask, but seconds later, it crumbled. “Please. I need it.”

“Why?” KID repeated. “The only use you have for it is to cover up marks: ink, markers, scars, bruises…”

KID paused at that, his mind suddenly snapping to… horrible repercussions. Kaito often used the concealer to cover injuries left over from KID heists, where Taskforce officers had gotten just a little too close. It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that Tantei-kun…

“Whatever you’re thinking, you’re wrong,” Tantei-kun hissed, immediately defensive. Which, again, could be indicative of…

“So you’re telling me that you aren’t being abused at home?” KID asked, voice suddenly toneless. “I know Mouri is a ‘great detective’, but that doesn’t mean he’s a good man. And you aren’t related to either him or your precious Onee-chan, that much I’ve gathered. It would be all too easy to—?”

“Mouri may be a drunk, but he’s a useless one.” Tantei-kun rolled his eyes, but his body was relaxed. There was no defense in his posture. He wasn’t even tense. “The worst he’s done was box my ears for running around a crime scene. Then again, he’s the only adult that seems to think a child shouldn’t be around a crime scene, so… I think that evens out.”

KID wasn’t thrilled with the answer, but he was sure Tantei-kun was smart enough to go to the authorities if someone was abusing or neglecting him. Or, at least, KID hoped so. (He made a mental note to check in, just in case.) “Then why?”

“I… can’t tell you,” Tantei-kun said through his teeth, like the answer had to be dragged from his throat.

“Then I can’t give you more,” Kaito said simply.

“KID-!”

“I’m sorry, Tantei-kun, but I’ve been an enabler for too long.” Kaito held up his hands in a ‘what can you do’ gesture. “If you want more concealer, you’re going to have to tell me what you want it for.”

Tantei-kun pursed his lips, eyes tracing Kaito’s face in a calculating manner. When it became apparent there was no way around it, he hissed a sigh through his teeth, dragged a hand through his hair, then threw his arms open wide. “Okay! I’ll tell you!”

Kaito straightened, eager to finally get an answer to the questions that had plagued him for months now.

“But not here.” Tantei-kun gave the empty hallways a look. “Too risky. You know where Agasa’s house is?”

“The scientist you and your friends hang out with?” KID thought for a moment. “Yeah, I know of him.”

“Meet me at his house. Tonight,” Tantei-kun ordered. “I’ll tell you there.”

“Got it.” KID nodded. Then he blinked when Tantei-kun held out a hand. “Ha?”

“I promised to tell you, so hand it over,” Tantei-kun clarified.

“Oh-ho no.” KID shook his head. “No way, Tantei-kun. I’m holding it ransom.”

“You think I won’t keep my promise?” Oh, the boy looked pissed at that.

“Promise? Yes.” KID poked the kid’s cheek. “Not call Nakamori-keibu in an ambush since you already got what you want? No.”

The kid clicked his tongue. “You’re sharper than I give you credit for.”

“I should be insulted by that,” KID said. “But now, I’m just disappointed in you. To think, my favorite critic would try to ambush me!”

“Just for that, I’m telling Nakamori to check all of his officers.”

Tantei-kun didn’t. But he did warn Nakamori that KID was waiting for rain in order to pull off his heist. In spite of the extra information, KID still managed to pull of his heist with more fanfare than usual, given it was a ‘reverse’ heist.

And that Tantei-kun thanked him afterwards, well, that was just icing on the cake.

* * * * *

Kaito found himself standing outside a large house, staring down at a little girl and floundering for words. “Uh… is… Conan-kun here?”

The girl stared for a long moment before looking over her shoulder. “Edogawa-kun! Your thief is here!”

Wha— how rude! Kaito had gone through the painstaking effort to disguise himself as Mouri Ran again. She could at least have the decency to treat him like the woman he was!

On second thought, how had she known…?

“I told her you were coming by,” Tantei-kun said, face pinched in a scowl. “Can you not dress like Ran when we talk? This is already hard enough as it is.”

“Hmm…” Kaito dropped a few smoke bombs and flash-changed his outfit. Hakuba Saguru posed on the doorstep, self-righteous smirk in place. “This better?”

Tantei-kun gave him an unimpressed look. “… I’ll take it. Come in.”

He and the little girl stepped to the side to allow Kaito in. Tantei-kun continued further in as the girl closed the door behind him.

“Concealer,” the girl ordered, hand out.

“…I’m sorry?” Kaito stared down at her.

“Haibara is working on recreating the formula for the concealer you have,” Tantei-kun clarified from the couch in the spacious living room. “That way I don’t have to rely on you to get more.”

“Aw, but then how else will I convince you to let me go?” KID whined. Still, he dug out the small bottle and dropped it into waiting hands.

“Something tells me you can get by without me blackmailing you.” Tantei-kun wrinkled his nose. “Or the other way around.”

“Hmm… that’s fair.” Kaito seated himself on the other couch, facing his little critic like the opponents they were. “Now, why do you need the concealer? And so much of it, at that.”

“For starters, both Haibara and I need it. Your comment of how it should last twice as long as it has been? Doesn’t pan out when you have two people using it. As for why I need it…” Tantei-kun inhaled stiffly and straightened his shoulders. “I need to hide my Mark. My Soulmark.”

Kaito blinked. Then laughed. “Hah! Right. A six-year-old with a Soulmark? Really, Tantei-kun, I thought we were being honest here.”

“We are. I am,” Tantei-kun said, voice agitated. “I’m not actually six. I’m sixteen. My Mark appeared on my tenth birthday, like all other Mark Soulmates. When I got turned into a child, it didn’t go away.”

“Right… and how, exactly did you get turned into a child?” Kaito couldn’t help the disbelief in his voice. Yes, Tantei-kun was quite smart for a child, but all physical evidence pointed to him being some sort of prodigy, not a sixteen-year-old turned six.

“I was investigating some shady dealings by men in black suits. They got the jump on me and forced me to down some experimental medicine. All their previous research said it was supposed to kill people, but a microscopic percentage…” Tantei-kun looked down at his hands. “Get turned into this.”

“So you’re saying that a magic drug de-aged you… and you expect me to believe this?” Kaito’s eyebrows rose at the absurdity.

“Edogawa-kun is not the only person it happened to,” the little girl, Haibara, said as she came to sit beside Tantei-kun. She had a rag in hand and was wiping at her own skin. Flakes of concealer came off on the rag until a black script could be seen. Mitsuhiko Tsuburaya was printed as plain as day. “I took the pill of my own accord, but it had similar results. Since then, I’ve found myself here, living as someone else.”

The words… looked real, but Kaito knew just how easily they could be fabricated. With a wave of his hand, he pulled out a handkerchief and a small bottle of his home-made solvent and dabbed a bit on the cloth. He reached forward, then paused. “May I?”

Haibara looked uneasy, but offered her arm.

“What is that?” Tantei-kun demanded as he watched on with scrutinizing eyes.

“An all-around solvent,” Kaito explained as he took a gentle hold of her wrist. “Works on most household stains: markers, pen, makeup, grease, et cetera. Strong enough to pull them off, but still gentle enough to not irritate skin.”

As he spoke, he worked at the black words, as if they were a difficult smudge. But after working diligently for several seconds, he pulled away the cloth to reveal the black lines, still as clear as day. They were no impermanent markings. So either someone had the insane notion to allow their six-year-old to get a name tattooed on their wrist, or… “It’s real.”

“Like I said.” Tantei-kun huffed.

“You’ll have to forgive me,” KID said as he threw the handkerchief up. It disappeared in mid-air as he secreted away the bottle of his solvent. “It is not every day, my favorite critic turns out to be a de-aged… how old did you say you were?”

“Sixteen,” Tantei-kun replied.

Kaito blinked. That was the same age as him.

“And I was eighteen before I was shrunk,” Haibara added, running her fingers over her wrist. “And I do say ‘shrunk’. If we were de-aged, then our Marks should have left too. As they have not…”

“Then time wasn’t re-wound.” Kaito got the gist of what she meant. “So you’re using the concealer to cover your Marks, so that people don’t know that you’ve shrunk.”

“That and to evade the organization that is behind the toxin that shrunk us.” Haibara looked down at her lap. “I was with them for many years before I managed to get away. They know me. They know what I look like. They know what Mark I have. If they were to ever find me, they would put a bullet through my skull before I ever had a chance to run.”

Kaito swallowed thickly and tried not to think about the snipers that sometimes took shots at his heists. He tried not to think of the men who had killed his father, or the impossible chase they were competing against him in. There was no way Tantei-kun’s organization and his could be related.

No way… right?

“As for me,” Tantei-kun said loudly and without caution. “I just don’t believe in Marks.”

That brought Kaito up short.

“Are you surprised?” Tantei-kun asked. Kaito wondered what had given him away. “You shouldn’t be. You of all people should know that some people don’t believe in the Marks.”

“I have my own reasons for keeping mine covered. Not the least of which being how easy it would be to track me down as a civilian if the Inspector was able to see my Mark,” Kaito explained. It was an excuse in every sense of the word. Even if the Inspector saw, it wouldn’t help. Kuroba Kaito didn’t have a Mark. He never had.

“Is that so?” Tantei-kun made a discerning noise before giving a shrug. “I just don’t want to subscribe to the idea of Nominative Determinism.”

KID frowned. He hadn’t heard of that before. “Noma… what now?”

“The idea that I’ll fall in love with someone just because their name is on my wrist.” Tantei-kun paused, then rolled his eyes. “Or, technically, it has to do with certain people being named certain things and then going on to follow a certain career path. Like a person named Hiro becoming a policeman or a person with the last name Bowser going on to lead Nintendo. But I think it applies to this situation too.”

“Please.” Haibara sighed heavily, like this was an argument they had multiple times before. “You just don’t want to believe in fate.”

“Some meta-physical entity that guides all people to a certain end despite the free-will people exert over their own lives is just a bunch of hog-wash.” Tantei-kun huffed.

“And the fact that meta-physical entity also knew that you preferred men over women just happens to be a coincidence.” Haibara pointed out.

Tantei-kun just scowled at her.

“So you aren’t planning to look for your Marked?” KID asked. “I have to say, this is the first time I’ve met someone who didn’t want to find their Soulmate.”

“I want to, I just don’t want it to be because of some ink on my skin!” Tantei-kun waved a hand around as if it would get his point across. “The names don’t even mean anything!”

“Oh?” KID cocked his head to the side. “How so?”

“Look at it this way. Say that the name on my wrist is something like… Okino Yoko,” Tantei-kun decided at random. “Who’s the first person to pop into your mind?”

“The famous celebrity,” KID answered without hesitation.

“Exactly!” Tantei-kun pointed to him. “But Okino Yoko isn’t the only one to have that name. There could be another Okino Yoko in Kyoto that lived her entire life as a shopkeeper or maybe one in Hokaido that is the CEO of a business. Either one of them could be my ‘Soulmate’ but because I recognized the celebrity first, I would become fixated on her, whether she has my name or someone else’s or no name at all. And that’s just one example!”

He threw his hands up in emphasis. “Think of how many people have the first name Hiro! Or over in America, the last name Smith! There are only so many last names and so many first names that people use. It is not entirely outside the realm of possibility that the name on your wrist could be shared by dozens of people around the world. That’s not even taking into account the people who legally change their names over the years.”

“And so, instead of trying to find the right one, you decide not to try at all?” KID couldn’t help a raised brow. “That doesn’t sound like you, Tantei-kun.”

“I’m not giving up.” Tantei-kun scowled. “I’m just not letting myself worry over it. If I like a person, I’ll ask them out. If I don’t like someone, I’m not obligated to go on a date just because they have the right name. I may have a name on my wrist, but I’m not going to let it rule my life.”

That was… a unique way of looking at things. A brave way of looking at things. Kaito… he wished his reason was just as good. In the end, though, he was just a coward.

“Which is why Haibara needs more samples of your concealer, so I can keep using it even when I put you behind bars,” Tantei-kun said decisively.

Kaito couldn’t help a laugh at that. “Well, you keep at it, Tantei-kun. I’m sure you’ll get me one of these days.”

“What makes you think I haven’t already?” Tantei-kun asked. Kaito froze. “Haibara, how long does it take for emergency services to respond to a phone call?”

“About eight minutes,” Haibara said calmly.

It had been seven minutes since Kaito walked in. Seven minutes since Tantei-kun had come to the door. Seven minutes since Kaito had handed off the newest sample of his concealer.

Alarms sounded in the distance.

* * * * *

That was a dirty trick Tantei-kun pulled, but Kaito really couldn’t blame him. Their little game of cat and mouse wouldn’t be nearly as fun without a little surprise every now and then.

Oh, he’d managed to get away, of course, but it told KID that he had to be careful not to let his guard down around the little detective, no matter how adorable the boy was.

(Should he really be thinking that? Tantei-kun was a child after all. Or technically, he was sixteen? But then, Kaito didn’t think his sixteen-year-old self would be categorized as ‘adorable’. ‘Dangerous’ maybe, or ‘sexy’ if Kaito was feeling generous. He didn’t actually know what Tantei-kun looked like grown up, but for as active as the boy was, he had to be a looker.)

Despite the latest failure, the boy didn’t let up. He still hounded KID for another bottle of concealer every few months—which KID handed over easily now that he knew the boy’s reasons. Tantei-kun still tried to turn him in every chance he got, despite the fact that Haibara had yet to recreate the formula that KID used to make the concealer. KID wondered, idly, if Haibara had stopped making progress on purpose.

A certified child genius, already holding a PhD in chemistry and biology? No way it took her more than a month or two to figure it out.

But she didn’t, so Tantei-kun kept coming back to him and the cycle repeated itself over and over again.

Until one day, there was a change.

On the Mystery Train heist, Tantei-kun tracked KID down again, but instead of demanding a bottle of concealer, he nearly begged KID for his help in saving Haibara’s life. Kaito ended up in a train car full of explosives for his troubles and had to ditch a fast-moving vehicle to hang-glide his way to safety, but he liked to think he and Tantei-kun came to and understanding.

That, and he got Tantei-kun’s phone number, so he could antagonize him all he wanted from a safe distance away.

Annoying text messages turned into random memes, then into angry phone calls and quiet murmurings in the middle of the night.

Kaito learned that the organization Tantei-kun was after had eerily similar goals to his own. They both sought immortality. They both worked under codenames and a strict set of ‘no-second-chance’ rules. They both worked for one, unknown individual that seemed to be pulling all the strings.

The similarities were too close to ignore.

“We might be after the same thing here,” Tantei-kun said, voicing the one subject neither had broached since the beginning of their strange alliance. “These organizations, they’re too similar.”

“Similar doesn’t always mean the same, Tantei-kun,” Kaito replied easily, though he couldn’t find any doubt to back it up. “Correlation doesn’t always equal causation. You, of all people, should know that.”

“Even so,” Tantei-kun’s tone shifted lower, as if suddenly worried someone would overhear. “I think we should keep each other posted. Something I find might benefit you and something you find might give me another lead.”

“So you want to, what? Work together?” Kaito couldn’t help the grin playing at his lips. “A thief and a detective?”

“We’re pooling our resources,” Tantei-kun said but without his usual bite. “Just… keep me updated, okay? I’ll keep you in the loop too.”

“Roger, Meitantei.” Kaito gave a little mock-salute, even though he knew Tantei-kun wouldn’t be able to see. “How about we make it a little competition, ne? See who can take down their organization first?”

Tantei-kun just scoffed in answer.

So they began to exchange information. Tantei-kun shared bits and pieces of his daily life as he tried to track down the people who had shrunk him. Kaito very carefully divulged the pieces he thought couldn’t be traced back to himself. Their talks moved from information to checking in to relaying silly tales about the day.

It was smooth. It was subtle. The way that Tantei-kun moved into his life. Kaito didn’t realize just how much it meant to have the other boy, the other teen, as an ally, (as a friend) until one question had him stopping cold in his tracks.

“Where did you even come up with the recipe for this concealer?” Tantei-kun wondered aloud. “Haibara swears there’s nothing like it on the market. It’s super practical—it barely comes off when I wear my watch over it! You must have gone through a lot of trial and error to get it to work right.”

And Kaito… couldn’t help the painfully true answer that slipped through his teeth. “I didn’t.”

“What?”

“I didn’t come up with it,” he repeated stiffly, mouth working on its own. “I… got the recipe from someone else.”

There was a long pause before Tantei-kun spoke. “The first Kaitou KID.”

Kaito gasped, eyes going wide. “How… How did you…?”

“It doesn’t take a genius to see that the KID from before the seven year gap was far more cautious than you. He didn’t flaunt his skills. He didn’t play to the crowd. Sure, he was a performer, but he was calm, cautious, had everything laid out to the point where he could literally walk through the police officers, pluck the gem from the display, and disappear,” Tantei-kun listed off. “You aren’t like that.”

“What?” Kaito let out a bitter laugh. “Are you saying I’m not good enough? Are you saying the first KID was better?”

It wouldn’t be a lie. And Kaito knew that all too well.

“Not at all. The first KID was talented, but he was there with a goal. He wanted the items he stole. He didn’t want to play up the crowd more than he had to,” Tantei-kun said quietly. “You… you take risks. Big risks. Scaling-the-side-of-a-building risks. But they always pay off. Your fans always come back for more and draw a larger and larger crowd. He would appear in the spotlight, but you… you live in it. There’s not really a way to compare the two of you, other than the First KID and the Second.”

Despite himself, Kaito’s eyes started to burn. His nose got a little clogged and his throat got a painful lump in it. Because Tantei-kun had just complimented him, had seen Kaito’s plights and acknowledged him and set him equal to the first KID—to his father, Kuroba Toichi.

And Tantei-kun would never lie about this.

“He was my father,” Kaito croaked before he could stop himself. “The first KID. He was my father.”

Tantei-kun didn’t say anything. The silence was an answer in and of itself.

“He was after Pandora too. Just like I am. He’s the reason I’m searching for it.” Kaito paused to take a steadying breath and blink back the tears. This pain was years old. He should be over it by now. It still hurt, especially since… “The organization… they killed him for it. They found out his identity, and killed him in front a crowd of people… in front of me. They made it look like an accident, and I believed that for years, and then—!”

“And then you found out the truth,” Tantei-kun finished when it got too hard to speak. “And decided make them pay.”

Kaito managed to make some noise of confirmation.

“While I don’t like the way you went about it, I can understand your reasoning.” Tantei-kun let out a tired sigh. “Looks like we’ve both dug our own holes, huh?”

Kaito let out a wet laugh.

“Your father… were he and your mother…?”

“Soulmates,” Kaito confirmed. “When he… when he was gone… it shattered her. It took weeks for her to get out of bed. Months to even start to get her life back in order. Even now, she can’t stay in the house for long because it’s where he lived. I could only do so much.”

“I’m sorry that happened,” Tantei-kun said. “I’m sorry you had to recover from that. I’m sorry you had to help her recover from that.”

“Sometimes… Sometimes I think…” he started, non-sequitur. He clutched the phone tighter to himself, spoke more softly as if it would keep the truth from escaping. “I think… that it would be better off if they hadn’t met. If they hadn’t fallen in love. If they hadn’t been Soulmates, because then… then she wouldn’t have been so hurt.”

Tantei-kun took a long moment to think before answering. “I think she would disagree. I think she would say that, even though there was pain, she had some of her happiest moments with him. Most every Soulmate says that. And besides, if they hadn’t fallen in love… they wouldn’t have had you.”

“And I’m someone special?” Kaito either laughed or hiccupped, he wasn’t sure. “I’m just a thief.”

“A thief who has done more daring stunts than anyone alive. A thief who has consistently remained out of law enforcement hands through sheer will and luck alone. A thief who is taking on an entire underground criminal syndicate in order to avenge his father who had left this world too early,” Tantei-kun said heatedly. “Calling you ‘just a thief’, is like calling me ‘just a detective’.”

“I guess you would know, Meitantei.” And this time, Kaito knew it was a laugh.

“I would indeed,” Tantei-kun said, matter-of-factly. Then his voice softened again. “Is that… why you hide your Mark? Is that why you don’t believe in Soulmates?”

“… I believe in them,” Kaito said quietly. He sniffled, trying to keep the nasally tone out of his voice. “I just… don’t know if I’m strong enough to be with one. Or if they are strong enough to handle having me as one. If I went out the same way as my father…”

The thought of someone else going through what his mother had… it was painful. For it to be someone he loved? Someone he wanted to be happy? Someone he only wished to see a smile from?

The thought was agonizing.

“… I won’t try to tell you how to act or how to think. If you want to avoid them, I won’t try to convince you otherwise,” Tantei-kun said. “But for what it’s worth? I think anyone would be grateful to have you. For however much time you gave them.”

And in spite of himself, Tantei-kun’s words really did make Kaito feel better.

* * * * *

After their talk, they grew closer in a way Kaito could not verbalize. They didn’t meet up more often. They didn’t call any more than they had (though it was a lot to start with). The subject of their calls did change from time to time, but not with any consistency.

It was as if they had fallen into some kind of routine that Kaito never wanted to end. A sort of comfort he never thought he’d have with another person—not after covering his Mark and promising to forget about the name he’d seen.

Kaito found he didn’t want to let that go.

“Would you ever tell them?” He found himself asking one day.

It was during one of their rare physical meet-ups, where he gave Tantei-kun some more concealer, even though Haibara had definitely solved the formula long before then. He knew it was an excuse to see the other, knew Tantei-kun saw it the same, but neither of them said a word. Neither wanted the charade to end.

“Tell who what?” Tantei-kun asked, confused by the off-topic question.

“Your…” What did people call their significant others if not Soulmates? “Lover. If you end up marrying someone who doesn’t have the same name as the one on your wrist. Will you ever tell them?”

Tantei-kun looked thoughtful as he paused to ruminate. “I think… I would give them the option. I don’t want to lie to them. A relationship built on a lie isn’t a relationship at all. But I know that… some people handle the truth worse than a lie. If they don’t want to know, then I’ll keep it hidden for as long as I can.”

“As long as you can?”

“I’m not perfect and I won’t claim to be. Accidents happen.” Tantei-kun shrugged. “Despite my best efforts, they will likely find out either way.”

Yeah… Kaito had often thought the same. He opened his mouth to agree, but what came out instead was, “I want to date you.”

Tantei-kun stared at him, wide-eyed. His gaze went from Kaito, down to his tiny hands, then back to Kaito. “Um…”

Kaito flushed red. “Not now! Not when we’ve got… everything else going on! I meant when you change back.”

“If I change back,” Tantei-kun corrected bitterly.

“When you change back,” Kaito repeated with determination. “I want to meet up and… I don’t know. Go to the movies? Hit an amusement park? Walk around the zoo? Whatever normal teens our age do when they go on dates.”

Tantei-kun snorted. “Because we’re normal teens.”

“By then, we will be,” Kaito said softly. “You’ll be back to your own age, I’ll hang up the mantle of KID for good and we’ll just be… two guys, hanging out. Not six-feet away ‘cause we are gay.”

“Bi,” Tantei-kun corrected, but he had his thinking face on. He looked tentative. “And you won’t be mad that… we aren’t Soulmates?”

Honestly, the thought kind of hurt Kaito a little, but he knew he would always end up in a situation like this. Ever since he decided to ignore the ink on his skin and search for other people’s happiness instead of his own. The fact that Tantei-kun wasn’t entirely focused on their Marks matching actually helped. Instead of telling the long-winded truth, Kaito just smiled and said, “Not at all.”

Tantei-kun’s soft, grateful grin was answer enough.

* * * * *

It wasn’t a happily ever after, after that conversation.

The organization got word of Tantei-kun. They started tailing him, even as KID tried to act as the distraction. He managed to pull some attention away, but it seemed like the roaches were crawling out of the woodwork.

Tantei-kun’s parents came in to stay, and with them a few members of the American Secret Services. A few insiders in the organization managed to maintain their cover and leak information as they could, but it was obvious they could only do so much.

The game had been set. The clock was ticking forward, carrying them on toward the finally fight as the momentum picked up.

It came to a head in a fiery show-down of chaos and death.

Both sides lost people. Gin and Snake and a number of other agents were gunned down or chose to turn their guns on themselves. Very few were taken into custody. Vermouth was lost to the carnage, unable to free herself of the shadows that had claimed her.

The leader of the ring, Karasuma Renya, was caught, but whether the police would be able to press charges remained to be seen. He had been skillful at keeping his hands clean as his henchmen killed hundreds of people in their wake.

Kaito made it out with multiple sprains and contusions and one (very painful) gunshot wound. But his luck had held up and he managed to survive to see another day. With a full pardon, something he hadn’t been expecting until a piece of paper was shoved into his hands by a very stoic Nakamori.

(He was grateful he had the foresight to give himself a long-term disguise and for Tantei-kun admitting him to the hospital under the name Kaitou KID. He didn’t want to see Nakamori’s face when he realized Kaito had been behind the monocle. Hopefully, he never would.)

As for Tantei-kun… well, he had never left the safety of their home-base.

Oh, he had whined and carried on and bargained with every person that went through the door, but none had let him step foot out of the safe house until the fighting was over. For good reason, too. Though he may be sixteen in mind, taking a six-year-old into battle was just asking for bad things to happen.

He did make one hell of a Chess Master though, as he kept in touch over the headsets everyone was obligated to wear. As he called shots left and right in a deadly calm voice, Kaito was reminded, once again, just how spectacular his favorite critic was.

So Tantei-kun was safe, Kaito was recovering and Haibara was reverse-engineering the toxin that had set off the chain of events that led them to where they were today. Now, it was only a matter of resting and healing from the Day of Reckoning.

That, and meeting Tantei-kun for real, face-to-face.

Kaito still remembered Tantei-kun’s promise back before the worst was over. After having survived what could only be described as the single most idiotic decision of his life, Kaito wanted to cash in on that promise.

When he was finally released from the hospital, he decided he would do just that.

Standing on the curb just outside the front doors, Kaito fidgeted as he waited for his ride. Tantei-kun was supposed to pick him up, but the area was clear, not another car in sight. That didn’t spell good things for his nerves.

Not wanting to lose his confidence, Kaito dialed a well-known number and held his phone up to his ear. It rang twice before an unfamiliar voice answered. “To your left.”

Startled, Kaito looked to his left, only to see…

The most beautiful man he had ever met in his life. Or maybe handsome was a better word? He was impeccably dressed, white button-up ironed straight and navy blue suit jacket just reaching his wrists. His blue eyes sparkled right above a wide, familiar smile as he lowered the phone and hung it up.

He was so different and yet so familiar. It could only be—!

“Tantei-kun?” Kaito whispered, scared he was wrong.

“Technically, my name is Kudou Shinichi, but yes, I am—was the little detective that followed you around.” Tantei-kun rolled his eyes and offered a hand. “It’s nice to meet you, for real this time.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” Kaito said, grasping the other’s hand firmly. He didn’t want to let go.

Then the rest of the words caught up with him.

Kaito blinked, taken aback. “Wait, what did you say your name was?”

“Kudou Shinichi?” Tantei—Kudou Shinichi frowned at him, concerned. “Why?”

Kaito hurriedly dropped their hands so he could drag his sleeve up. It took his three tries as his hands shook and he didn’t want to take his eyes off of Shinichi in order to pay attention to what he was doing.

Shinichi watched him with trepidation as Kaito rubbed off the concealer he’d covered his skin with for the last seven years. It had been days since he’d last applied it, so it rubbed off as easily as the temporary glue he used to hold on his masks.

When most of it had been scrubbed off, he held his wrist out to a now wide-eyed Kudou Shinichi who stared down at it with something akin to horror.

“No. No way.” Shinichi shook his head, then reached forward. He turned his gaze this way and that, like it would change the words if he looked at it the right way. But no, Kudou Shinichi remained scrawled across Kaito’s skin in the deepest of blacks. “That’s not—! That’s not possible! You couldn’t have known!”

“I didn’t,” Kaito said, a little slack-jawed. “I didn’t know who you were until today.”

“But that can’t—!” Shinichi abruptly cut himself off. His sharp gaze came up, trapping Kaito in its magnetic hold. “What’s your name?”

“Kuroba Kaito,” he answered, a little breathless. Because it couldn’t be. It couldn’t just work like that. Fate couldn’t be that spot-on… right?

“But that’s—! But I—!” Shinichi dropped his arm to turn around and yell at the sky. “No!” then he turned to Kaito. “No!”

Kaito wilted at the vehemence with which the word was spat. “No?”

“No, I mean, not ‘no’ to you!” Shinichi hurriedly tried to correct himself. “’Yes’ to you, but ‘no’ to Fate because that can’t—! This cannot be happening! This is bullshit!”

Kaito frowned and reached out to grab Shinichi’s flailing hands. His action was surprising enough to give the detective pause, a hesitation Kaito took advantage of as he checked his right wrist, then his left. It was when Kaito let go one and started to take off Shinichi’s watch that the detective realized what he was doing. “No, Kaito, wait—!”

Kuroba Kaito stared back at him, a little dusty from the remains of the concealer the watch had rubbed away.

“We’re Soulmates,” Kaito breathed as Shinichi yanked his hand free. He looked up, still reeling from the shock. “We’ve known each other for at least a year and we were Soulmates!”

“Things cannot work out this well!” Shinichi continued on with his rant. “The probability of having matching Marks in a world full of ‘Kuroba Kaito’s and ‘Kudou Shinichi’s is so infinitesimally small that—!”

“You didn’t know my name until two minutes ago,” Kaito said as he caught the other by the waist. Shinichi leaned away from him with obvious disapproval, but didn’t try to escape his hold. Kaito just rested his chin on the other’s shoulder. “You can’t claim Nominative Determinism when you didn’t even know who I was.”

“I knew who you were,” Shinichi grumbled, but slid his arms under Kaito’s and hooked his fingers into the back of his jacket. “I knew you were annoying and over-dramatic and… kind and smart and selfless to a fault...”

“Careful! I’ll think you’re complimenting me.” Kaito laughed.

“And egotistical,” Shinichi finished, just to be contrary. “I knew you. I just didn’t have the name to go with it.”

Kaito hummed in agreement. “Best name ever, huh?”

Shinichi let out a sigh, but answered. “Wouldn’t change it for the world.”

And for once, Kaito agreed.

“… I still don’t believe in Fate.”

“Shinichi, by this point, I don’t think you can argue against it.”

“No! Fate isn’t real! Just like Luck and Magic! It’s just a bunch of made up things to make people feel better about themselves!”

“A certain girl in my class would have something to say against you.”

“What was that?”

“I was asking if you wanted to go to the zoo? After all, you did promise me a date, didn’t you?”

A content sigh. “Yeah, I suppose I did.”

It was the best date in history, in Kaito's humble opinion. As well as every date after that.

#dcmk #dcmk fic #fanfic #kaishin #Kuroba Kaito #kudou shinichi #ai haibara #soulmate au #soulmate alternate universe #angst #fluff #hurt/comfort #shinichi x kaito

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chappedandfadedvds · 4 years ago

Text

Nov 26th, Thursday 23:17

„I thought you’d be in bed already?“

Jens had just finished the dishes, ready to head to bed, after he spent hours trying to get all his notes for his french test ready next week. He wasn’t worried that he would fail. Perhaps a little worried.

His mother stood in the doorway to her room, when he reached the last step, causing him to watch her perplexed.

„Me too, but it looks like my side of the bed was taken before I had a chance.“

Curious Jens went up to her, sticking his head over her shoulder. Lotte was his mom’s bed, sleeping peacefuly despite the lamp on the night stand lighting the room.

They just stood there for a moment and watched the little girl. Til his mom took a step back, weak on her feet. He helped her get down and joined right after. Causing them both to sit side by side, propped up against the wall across the stairs. He had his legs pulled up, his arms hugging his knees as he stared straight ahead.

„Lucas is my boyfriend.“

It just bursted out of him, the first thing that had come to mind. He probably should have said it sooner. He didn’t even know why he hadn’t done that til now.

„No! Really?“ His mother exclaimed shoked in pretence, nudging him lightly as she chuckled.

„What reaction do you want? Strict parent, or not understanding mother, or perhaps I could tell you, I always knew you weren’t as hetero as you believed. Even though that would be a lie.“

Jens bit his lip to contain his amusement. Instead he tilted his head as if he needed to consider her words. Jens definitely knew who was responsible for his personality. Even though they only had gotten as close and on par with each other since the diagnoses. She wasn’t just a parent any longer to him. He wished they had been like that earlier. They had fought rather often. Certainly him having been to blame for most of it. Sneaking out to meet Britt and later Jana, or getting caught coming home high and drunk. Perhaps he had to change first to get to this point.

„How about your genuine feelings?“

He therefore asked, not much worried that she would dismiss his boyfriend. It took her a second to think about it before she spoke.

„Obviously I like him a lot, and I’m glad you have him, you always seem happier with Lucas around. He is very kind. And he can keep up with your assholery.“

„Assholery?“ He snorted.

„Yes, hush! You can really suck sometimes. And regarding him being a boy. I don’t care. I just want you to be loved, respected and supported. That’s all that is important to me.“

Lucas was that, wasn’t he?

„I just wanted to actually tell you this, you know, in person. Out loud.“

His mother nodded, grinning at him, as they both had turned their heads while talking. Though he brought his eyes back onto the banister of the stairs infront of him, pulling on the ends of his hoodie’s sleves.

„Don’t you think it’s unfair to him?“

„What is?“

„This. Like I know I’m his real first relationship. And I had Britt and Jana and, like, other girls before him. I feel like I’m keeping him from something. I don’t know what exactly. Dating around. Hooking up casually. Not remembering the girl you drunk kissed last night at a party.“

„Speaking from experience, I take it.“ His mother sounded gleeful as she said it. She wasn’t wrong. Not that he would actually tell her that. She knew anyway. So he went on.

„Just something that makes him regret it in the future, if he stays for all of this that is my fucking life.“

„You haven’t talked about this with him?“

Jens stayed silent. They both knew better than expecting him openly talking about his personal feelings. Late night talks with his mom though made it easier.

„I think Lucas is at an age to decide that for himself. In fact you are both graduating soon, just enjoy the time you two get to have. You are both teenagers. Nobody expects this to last forever. You are dating for what? A month? Don’t worry about what’s after, and talk to him, tell him what you think. Take it easy.“

She concluded, reaching over to place her hand on his knee. Her thumb brushing over it in light circles.

„I don’t know.“

„Then what do you actually know?“

Sometimes his mother murdered him in cold blood with her quips.

“Hey!” He exclaimed accusatory. She was his mother. She had to love him unconditional. Not be mean to him.

They both were nonetheless enjoying the quiet banter and even the silence that followed when the two of them were each sunken in their own heads.

„I’ve written your father.“ His mother suddenly said, making his head spun round. He hadn’t known they were in contact. The last two years went completely by without any message nor a mention of his dad.

„I don’t have his phone number, but his mail adress, and so I’ve told him today about everything that is happening right now. He is still the man I had planned to grow old with, the man I’d die next to. Even after all these years I can’t quite forget about him. He should know at least.“

She sounded saddened as she spoke, her voice low and resigned.

„I’m not gonna let him come back here and take Lotte.“

It was all Jens honestly cared for, even if it was cold to ignore his mothers remeining love for his father. He knew that his parents were officially still married. To his knowledge neither his father nor his mother ever hadn’t gotten into a serious relationship after they broke it off.

„Let me finish, okay?“ She interrupted his thoughts. „I also did it to send him a form Alex gave me for him to sign, and waive his position of choice as the legal guardian. I thought you may not want to talk to him yourself. It’s also one less thing for you to worry about it.“

„Thank you.“ He was greateful for that, honestly. He should have stopped at that, yet still found himself asking: „Why did you let him do this to you?“

„What?“ She looked at him puzzled, perhaps retracing her words to figure out what Jens was getting at.

„Let him leave you.“ He expanded on his question. Something he realised he had thought about since his father had left them six years ago. Jens probably should have asked this years ago in order to understand, because he never could figure it out. His father was just gone for months on end, and one day for good.

„It wasn’t something that came over night. We both knew since we began dating at university. He had always talked about his plans and ambitions. And I always reminded him that I wanted children more than anything else. So he gave me you three to love and I gave him his freedom.“

„Aren’t you regretting it?“

„Letting him go?“

Jens nodded. Yes exactly. Like how can you merry a person you know will leave you at some point. Maybe even a fixed point as his father began his expeditions and travels right after his phd.

„No. Well sometimes. When you three drove me crazy. Especially that one day you decided to give your baby sister the cream jar, for her to smear all over the living room, herself and you included. I had to bath you three for an hour to get everything washed out. Cried two more hours after. And the armchair, the poor armchair had to be thrown out.“

She laughed, as she indulged in her reminiscence. He couldn’t help but smile at her. They really had done some dumb stuff when they were younger. How his mother had managed to keep Lies and him in check while tending to Lotte was a mystery to Jens.

„But no I don’t regret ever having had all of you. Nor having let him follow his passion and do his work. I think he would have stayed had I asked him to. But he would have come to resent me for it one day. Sometimes you have to let people go because you love them.“

„Sounds stupid.“

His mother just giggled at his blunt response. She rose her hand ruffling his hair, ignoring his complaint as leaned away to escape her teasing.

„Maybe you are right.“ She admitted sheeply. „I am your mother, but I really don’t know shit.“ She grinned brightly at him as he watched her amused. „To let you in on the secret of adulthood. You just have to wing it most of the times and hope for the best.“

His groan could have probably woken his sister if she wouldn’t be such a deep sleeper.

„This sucks.“

„It does.“ She agreed without hesitation, trying to comfort him with a kiss to his forehead. It helped a little.

„So what are your plans?“

„For what?“

„I don’t know.“ She shrugged, leaving him none the wiser on if she was playing at something. Maybe Lucas had talked to her today?

„Senne invited us all for christmas to go to his grandparent’s cabin in switzerland.“

„Really?“ He hadn’t expected her to look so happy while surprised.

„Yes.“ The confirmation was just a little whisper. He was uncomfortable to talk about it. Jens knew she would want him to go. And he knew he couldn’t just leave her at home, and enjoy his holidays, knowing his mom’s declining health. What kind of son would he be?

„Wow now I’m very jealous.“

„I’m not going.“ He cut her off, before she could say anything else. Of course it was already to late, her cheery expression already faltering.

„Why? Come on, Jens, tell them that you will join their trip.“

„It would be our last christmas.“

He only had to send her one look, to make her understand and sigh.

„I know. But I’d rather have you spend some weeks away from all of this. Get your head free a little, get distracted. I had planned to go see my mom in Brussel anyway, if I can, before... You know. So you could drop off Lotte and me on the way and then see your friends. Sit in front of a fire with them. Kiss your boyfriend on a mountaintop. I don’t know. Just enjoy your time, before you’ll have your little sister tag along on any other vacation for the next couple of years.“

It sounded so easy when his mother said it. As if he could just turn his brain off for a moment and not think about her all the time when she wasn’t around. But he supposed she had a point. Especially at the end of her little monologue.

„Geez. You might be right.“

„I always am. So you are going?“

He kinda hated how bold she smiled, knowing she had made him consider it and probably accept Senne’s invitation. Damn her.

„I’ll sleep on it.“ He sighed once more, while he rolled his eyes especially hard.

„Good enough for me. We should probably head to bed as well. When will Lucas be here with his mom for breakfast again?“

Oh. That reminded Jens of what he actually had wanted to do after dinner, when he had stood in his room questioning why he had made the trip upstairs in the first place He definitely had taken his phone off the charger and down back to the kitchen, didn’t meant he had actually sent the text.

„Eh... Shit, should probably message him. I forgot. What was it? Nine thirty? Ten?“

Lucas had said something before he had left.

„I can’t believe I am leaving all of this and the responsibitliies to you.“

His mother cluck her tounge, as she shook her head. Her expression definitely amused.

„Funny. Come, I’ll help you up.“ He said getting to his feet first before he extended his hand for her to take. They both needed a moment to recover, stretching in place after having lingered in the same position for a while. And on the hard floor as well.

In turn it was her now reaching out for him, to nudge him towards her room. Both squeezing in on the free side of the bed. His mother only reaching over to turn off the light and call it a day.

__ __ __

tagged: @odi-et-amo85, @tayspots

#week 5 #wtfock #skam #vds #jens stoffels #lucas van der heijden #chapped and faded #mama stoffels #i'll miss writing these #one of the last easy talks between them

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the-odd-job · 4 years ago

Text

Up in Flames chapter 11 - Bring a Little Heaven (Ashes Part 2)

Warnings: Major Character Death, Chose Not to Use Category: Other Fandom: Transformers Relationships: Megatron/Sunstreaker, Megatron/Sideswipe, Sideswipe & Sunstreaker Characters: Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, Ratchet Additional Tags: Dubcon, Mechpreg, Sticky Words: 3745

( Previous )

There was only so much social contact Sunstreaker could handle before he needed to retreat somewhere more private and recharge his social batteries, as it was. Sideswipe didn’t come with the same requirement, but their draw to be together was stronger even than his brother’s desire for the company of outsiders.

As such, when Sunstreaker had skulked back into their quarters in the middle of the day after a far too active morning in the rec room, Sideswipe had followed. Now all they did was bask in each other’s company, Sideswipe once again playing his games, Sunstreaker laying on his back on their berth, one servo behind his helm, the other tossing a knife in the air and catching it after it fell back down. Then toss again.

“You’ll get that embedded in your face if you keep that up,” Sideswipe commented without looking up from his screen. Sunstreaker snorted.

“Don’t you trust me?” he asked, his mouth drawing into a grin. Come on, he wasn’t so bad at this that he would’ve made rookie errors like that.

But that didn’t mean the chance didn’t exist, and it was just the right amount of tension. The sparkling was vibrating at it, hungrily following where his emotions would lead.

Little fragger really liked all sorts of excitement a bit too much.

Sideswipe didn’t get a chance to answer before there was a ping on their door. Sunstreaker caught the knife one more time, both of the twins looking at the door, but… It didn’t open.

So, not Megatron, then. He still walked right in without waiting for any kinds of go aheads.

They shared a glance before Sideswipe triggered the door to open. On the other side stood a Seeker, and…

“Ratchet?” Sunstreaker asked, surprise swelling in their spark. The both of them pushed themselves upright on the berth, ogling at the Autobot medic presently on a Decepticon ship, and this definitely wasn’t like it had been with Jazz. It was like Ratchet had permission to be here, what with the Seeker standing behind him.

If he wasn’t here with permission, they could only imagine he’d have been in the brig by now.

“Can I come in?” Ratchet asked, a bit grouchily. The way he was glaring behind him, it didn’t look like he really appreciated his escort.

The Seeker pretended he wasn’t seeing anything.

“Yeah, sure,” Sideswipe said, and Ratchet took that invitation to step inside. Before the door closed, they could see the Seeker turning and walking off.

Righty then, now Ratchet was here, in their room, on the Victory of all places. And… The last time they’d seen…

Well, Sunstreaker could barely keep the grimace off his face at that memory.

“What are you doing here?” Sideswipe asked, barely waiting a beat before continuing in a rush, “I mean, don’t take this wrong, we’re happy to see you, but you know…” Autobots, Decepticons, the whole war between those two factions.

There wasn’t usually much cooperation between them.

“I traded,” Ratchet grumbled.

That didn’t really answer anything.

“Traded what?” Sunstreaker asked, scooting to the edge of the berth and letting his pedes fall to the ground, although he didn’t get up.

Ratchet rolled his optics. “Medical care. I’ll treat some of the peskier injuries Hook struggles with, and in return I get to visit you.”

That was… Really nice of him, actually. Sideswipe gave a lopsided grin. “Aw, so you do care.” As if they’d ever doubted that.

True to form, there was a medical object flying through the air in the next second and Sideswipe meeped when it hit him in the helm.

“Shove it,” Ratchet grumbled a little harder, stepping forward and–

Sunstreaker could feel scans over him, and soon after Sideswipe felt the same. His brother fetched the wrench Ratchet had thrown and handed it back to the medic.

You know, so it could be thrown again when the need called for it.

“How is he treating you?” Ratchet asked, very tensely. His optics passed the length of Sunstreaker’s frame first, before repeating the visual inspection on Sideswipe.

Not that there was anything to see. Yeah, the interfacing with Megatron had a habit of leaving him dented and scuffed, but they fixed those right up. They were pictures of health, aside from the scratches across their insignias that no one had ever bothered to fix—and for what they stood, probably wouldn’t bother to fix anytime soon.

“Who?” Sideswipe asked for clarity’s sake. “Hook or Megs?”

“Both, really.”

“Hook’s perfectly passable as a medic. No real complaints,” Sunstreaker shrugged. Ratchet nodded briskly at him, looking like he expected that answer. Hook was no Ratchet, but he’d still managed to keep mecha of his own side alive and in the fight, so he had to have some idea of what he was doing.

Even if he sounded like there were some things he couldn’t treat, that Ratchet could.

“No real complaints about Megatron either,” Sunstreaker shrugged again. Ratchet’s optics sharpened on him, scrutinizing him. Sunstreaker met the look evenly. He still wasn’t the type to cow under things like that, like he’d never been, and Megatron had only further desensitized him.

Ratchet didn’t relent. “Excuse me if that’s a little hard to believe after the way he fetched you,” he snarled.

Sunstreaker huffed. “And you think it wasn’t inevitable after I was into the whole thing?” And the whole cascade of effects that had caused? First interfacing with the warlord repeatedly, like breaking the rules just once wasn’t enough? Then getting sparked and still keeping it a secret from everyone, because Primus forbid he admit to what he’d done? All the trouble he would have gotten into that he’d denied like a fool to the last? Even knowing the chances of escaping the consequences forever were slim to none?

Why hadn’t he snuffed the sparkling? Why had he kept incriminating evidence he should have hated by virtue of who its sire was, like any sane Autobot would have?

What the pit was he thinking?

And now he was here because of all that. Sure, Megatron had forced this bit on him, but really it was just one of the potential outcomes, none of which had been good.

Was this the lesser evil out of all of them? What were the others? Despite what the Prime had said about them being welcome in the Autobots? They weren’t. They barely ever were, least of all now. And what would the Autobots have done to it? Shunned it at best? Forced its abortion at worst?

He wouldn’t have put that past them. Not with how deep the rightful hatred of the opposite side ran—that Sunstreaker had, evidently, never gotten aboard on like he should have.

Ratchet was quiet for a moment, still staring at him, and was that concern in his expression? Again? Sunstreaker frowned. Weren’t they past this already?

They weren’t, if Ratchet’s next words were anything to go by. “Did you ever feel like you could say no?” he asked, a little carefully, almost.

Sunstreaker startled; Sideswipe revved in surprise. Yeah, that was the first conclusion Optimus had jumped to too, only for Megatron to immediately refute it.

Because Sunstreaker had been into it every step of the way, there was no denying that.

But had he ever felt like he even had any other option?

He hadn’t really entertained that thought before, but his frown deepened ahead of his helm dropping, breaking his gaze from Ratchet’s. “...Not really.”

He had kind of said no anyway, hadn’t he? No matter how exciting he’d found all of it, because saying no was what he was supposed to do in that situation.

Megatron hadn’t much given a fuck about that.

Ratchet growled, and this time Sunstreaker did grimace. “Do you feel like you can say no?” the medic asked, and pits but he sounded more than a little angry.

But not at Sunstreaker, he was pretty sure about that. And yeah, Ratchet had rightly concluded the interfacing hadn’t stopped at his so called defection. Why would it have?

Did he feel, now, that he could say no?

“......Not really,” Sunstreaker said, quietly. He denied every time. Not because he didn’t want it. Everyone knew he did.

But it didn’t change the fact he never gave his permission, something Megatron ignored every time. What if he one day genuinely meant it? What if one day he didn’t want it?

Did he have any reason to think Megatron would give one flying fuck about that?

Ratchet’s engine absolutely roared this time, his field saturating the whole room with fury. He began to pace back and forth the rather lacking width of their room. Sunstreaker found himself in the unusual position of being the one to pulse calm, trying to pacify the irate medic that for once wasn’t angry at them.

“Ratchet, it’s fine, really. I’m fine,” Sunstreaker promised, getting onto his pedes, and stepping in Ratchet’s path to force him to stop and look at him.

Which Ratchet did, his face in a severe scowl and optics spitting fire. “I’m fine,” Sunstreaker repeated, trying to make the medic believe him.

Because he really did feel fine. He wasn’t traumatized by this whole thing or anything of the sort.

As far as he knew, anyway.

“How can you be fine?!” Ratchet asked, gesturing violently. Sideswipe got off the berth too, coming to stand behind Ratchet and sandwiching him between them. He wasn’t sure if Ratchet even noticed. “He’s– He’s– Forcing you!”

Raping him, as much as Ratchet didn’t manage to get that word out.

Was that what he was doing?

If it was, why was Sunstreaker so okay with it? That was what Ratchet wanted to know, wasn’t it?

How was he supposed to explain this? The… Normalcy of it.

It wasn’t out of the ordinary, it wasn’t anything that hadn’t happened before, it wasn’t anything he was meant to make an issue out of.

“It’s how we ‘faced back in the Pits,” Sideswipe spoke up. Ratchet started and glanced over his shoulder. Definitely hadn’t noticed Sideswipe’s approach, then. “It’s how a lot of gladiators got their kicks, the whole power play aspect of it,” his brother continued, shrugging. “We learned to like it, too.” Like it rough, like it when consent wasn’t given, but taken. It was exciting, to lose control like that to someone stronger than yourself—or, sometimes, pretend someone was stronger than yourself.

There was no such need to pretend with Megatron. There was slagall Sunstreaker—or Sideswipe, for that matter—could have done to stop him, even if they’d wanted to. Megatron had beaten him even when he’d glitched. He could have taken him right there and then, afterwards.

He hadn’t. A small mercy, on his part.

They didn’t really want to stop him, though. Hadn’t so far, anyway, and Sunstreaker wouldn’t have bet on them ever wanting to do it.

Ratchet’s face twisted with emotion that Sunstreaker didn’t want to name. It wasn’t so much anger anymore, just… What he felt when they shared some of the less pleasant details of their past. “You shouldn’t have needed to learn to like it,” Ratchet said with feeling, looking between them. They stared back, light frowns on both their faces. “And you shouldn’t need to go through it again now.”

Sunstreaker huffed. “The fragging’s spectacular,” he said, crossing his arms across his chassis. Sure, maybe the whole consent aspect of it was more than a little iffy, but that didn’t change the fact he’d gotten the best overloads of his life out of it.

Ratchet straight up growled at him. “That doesn’t change a thing.”

“It changes everything,” Sunstreaker argued. “Maybe I couldn’t say no even if I wanted to, but I don’t want to.”

“You should still have the option!”

“Maybe, but I don’t,” Sunstreaker shrugged, “so the best thing I can do is enjoy the frag out of it.”

Ratchet stared at him for a moment before pressing his face into his servos and making a sound that was sheer frustration. “Sometimes I forget how fragged up you two are.”

Sideswipe snorted. “Thaaanks.”

The medic cycled a few deep ventilations before he dropped his servos to glare at Sunstreaker. “There’s nothing I can say to make you change your mind, is there?”

Sunstreaker gave him a wry smile. “Not really, no.” Really, it was in his own best interest to not change his mind, wasn’t it? Imagine if he suddenly started to make an issue out of this whole thing and really did end up getting raped as a result. Wouldn’t that just suck for everyone?

Ratchet growled again for good measure, but gestured him to get back on the berth. “Well, let me do a checkup on you.”

Sunstreaker nodded, and like the good little mechs they weren’t, both him and Sideswipe sat back down on the berth. Ratchet stepped up to Sideswipe first, plugging into him and perusing all the relevant readings and prodding at the bits of coding that sometimes proved troublesome for his brother. “Everything seems to be in order,” he grunted after a while. No surprise there. The most Sideswipe had ever gained were some injuries during training sessions, but Hook was perfectly capable of fixing those. So Sideswipe merely nodded and Ratchet unplugged from him, then turned to Sunstreaker.

And this was bound to get more interesting.

“Ratchet?” Sunstreaker spoke up as the medic plugged into his port, earning himself a questioning look that he took as an invitation to continue. “If we’d told you about the sparkling’s sire, would you have needed to tell the command?”

The medic stilled for a moment, and really, that was all the answer there needed to be even before Ratchet inclined his helm and answered. “Yes. Almost anyone else I could have kept confidential, but Megatron would have been too great of a security risk alone.”

“Then we made the right call in not telling you right away,” Sideswipe concluded. “I mean, not that things went so great even with us keeping it a secret, but you know… At least it bought us some time.”

Ratchet nodded mutely as he began to file through the goddamned mess that was Sunstreaker’s helm. They weren’t sure if he genuinely agreed with that assessment, but he didn’t argue the point.

“You’re coding the sparkling’s frame internally,” Ratchet noted after a moment. He had to have noticed it with his very first scans of them, but now he had the related commands and readings open.

“Yeah,” Sunstreaker confirmed anyway, and Ratchet all the way smirked at how unhappy he sounded. Enjoy his suffering, why not.

But then the medic went on to frown. “There’s quite a bit of influence from Megatron here, already.”

Both twins shrugged. “He was pretty clear he wanted to contribute as much as possible.”

Ratchet growled, his field flashing with muted anger. It wasn’t too hard to guess why. Contributing meant interfacing, and they’d already had a whole discussion about the consent of that, so… Ratchet wasn’t happy.

Couldn’t be helped, though. It was what it was, and Ratchet didn’t start their argument back up, just grumbled. “Well, everything looks to be in order on this front. The coding is progressing as it should, and maybe with Megatron’s influence your glitch won’t pass on.”

See, there were positive things to Megatron’s input on all of this, too! Sideswipe snickered. “Told you so~”

Sunstreaker punched him on the shoulder, only for his brother to outright laugh. Ratchet rolled his optics at them.

“What about my carrier protocols?” Sunstreaker asked after giving his twin a good, hard glare. “Hook said they’re online, but couldn’t tell what they were doing exactly.”

“Well, let me have a look,” Ratchet said, putting aside the frame building stuffs and navigating to the nearby bits of coding related to it. He frowned as he read through them. “They’re not working as they should, that’s for sure,” the medic muttered after a moment of silence and focus. Sideswipe snickered again, and Sunstreaker huffed. That wasn’t too much of a surprise right there. “Looks like they are making you protective of the sparkling, as they should, but they’re not accessing your emotional cortex to make you attached to it.”

With how damaged that part of his processors was, that didn’t come as anything too unexpected. And maybe that was why he didn’t feel a particular draw to stay with the sparkling after its separation. He wanted to secure its future, and that was probably the protective part, but he wasn’t hell bent on being a part of that future, which he assumed would’ve been the attached part.

“Anything else?” Sunstreaker asked. He couldn’t much understand what Ratchet was looking at, anymore than Hook had. It might’ve been his own damn head, but he was no one who would’ve specialized in coding in any shape or form.

“Again, they’re not accessing your emotional cortex to make you care about the sire,” Ratchet said slowly, but from the concentrated frown on his face, that wasn’t the end of it. It just looked like even Ratchet had trouble making sense of how his programming was functioning with this thing, no matter how much time the medic had spent in their heads.

Ratchet continued eventually, “But it seems they might be influencing your thoughts towards some positivity regarding him, anyway. Just not emotional one.”

Sunstreaker nodded slowly. That would explain why he didn’t give a frag about Megatron beyond the thought that he would take care of the sparkling like no one else. That was really the end and the beginning of his investment in the mech.

Besides the fucking, anyway. That was good.

Ratchet moved to the rest of his coding next, viewing it as a whole for a moment before prodding at the areas that were mostly held together by some desperate patch jobs to give him even some of his self-control back.

He frowned when he focused on some of those areas. “There’s some deterioration. Have you noticed your glitch worsening?”

Sunstreaker frowned too. “Not really, no.” But then, he hadn’t run into particularly stressful situations either, so maybe he just hadn’t done anything that would have had him seeing a difference.

“Well, keep an eye on that,” Ratchet cautioned him before unplugging from him. “You’re both about as fit as can be expected.”

“Hook’s doing a passable job?” Sideswipe grinned and Ratchet gave him a glare before sighing and nodding.

See, things weren’t so bad for them at all. They had all they physically needed, including great fucking, and good enough medical care, and–

“How have you settled in otherwise?” Ratchet asked from them. Sideswipe scooted to the side before patting the berth between the brothers, and the medic took the invitation and sat down.

“Better than we ever did with the ‘Bots,” Sideswipe replied frankly, but without going too in depth with it. They didn’t need to rub how much better they were fitting in here in Ratchet’s face. He had always been one of the things that hadn’t sucked about the Autobots.

And he didn’t look very surprised to hear that. “About what I expected,” he admitted instead. “Making friends?”

Sunstreaker snorted at the question. Why did he feel like someone was doing some mother henning right then? Sideswipe grinned, and was the one to answer again. “Ayup~” But, again, he didn’t go into the details.

Ratchet nodded, and for a moment there was quiet. Not the awkward kind, just… Companionable. They could have asked about the Autobots, how they were doing in their absence and all that, but it would’ve been weird kind of prying. Was it any of their business how the Autobots were doing? They didn’t really consider themselves a part of the war anymore or anything, but they did live with the opposite side. Sure, Ratchet wouldn’t have told them anything important or confidential anyway, but still.

So they didn’t ask about everything they’d left behind. That was the past. Might as well leave it there and focus on the present—and the future.

Ratchet was the one to break the silence. “You can feel the sparkling already, can’t you?”

Sunstreaker nodded. Without anything too exciting happening, the little thing was laying quiescent, but it was still there the whole time. He could feel its little life next to his own bigger one.

“Have you noticed its personality yet?” Ratchet asked next, staring at his chest as if he could look through all the armor protecting his spark chamber.

The twin’s mouth rose into a smile. “Sorta. It’s got a sense of humor. Adrenaline junkie. Loves it when I fight, especially. Doesn’t get bored too easy, though. Demanding, gets huffy if it doesn’t get its way.” That last one… Was probably going to become an issue later, after it had separated. For now it was just limited to demanding him to do things that it found exciting, but that was easy to deny.

What of when it had a frame of its own to express itself and its will with?

Ratchet snorted. “You’ll have your hands full with it.”

“Well, someone will have,” Sunstreaker conceded. Ratchet gave him a curious look, to which he shrugged and continued, “I haven’t yet decided if I’m gonna stick around after it’s separated.”

The medic’s look of surprise only lasted for a second before his understanding dawned and he nodded. He’d just poked around in his coding, so… Yeah. No real surprise there.

“But you’re not returning to the Autobots after?” Ratchet asked, probably for confirmation’s sake because Jazz had to have passed on what they’d talked about.

“Pit no,” Sunstreaker said with the same sentiment he’d given to Jazz. And this time he didn’t repeat the reasons. There was no point. Ratchet had to know them by now.

And he probably did, because he didn’t ask after them, just nodded again.

“Will you have to leave yet?” Sideswipe asked from his other side.

Ratchet looked his way and shook his helm. “I don’t think so. There was no time limit given.”

“Does that mean you can stay a while?” Sideswipe continued, a little hopeful.

Or a lot hopeful.

Ratchet inclined his helm, this time, just a bit of a smile on his face. “As long as I can before someone throws me out.”

Both of the brothers laughed at that, Sideswipe a bit more freely than Sunstreaker. “Won’t be us~”

( Next )

#transformers #maccadam #ratchet #sunstreaker #sideswipe #fic #2020 #ashes #up in flames

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