#like it's only 10 years this year and i don't remember my own mom's voice anymore. of COURSE louis' image of claudia is foggy

[septembermonologues]

i love that the iwtv show's creative team and the fandom get to play with having two literally different claudias. getting to think about how time and grief and resentment and love and outside parties affect memory because we had to lose bailey and now get to have delainey is such a cool thing and im still not over it.

[rexlroze]

𝟏 — 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐀𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐢𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐟𝐞

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Hobie Brown / SpiderPunk x Fem! Reader

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.7K

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Use of Y/N, no physical description of reader (other then their clothing), Swearing, Mention of Alcohol, Mention of bugs, Violence/Fighting, and mostly Fluff I think.

𝑁𝑎𝑣𝑖𝑔𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠

𝑀𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡

A/N: This is my first time EVER writing a proper fanfic so if it sucks. Yeah. Idk- I tried my best tbh and hope y'all like it cuz if not, idk either. I'll be doing a tag list so if you want in, uh. Comment or sumn ig. Leave tips for me to improve in areas you think I need improvement! Also this isn't exactly canon to Earth-138. It's set in the early 2000s cuz no way am I writing for the fucking 1960s or whatever fuckin' year that mf comes from. I don't do requests nor do I plan on doing so. Happy Reading! 💛

Chapter 1 >>> Chapter 2

Recently, you just moved out of your parents house into a small cozy apartment in the North of London. About 200 miles away from your mummy and daddy dearest.

“No ma, I've already rented out my parlor. 'm not changing my mind at the last minute.” You grumbled into your phone as your mom hounded you with questions about literally everything. Your health, food, water, apartment and your new parlor.

Your new parlor, you were proud to say. You had finally rented out a small shop in Camden which was about a 10 minutes walk away from your apartment.

The only problem was that the area where your shop was grounded, it was in a small narrow area where people barely passed by and only a few residents lived and since you couldn't really afford a better place due to the flies that flew out of your wallet when you opened it and your limited budget, you just had to deal with it.

“Just know, if you ever need anything sweetie, me and your pops are always here.” Your mother reassured you sweetly but you could hear the concern trailing behind her voice.

“Yeah thanks, ma. Love you, and dad.”

“Love you too, sweets. But if you need anything like money, food or even—”

“Ma.” You cut her off abruptly.

“Yes?”

“I'll be fine, alright? I love you.”

“We love you too, sweetie.” She finally answered after a second of hesitation.

With that, you hung up the phone. Beeps punctuated the silence hanging in your room before you let out a deep sigh.

You sunk into your bed, looking up at the ceiling. As supportive your parents tried to be, they didn't really trust you with your career choices. The first time you told them you wanted to be a body piercer, they laughed and brushed it off… that was until they figured out you were being 100% serious.

You were grateful they didn't try to stop you, not directly at least because they never failed to mention and suggest a few other paths of careers. They got to the point of getting so desperate that they even suggested acting school but alas, you were as stubborn as a mule.

You got your license around 2 months ago. You can still remember yourself squealing and hopping around in your (old) room like a five year old who just got a puppy for Christmas. You couldn't wait to finally quit your side job (which was being a boring cashier with fake smiles and a faker kindness towards the karens that walked in and ruined your Monday mornings) and start your own little business in London. Your literal dream.

I'll get to work tomorrow. You thought to yourself since it was pretty much late afternoon now, turning the next 3 hours into a continuation of scrolling on your phone, listening to music on blast from the speakers sitting by your desk and knocking yourself out with some cheap bottle of booze that you bought during your ride to your apartment from the airport.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Making your way through the streets of Camden, you didn't fail to see the liveliness of it. People busy with their own lives, friends giggling, children skipping, couples holding hands, staring at one another with heart eyes. 

Something squeezed your heart at the sight of the adorable couple. It reminded you of what you could've had with him if he hadn't… but unfortunately, what life throws at you isn't really under your control no matter how much you wish it could be.

You brushed off the nostalgia quickly and turned a corner, finding your parlor that you had rented about a week ago. You were met by sudden silence. The streets were quiet and empty other then the two teenage boys who were giggling and had run away after when you arrived, disappearing into a narrow alleyway.

You walked to where they previously stood just to see a poster. Specifically a band poster that was vibrant with different colors. A lanky punk boy posed in the middle of the poster with a guitar slung over his shoulder accompanied by three other members.

You couldn't help but get lost in the beauty of said punk boy. Honey-coated eyes that shone back at you, the color complimenting his ebony complexion along with his puffy jet-black hair that were braided into wicks, jawline so sharp that it made you wonder what it would feel like to run your fingers along them.

You shook your head, breaking the love trance you were stuck in. You didn't have time for dating, falling in love or whatever, not that you wanted to either. Your eyes zeroed on the big font at the bottom of the page.

“Spidersica, performing this 9th March at 9:30pm.” You read out loud to yourself. Almost 2 weeks away. Shrugging, you turn back to your shop. You'll decide what to do with that information on a later date.

You twisted the door knob that was attached to the black sleek door with the obscure glass window adorning it. The gold paint was scraping off the knob revealing the silver underneath. Besides that, when you turned the knob, the door didn't budge. You twisted it once more. Nothing. You pushed the door while twisting the knob the third time. Nothing again.

Slamming your body against the door in frustration, making the door burst open and you fall through it onto the cemented flooring. The bell atop the door chimed, swinging back and forth, mocking and taunting you.

Get the door fixed, you made a mental note as you pushed yourself up back onto your two feet. Running a hand over your T-shirt and straightening it.

You scanned the room, eyes roaming over the unused facility. Cobwebs decorating the corners of the roof, dust bunnies waving at you from the floor, old cream wallpaper peeling off the walls revealing the cemented wall beneath, the polluted air making you have a cough fit after you inhaled some dust accidentally.

Unshed tears pricked your eyes as your coughing fit wore off after a little while. “This could use some renovations,” you croaked out to no one in particular as you switched the light switch on.

The light bulb lit up producing a very bright light (brighter than normal) that illuminated the room. At least something works— your train of thought was cut off when the light bulb abruptly exploded.

“Just had to jinx it,” you grumbled, placing your hand onto your face.

You found your way to some curtains beside the door, pulled the long dirty brown pieces of linen apart, revealing a huge window that let the warm sunlight seep in and lighten the dark room. You slid the windows up to let the toxic air out and fresher air in. 

Get the curtains replaced. You noted down somewhere in your brain as you took in the hideous pattern of the curtains.

You walked around the shop, letting your hand trace the long wooden counter that extended from the wall. Dust collecting at your fingertips that you wiped off on your shirt.

Making your way through the shop, you found a recessed door that was fixed into the left wall on the opposite side of the parlor. You gently turned the door knob not wanting to repeat the incident that transpired a few minutes ago. It opened without a fight.

When you peeked your head in, you found yourself in a small closet room. Metal shelves up against both sides of the wall with various random and dirty objects decorating them. The closet was just as filthy as the rest of the shop.

You found boxes, some small, some large sitting at the other end of the closet. That must be the furniture! You think, making your way towards them.

As you pick up one of the boxes carefully, wrapping both arms around the box that was bigger than your own head. You suddenly yelped falling back on your butt, the box falling into your lap.

“Fuck no!” You screeched in horror as you saw a cockroach fly up in the air. “Nononononono.”

You dashed out the closet, almost tripping on your shoe laces that came undone who knows when, slamming the door shut so the pesky rodent wouldn't escape and terrorize the rest of your shop as well. “What the fuck!”

Mental note 3, get pest fucking control. So far, the day was not going as planned.

You released a deep breath pulling your phone out from your back pocket to check for damage. You've never been more grateful for the invention of phone cases in your life. You doubted your phone could bear another crack on it's already kinda-fucked-up screen.

Pocketing your phone once again, your hands rested on your hips. You stared at the floor trying to calm down. “Fuckin’ hell,” you murmured to yourself rubbing your eye with the heel of your palm.

You kicked off your left shoe and turned back to the closet, mentally preparing yourself for the battle your a lifetime.

—

After fighting for your life and clearing out your closet of any other unpleasantries that may surprise the living Christ out of you, you pulled out your phone and began typing in some to-dos into the notes app. Tile installment, cleaning, probably pipe replacement, a door fix, bulb and wiring replacement, paint, decoration and all that stuff with the budget of five fucking hundred pounds. Just yay.

You left the parlor with determination to accomplish your goal; renovate. You thought as you found your way through the door and back on the streets of Camden.

In a matter of a few hours, you had managed to hire a few mechanics and workers to, one, install marble floorings into the parlor, two, get any pipelines or such fixed, three, get all cracks and crevices in the walls plastered, four, fix the door lock, and fix, rewire and reinstall the lightbulb. All in the cost of four hundred and thirty pounds, and with the seventy pounds left, you could buy the paint, curtains, and other pleasantries as such.

Walking through the appliances stores, your phone on hand as you check off a few to-do boxes. Satisfaction bloomed in your chest to see how much you had done in the matter of a day. 

A small smile spread across your face as you made your way towards the next shop when a sudden boom behind you made you stop in your steps.

Screams fill the air but they're tuned out by the sudden high-pitched ringing in your ears. People passed by you running towards the exit and evacuating while you just stood there, unable to move for some reason when finally, your head snapped towards the chaos to see what everyone was running away from.

Green Goblin. You had seen him on the news whenever you scrolled on your phone for too long or when you scrolled through the TV channels and ended up on the news channel but never did you think you'd see him in real life but if the Green Goblin was here then…

Abruptly, the villainous individual who was flying abounding on his hoverboard and terrorizing everyone in the mall was knocked off by a swift kick. The one who delivered it was quick, you only saw the red and blues colors blurring together. Oh my fucking god, no way.

Slowly, the blurs of color started mashing together into an appropriate form. It's Spider-Punk. THE fucking Spider-Punk. And you were seeing him not through tv, but through your own goddamn eyes.

You watched as the Green Goblin regained his composure and lunged towards Spider-Punk. The two vigilantes participating in a violent game of tango while you stood there wide-eyed and stuck amidst the chaos sitting in the front seat.

It didn't take long for both vigilantes to notice your presence. All at once, a shout broke out from the red masked punk, “move!” when a broken piece of the wall was thrown right in your direction by the one and only Green Goblin. You saw the white's of Spider-Punk's mask widen.

Move. An inner voice in your head screamed. You couldn't. Move, goddamnit! Nothing. It felt as time had slowed down.

The stone piece inches away from your face, ready to smash your skull in when suddenly a silky white rope connected to your side and pulled you towards it. A hand wrapped around your waist and suddenly, now you're in the air.

Your heart thumped in your ears from the sheer amount of adrenaline and fear coursing through you as the two of you swung out the appliance store.

Your arms were subconsciously wrapped around his neck, your face was buried into the curve where his neck met his shoulder. You peeked your head up to see yourself high up in the air, and a glimpse of blurred green chasing the two of you.

You sucked in a shaky breath, you wondered if he could hear how loud your heart pounded, like it was gonna erupt from your chest anytime soon.

You felt heavy air hitting your back when he abruptly turned a sharp corner and now you're sitting on a dumpster in an alleyway who knows where with a vigilante in front of you checking for any major injuries.

“You alrigh’, love?”

It took you a minute to register his words due to the daze but you finally managed to choke out a “I'm fine,” your voice was slightly breathless but you didn't focus on that right now instead, you focused on the individual in front of you. 

You quickly took in his wardrobe. A red spandex bodysuit, spiked mohawk, leather jacket, collar, spikes, nets, guitar, red boots, blue laces— blue laces? well damn…

“Aight, take a breather f'me, lovelie. ‘m gonna go deal w’him, ay? Take care!” He shouted, his voice fading as he ran towards the exit of the alley and swung away before you could manage another response.

…

What the fuck just happened?

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

You slowly recovered from the incident that happened just three days ago. An hour long face call with your parents who had seen you on the news swinging around in the arms of Spider-Punk. You lost count after sixteen of just how many times your parents had asked you if you were okay.

You had paid off the workers to get the job done while you were away, now you could only hope they hadn't robbed you and were currently flying to another state with your money.

You didn't have much left to do from your to-do list. The only thing you needed was some paint and furniture. You had ordered the paint (and paid) online, it would be at the door of your parlor in about a few hours. Or at least that's what the notification you gotten had said.

As you were currently laying in bed clicking away on your computer and chewing on the back of a pencil you randomly found in your backpack and an orange sofa that you found in your fridge, something ringed in your head.

Right!

The concert, you were supposed to look into it when you got home. Unfortunately, it had pretty much slipped your mind due to your little experience about a day ago.

You clicked away, opening a new tab, “Spi…der…si…ca… baa…nnd.” You pronounced each syllable carefully while you typed away.

Pushing down the enter button, you were met by a white loading screen that led you to another google page. You clicked the first link and found yourself on another website.

“A popular punk band in london with the following members: Karl Morningdew, the bass Guitarist, Riri Williams, the keyboardist and Mattea Murdock, the drumist followed by their BandLeader, Hobart Brown, the guitarist—” Your voice slowly faded out as you saw the image of a familiar punk boy pop up that you had gotten lost in just a few days ago outside of your parlor. “Huh.”

You scrolled through the website until your eyes settled onto the information you were looking for, “Spidersica, publicly performing on the 9th of March.” The information was followed by the location and other necessary details.

“Eh, screw it. I gotta socialize anyway,” you blurted out, clicking off the tab.

—

After finishing another can of soda, you finally had gotten ready to go back out after locking yourself in your house for the past forty-eight hours. Patting the pockets of your jeans to make sure you had your phone and keys in them, you escorted yourself through the door of your apartment.

You soon find yourself making your way down the three quarter turn stairs and back on the roads looking up in the sky for a particular rebellious masked vigilante.

You didn't know what for, maybe to thank him. Or maybe just curiosity at its finest. You shrugged the thoughts off and continued making your way to the parlor. You didn't have time for a cat and mouse chase where the mouse doesn't even know he's being chased.

After all, you were no one special. Just a normal everyday civilian whom his job was to protect.

Finally arriving at your parlor, it looked a lot less abandoned than it did when you arrived three days ago, the front door opening with ease when you pushed the keys in and twisted the knob which was also replaced. You could tell due to the shining new gold color coating it.

Polished white marble tiles installed in the once cemented flooring. The crevices in the walls were filled out along with the old cream wallpaper removed. An air conditioner was fixed into the wall above the recessed door, a fixed bulb and working electricity.

Those were some major improvements but that didn't change the fact the place was still filthy as fuck.

You sighed and grabbed a broom that rested in the corner of the closet, pulling your headphones over your head and began sweeping away.

—

After you finished sweeping, you decide to install the new curtains you had bought. They were a dark marengo made of a silky smooth material. As you tried to push the curtains into the metal pole, the bell aloft the door began chiming signifying somebody had arrived, when you turned the door, you were met by a man who stood in a blue-ish uniform, a clipboard in his hand while he tapped the back of a pen on it.

“Uh hello, delivery for Y/N Y/L/N?”

“That would be me.”

“Oh, please just sign here.” He turned the clipboard around to face you, offering you the ballpoint he had.

You walked over, taking the pen from his hand and signed the piece of paper where he had told you to.

He put the clipboard away, taking the pen back from you as he stepped out and came back in with a large box placing it down onto the tile flooring. “G’day, madam.”

He politely bowed his head while you let out a small “thank you” after he tilted his head back up and walked back out the parlor.

You picked up the box that was immensely heavy, probably because of the damn paint cans in them, Sherlock, you had just assumed they most likely were the paints you ordered.

When you turned away, placing the box onto the counter, suddenly the bell chimed once again. You spoke without looking up, “did you forget something, Mr.mailman?”

“Mailman? Hardly.” A familiar angelic voice spoke, making you freeze, Spider-Punk—? You thought as you turned to the voice with wide eyes, but to your surprise. It was someone completely different.

“You good, love? You look like you just seen a ghost.” Honey-coated eyes, ebony complexion, jet-black hair, sharp jawline, is that-?

“Oh my god,” you breathed, “are you Hobart Brown?” your voice was a higher pitch than usual but you couldn't help it. “Oh my god, what are you doing here—” you were abruptly cut off by him.

“Okay okay, I'm gonna cut you off right there, love, first of all. Just call me Hobie. Please.” He chuckled, a small smirk on his face, “and well, second of all, I heard you did piercings, hm?”

“Oh. Uh… okay then, Hobie. Yes. Yeah, I do piercings, why?” Well, that's a stupid question.

“I was wondering if you could do mine, because as you can see, my face is pretty clean.” He smiles softly, pointing to his face that didn't bear any piercings… yet.

“Oh yeah, um. I'm not really open yet—” you cut yourself off at a sudden realization. “Wait, how'd you find me?” You raised an eyebrow, you only remember telling everyone in your circle about the parlor yet.

“Oh, one of my friends told me.”

You raised your eyebrow higher, confusion bubbling in you. “Can I know their name?”

“Yuri.” He shrugged nonchalantly.

Yuri? As in your goddamn BEST FRIEND Yuri?

“Yuri Watanabe?” You asked, expecting a no.

"You know her?"

Of course I know my damn best friend, dumbass! That's what you wanted to say, but instead you held your tongue.

“Well yeah, she's my best friend. We met at a bar back in York.” You didn't know why you were telling him, you didn't even know if you could trust him. After all, he was just a random stranger— sure he was famous or whatever but you still just found out about him like three days ago.

“Huh, I don't think she's mentioned you but nice to meet you, er…?”

“Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N. Nice to meet you too, Hoba- Hobie.” You quickly corrected your small error.

“Y/N.” He looked like he was trying to remember something from a long time ago. Suddenly his eyes lit up, “oh yeah, she has mentioned you a couple times if I think about it.” He gave you a polite smile, “Do you need help? with whatever you're doing?”

“What?”

“I said do you want help?” He repeated, “seems like you could use some.” He observed, eyes roaming around your unfinished parlor.

“Do… are you looking for something in return?” You were confused by his sudden offer. He had to be wanting something in return, right? I mean, he learned your name like JUST a minute ago.

“Nah, just wanna help you out. Plus, you could prolly use some company, ay?”

“I mean… wait, why would you wanna do that? Aren't you busy with things like… practice or something.”

“Do you want help or not?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Yes.” You answered with a small voice, biting down on your lip gently.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @the-kr8tor @hobieszeze @missshelleyduvall

Banner(s) by @/cafekitsune

[bahrtofane]

after pleading and much excitement on kylians’ end, you finally bite the bullet and take him with you to your hometown of algiers. 

kylian x algerian!reader

word count : 1.3K+

watch it: fluffy fluff fluff, mild over thinking and angst if u rly rly dig deep for it 

luv my country fr fr

—--

theres a small dent on the wall from where you banged your elbow so hard you swore you broke it. you were around 10. it's been years, and the little spot still stands. you never forget to run your thumb over the ridges, the cool wall warming under your touch.

It's been years, but the wall holds the memory, a mirror of you. each flick of your thumb ignites the scene inside your head over and over, you swear you can feel your elbow sting. you remember the way you hissed sharply and called for your mom, who came scuring from the hallway. and how your cousins all lined up to see the damage and soon teased you for being a baby. screeching at the 'crater' you left in the wall. your aunt snapped a picture of the comotion while she laughed hysterically, hand on her hip, head tossed back while the rest of the family filled in to check out the commotion. 

you were given a wet towel to keep in your elbow till the swelling went down. and the teasing never stopped, in fact you're bound to have it happen at any second. your cousins called you bulldozer for years, some still do. that's even your contact name in a few of their phones. 

it's so silly how such a little moment from so many years ago carries on. wasn't even your funniest moment in full honesty. you have much better ones. 

it's been years, and it remains one of your many contributions to your grandmother's little flat. cozy and quaint in the center of algiers. today you bring a new addition, kylian.

you joked about taking him once, just a passing comment while you showed him pictures from your last trip. he hummed, latching onto the idea like an excited puppy to a chew toy. bothering you with itineraries (as if you need one in your hometown?), your texts are a wall of flight screen shots at this point. and of course bombarding you with questions every second he got the chance. 

"should i pack light?"

"what cities will you take me to?"

"do you think i'll need to bring a lot of security?"

in truth, you were hesitant to bring him along.

 going back home is a feeling you can never get enough of. from the moment you step off the airplane and the familiar smell of your country hits your face, to your first dip into the mediterranean, a homemade meal, singing out of cars in the dead of night while you race through the city. 

bringing him is an intimate ordeal. your country is your first love, first home. she raised you in a sense. 

she is a part of him, the same as she is of you. but having him in your grandmother's home? introducing him to your very lively extended family? you don't know about that.

you were worried about your sanity as much as his. you know the questions will be never ending. he's your fiance now after all, wedding in the works. this is only going to add to the disaster that is wedding planning. you know you're going to have to squeeze in promises of inviting your 2nd cousins aunts cats neighbors gardener. 

and how could you forget, he's kylian. kylian mbappe. there's no way you're bringing him to the heart of algiers and going to be free to roam the streets as you please.

you know you'll never be able to do so on your own again once the media puts two and two together. good by freedom. it's easy in resorts or fancy hotels. everything can be arranged. but not here. 

you and kylian value your privacy dearly. french media has barely ever gotten a proper look at your face and you intend to keep it that way. but you don't think you can get away with that here. you want to show him real places that hold history and the people. not just fancy villas on the coast that cost more than you want to think about. 

he pleaded with you anyway, even after you voiced your concerns. "i have an agent and security for a reason. just take me and the rest will come easy. don't even worry."

you frowned, "it'll be in the summer, when everyone else and their mother is going."

"i just want to see it you know, authentically. i want to experience just a part of what you did growing up." he confessed, shy. 

and so you caved. and here he is. leaning against that same wall you rammed into all those years ago, fanning his face with a pile of notebook paper he found lying around after a long day of unpacking the gifts you bought for your family. 

he's had a long day of posing for pictures and videos, all of which you rolled your eyes at. it's nearing sunset, and you press your forehead against the familiar cool wall of one of the living rooms. it's going to be where you sleep for the next 2 weeks or so. 

the couches convert to beds and you get to play the age-old game of war with the mosquitoes that torment you. you haven't told kylian yet. he needs to be ambushed in the middle of the night for the full authentic experience. ha ha ha. 

you look back to where kylian is sat on the couch perpendicular to yours, hes given up on the fanning. hand under his thighs while he watches what he can of the balcony. you can see the sea from here. in all its beauty. the gentle wind it brings flutters the curtains while you hum. 

tomorrow he meets the rest of your family and you can't help the butterflies that pool in your stomach at the thought. your fiance, meeting the rest of what makes this house a home. you can't wait. for now though, all you want to do is nap.

you get up from your couch, sliding on your socks to press up against his side. even if its pushing near broiling temperatures. he doesn't complain, only bringing his hands to cup your face gently, giving your nose a peck. 

"its so beautiful here, " he sighs, "thank you for bringing me."

you hum into his lips, giving them a firm kiss, "you're welcome my love. i'll show you around tomorrow. it's time for my post flight nap."

he gives you a lazy smile, "yes please i was waiting for you to bring it up. it's past my nap time." he pouts.

you roll your eyes and throw one of the couches throw pillows against his chest. he manages to grab it, hurling it back at you. and while you're distracted he curls his hands against your side, tickling you till you yelp and thrash in his hold, back pressed against the couch while you gasp in between laughter. 

he finally lets you go and collapses on top of you, kissing any skin he can reach.

"okay get off, it's too hot for that." you groan.

he at least listens to that, peeling himself off you and retreating to the far end of the couch while you set up yours for what you know is going to be top 5 naps of your life, easy. 

against the gentle breeze and city sounds, you're lulled to sleep. in your vision you see kylian getting ready to do the same, reaching over to press one sound kiss on your forehead before settling down into his little bubble. 

you could do this forever you think. you're glad he came.

[mysticficti0n]

It's been so long

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Hello my beauties, I was looking through my inbox and saw around like 9 people asking for a Phil Wenneck fic and I rewatched all 3 hangover films and this idea came to my head, my 500 follower special is still in the world as I want it to be perfect. I've wrote this in like 4 hours and only skimmed it so if there any spelling mistakes ignore them- love you 😘

warnings- 2009!Phil wenneck x y/n Y/l/n, (he's single and has no kid either), swearing, mentions of underage drinking, pet names, p!inv!, sub/readerxdom/Phil,

words- 7.9k

"Dylan are you ready?" I called waiting next to the front door, swining my car keys around my finger "Dyl come on you're gonna make us late and mom will kill me if we are late!" I yelled losing my patients

"I'm here" he spoke coming down the stairs "why don't you just don't tell them we were late" I hummed actually taking in his idea

"good idea- well anyways come on" I answered getting into the car. I started the engine and began the short drive to his school, the roads were busy and that meant that was making us later and later

"god- when's your meeting?" I spoke turning to my little brother

"erm.. 5:45pm" he said after looking at a sheet of paper that he pulled from his pocket "and its now...5:45 Y/n"

"Shit-" I spat "oh sorry Dylan" he laughed as I slapped a hand over my mouth "well lets just hope this doesn't take much longer"

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

finally after another 15 minutes we made it, hurriedly we walked into the school, Dylan had my hand pulling me through corridors until we made it to room 7L and he knocked on the wood "come in" a voice sounded and Dyl pushed the door open "ah Dylan, you're here!"

"Hello sir" my brother smiles going towards a small chair put out in front of a desk "this is my sister, Y/n" I followed behind him and placed my hand bag on the floor before turning to face the teacher

"hi, I'm so sorry that we're late the traffic was ter-"

"Y/n?" the mans voice cut me off "Y/n Y/l/n?" even in heals I wasn't as tall as him, so as my eyes met his face I knew who it was straight away

"Oh my god Phil- I can't believe it!" I laughed, I knew Phil all through school, from Pre-k to collage, and he hadn't changed a bit since we had left, chiseled jaw, sun kissed skin, his brown short hair flowing effortlessly around his face and a smile that was always imprinted on his lips "you haven't changed a bit Wenneck" I spoke as we pulled from a hug

"Neither have you Y/n- you look great- erm please take a seat" he grinned as he took a seat behind his own desk "woah- well Dylan it's great to see you for the second time, and also you Y/n, great to see you again too"

"how do you two know each other?" My brother inquired giving me a confused look

"Me and Mr Wenneck went to school together, well we basically grew up together, he was one of my best friends" I answered shooting the man a smile, Dylan nodded getting a grin across his face

"okay well- lets look at everything shall we?" Phil pulled open a folder and his finger traced down the page and then tapped "here, so Dylan by the looks of things you are doing amazing in all classes with b+'s and some A's which is great for a boy your age..which is 9 but 10 In a few weeks if I'm right?" Dylan excitedly nodded, a cheesy smile coming across his lips, my hand patted his shoulder seeing his smile grow bigger "and your behaviour... no detentions, or warnings this year little man, much better then when your sister was in school" he joked

"excuse me- you were a lot worse then me, remember what you did to Jake that day?" I asked raising my eyebrow

"he had that coming, but I wont say much more, need to professional" I shook my head laughing at him as we both remembered the day in high school-

_____ 12th grade (1992) _____

Me, Sasha, Lauren, Stu, Phil and Doug sat in the bleachers laughing about whatever random things we could think off "and what about that time Lauren fell over the curb when we went to that party?" Stu laughed getting a slap from the red head

"I was drunk okay- and like 15 so that doesn't matter" she angrily spoke trying to stop the smile from going on her lips. the six of us kept talking while we sipped on our drinks we brought from the lunch hall. Soon the break was over and we all went to head back in, I stood up, straightened my skirt around my legs and fixed my top around my shoulders, and grabbed my bag from the seat in front of me

"Nice rack Y/l/n!" I herd a voice call from the bottom of the steps, I stood straight back up covering my front with my hand and my eyes immediately locked with those of Jake Casey "its alright babe don't need to hide them from me- oh and nice panties too girls, down there had a great view- didn't it boys" he joyed blowing me a kiss as the three guys around him shared a laugh

I quickly stopped down the steps, coming face to face with the creep "what did you just say?" my voice was low as I got into his face, his friends oh'ed; clapping there hands

"I said-" Before he could even finish his sentence my hand slapped across his face "Ow! what the fuck is wrong with you!" I went to walk away until the feeling of his hand fixed on mine "don't you walk away now bitch" he seethed, his other hand wrapped around my waist pulling me onto his body

"Let go of me you perv" I yelled, desperately trying to free myself, but in an instant, Jake lay helpless on the ground, his grip on me replaced by Phil looming over him like a dark storm. Soon Phil's fists crashed into Jake's body relentlessly, each punch harder then the last, and those three friends from before were not to be seen as the dashed across the field to get away from Phil who wasn't stopping his beating

"don't- you- ever- fucking- do- that- again" he warned as he hit the boy again

"OKAY, OKAY, I'M SORRY!" A shattered voice pleaded, but the brunette remained unrelenting. "PLEASE, GET OFF!" we all watched as Stu and Doug forcibly tore Wenneck away from the now bloodied and battered man. quickly Jake pulled himself up whipping around and running off to join his group who were half way across the track. Phil backed off, dusting himself from the dirt that lay on his jeans and fixed his sun glasses to begin back on his head

"Thanks Phil," we said in unison as we approached, the two girls going to stand with Stu and Doug as they talked about what had just happened. "You okay?" I asked, brushing his arm where he had a faint red mark.

"I'm fine. How about you?" he replied, his concern evident. I nodded, showing him the small mark on my wrist. "Does it hurt?"

"No, I'm okay... Thanks for stepping in again," I said again, I got the feeling like it was just the two of us in that moment, drawing closer, Phil's hand landing softly on my waist the warmth overpowering the heat from the Los Angeles sun. "I—" I started, but Stu interrupted with his usual humour.

"Come on, you two! We'll be late if you start a love story now after all these years!" he joked, pointing at us "flirt after class is done" I couldn't help the red from painting my face as the whole group fell into a laugh

"Shut up, Price," Phil said, rolling his eyes as he put his arm around my shoulders instead of my waist, pulling me closer in a simple yet meaningful gesture.

_____ end of flashback _____

"and Dylan- how are you finding school?" Phil asked, grabbing a pen off his desk looking back to him with a warm smile

"good- I have lots of friends and a girlfriend!," Phil oh'd looking to me as a we laughed " and I like my lessons, and I'm in the soccer team!" he talked "and the homework is okay, Y/n helps me a lot because she's smart"

"stop it" I laughed scruffing the young boys fluffy hair

"well that sounds good then, I have some of your books here for you Y/n if you want to have a look through and also his end of year report" I grabbed the small pile of books from the mans hand and began looking through while listening to the two talk about soccer and things, I looked to the page with the title 'my family' and saw a family tree scribbled with crayons and our faces drawn in: Mom, Dad, me, him, Grandma, Papa, our cousins and aunties and uncles too.

"Dylie your work is really good!, especially your family tree, you've got everyone!" I cheered. After I finished looking through all the pages I set them back on the desk and Phil finished up his convocation with Dylan

"is there any questions you have Y/n?" He asked looking to me, his face warm

"I don't think so, I mean he's doing great and thats all I can really ask for, he seems to have a good teacher too" I spoke seeing Phil smirk at me shaking his head

"great, that ends this then- Dylan, Y/n thank you for coming to see me and I'll see you on Monday little guy, and don't forget the trip money" Phil stuck his hand out to my brother who's little hand shook it back and I watched as the blonde waved walking to the door

"Y/n! Sam's out there can I go say hi?" he asked excitedly looking to his friend out side the window

"sure" I replied seeing him hurriedly open the door, he shouted a quick good bye to 'Mr Wenneck' and quickly left us behind in the class room "again sorry for being late Phil- just everywhere seemed to be busy" I laughed grabbing my bag from the floor and placing it on my shoulder then getting Dylans report off the table

"its fine don't worry- you two were my last appointment anyways, and as its you I don't mind either" he smiled coming round the front of his desk and leaning against it "but honestly Dylan is a great kid, I don't even like teaching but kids like him make it worth it you know" I nodded listening to him

"I never thought you be a teacher you know, I mean you hated school" he laughed rubbing the bridge of his nose

"Yeah I know but life happened" he said looking back to me "erm well I was wondering- do you wanna go out for dinner tomorrow?" I was a little taken back, in a good way though "it's fine if not, but we could have an actual catch up you know? I mean I haven't seen you since we were 20 ish and were now old "

"thank you very much for reminding me- but yeah what time?" I agreed, I watched as a smile spread along is face

"I'll come pick you up at 8?" I nodded "cool well erm- I'll see you tomorrow Y/n" he stood up leading me to the door, before I left I pulled him into another hug

"see you tomorrow" I whispered before letting go and walking out to grab Dylan who was happily chatting to his friend and his mom "hi Carol" I waved

"hey sweetie, how'd it go?" she asked

"good, Dylans doing really good- how's sam doing?" she shook her head and her smile dropped "oh"

"I got told he beat up another kid the other day- I don't know what to do, I mean when Charlie was younger he was nothing like this, and I remember when you were little and your little friends, you guys were never in fights- well not when you were 9! but Sam always is" her voice was full of anger

"mh, It's very odd- must be something triggering him" I spoke

"maybe I'll take him to see your mom when she's back, she's a therapist so maybe she can get to the bottom of it" Carol laughed "aways we must get off- Samual come on" the two boys said their goodbye and we walked out

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

"Night Dyl" I whispered leaving his room, I walked down the stairs to the living room, falling onto the couch and flipping on the tv to a random channel, I couldn't get over that Phil was teaching my little brother, my old best friend teaching my brother... life was weird. It reminded me, I needed to get someone to Have Dylan over the weekend, I knew he would enjoy staying at our grandparents so I picked up my phone and began calling my Grandma

"hello Rosie" she answered

"hi Grandma, how're you?"

"good poppet, is everything okay?"

"yes thank you, I was just wondering if it was okay if you had Dylan tomorrow night please? I met up with an old friend, well actually do you remember Phil?"

"Oh yes Phil Wenneck, of course how could I forget Philly! he was always with Doug, Stu, you, Sasha and Lauren wasn't he" I hummed agreeing

"well I found out he's Dyls teacher! and were going out for a catch up tomorrow night"

"aw thats lovely, of course we can have Dylie, Sofia and Ryan are sleeping tomorrow so its no issue"

"thank you so much, I'll bring him at about 5:30 if thats okay"

"yep thats fine, see you tomorrow lovie"

"night, love you" I came off the phone and saw a dot on my messages, I clicked on seeing -Phil- 1 new message-

'Hey Y/n, just checking (and I hope this isn't weird) are you at your moms house, just I know you're watching Dylan for the two weeks, he was telling me x'

'Hi Phil, yeah I'm here, and bless him I had a feeling he'd be telling everyone, he was saying we were gonna throw a party and everything x' I answered

'I mean if they were anything like your parties, I'm coming x' I laughed

'yeah gonna sing bah bah black sheep with the kids? x'

'of course, it's my favourite song x' I rolled my eyes

'I bet- see you tomorrow Wenneck x'

'night x'

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

"thank you so much again for having him Grandma, papa" I crouched down pulling my brother into a hug "I'll come get you tomorrow, go have fun and I'll call after okay, before bed" he nodded hugging me back then running to play with our little cousins "see you later" I hugged my grandparents then quickly drove back home to shower and get ready for seeing Phil.

I decided on a black dress, it wasn't to much, just around my thighs, some black heals, smokey dark make up and a dark red lip, my hair straightened down my back and some silver jewellery. I sprayed L’Interdit Rouge and grabbed my bag and threw it over my shoulder

I went into my kitchen, hurriedly pouring myself a glass of water and chugging the glass trying to suppress the anxiousness I felt rising in my stomach. The sound of the door bell rang through the hall and into the kitchen, I took one more deep breath before walking and opening up the door. I pushed the handle down and pulled the door open

"Hi Phil" I sounded as my eyes met him, he was dressed in a black suit which blended into the night perfectly, it fit his figure amazingly, hugging his muscles in all he right ways, his button up was only done up to the third one and the last two were left open showing of his toned chest, my eyes reached his face, his hair messed graciously behind his head and his sun glasses perched on his head "you look amazing" I spoke not realising I had been staring doe eyed for what felt like a life time

"I could say them same- look at you" he smiled "oh I brought you these" from behind his back he pulled out a bunch of roses, blood red- my favourites

"Phil! you didn't have too- these are beautiful!" I giggled like a child being given a lollipop

"almost as beautiful as you" I herd him chirp, my gaze snapped back to him

"careful" I laughed "come in, I'll grab a vase for these" I walked away hearing him follow behind after shutting the door

"god this place hasn't changed at all- holy shit I feel 17 again" he breathed coming into the kitchen "Its the place I first took a shot how about that" he reminisced

"yeah mom kept basically everything the same though she was going to change it all, then Dylan was born in 2000 and then she just kept it this way" he hummed leaning agains the kitchen counter

"how come your mom had Dylan- is that a weird thing to ask?...I- you don't have to answer that" he awkwardly laughed

"oh well Mom and Dad divorced erm 97' as you know, and mom got with this guy called Michel and then accidentally got pregnant, and we didn't know if he would make it because obviously mom was a lot older then most women who have children but they both made it and Dyls 10 soon" I explained

"oh wow, your moms a strong lady so I get why she made it through, I think thats why I was really shocked to see you yesterday because his name isn't Y/n/l Its Lee"

"yeah, I mean I didn't even know you were his teacher because he only ever called you Mr W or Sir" I spoke "and mom wouldn't have actually met you because this was his first parent teacher thing huh"

"yeah, anyways not that this isn't great we need to get going" he spoke checking his watch "so if you please" I walked towards the man and linked my arm with his as he led us out the house. Phil pulled open the passenger door for me and I gently settled myself into the leather seat, I watches as he went over to his side and slid in "ready?"

"Mhm" I smiled as we began our drive

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

The car stopped at a restaurant with the name 'Le Rouge', The two of us stepped out the car and immediately my arm hooked on his "wow this looks- beautiful" I breathed. The door was opened by a tall man who shot us a quick smile as we stepped through the threshold. To say I was taken back was an understatement, a soft, red glow washes over the space, enveloping it in an aura of intimacy. The dim lighting, like flickering candlelight, shone a warm hue. The décor, a careful balance of simplicity and refinement, features rich dark wood accents and sumptuous red velvet curtains that drape gracefully, adding to the sultry, moody ambiance.

"Good evening Sir, Madam- how may I help?" a sweet looking girl cooed, her hands quickly grabbing a paper that lay in front of her

"hi, I have a booking should be under the name Wenneck" the girl nodded checking down the paper until her eyes seemed to find the name

"okay- if you two would like to follow me" the blonde began trotting through the many tables full of customers until she stood next to a small dark wood table for two, one candle and flower sat as the centre piece and two menus lay in our places "Erin will be your waitress tonight, and she'll be over soon to take your orders but would you like to get started on drinks?" Phil looked over to me giving me a quick nod telling me to go first, hastily I lifted the drinks menu from the side and scanned the paper

"I'll have a....Cabernet Sauvignon please" I answered seeing her write it down quickly, I turned to look back to the man sat across from me who's eyes flickered down the same menu as me

"make that a bottle and two glasses please" soon the girl disappeared with our orders "so what do you think?" Phil asked, his gaze landing back on me

"you've out done yourself Wenneck, it's gorgeous in here- I bet this place is really expensive though so I can pay-" before I could even finish the brunette chirped rolling his blue eyes at me

"shut up- I asked you out. I pay. let me treat you, I haven't seen you in years so this is the least I can do for making up for the fact that you haven't seen my face in so long" he smirked fluttering his eyes

"oh yeah of course" I laughed pulling my chair in closer "so, how have you been since I last saw you, and I don't mean from just yesterday" I gave a warning look hearing him titter

"well, we all left school I was going to work with dad in the car place but we got into this huge argument and he said I was choosing the 'easy way out' so I proved him wrong and became a teacher, then I got a job at Dylans school in 2007, been working there since, but erm I was with this girl after we left school- her name was Shannon but erm she cheated on me and I haven't actually been with anyone in god 6 years this year" the man sadly laughed "but you know I'm doing okay, I have a home and a job so thats all that matters" without really thinking about it my hand reached across the table taking his softy, I watched as his sad smile got replaced with a warm one, his eyes growing softer "what about you, what have I missed?"

"ah well- we left school obviously and I started working for a few people as a PA, worked on a few sets during like 2004 and 5, but it wasn't really enough money so changed and stared working at this bank place 2 years ago. I can't say I love it but I bought an apartment West Hollywood but I've taken the next 2 weeks of to watch Dylan but I'm looking for a new job again, hopefully back on the PA thing because I enjoyed that" he nodded, listening to every word "I was also with a guy, Jackson for a good few years but we broke up on my birthday actually, he said he was bored and needed a 'new spark' so I guess I wasn't that interesting to him" I chuckled, I looked down to my one intwined hand, the feeling of Phil's soft padded thumb swiped on my skin

"who needs those people though, I don't doubt that one day a good guy will see you and think 'damn, she's beautiful, talented, interesting, funny, beautiful'"

"you said that twice" I spoke in almost a whisper

"Its because I mean it" I felt my face heat up a ferocious red colour, before I could say anything else a wine bucket was placed onto our table and two glasses placed with it "ah thank you" Phil spoke with a smile, our hands broke away leaving mine cold. "do you want some?" the blue eyed man spoke, his voice filling my ears bringing me back to reality, I hummed holding my glass to him, the work popped and soon the red liquid began to flow into the glass until it nearly reached the rim, he filled his own then steadily placed the bottle back on the ice "to old friendships" his hand clenched around the neck of the glass, lifting it up

"to old friendships" I cheered, I let the wine cool my throat, taking all the red blush away with it, I could still feel the pricing blue gaze watching me over the table, not in a menacing way- but a adoring one. I tuned my attention back to Phil whose eyes fixed to mine "what are you going to have?" I asked seeing him look to his menu

"stake maybe, or lamb- you?" I checked down the list, until my eyes found my favourite "let me guess- filet mignon?" I nodded, a grin spreading on my lips "still know you well then"

"well I mean its been a good few years Wenneck- you sure?" I pondered, chewing my lip "do you really know me?" my voice lowered, and I couldn't help but watch his expression falter from being confident to slowly becoming more soft

"whats changed about you- tell me love" hearing the nickname nearly knocked the breath from me, something about hearing It in his voice, from his face, on his tongue

"you'll have to find out yourself" I challenged, his stare narrow

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

the meal was one not to be forgotten, and the bill was another thing I would also never forget "Phil stop it- split it with me, you can't pay $250!" I snapped trying to pull the bill from his grasp

"Y/n I am a grown man with my own money- fuck off let me do this- I'll be paying tonight" he demanded

"next time I pay" I sassed, shoving my card back into my pocket, I watched as his eyebrow lifted, questioning my words

"a next time huh?" he responded with a smirk, I shook my head staring away from his eyes as he paid the bill "come on gorgeous lets go" He was killing me- the nicknames, the watching, the smirk.. I felt like a teenager again... the first time I fell for the stupid boy

"watch it Wenneck" I quipped, he brushed me off by taking my hand and leading me from the building, it was a warm night, the sky still a ink blue but a darker colour than before

"wanna go see something?" Phil's voice broke through the silence "it's only down there" I followed his out stretched arm that pointed to a small cleaning in some trees, in my head I kept thinking of the negatives but in my heart, as cheesy as it sounded, I knew if I was Phil I would've been okay.

"okay" I agreed and soon we began moving toward the narrow entrance, he pushed some branches out the way with his free hand, his other still softly holding mine "where are you taking me?" I asked, a soft laughter leaving after I saw him look back with his signature smirk. Soon we stopped as we came to a opening

"welcome to the most cozy place" I looked round the mans figure to see a small pond littered with lily-pads, and pond grass, lit by the moons glow, it was very romantic and every girls dream place to sit after a night like ours

"Phil how do you find these places?" I questioned taking in the view, he gleamed shrugging off his jacket and laying it on the floor next to the water "careful it'll get dirty"

"Y/n it can be cleaned- just sit down" without wasting anymore time, I perched myself next to him on his jacket, our legs bumping as we relaxed into the floor. I stared out in front of me, watching the small movements off the trees as the wind blew past, and the ripples that bounced in the water "tonight has been so amazing Phil, thank you" I said sincerely, my look changing to face him "really" in this light he looked heavenly, his outline illuminated by the light cascading from the sky, his eyes shining into mine, it felt like it was just us again in the world, only me and only him

"Y/n, can I ask you something?," I hummed, slowly nodding my head because no words could leave from my lips "can I kiss you?" every good emotion began wizzing around my heart, butterflies flitted in my stomach and my brain turned hazy, none of it felt real

"please" I breathed, feeling his gentle touch as his hand caressed my cheek, drawing me closer to him. My heart raced as I wrapped my arms around his neck, surrendering to the warmth of his embrace. Slowly, I settled onto his lap as his other arm pulled me onto him, our bodies fitting together like pieces of a puzzle. Our lips met in a tender kiss, igniting a spark that had been smoldering between us for years. A sweet hum escaped my lips, a melody of longing and relief, as the weight of unspoken words lifted from my shoulders..

Reluctantly we both pulled away, taking in each other movements, my lips curled into a smile which Phil quickly mirrored, his hands finding my hips as he sucked for a breath "god I've waited so long to kiss you Gorgeous" he muttered, the pads of his fingers drawing random shapes as he spoke "why did we wait so long?" he questioned

"Phil, kiss me again" My voice trembled slightly as our mouths met once more, a surge of desire mingling with passion, flooding my senses. In an instant, Phil shifted our positions, his form now looming above me, casting a shadow over us, swallowing us in darkness.

"Fuck, you look so pretty like this," his words pierced through the intensity of our kiss, but I couldn't bear to be apart from him for a moment longer. With urgency, my hands pulled him closer, silencing any further words with the press of our lips. His knee parted my legs as he leaned further into me, his wight laying on his arms that caged my head between them; his lips slipped from mine and began traveling down my jaw, to my neck, to my collar bone

"Umph Phil" I whined unexpectedly, my eyes fluttered open seeing the brunettes gaze shift to a darker, hungrier side, his lips began another assault on my skin, sucking and peppering me in little butterfly kisses as I tried to stop myself from making any noises that the outside world could hear.

Phil pulled away, smiling at the view of me, I copied his expression as my hand carefully tucked back a fallen piece of hair "you should let me take you out more often" he laughed softly, his hands found mine and pulled me up to meet him, my legs felt uneasy from the moment but I forced myself to stand although my head only met his chest, the hands that once lifted me began to drag up my side until the two cupped my jaw "you okay?"

"yeah... I think just still in shock, I don't think I've ever been kissed like that in my life" he hummed, a suggestive look painting his features "what?" I asked looking up to him

"I just think you look really hot right now," he spoke with a amused smile "like, really hot" Phil repeated, his head bent so our mouths were basically exchanging air "can I kiss you again- please" It sounded almost like a beg but how could I refuse?

"you don't need to ask" I replied as once again my arms tangled behind his head. Though this kiss felt different than the last ones: hungrier, more passionate, wanting, pleading for more. My one hand knotted into his hair pulling a handful of strands causing him to lift slightly from the kiss

"ugh- fuck Y/n, don't do this to me" his voice croaked in a moan "or I'll take you home right now" I felt a rush of excitement run through my veins hearing the words leave his mouth

"do it then" I commanded pulling away to stare into his blue eyes that seemed midnight black all of a sudden. In one swift movement Phil lifted his jacket off the floor and grabbed my hand leading me back out the wooded area and to his car, the lights flashed as we climbed in and in seconds the engine roared. I couldn't stop my face from heating up as I watched his knuckles whiten from their grip on the wheel as we turned out from the restaurant parking lot back to my house.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

His hand hadn't left my thigh the entire drive home, it drew small circles on my bare skin and I couldn't help but fall into the rhythm, I watched as we turned into my street and the car came to a abrupt stop on my drive way. We exited the car and rushed to the front door, I dragged my keys from my purse and slotted them into the lock and after a few tries the door swung open

I spun around to face Phil, my heart pounding with anticipation as my arms wound around his neck, pulling him closer. Through the doorway, our bodies collided, a rush of heat and longing coursing between us. My back met the wall, but the world around us faded as our kiss deepened, the intensity building with each passing moment.

Our shared desires spilled into the air, mingling with the soft sounds of our breath and the gentle rustle of clothing. In the haze of passion, we fought for control, our bodies moving as one in a dance of longing and need. As we finally broke away, gasping for air, our faces flushed with desire, I closed the door behind us, turning my back to the man that now stood behind me, softly I felt his hands creep around my sides, his breath climbing up my neck

"I need you gorgeous" he whispered, his lips brushing the lobe of my ear, without another thought I grabbed his palm and led him up the stairs. I felt like a teenager again, messing around with my crush for the first time. We made it to my room and I knocked the door open but soon my attention was torn away and all I could think of was Phil, Phil Wenneck who's hands were holding my body as his lips pushed against mine, Phil Wenneck who was laying me on my bed and holding himself above me. Phil Wenneck.

"Take this off me," I whispered, my gaze locked with his, my voice dripping with desire. As he obeyed, his fingers trailed down the small straps of my dress, exposing my chest to his hungry gaze. I felt a shiver of anticipation race down my spine as his touch ignited a fire within me.

His hands caressed my skin, teasingly light, sending sparks of pleasure dancing across my body. I watched in rapt fascination as he cupped each breast, his touch firm yet gentle, kneading them as if they were dough in his palms

With a soft groan, his lips left mine, blazing a trail of kisses down my body, each one sending waves of pleasure coursing through me. I arched my back, offering myself to him, my breath hitching as his mouth hovered tantalizingly close to my aching nipples.

As he took one between his teeth, a sharp gasp escaped my lips, pleasure and pain intertwining in a heady mix. "F-Fuck," I hissed, unable to contain the overwhelming sensation coursing through me.

"Like that, don't you?" Phil's voice was husky as he released me, his gaze smouldering with heat. I could only nod, my body trembling with need, words failing me in the face of such intense pleasure. He repeated his actions, each touch sending me spiraling further into ecstasy. His tongue traced delicate patterns on my skin, leaving me trembling again and again, his kisses a gentle reminder of the tender passion that consumed us both.

I began to feel the heat between my legs grow hotter as I watched him draw himself down my body, my dress slowly coming all the way off and pooling at my ankles leaving me in just my black thong "you look- just woah" he grinned, his hand petting mine

"you still have too much on" I flirted sitting myself on my knees in front of him, I let my hands trail up his front till I met the first button and I pushed it undone, then the next, then the next until his top was bare revealing his tanned torso, and tanned muscles that decorated his front. I pushed myself closer to the man, my lips pressing against his peck until I reached his collar bone, my tongue poked out from between my lips as I licked a line up his neck to his ear "I need you to take these off for me" I sighed

"do you?" he purred, standing from my bed his hands unfastened his buckle then popped the button letting the material fall to the floor leaving him In his boxers which outlined his boner leaving nothing to the imagination "gonna keep staring or come do something about it" he asked with a smirk

"not if you act like that" I answered slyly as I kneeled at the side of my bed in front of the man, his hand reached for my jaw propping my mouth open, dipping his thumb into the wet

"be a good girl and lay back for me, hm gorgeous" I pulled off his finger with a pop and lay myself down, my thighs parting to show him stood just in front of me, his palm stroked my heat, the friction sent waves through my body "so sensitive already" I hummed, trying not to grind myself against his flat hand. His fingers dipped behind the material and hooked the thong away, pulling them down my thighs then to the floor, softly his hands once again parted my legs, showing him my already went cunt "look at that" he praised

"please do something" I begged, in a matter of seconds I felt his fingers brush over my skin, a few digits pushing through my folds "agh- oh Phil" I whimpered at the touch

"god if you say my name like that again I'll cum right fucking here" I smiled looking up to the man who's finger began slipping down my wetness again "deep breath baby" he spoke. I sucked in a breath which was harder then anything I had ever done before then felt a finger push through the threshold, dipping into my cunt

"Angh" I cried as Phil began a agonisingly slow pace, the pad of his finger narrowly brushing my want "a-another- another please Phil- oh please" I pleaded

"already? such a good girl gorgeous" I nodded but soon my body was stuttering at the feeling of another digit sliding in

"Nagh- tha...nk you" I breathed, my hips moved involuntary at the pleasure- my eyes screwed shut, I hadn't got the power to force them to look at him, my voice was stuck in my throat as the knot in my stomach tightened "Phil-holy... I'm gonna-" before I could finish my own sentence I cut myself off "Ooh- fu....fuck fuck my god Phil" I called, my hands blindly reached for something to hold, trying to stable myself but I couldn't reach a thing

"you're okay- come on you're alright" he cooed, his free hand stroked my head as I slowly came down from my first high, my eyes finally opened and my first look was at Phil "there we go, hey gorgeous" he smiled

"hey" I greeted back, our lips connected again and I couldn't stop my fingers from going back to his hair, small pieces caught between each digit as I pulled him closer

"hmph- Y/n gentle with me" he joked breaking the kiss, I rolled my eyes turning my gaze away from his face to his body that sat above mine, I couldn't help but notice the tent in his boxers only looked larger. Slowly I lifted my leg letting the bulge sooth over my knee "agh.. mh you think your funny don't you?" he taunted

"no- I just really want you inside me Phil" I purred as both my hands held his face "please Phil" the man moved quicker than I have ever seen a man move before, his boxers were pulled away from his hips and down his legs revealing his length. My eyes widened- he was huge, no wonder girls in school jumped at the chance of a night with Phil, now I understand.

He knelt behind me, lightly pumping his cock before brining it up to my entrance "your safe word is Mexico okay- you say that and we stop" I murmured an 'okay' and he started to come closer, his warm tip stroked through my split "ready?" I hummed, steadily he pushed in, breaking through my entrance inch by inch before pulling out and repeating his action until he was fully sank into me "god baby you're so tight" he grumbled, I nodded not being able to speak because of feeling so full "want me to start moving now?" he spoke breaking the silence.

"mhm- slowly, you're so big" I welled watching a smirk plaster his face, Phil agonisingly pulled back until only his tip sat in me "Phil don't tease" I whined "need you to...fuck me so good" i was breathless already

"no problem gorgeous" he snarked before slamming his hips back and his full length pushing back inside me, I yelled at the force as he found a pace, our bodies hitting together in a rhythm only gods could create

"Oh Phil...Feels so good in me" I chattered, eyes fixated on him, I couldn't tare my gaze away as his shoulders tensed to keep himself up, a sheen of sweat building on his skin, his hair becoming unruly on his head as stray strands fell

"You feel so good around me- ugh fuck Y/n- such a good girl Y/n" hearing my name fall from his mouth only made me needier, it sounded so right

"fuck Phil- I feel so fucking good, shit- you fill me up so well Wenneck" I panted, my hands digging into his shoulders, nails scratching his skin

"fu-fuck you say it so well baby, I only wanna hear my name out your mouth" he moaned pressing open mouth kissed on my neck "I feel close- are..are you?" his voice trembled

"mhm- I was trying to hold off for you" I spoke, to brain numb to stop the truth, I could already feel his cock twitching inside me as he pounded my g-spot tirelessly

"cum with me- fuck baby" he hissed as I felt his thrusts get faster, our moans started to sync, I never thought I could fall for Phil, but seeing this side, hearing his voice, his moans, his venerability, I couldn't help the feeling "Y/n I need to come so bad" he begged

"shit- i...I- Oh my god" I hiccuped feeling the tie in my stomach rip apart and a swarm of warm blanketing me everywhere, then the sensation of my walls being painted with ropes of cum as the man above me faltered

"mgh- ah, holy fuck" he gulped, his head falling to my shoulder "I've never came that quick in my life" a small laugh escaped as he caught his breath while pulling out

"neither...Jesus Phil" I breathed, our eyes met again and we both had a new glow about us "you look pretty like this" I spoke brushing my fingers through his hair

"you've always been beautiful but right now," his lips tenderly met mine, the kiss was sweet and meaningful making the moment only better "Y/n can I say something?"

"yeah" I agreed, he shifted to be lay next to me, his palm sliding down to rest in the crook of my waist "what is it?"

"I really love you, I did all through school and, when we left I regretted not telling you but yesterday, seeing you and all, then today, I remembered how I felt," I blushed, hiding my face with my free hand "that was so cheesy but I don't even care anymore" he chuckled

"I really love you too Phil" our lips caught each others again, smiling into the make out, we pulled away letting our foreheads rest against each others "we waited so long"

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

My eyes fluttered open to my sun kissed room, the light stripping against my walls, I hummed letting my head nuzzle back into Phil's chest where I'd been lay since the early hours of the morning, my fingers drew up his stomach and scratching softly over his peck, I felt him stir at the touch, pulling small faces at the feeling "what are you doing" he yawned

"nothing" I hummed pressing a kiss to his skin "but it is time to wake up" he sighed rubbing his face with the hand that wasn't wrapped around my waist. Finally he opened his eyes and faced me, though I had already been watching for a while

"morning gorgeous" he sounded

"morning Phil" he pulled me close laying a kiss to the top of my head then propping his chin against my forehead "I've gotta get Dylan soon by the way" he hummed again, I could tell he was falling back to sleep, so quickly I sat myself up pulling the cover away from our bodies

"Y/n come on! five more minutes" he sneered "please baby" his voice begged as morning still lay thick on his voice

"no, come on Wenneck- I remember when we were kids you would say that then not move for another hour so up" I demanded taking his hand and pulling him from the bed. He rose up, towering above me

"you're mean" he commented as he loomed down on me

"but you told me you loved me last night" I played, my finger teasingly running down his front

"I do," he grinned leaning closer "but I also think you're mean" I rolled my eyes wondering away as he sat himself back on the bed falling back.

Quickly I got showered, washed my face and brushed my teeth and changed into jeans and a jumper in a few minutes, Phil on the other hand had just managed to brush his teeth and stick his shirt back on as he continuously groaned about being awake so early on a Sunday, though it was 11:30am

"okay well I need to go get Dyl now, he's got a soccer club to get to at 1 and I need to clean the house and things" I moaned, leaning my head against Phil, soothingly his hand ran down my back comforting me as he laughed

"why don't I stay and help? I have nothing better to do, and I can stay with you a bit longer, make dinner, be like another date" he asked, and I couldn't help but smile at his idea, having him around would make things better

"sounds perfect, now come on we've gotta go get Dyl"

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

My hand pushed the doorbell and soon enough the shuffling of slippers appeared on the other side "afternoon sunshine" my grandma beamed pulling me into a hug "and who's thi- Oh my lord, Phil Wenneck, look at you!" quickly she came out grabbing his face, inspecting all his changes "Philip aren't you so handsome!" she cooed

"thank you, you look lovely yourself, haven't changed a bit" he spoke as she stepped away laughing

"stop it you, anyways let me grab Dylan, he's been playing with the dog all morning- Dylan Y/n's here!" she called wandering back into the house

"Y/n!" a voice called as the noise of shoes tapped down the hall way and soon hands wrapped around me "you didn't call last night like you said!" he complained though still with a smile on his face

"I'm sorry, I got a bit busy last night Dyl" my gaze changed to Phil who was stood smiling at us

"Mr Wenneck?"

[howi99]

Jaune is a Genuis Au: How about what happened to Penny,Lewis,Alyx and the Cat?

Follow up to this post. Also, disclaimer: the cat has a different way of subjugating people in this AU and is a bit more powerful.

Ruby: *looking at Penny, who only seem asleep in her lifepod* What... Happened? To both of you?

Roman: *sitting in a chair* What red said, me and Neo been waiting forever to know the whole story- *Neo kick his leg* gaoutch! Why!?

Neo: "Don't be an ass"

The Puppeteer: ... *Sigh while sitting down* I am the sole reason for the state she's in.

Weiss: Impossible! You'd never hurt her, even if your life depends on it!

The Puppeteer: *looking down* I wish you'd be right Weiss... *Shakily breath* But i had no other choice.

Yang: *eyes turning red* You are saying you almost killed Penny!? What did she do to deserve this!!!

Marie: *Putting herself between Jaune and team RWBY*

The Puppeteer: *sad chuckle* She was at the worst place at the worst time. They say curiosity killed the cat? What a joke, the cat killed curiosity, kindness and any hope to get out of here.

???: Oh but Jaune~ She chose to voluntarily be my host. Remember? A live for a live?

RWBY+RN: *looking around, wandering where the voice is coming from*

The Cat: *taking form from Jaune's shadow, chained by Jaune aura* I'm here! *Chuckle* I present myself: i am the Curious Cat, pleased to meet the second team i saw most in my jailers dream~

Marie: *looking furiously at the cat, trying to kick without any luck since the cat is intangible*

The Cat: Ah~ i see you are still angry about your mom and sister? What a shame, you can't hurt me as long as i am jailed~

Ruby: *shacking angrily* I assume this is the real culprit of hee condition?

The Puppeteer: He is. But i still was the one to hurt her...

P: *looking at Jaune, seeing that he's having difficulty bringing how Penny almost died* I can explain to them the story if you-

The Puppeteer: No, i... I should be the one to explain. *Looking at team RWBY+ RN* It happened 10 years ago...

______________

Jaune: Alyx, Where are you? *Shacking his head* Gods be damned, where the hell is she?

Alyx: *from afar* AAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

Jaune: *turning to the direction of the scream* ALYX!? *Sprinting in her direction*

// I thought i got rid of all danger from the forest, but i was wrong...//

Alyx: *trying to run away from the danger, seeing Jaune* JAUNE! HELP! T-THE CAT! HE- *she fall to the ground, her ankle twisted* Aw!

Jaune: *Running even faster to her* Alyx!

// I couldn't stop it, i was to far...//

Penny: *coming slowly from the forest, blue filaments making her move like a puppet* P-please... No... I don't want to hurt...

The cat: *whose magic is controlling her* If i can't break her to my will, she has no purpose.

.

.

.

Kill her.

__________

The Cat: *chuckling* It was a blast! Poor Alyx getting killed by the one she wanted to call her mother. *Hysterical laugh*

The Puppeteer: Silence! Remember the only reason i keep you alive is to give me more time! Don't make me reconsider even more.

Team RWBY: *looking horrified at the cat*

Roman: *disgusted* I have done many crimes in my life, some i regret from the bottom of my wretched soul. But that's.. that's...

Neo: "You killed her for your own pleasure?"

The cat: *chuckling* Pleasure? I did take some but it wasn't the objective. I needed to break her, to make her empty. And what better way than making her kill an innocent child?

Marie: *furiously trying to kill the cat, still unable to*

The Puppeteer: ... I couldn't save either of them... But i'll make it right, i'll bring them back even if it takes centuries.

Weiss: Is that why you keep the cat!? Jaune, she wouldn't want that! She-

The Puppeteer: *angry* You think i don't know that!? I don't care what she would want, she's basically dead! The kid i was supposed to protect has been buried by my own hands! I'm dot doing this for them, i'm doing this for me Weiss! Because if i can't even save a kid and my own wife...

.

.

.

What good am i?

[kpop---scenarios]

Hidden Lies (1)

Pairing: Unknown x Reader

Warning: Violence, Crime, Almost Assault

Word Count: 4.9k

A/N: This is a remake of Poisonous Lies. Some parts may be familiar, and that would be why. I hope you enjoy!! Let me know who you think she'll connect more with!

This morning you woke up, listening to the sounds of birds chirping, the sun shining through your window, and feeling like it was going to be a great day. 

“YN.” Your mom yells. It was too early and you were trying to wake up peacefully. “Y/N!” She calls out again, but this time it's more of a screech. 

You groan loudly, folding your pillow over your ears, wanting to enjoy a little bit of time without her yelling at you. The sound of her shrieking voice was coming closer every second, until it was practically right in your ear. 

Your eyes are still closed as you feel your blanket being ripped off your body, your mom cursing at you. 

“Wake the fuck up!” She yells. “Don't you hear me yelling for you? I have shit to do, I cannot keep waking you up in the mornings! damn, you're going to make us both late” 

You were 22 years old and you still live with your mother. This life you had was sad, although it was your fault. This technically was your choice. You had decided to drop out of school and go home to help your mom out after your dad was sentenced to 10 years in prison for a lengthy list of crimes, although well it wasn't his fault, it also was at the same time. 

Your father had lost his job, and instead of telling your mother and them trying to figure it out, he went and got a loan from some people involved in crime that he most definitely should have not gone to. He didn't think about the fact that he would have had to pay that money back, plus interest. And when the time came for them to collect he didn't have it. So he was recruited for odd jobs until he had paid everything back, he didn't get very far though. His last job ended up being a sting operation and he was charged with trafficking drugs, intent to sell, attempted kidnapping, attempted human trafficking and a few other things. He wouldn't tell them why he did it, he didn't want things to get any worse, even though you weren't sure if they could or not. It wasn't his finest moment, he was trying to help his family even if it was the worst way possible. He was a good man and a good dad. Your father was a man who would do anything for his family, especially to protect them, and that’s exactly why he did what he did and now he was suffering the consequences of his own actions. 

“I swear to god, YN.” Your mom yells as she grabs your arm, trying to pull you out of bed. “If you don't get your ass up in the next 30 seconds, I'm going to lose my mind! Your train leaves in 45 minutes and if you dont get ready and leave in 10 minutes then you're not going to be able to see your dad.” She sighs. “It’s his birthday, remember.”

Shit. You quickly bolt up in bed, scrambling to get out of your bed. You were rushing around your room grabbing whatever looked the cleanest on your floor before heading to your bathroom, slamming the door in the process. 

Your mom sighs loudly before she leaves your room so you can rush around and get ready. You knew it was hard for her, not having your dad around, and you were sometimes difficult but you were trying. You felt guilty, especially since she wasn't able to go on the visit today, her shitty boss wouldn't let her have the time off. It had only been a year since he’d been locked up and you, mom and your brother had faced some very hard times. The three of you have been barely surviving paying the bills, mortgage, car, gas, groceries as well as trying to pay back your dad's loan in cash, rather than jobs similar to what your dad did.

Your mom was working 2 jobs, you and your brother both working full time, and all your money went towards everything needing to be paid, rarely leaving you much of anything left over but the three of you made it work, you always figured it out. You would do whatever you needed to do. 

You're running down the stairs, trying to put your hair into a semi decent bun and forfeiting any makeup. 

“You ready?” Your mom asks, car keys in her hand. 

“Yeah, just let me grab my bag.” you breathe. You run into the kitchen, snatching your purse from the counter before you head back to the front door that's left wide open. You roll your eyes heading out the door, closing it behind you before sliding into the passenger seat of the car the three of you shared. 

Your mom doesn't say a word to you on the ride to the train station. You hold your train ticket in your hand as she pulls in front of the station. “Please tell him happy birthday from me and that I love him.” she whispers as you're getting out of the car. 

You give her a half smile. “I will mom.” You say, getting out of the car and closing the door. It doesn't take you long to navigate your way through the station, you’ve been making this trip a few times a month. You tried to see him as much as you could but between work, work and work, you never had a ton of time. You picked a seat on the train, setting your bag down in the seat beside you. You just made it on time, seconds later you were on your way and you couldn't wait to see your dad. 

You stood in line, waiting to have your bag checked and to go through the x-ray machine. When that was all clear you headed to the front desk, showing your ID and filling out paperwork before you could even go into the room and wait for him. You sit down, your stomach is twisting with nerves. You weren't sure why, this was like any other visit you had been on. 

“LN, YN.” You hear. “You can head in now.” the guard finishes, pointing towards a visitation room. The door buzzes open and you see your dad immediately, sitting in the back, in the middle of the room. His fingers were locked together with his head down. It felt like it had been forever since you had last seen him. “Dad.” you sniffle and his head shoots up, a smile spreads across his face so quickly as he stands up from his chair. You walk towards him, his arms are wide open, waiting to embrace you. You crash into his chest, wrapping your arms around him as he does you, holding you tightly. You missed his hugs, and the safeness you felt from him. You couldn't remember the last time you had felt safe.

You both let go, tears brimming in your eyes as you both sit down across from each other. 

“Happy birthday dad.” you smile. He reaches out to grab your hand, whispering a small thank you while his head hangs low. “Mom also wishes you a happy birthday, and she says that she loves you.” You tell him, but you knew he already knew that. 

“I know,” he smiles. “I'm assuming that she had to work today?” he asks. 

You nod your head. 

“She tried to get the time off but you know Dave, he’s a dick and wouldn't even let her have the morning off.” you tell him.

But again, you knew he already knew that. Dave and your dad had been friends for years, but after your dad was sentenced the man acted as if he never knew him and was never friends with him. Your eyes wander around the room, as if anything would be different since the last time you were here. Your dad begins telling you a story, something funny that had happened the other day. You were listening, but you couldn't help but let your eyes wander.

You looked out into the common room, as you were scanning the room, your eyes landed on someone. A man, a very handsome dark haired, angry looking man staring directly at you. You tried to look away from him, but it's like you were locked in with him. He was so captivating you honestly didn't even want to look away, but you do, not before he smiles at you slightly, giving you a small wink. 

You’re brought out of your trance by your dad clearing his throat before continuing on with his story. You catch the end of it, laughing along with him even though you didn't really hear the rest of it. “Tell me about everything. What’s going on with you? How is your brother?” he asks. Before you can answer the lights of the prison flicker, the alarm blares as the red siren lights up the room on beat with the alarms. 

“What’s happening?” you yell over the loud sounds. You were feeling a little panicked but before your dad could say anything you both hear yelling. You looked at the commotion in the common room, which was only separated from the visiting room by one large metal door. You glanced around, seeing the other visitors watching what was happening but no one was reacting to anything. 

“I'm sure the guards will get it sorted, fights break out all the time. No need to worry.” Your dad tells you, trying to reassure you. 

You couldn't help but worry. You watched as more and more fights were beginning to break out between prisoners, prisoners and guards. You watched in horror, as the prisoners seemingly took the guards down more easily then they should have been able too. Your eyes were darting to every window that you could see and watched guard after guard collapse, inmates grabbing the guns or batons, a cluster of inmates slamming guards into the windows, shaking what is supposed to be bullet proof glass. 

Seconds later a fight in the visiting room breaks out after an inmate bashes a guard's head against the table. You're panicking now, other visitors are screaming, leaving their tables trying to escape, some pounding on the door, begging the guards to let them out.

The inmates from the common room begin trying to shoot the windows, or trying to pry open the doors into the visiting room. 

The doors were buzzed open letting the guards from the front now rush in from one side to try and calm the situation but instead they let the inmates rush through the other doors into the room where you and your dad were. He had taken you to the corner of the room, standing in front of you to protect you. You peek out from behind him, the two of you watching in horror as blood and tears are spilled, the cries and pleas from visitors are yelled out as the inmates attack anyone in their way, including those who were just trying to visit their loved ones. 

Your heart is pounding so loud, you can hear it in your ears. You feel weak, light headed. Your adrenaline hasn't kicked in yet. Your stomach is churning at all of the blood. Your father grabs your hand pulling you with him through another open door, and hopefully to safety. As soon as the two of you make it into another room, you're confronted by three large men. 

“Look.” Your dad begins. “We don't want any trouble. I'm just trying to keep my daughter safe.”

The man in front smiles, but even his smile is terrifying. 

“What a good dad you are. But don't worry.” He says. “We'll take her from here. I'll personally keep her safe.” He finishes, licking his lips. 

“No thank you.” your dad says. “We're just going to go.” You grip onto your dads orange jumpsuit. 

“Dad.” You whisper. He can hear the fear in your voice. 

He runs forward, punching the man, pushing him into the two men behind him. “Run YN! Run!” He screams as the men grab him, taking him elsewhere. You try to run for the door but you're grabbed, pulled back and pushed against the wall. The man who had been talking to your father stood inches from your face. You could see the evil in his eyes as he eyed you up. You can feel his breath on your neck as he moves closer towards you.

You look both ways, trying to find your way to escape. There's only one other door besides the one you came through and you're pretty sure it's locked. Fear jolts through your body as you try and think of anything you could possibly say or do to get yourself out of this situation but you know that there is nothing you can do, except try and fight. 

“Get away from me!” you yell, putting your hands on his chest and pushing as hard as you can. 

"Don't fucking do that.” He snaps, shoving you against the wall. He raises his hand as he gets closer to you, his finger tracing your face. You squeeze your eyes shut, tears rolling down your cheeks and you let out a scream, as loud as you could. You switched between yelling "help me." And screaming, hoping someone would come for you. 

The man slaps his hand over your mouth, angrily. "Why would you do that, don't you like me?" He asks. "It's been a long fucking time since we've been this close to a woman." He chuckles. You can feel his body pressing against you. You try to focus on anything else, but all you can hear is the sound of him breathing and the screams and cries of the ones caught in the riot. 

Just as you were about to give up, you feel a release. You can no longer feel his body pressing against you, you can hear yelling much closer. You open your eyes and see a dark haired man, and a familiar other dark haired man pulling the men away from you. Within seconds the man who wanted to attack you was down on the floor, and the two men who saved you grabbed your hands, pulling you out of the room and away from the chaos. 

Where was your dad? Was he okay? 

The three of you ran down a hallway, the alarms are still blaring, you can just barely hear police sirens from outside. 

The two men had no idea where to go, everywhere you looked there was violence, inmates with weapons and minimal guards that were alive. 

"Hey!" You hear from down the hall. You all turn around and see the man that had you pinned against the wall. Anger suddenly fuels you, wondering where your dad was. 

“What did you do to my dad!?” You scream. The man stops walking, a grin spreads across his face. “Don't worry, he's just fine. Now you two.” He says, pointing to the two men who were still holding onto you. “You don't get to take what's not yours.” He frowns. “I want her back.” He yells down the hall. The two men who had taken your father appear behind him. 

“Fuck.” One says. they turn around, pulling you in a different direction. You were turning corner after corner until one of them found an unlocked door. He opens it, quickly pulling you inside before slamming it shut. Your body is shaking, you can't help but sob. You never in a million years expected today to turn out how it has. 

Both the men quickly jump into action, grabbing whatever heavy pieces of furniture they can find to shove against the door. You watch them, still feeling just pure shock. 

"I'm sorry." You whisper. You weren't even entirely sure what you were sorry about but it felt appropriate in the moment. 

They both stop covering the door, staring at you. “Sorry for what?” One asks. 

“I.. I'm not sure. But you're in this mess now because of me.” You sigh. 

“We're in this because we didn't want to see an innocent woman get taken advantage of by some fucked up men. You didn't start it.” He says. 

“What's your name?” The other asks. 

"Y/N." You sniffle. 

“I’m Wooyoung, and this is San.” 

“Nice to meet you both. And thank you. I truly don't know what would have happened if you guys didn't save me.” 

“It's nothing.” San says, giving you a half smile. He could not stop staring at you, just like when you were in the visiting room with your dad and he had caught your eye. 

Before you could say anything back, the knob to the door started to shake. There's pounding at the door, and that's when you hear it. 

“Y/N.” your dad calls. “Y/N please let me in. They're coming.” He cries. “Please.” 

You run to the door, trying your best to move everything they had put against the door. 

“Y/N stop.” Wooyoung yells, trying to pull you away. 

“Please!” You cry. “Please help me. That's my dad, we need to let him in.” 

San and Wooyoung loom at each other. They both know this is a bad idea but knew that there would be no chance of you letting up. 

“Whatever happens?” San says. Wooyoung nods his head. 

“Whatever happens.” 

The two men help you pull the large filing cabinet, desk and other heavy things away from the door. You unlock the deadbolt, ripping the door open, the smile on your face falling immediately. 

“I'm sorry Y/N. I'm so sorry.” He cries. He's pushed inside the room by the three men from before. He trips, falling to the floor with a thud. You wanted to go to him but the man has a gun now and it's pointed directly at you. 

“You two aren't very good at hiding.” He chuckles. 

“Eric, you don't have to do this.” Wooyoung says, his hands up as he inches towards you. 

“Fuck you, Woo. You'd be the fucking same if you were locked in the hole for months at a time.” Eric snaps. “And now I have a chance for something real and you two are trying to ruin it for me.” 

“I'm telling you not to fucking do this.” San snaps. He can see Eric eyeing you up, your dad laying on the floor, one of Eric's men's feet pinning him down. 

“You think I'm gonna listen to you?” Eric laughs. “Just enjoy the show.” He says, grabbing onto Your wrists. Wooyoung and San try to lurch forward but they're stopped by the other two, flashing their knives. Eric pushes you against the wall, pulling you back towards him. He pulls you to the ground, climbing on top of you, straddling you. The gun is still shoved in your face. You say nothing, tears just stream down your face. Your eyes dart in-between San and Wooyoung as you silently plead for one of them to do something. To help you. 

Eric rips open your shirt, exposing your bra. You look away, seeing Wooyoung and San nod towards each other. They both lunge for the men, knocking them down. Your dad scrambles to his feet taking over for San, as he runs for Eric, who was too in his own world with you to hear anything else. San tackles him, causing Eric to let go of the gun, it slides across the floor. Eric scrambles beneath San as he delivers hit after hit. 

“Everybody get on the fucking ground.” You hear. Smoke bombs thrown into the room. Guards in full tactical gear flood inside, guns at the ready. San gets off of Eric, all of them men laying on the floor. “Hands on your head.” They yell. 

You do as you're told. “We have a hostage located.” They go to you first, helping you up. You're coughing loudly as they guide you out of the room, into another one to be treated. They'd finally gotten everything settled down and started getting inmates back into their cells, or medical treatment. 

“You took a fucking hostage, the warden is deciding your punishment.” A guard snaps at Wooyoung and San as they escort them past the room you're in. You push the nurse away, running out of the room. 

“Wait!” You yell. “They didn't take me hostage. They saved me from him.” You say, pointing to Eric. “He tried to.. he tried to...” You cry. “They protected me from him and I'll forever be grateful.” you finish. You walk over to the two handcuffed men, wrapping your arms around both of them, until they're both escorted off. Both of them looking over their shoulders, giving you a smile and a wink. 

Once you were checked out by the nurse and cleared to go, you were led out to the front where your mom was waiting for you. You sobbed into her shoulder as she hugged you tightly, apologizing to you profusely. She grabbed your hand, pulling you out to the car. you look back at the prison as she drives away, silently thanking Wooyoung and San for saving you. You'd have to find some way to properly thank them sometime. 

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” Your mom asks. 

“Dad and I were talking when fights broke out. Inmates were attacking guards and other inmates.” You sigh. “They opened the doors to the visitation room to let guards in but inmates rushed in.. one gut I guess had his sights set on me.” 

“Dad protected you right?” Your mom asks. 

“He tried. But there were 3 of them and one of him.. they took him away. And I was alone.” You look over at your mom, she has tears in her eyes as she listens to you. “But then two men rushed in and grabbed me, helped me escape. Took me to a room and barricaded the door.” 

“They didn't hurt you did they?” She whispers. 

“No mom, they didn't. Dad started banging on the door.. they helped me move everything and open the door but the bad guy was there with him, they pushed him in.. the guy tried to.. r..” you pause. Your mom looks horrified. “He didn't. Wooyoung and San tackled him and then the guards came in.” 

“That was extremely lucky that they were there for you.” She sighs. “I'm so sorry baby.” 

“It's not your fault mom. You didn't know that was going to happen.” You say. “No one could have predicted that would happen.” 

The rest of the way you drive home in silence. You really want to just go to bed. Luckily you didn't have to work today so you could do just that. As you walked in the house, your brother Jaehyun rushed to you, hugging you tightly. “I'm so glad you're okay.” He says, squeezes you even harder. 

“I won't be if you squeeze me anymore, you're gonna suffocate me.” You half chuckle, half panic. He lets you go, patting your back before heading back to the living room. 

“Do you want some lunch?” Your mom asks. You raise an eyebrow. You had assumed she would have had to go back to work. 

“Don't you have to go back to work?” You ask. She looks at the ground. 

“Uh, well.. Dave said if I left to go to you, I wouldn't have a job. It's not worth it if he won't let me go to my child who was in the middle of a prison riot. Don't worry, I'll find something else.” She smiles. 

Fuck Dave. You went up to your room, crawled in your bed and quickly fell asleep. The day was exhausting and you were still shook a week later. It was the week after the riot, and you had been answering everyone's questions about what happened, what it was like the guys who saved you. It was the talk of the town still but you were tired of talking about it. You were ready to forget about it now, which is why you agreed so fast when your friend Hwasa asked you to go out that night. There was a newish club that was apparently very exclusive and the two of you wanted in. You got ready in a hurry, doing your makeup and your hair the best you could. You slipped on your favorite club dress as well as shoes and headed for the front door. 

“I'm going out, bye!” You yell, slamming the door behind you. You run down the driveway heading to Hwasa's car. 

The drive to the club is long. When you finally see it, you're mesmerized. It's bigger than you imagined, the bright sign outside reads Ateez. You were so excited. The line was extremely long, and as you walked up to the bouncer he shooed you to the back of the line. It seemed like you were never going to get in. 

After about twenty minutes, you noticed a man staring at you that was walking the line, he walked past you, before backing up to look at you again. 

“L/N Y/N?” He asks, eyeing you up and down. 

“Yes?” You respond, staring at the handsome man. 

“Come with me.” He says, motioning for you and Hwasa to follow him. You and Hwasa look at each other, she shrugs her shoulders, following the man and dragging you along behind. He stops at the bouncer, pointing to you. “L/N Y/N. Add her to the list. VIP.” He finishes, bringing you both inside. What the hell did you do to get this sort of treatment? 

The two of you walk behind the man, following him really without any questions. You pass what looks like the main bar, the dance floor and head up some stairs. The rope is removed from the hook, letting the three of you into the VIP area. 

“You can stay here if you'd like. Your drinks are all on the house, whatever you'd like. If you need anything, my name is Mingi, don't hesitate to ask.” He says. 

“Um, I do have a question.” You say, slightly raising your hand. “How? Um, why? And um what?” You say. 

Mingi chuckles. “You helped my brothers out, by not adding time to their sentences. They both could have gotten a lot more time after that riot. But they didn't, because of you. So from now on, if you are in trouble or need anything, you have 8 men who will happily help you out.” He says. “Well 6 for now, until San and Woo get out.” 

“All I did was tell the truth.” You say.

“There's a lot of women out there who would have lied, knowing who those two are.” He says. 

 “Also, You're related to them?” You ask, ignoring what he said before. You were too busy trying to stop your mouth from hanging down. 

“Well.. in a sense.” He laughs. “Enjoy your night.” He finishes before leaving the room. 

“What the hell!” Hwasa shouts, heading over to your private bar. She orders multiple drinks and shots for each of you to be brought to your table. As you two sit there, listening to the music the DJ is playing, drinking and just having a good time you see five men walk into the room. They stop, staring at you. As they walk over they introduce themselves. 

“Y/N.” One smiles. “I'm Seonghwa, this is Yeosang, Yunho, Jongho and Hongjoong.” He says pointing to each extremely handsome man. 

“Nice to meet you.” You smile back, waving at them all while hiccuping in the process. 

“Thank you for what you did for Woo and San.” Seonghwa says. 

“Like I said to Mingi, I was just telling the truth. I didn't want them to get into trouble for saving me.” You explain. 

“If you need anything, and I mean anything, don't hesitate to call.” He says, sliding you a piece of paper. Written down are 8 phone numbers for you. This was honestly fucking surreal. Who knew this could happen for simply telling the truth? 

The men walk away and Hwasa stares at you in disbelief. “I almost wish it was me that day.” She laughs. “Let's go dance!” She says, trying to pull you up. 

“Let me just tidy these glasses.” You slur, stacking all the cups and shot glasses to bring back to the bartender. He laughs as you place them on the bar, and thanks you through his chuckles. 

You let Hwasa drag you down the stairs to the dance floor, immediately sliding her hands all over your body as you dance closely. The two of you always preferred to dance together, but sometimes if you were into it you'd dance with men.  This time you were too into dancing with Hwasa, you didn't want any men to disturb you. You turned around, grinding your ass into her as you looked around the club. You glanced up at the balcony and saw six men leaning on the railing, all their eyes staring directly at you. Why did you feel like your life was going to get a lot more interesting? 

[sspextkr]

snowed in - gerard/gn! reader fluffmas ao3

A snow storm blows out the power, leaving you trapped in an ATM vestibule with a certain celebrity crush of yours. (Heavily inspired by that one episode of FRIENDS ngl)

meet cute, plotless/mostly fluff, celebrity/fan dynamic, takes place in '07 read here on tumblr v or on ao3 (link above ^)

"5.. 10.. 15.. 20.. Good." You mutter under your breath, counting the amount you had pulled out from your bank account out loud. One week until Christmas, and there's still lots of shopping to be done. The last stop on your list for the night is a hole in the wall comic store for your younger brother, who's into all sorts of nerdy comic-y things. You have no idea what you're doing or what to get him- Maybe they'll have a cool figurine or something. They only take cash for some reason too, meaning you had to stop by and pull some out.

Although, you're also beginning to wonder if you should go home and do this in the morning- The snow is only getting worse by the minute, and you don't want to risk anything going wrong. The power could go out at any moment- knock on wood- and this vestibule isn't the comfiest. The ATM's are running smoothly, and the doors are functioning with no problem, so things should run smoothly.

You pocket your cash before walking to the front, and pulling the door handle. Clunk. It doesn't open. Maybe it's a push? Clunk. Not a push either. Just as you're about to give the door handle another tug, the lights flicker, before shutting off.

"... Shit-" You grumble, running a hand through your hair. Well, there go your plans for the evening. You spoke too soon, it seems.

“Aw, crap-” An awfully familiar voice sighs from behind you as well. “Guess we’re stuck.”

You only hum in agreement, turning around only to find yourself face to face with Gerard fucking Way.

…

“Holy shit.”

Like many of your friends, you had discovered My Chemical Romance in your late middle school/early high school years and became a massive fan, downloading every song of theirs you could find and buying as many magazines that had them on the cover as your parents allowed you too. Now, a little older and a bit more mature, you grew out of your phase, but the celebrity crushes still remained- Were they as intense as they were when you were 15? No, but certain photos did get your heart fluttering a bit.

Gerard pulled out his phone from the pocket of his trench coat, walking a few steps away before speaking. “Hi, yeah- I’m okay, I’m okay- The power went out and I’m trapped in the vestibule.” He paused. 

Right. You should probably call your own family and let them know where you are. You felt around your pockets, only to remember that you left it at home. Well, shit.

“No, I’m not alone..” Gerard glanced at you briefly. “I don’t know. Some guy.”

“Ha. I’m some guy.. What the hell is wrong with me?”

He spoke a few more brief words before hanging up, then awkwardly clearing his throat and turning back towards you, holding out his phone. “Do you wanna call anyone?”

You took his phone with an equally awkward demeanor, and dialed your moms number- You were supposed to drop by for a family dinner after a quick shopping trip, but the snow decided that you had other plans. After listening to it ring for a while, it goes straight to voicemail. Gerard gives you a sympathetic glance as he takes his phone back, putting it in his pocket.

"I just called my mom from Gerard fucking Way's phone, no big deal at all-" Secretly, you wished your cousin, Sabrina, had answered. She was supposed to be there, too, and was a massive MCR fan a few years ago like yourself. She would've been great to ramble with about this.

Neither of you spoke a word for the majority of the time, the only sound being the violent storm passing by outside. You decided to take a seat against the wall, awkwardly tracing the floor tiles. Gerard had a few other calls, some made and some received- It sounded like Christmas stuff, mostly.

"Busy?" You asked out of nowhere after his third call.

He gave a tired chuckle and nodded. "Yeah.. Christmas is always a big time of year for me. I'm.. I don't want to sound like I'm bragging or boasting, but I'm.. Sort of a musician. A bit big- Too big, if you want my opinion. Always some merchandise bundle scandal to deal with, or a tour that collides with vacation time-" Gerard paused, cheeks going slightly red with embarrassment. "I'm sorry, I'm rambling."

"No, no, it's okay. I asked, didn't I?" That seemed to calm him down a bit. "I've.. Heard of you before, I think. You're pretty good." 'Heard of you' was putting it lightly, but there's no way in hell you're going to come out as a superfan and risk embarrassing yourself in front of your teen hero.

"Ah.. Well, thanks. I appreciate it. Really." He smiled shyly, gaze still facing the ground. Your heart fluttered again. Jesus Christ. "What about you? You have anything going on?"

"I was supposed to be Christmas shopping. I came out here to pull out some money, but-" You gestured to the window showing off the blizzard outside. "Mother nature decided I had other plans."

"I get that." Gerard stepped closer to you, taking a seat beside you on the floor. Ho ho holy shit- "I wanted to do some shopping myself before I went home.. Came here to pull out some money. There's a comic store nearby that I like that only takes cash for some reason."

That caught your interest. "Spikes?"

He nodded, giving you another soft smile. "Yeah! You've been there?"

"Once or twice.." You brushed a loose strand of hair out of your face. "My brother is really into comics and superheroes and all that stuff.. I figured I'd stop by and see what I could find him. Too bad I don't know the first thing about comics."

"Lemme tell you, as a fellow comic book nerd, a figurine of his favorite character will probably make his day. D'you who or what he likes?"

"Uh.." You paused as you thought. "Really, really big on Iron Man. He can't wait for the movie to come out. Hasn't stopped talking about it since he saw the first few previews."

"Iron Man.." Gerard repeated softly. "Well, he's one of the most recognizable superheroes ever, so I have no doubt you'll be able to find him something Iron Man related. Figurines can get pretty expensive, though.."

".. Will $20 be enough?"

Gerard chuckled like you had just told him a joke. "If they're having a sale.. Maybe."

You chuckled as well, the sound cut off by a shiver running down your spine. With the power off, whatever heating units they had going was also off, and it was getting pretty cold. "You okay?"

You nodded, wrapping your jacket around yourself a little tighter. "I just get cold easily."

Gerard frowned, scooching to the side for a moment to take off his trench coat before settling it over your shoulders. "There."

You mumbled a small thank you, cheeks heating up to an embarrassing degree. Why were you so easy? Who gets flustered from someone giving you their jacket? Maybe since it's Gerard fucking Way-

The two of you continued to exchange a few words here and there, small talk turning into lighthearted and playful conversations. It was a little surreal getting to know him. Yeah, you had read all sorts of articles and watched all sorts of interviews, knew every song lyric by heart, and could drop so many of his iconic quotes into any conversation, but you were able to see who he was off camera. And who that was, was an adorable, loveable bastard with a passion for comics. Who knew he had such a sense of humor?

Your time together came to an abrupt end when the power flickered back on, the ATM’s came back to life and the door unlocked, finally. The both of you stood up, and you gave his coat back, not feeling quite as awkward or shy around him.

"This was a surprisingly good time." Gerard said after putting his coat back on, adjusting the collar around his neck. "Any chance I can get your number so we can meet up again?"

You blanked before nodding. "Uh.. Yeah, yeah.. Sure.."

Gerard smiled. "Awesome." He opened his contacts and handed you his phone, in which you typed your number in with shaking fingers. "I'll, uh, text you soon?"

"Yeah- Totally. I'm free besides the holidays."

"Great." He began to step away, walking towards the front door, before turning towards you at the last moment. "It was nice meeting you."

"Y-You too." And with that, he left. You found yourself needing a moment or two before you left yourself.

...

Sabrina’s never gonna believe this-

[donteattheappleshook]

Not Broken At All Chapter 16/?

Summary:

A season 1 Neverland AU. Emma is still trying to adjust to her new life as Sheriff of Storybrooke and mom to Henry, who still believes everyone in town is a fairytale creature. When she finds a badly beaten, one handed man while patrolling, she’s convinced he’s crazy. He is, after all, rambling about fairies and shadows and crocodiles. But when Henry is suddenly taken out the window of a house everyone believes is haunted, the madman in the hospital might be her only hope of getting her son back. Whether he likes it or not.

Rated E

Catch up on Ao3 (where my italics work) or on Tumblr 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15

Oh hey, remember me? Remember this story I haven't updated in a year…… Please don't hate me lol Sorry for how long this took - this chapter was just impossible to write and time just kept passing. I'm hoping there won't be such a long break again but I know better than to make promises.

Hopefully some of you are still reading this and enjoy this new chapter!

Note that I made a small change to the last chapter (which fixed this one). You don't have to read it, just know that the lost boys who died on the beach are still out there.

Anyway… here you go! Sorry!

Thank you as always to @the-darkdragonfly for letting me just throw ideas at you about this story all the time and putting up with all the changes! 💕💕 And thank you @kmomof4 for looking this over and helping me decide on the ending 💕 (You can blame her! I kid... mostly)

Small content/trigger warning: This chapter includes more of the aftermath of the hunt. There are no children actively hurt in this chapter but there are bodies and burials and grief.

*******

Part 16

“Mom?”

The thundering of her heart rips her from sleep, hollow and echoing with the blood rushing in her ears, painful in her chest. But there’s only darkness in the small room of the ship, eyes wide and unfocused, the remnants of a dream she can’t remember still making shapes in the dark. She could have sworn she heard it, like it was there in the room with her. But there's no one here - only Killian still in the bed next to her, the arm that had held her close before now outstretched beneath her as he sleeps. A dream. Neverland playing tricks on her - or one of the lost boys above deck calling out to the dark for their mother. 

“Momma?” That one’s real, quieter. One of the children must have found a way down, wandering the halls looking for someone he’ll never find. “Mummy…” That one is heartbreaking. She rises from the bed, Killian not stirring as she slips from the sheets and makes her way quietly across and out of the room. The boys were told not to come down here - better she find whoever it is than one of the pirates. “Mom?” There’s no one there to accompany the sound in the dim light of the lantern outside the cabin and she hesitates, looking towards where the disembodied voice came from. Whoever they are, it sounds like they’re making their way back to the deck on their own… “Mom?” 

The word cuts through her, paralyzes her, heart so tight in her chest she can’t breathe. Henry. She knows his voice - already so deeply ingrained in every part of her being after such a short time that hearing it now is like a piece of herself lost and calling out to be found. 

“Emma?” Softer, getting further away from her - losing him all over again. Her bare feet make no sound as she runs past the crew’s quarters, past the bosun’s room and the galley towards the deck. The door creaks wearily as she climbs the steps and opens it to the night air. The lost boys are asleep - all of them - every single one exhausted from the horrors of the day and she pads carefully through the bodies - sleeping and dead - searching. Henry’s not among them. The ship holds that eerie Neverland silence she can’t get used to, no crashing of waves or rustle of wind, the faint discordant song of the Lorelei the only hiss of sound as it floats in and out on the sea. 

“Mom?” 

Her eyes snap to the back of the Jolly. “Henry?” she hisses. 

“Mom!” Emma nearly stumbles over a sleeping child as she tries to catch up to him before he’s lost to her again. He found her. Of course he did, just like before. She should have known he would. She rounds the helm, heart pounding so violently it reaches the stern before she does. But there’s no one there, again, just an empty deck where a child should be, where her son should be. 

“Where are you?” There’s nowhere else to search, only the sea that surrounds them.

“Emma?” Wendy is standing in front of her, head cocked. “What are you doing up here?” 

She looks towards where her son should be, where the voice no longer calls out to her. There’s nothing there, no one, just the sleeping boys, just Will. 

“Did you see him?”

“See who?” 

“Henry. Did you see him? Did you see where he went?” 

“Henry? There’s no one else up here. It’s just me and the new recruits. You must have been dreaming.”

“I know what I heard. I know my son.” The other woman’s expression turns pitying and Emma’s shoulders tense. “I heard him.” 

Wendy’s frown deepens and when she speaks her voice has the same tone that hers had when she’d been trying to calm Hook in the hospital, the one you use to console a crazy person. “I’m sure you did.”

“It wasn’t a dream.” But even as she says it she starts to doubt her own words. There’s no sign of him, no sign that he was ever here. Wendy wouldn’t lie about that. 

She sighs. “I believe you.” She does, but she also doesn’t believe Henry’s on the ship either. Emma goes to the ship’s edge, careful not to trip over any sprawled limbs, and squints out at the beach against the sun that’s just starting to rise. Maybe he’s not on the Jolly. Maybe he’s somewhere out there. There’s no sign of him on the blood soaked sand and relief settles like a stone in her throat even as the fear of not knowing where he is rises up again. “Neverland plays tricks, Emma.” Wendy joins her at the bow, leaning against the rail, back straight and alert as she looks out at the carnage before them. “You can’t trust anything you hear. The shadows’ll do anything to lure you out.”

“The shadows?”

A nod. “They see into your dreams, see what it is you want most and use it against you. It’s how so many of the boys end up here in the first place.” Wendy’s shoulders sag a little, looking out at the bodies on the beach. It’s the closest Emma’s seen her come to breaking the hard mask she’s worn so well since the hunt started - the real person behind the cold captain. “And now they’ll never leave.”

“What happens to the bodies?” she asks, looking back at the dead, carefully wrapped in sheets on the deck.

“We bury the ones who made it here at sea. Neverland takes back the rest.” 

Emma frowns, eyes darting to the shore. “What do you mean it takes them back?” 

“They become the shadows that live in Dark Hollow, whispering to Pan, finding children, his way of keeping an eye on the outside world. He’ll come at sundown to collect them.” 

“They become the shadows?” she swallows, cold dread tasting bitter at the thought of all those kids having to become Pan’s creatures, forced to do his bidding forever. “The boys?”

Wendy nods and her stomach drops. 

“What about the ones who died here? Will they be shadows too?” 

She shakes his head. “Neverland magic can’t touch this ship. Whatever enchantment’s on it is powerful enough to keep even the darkness away.” Neverland can’t find you here. 

Emma hears her sigh when she looks back out at that beach. “Don’t even think about it.” She’s thinking about it. “He gets to keep his winnings. Those are the rules of the game. Those rules keep us alive.” 

She doesn’t answer, only gives the captain a small nod, thoughts still spinning with the cruelty of it all, that even in death these children can’t escape Pan. Wendy puts a hand on her shoulder, the gesture surprisingly consoling, the mask slipping again. “You’re not the only one who wishes it could be different.” 

Emma nods, grim and defeated, and Wendy pats her shoulder with a tight-lipped smile before turning towards where some of the children have started to stir. 

She wishes she could say she thought about it longer, or at all, really. But all she can think of is every single kid she knew growing up, all the ones who fell through the cracks, the ones who were given up on or abandoned, all the adults who threw up their hands and said there was nothing they could do - that was just how the system worked, that rules had to be followed. Fuck that. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” 

Wendy’s shout echoes above her, cut off by the water when she plunges into it. It takes her deeper than she expected it to, the fall further than she thought, but she kicks wildly, eyes burning against the salt until she breaks the surface. And then she’s swimming, boots and vest heavy against the waves, hat lost somewhere between the ship and the surface, but she keeps going. She can make this swim, she’s made it before - and she has a purpose now. 

She stumbles as she climbs onto the beach, the tide pulling at her knees and then her ankles like it’s trying to draw her back to where it’s safe. Emma fights it, running and slipping across the sand once it’s hot and dry beneath her feet and collapsing beside the first boy she finds. He’s tall and wiry, limbs stretched out, calf-like, not yet grown into his elbows and knees. And now he never will. 

She kneels beside him, stroking his cheek before closing his eyes. Salt water drips onto his skin, turning dried blood fresh again as she tells him she’s sorry - that this happened, that she couldn't do anything to stop it, that Pan gets to keep living. She doesn’t know how long she just sits there with him, looking out at all the other kids who won’t ever go home. 

“Swan…” No. She’s not going back - not leaving them here. She slides her arms under the boy’s shoulders, heaving his limp, heavy frame onto her chest, not sure how she plans to get him back to the ship, just that she will. “Swan.” She ignores it, digging her heels into the sand, trying to plant them under her enough that she can get to her feet. But it slips away beneath her boots and she falls on her ass again and again. She’s not leaving him here. She’s not leaving any of them here.

“Swan.” 

“What!” she snaps, barely looking up at him, wet hair plastered to his face, coat left behind, shirt soaked in water and salt. She can’t get her legs steady enough beneath her, can’t lift the kid any higher into her arms, so she starts to drag him back across the beach, holding tight to his chest as she makes it inch by inch, blonde head rolling limply against her shoulder. 

“Emma,” Killian says softly when she stumbles, she and the boy fall back against the sand. If he says her name one more goddamn time… His hand is gentle on her arm, stopping her as she moves to stand again and she looks up, ready for a fight, whatever she has to, but she’s taking this kid back to his stupid, magical ship where he can rest in fucking peace. 

But his gaze isn’t scolding, not a warning or even pity and he reaches for the boy in her arms, taking his weight from her and hoisting him over his shoulder. He fixes her carefully with a solemn, resolved stare when she stands to meet his gaze. “There’ll be consequences.” 

She looks back towards the shoreline where Will and Wendy are standing by the dinghy. “Do you care?” she asks him, turning to the others, “Do any of you care?” There are more coming out of the water now, pirates and lost boys marching onto the beach.

The residual anger fades from Wendy’s eyes, hardening into something different, and then she kneels beside a small body, this one looking too young to have been on this side of the hunt. “John didn’t make it off the beach,” is all she says before lifting him from the sand and meeting Emma’s eyes with equal determination. 

Will shrugs. “Pan already wants me dead,” he says, bending to pick up another child, cradling the boy to his chest. “Might as well be for a good reason.”

Slowly, the others begin doing the same, gathering the fallen, some searching for brothers, friends, others finding any they can carry. Emma follows Killian’s gaze to where two older kids come to the aid of a young boy trying to pick up a bigger body that bears him a painful resemblance - a brother no doubt. She doesn’t miss the way Killian watches them carry him across the beach, the younger boy not letting go of his brother’s sleeve. He’d lost his brother here as well, to Pan’s cruelty. She wonders how long ago it was, wonders if any amount of time matters. 

Emma follows Killian as he brings the tall boy’s body to the dinghy and sets him down gently. 

“So what now, Swan?” he says, turning to look at the Lost Boys gathering their fallen friends, “You’ve declared war on Pan. And these boys will follow you to the end now. Where will you lead them?” 

Emma spares another glance at the beach, at the pirates that were Lost Boys and the Lost Boys that will be pirates, all of them stolen from their lives and their families for Pan’s enjoyment. “Home. When this is over, and Pan is dead, we’re taking them home. All of them.”

“Aye,” he says, with an edge of something she can’t place in his voice, his gaze holding hers just a moment too long before he moves to collect another body, damp skin and drying shirt becoming stained with someone else’s blood. He hesitates, casting a glance back at her. “They aren’t the only ones who’ll follow you,” he tells her before turning and walking back towards the shore.

***

There are twice as many bodies on the deck as there had been last night, a sea of white cloth laid out on the bow of the Jolly like snowfall, twice as many ghosts wrapped in sheets waiting to be buried at sea. There are twice as many lost boys too, half of them no longer cowering by the edge of the ship’s rail, gazing longingly out at the island they’d just escaped. Instead they stand in rows, backs straight and heads bowed, already falling in line, already soldiers as they wait for their captain to speak. 

They’d sailed further from land than Emma’s been since they first arrived, the water deeper here, where no light can reach the depths even with the sun burning high and bright above them, and no shadows can be cast. “They’re weakest when the sun is at its peak, where the light can’t cast them further,” Wendy had explained. “At night though… at night the whole world is shadow.” 

Killian stands tense before them, Wendy and Will at his side, the two captains and their first mates. There’s something off in the line of his shoulders, in the way his thumb keeps sliding over the rings he wears. She’d seen him in the aftermath of the hunt, surrounded by the bodies, used to death and slaughter and cruelty. He’d held back then, composed and calm as always around the boys and young men that had survived. But as he looks at the sea of white, the cannonballs tied to their ankles that will drag them all down into the darkness where the shadows can’t reach them, she can see him losing that tenuous grip on his cool indifference. So can Wendy, if the hint of sympathy barely cracking through her own harsh disguise is anything to go on. 

When she thinks that he might not manage it, that his first mate might have to step in and take over, he lets out a bitter sigh. “Best not to draw it out.” Will steps forward, he and Killian lifting the closest body onto a plank balanced on the rail, held steady by two of the older crewmen - both barely out of their teens - preparing to tilt the body into the sea. 

Before he can raise his hand to signal the order, a small boy appears at his side, and Killian freezes. Emma hadn’t seen him break rank, hadn’t seen him make his way across the deck - no more than seven or eight years old.  She recognizes him, the one who’d been trying to carry his brother on the beach. She wonders what he could have possibly done for Pan to decide he’d had his fill of time in Neverland. 

The boy’s coat is tattered and dirty from however long he’d been in the jungle, and her reaches into it to pull something out, and then stretches as far as he can to reach across the body that’s nearly at eye level with him. And there, in the center of white sheet, he sets a baseball card down on the fallen boy’s chest. 

Emma doesn’t breath, the men holding the plank staring at the card, everyone on deck silent and frozen. The child moves to Killian’s side then, tugging at the thick leather of his sleeve until the captain leans down and gives the boy his attention. “Jack.” 

A strange sort of uncertainty falls over the crowd at the sound of the lost boy’s name. This is clearly not how things are done. Even the newest recruits shift uncomfortably - waiting. She watches the understanding settle in the line of Killian’s shoulders as he nods at the newest member of his crew. After a moment, one of the men who’d been holding the plank reaches out and tucks the card into the folds of the sail and then looks to his captain. Killian turns to the boy before nodding again.

“Jack,” he repeats, loud enough for everyone to hear.

There’s barely a splash as the body disappears beneath the surface, hardly a sound in that chilling stillness that Neverland possessed, but it resonates across the deck and Emma feels something shift. Wendy moves to help lift the next body onto the plank as Killian waits. A name is called from somewhere near the back, too quiet to place among the rows of former lost boys, but Killian repeats it as he had first one and there’s a moment of solemnness before another splash echoes across the deck. 

He names each of them -they all do - friends and brothers calling out to identify the fallen, to remember them before they’re laid to rest where Pan will never find them, where he’ll never hurt them again. 

***

“What do you think he’ll do?” 

Killian looks up at her standing in his doorway, shirt slipping over his head, catching on his hook. “Pan?” He sets to working the fabric free, hair windswept and sticking up at strange angles, skin still marked with the blood of the children he’d carried. 

Emma nods. He’d said there’d be consequences and she hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it since they’d gotten the last boy off the beach and onto the ship, his body wrapped in a sheet and sent to the depths with the others.

“I don’t know, but he won’t be happy.” 

She worries her lip between her teeth, casting a glance down the hall to the steps where overhead the boys are being introduced to their new life of piracy. “Darling makes ‘em spend days scrubbing the ship clean when they first come aboard. Says it ‘builds character’,” Will had explained. “Let it go already - it’s been nine years.” 

“Not having second thoughts, are you?” 

She shakes her head. She knows she did the right thing, that the children that died yesterday deserved some amount of dignity, of care, even in death, that those who lived deserved to see that they mattered, that they would be missed, that they wouldn’t be cast aside or forgotten. And that they wouldn’t be forced to be a tool in Pan’s neverending need for more playthings. 

“No, but I guess… I guess I didn’t consider that the consequences might not just be mine.” He could come for any of them. As far as Pan knows, she doesn’t exist. But Killian and Wendy, Will and everyone else on this ship could fall victim to Pan’s anger because of her. 

“Every person out there made a choice today, Swan. Something they haven’t been able to do in a very long time.” He finally gets the shirt free of his brace and lifts his gaze to hers. “Whatever consequences befall us now, the burden will be all of ours to bear. Not just yours.” He waits until she nods in agreement, then moves to dip his hand and hook into a basin, Emma watching as the water turns a murky red. “I will say though, Swan, I pity Pan for when he finally finds himself on the wrong side of your wrath. You’ve turned all of Neverland against him, even his own.”

“I think he did that himself when he tried to kill them.”

Killian shakes his head, grabbing a dampened cloth with his hook and scrubbing at the blood and sand dried to his hand. “The fact that they’d defy Pan and choose their fallen friends… the fact that half of them didn’t run for the treeline to beg him to take them back… You’ve changed something, love. You’ve done more for the creatures of this island in a week than any of us have managed in centuries.”

“I couldn’t just do nothing,” she mutters, crossing her arms and shrugging awkwardly. 

Killian gives a short, humourless laugh, avoiding her gaze, scrubbing harder as the cloth continues to slip from his hook. “Believe me, Swan, it’s very easy to do nothing.”

Emma takes a step into the room. “You didn’t do nothing.” 

“I didn’t do nearly as much as I could have.” 

“Stop it,” she scolds, crossing the space between them and taking the rag from him. He startles as she grabs his wrist, running the cloth over the blood caked into his palm. She knows her hair and clothes probably look just as bad - everyone out on the deck today carrying the stain of Pan’s cruelty on their skin. “You did what you could while staying alive. You can’t protect people if you’re dead. You can’t protect your crew, and you can’t protect the kids Pan sends your way if you’re dead.” He doesn’t have an answer to that. Good. 

They stand in silence as she finishes her task. When she can’t pretend to be cleaning the now non-existent blood anymore - the most stubborn bit finally wiped clean - when she can’t avoid saying what she came to say anymore, she sighs. “Thank you.” 

“For what?” 

“I know you could have just as easily made me leave them there on the beach - that it probably would have been the safer choice.” 

She rests the cloth in his open hand, focusing on it instead of him. She’s not great at this ‘thank you’ thing, at people understanding her the way he had on the shore today. 

“I don’t think anyone could make you do anything easily, Swan,” he teases and she shrugs, matching his hesitant smirk. “And it may have been the safe thing to do, but it wouldn’t have been the right thing.” His fingers curl around hers, keeping her there and drawing her attention back to him. “I should thank you as well.” 

“For what?” she echoes, frowning. She’s pretty sure she’s done nothing but cause problems for him since she got here. 

“For reminding me that I can still choose to do the right thing. I’d started to believe I’d forgotten how.” 

Her frown deepens. “Killian, you’ve done the right thing since -'' always, she wants to say, since she met him and made him bring her back here. He’s done right by her and her son and everyone else here from the beginning. 

“Since you chained me to that bloody sick bed,” he finishes, smirking again even as he shakes his head in disbelief, thumb is stroking across her knuckles - she doesn’t think he means to be doing it. “I don’t seem to have the option where you’re concerned. It’s exhausting, really.” Emma does her best not to laugh, not when he takes a step closer, fingers curling more purposefully around hers, the metal of his ring cool against her skin as he drops the cloth, eyes focused on hers like he’s trying to find an answer in them.  Voice soft, the teasing gone now he breathes, “you’re a bloody marvel, Swan,” and he’s so damn close now that she can feel his words warm against her cheek, can smell the salt and leather and rum that clings to his skin even after a day like today. 

He doesn’t move and she can’t decide if she wants him to, if the pounding of her heart stems from a desire to have him close the distance between them or from fear of what it would mean if he did. He’s watching her like he’s trying to decide the same and the words come out before she can stop them.

“Are you going to kiss me again?” 

His brow quirks up in amusement, before it shifts into that smug arch that’s become so familiar. “I believe you’re the one who’s initiated all of our previous dalliances, love,” he points out and she can feel her face going hot because he’s not wrong - she’s been throwing herself at him every chance she gets since that first kiss that was meant to distract him. “But aye,” he continues before the embarrassment gives her time to second guess herself. His hand lifts to her cheek, thumb tracing over her lip. “If you’ve no objections…” 

She should have some objections - like that making out with the really hot, annoyingly heroic pirate that makes her feel all kinds of confusing things she doesn’t want to be feeling is a really bad idea. But her head shakes without her permission and then he’s leaning in, carefully and agonizingly slowly until his lips only barely brush hers, the taste and heat of his mouth leaving her aching for the promise of more. She’d accuse him of teasing, only it doesn’t feel like a tease, more like a question as his lips catch hers gently, chaste and slow before pulling away and hesitating a moment longer. 

Emma’s fingers reach to tangle in his hair as she resists the urge to pull him to her like she has in the past. He lets out a small sigh at her touch and she can almost taste it before his mouth is on hers again, kiss slow and deep, swallowing the small sound she lets out when his brace slides low across her back to draw her closer. He kisses her like they’ve never done this before, every brush of his lips and stroke of his tongue and exploration and she’ll never get over how strongly her body reacts to him and the all-consuming way his mouth claims hers. 

She breathes his name and he lets out a low growl, hand tightening in her hair, pulling her closer, teeth dragging over her lip like he can catch the sound before soothing it with his tongue. He walks them back across the room to the door, pushing it shut, cradling her head against the impact as he presses her into the wood, mouth not leaving hers. She’s taken aback for a moment by the gentleness of his touch, but then his lips leave hers to trail the length of her neck and the shuddering heat that burns her everywhere his tongue meets her skin has her arching into him, need pooling low in her stomach. 

Emma lets out a small whimper when he follows the line of her shirt to the swell of her breasts and Killian groans, pulling away, forehead resting against hers as they both pant into the space between them. “I don’t have the energy to do everything I want to do to you tonight,” he sighs.

“How about just some of it?” she asks and he laughs, hand tracing the same path his mouth had, stopping at the center of her chest, over her heart, and sounding as frustrated as she feels - but also just as exhausted. Today had been a trying day, even by Neverland standards, and they’re both weary and still covered in blood and dirt and sweat from the exertion. 

“I know,” she agrees with a sigh, even if she doesn’t like it. Her hands slide from where they’d woven themselves into his hair to settle on his chest, his skin warm and soft against the coarse hair, heart beating hard under her palm. “Can I…” He waits, gaze focused on her even as she looks at the floor. She hates feeling vulnerable, but with everything that’s happened, with what Wendy told her about the shadows, and the now growing threat of an angry, vindictive Pan she just… “Can I stay?” 

They hadn’t talked about it in the morning, about Emma coming to his room the night before, the ship so loud with the cries of those broken children thrust into adulthood too young, into piracy against their will. She’d been gone before he woke, chasing phantoms across the deck and jumping off ships and they’d pretended as though it had never happened. And she’d been grateful for that. It made her feel brave enough to ask now, to admit that she needed this.

He seems surprised by her question before an expression of gentle understanding softens his features. “Aye, love,” he nods, reaching to brush her probably wild and matted hair from her eyes. “I’d like that.” The hitch of her heart calms when she realizes that maybe he also doesn’t want to be alone tonight, that maybe he needs the comfort and safety of another person after all the tragedy they’ve seen these last few days. 

He kisses her again, soft and gentle and easing some of the dread that’s made a home in her chest since she left Storybrooke. She thinks he meant it to be chaste, but neither of them seem in any hurry to give up the press of his mouth against hers, the reassuring comfort of his heartbeat, beneath her palm, or the warmth of his calloused fingers against her cheek, the metal of his hook, cool and grounding on her hip. 

She lets it go on longer than she should for a kiss like this, one that isn’t building to anything else, that isn’t meant to excite or seduce but just to feel and savour something good for once, something easy. It’s the way she’d kissed him by the water on Solstice. It had been dangerous then and it was dangerous now. 

Still, Killian is the one to pull away first, Emma chasing his lips without meaning to before he clears his throat, cheeks flushed and an expression she can’t place in his eyes as they meet hers, like the one he’d worn in the brig - perhaps I would - and suddenly it’s all so much more than it was supposed to be, than it can or should be. He must sense it too because he takes a step back, fog still not fully cleared from his gaze as he straightens. 

“I should go ensure the crew are prepared for the night - that there’s a watch planned.” She peels herself off the door so that he can get by. “There’s hot water in the pitcher if you want to wash the day off,” he adds, waiting for her nod, returning it, and then darting out of the room. 

Emma sags back against the closed door. What the hell are you doing? She can’t be doing… this. Whatever this is. Not here, certainly not now when she should be focused on her mission, on her son, not when the last time she came close to this was… Her fingers brush over the boot laces tied around her wrist. Look how well that had ended. Look how well it always ends. 

By the time Killian returns she’s washed her hair and the worst of the grime from her skin before slipping under the covers in a stolen, clean shirt. She feigns sleep when she hears him move almost silently around the room, there’s the splash of water and the rustle of clothing as she forces her eyes to remain shut. It’s not until she knows he’s standing by the bed, hesitating, like he’s not sure he should still join her now that she’s ‘asleep’ - as though she didn’t ask him if she could spend another night in his bed- that she breaks her pretense. 

“Just get in, Killian.” There’s a pause, a stillness in the air before she feels the sheets move and the bed sag beside her as he slides in, settling on his side next to her but leaving enough room that there’s no risk of them touching. And it’s a palpable distance. “Do you… do you want to sleep alone?” she asks quietly, anxious now that this isn’t one of his frustrating gentleman streaks but that he’s changed his mind, that she’s imposing, asking too much of him. 

“No,” his voice is just as low as hers and she holds back a small sigh of relief. 

“Please don’t make me ask…” Emma feels him calm beside her, the awkward tension leaving him as he inches closer. His fingers ghost over her shoulder for a moment before he slides his arm around her waist and pulls her back against him.

“I’m here, Swan. You don’t have to ask.” The promise is breathed into her hair, lips pressing to the crown of her head as they had the night before and Emma shuts her eyes against the tears that burn at the edges of them. “You’re safe,” he tells her again, like he knows she needs to hear it, and she nods. She knows. Even as the cries of the lost boys drift into the room from above deck and the jungle beyond, she knows. 

She turns in his arms, tucking her hands beneath her cheek so she can see him, follow the outline of his jaw and neck in the moonlight that steals through the drawn curtains. Even his silhouette is beautiful, the light playing over the edges of his skin, turning it almost iridescent, and making her want to reach out and trace the curve of his bare shoulder and arm where the shadows suggest shapes in the dark. 

“You are too, you know.” Killian might be one of the bravest people she’s ever met, but she knows that Pan terrifies him. And today he pissed him off - because she asked him to. “If Pan wants any of you he’s gonna have to go through me first.” Bold words as they hide beneath the covers like children hoping they won’t be found.

She doesn’t have to see his eyebrow tick up to know that it is. “Aye?”

“I’m scarier than I look.” He bites down on a laugh or a teasing comment. Her fingers found their way to his elbow at some point - she hadn’t meant to. They follow the line of his bicep, his shoulder. “I can keep you all safe.” Her voice nearly breaks on the last word - because she has to. Henry, Killian, Wendy, Will, she needs all of them to survive this. She’s lost everyone she’s cared about. She won’t add them to the list.

His finger is gentle beneath her chin as hers dance across his collarbone and she lifts her gaze to the pale blue that shines even in the dim light. “We’ll keep each other safe then,” he offers like a compromise and she nods. She can do that. 

She doesn’t have to ask if he’s going to kiss her this time, and she doesn’t care enough to be conflicted by the fact that she wants him to - not here in the dark where her doubts can’t find her. His hand slides over her cheek, fingers tracing the shell of her ear to curl around the nape of her neck, like he’s mapping his way to her by touch. When he draws her in she goes willingly, mouth meeting his like muscle memory, the heat and feel and taste of him a familiar temptation that she could find blind.

He hums low in the back of his throat when her lips part beneath his in invitation, taking the opportunity to deepen the kiss, tongue hot and slow against hers, using his hooked arm to pull her close, legs tangling beneath the sheets. She’s on goddamn fire as he continues to touch her with nothing but his hand in her hair, lips not straying from hers, and it’s not fucking fair because nobody should be able to push all of her buttons and make her want them so badly without even trying. And he’s not trying. This is just… how he is with her, how they are together and it’s maddening and intoxicating and she wonders if it’s always like this when you care. 

Fuck. The thought stops her. Fuck, she cares. She cares if he lives or dies - if something were to happen to him… If it happened because of her, she doesn’t -

“Are you alright, love?” The words are spoken against her lips. No, she’s absolutely not. But she’s not dealing with that right now. She doesn’t want to deal with how or why or when she ended up caring so fucking much, what it could do to her, like it’s done so many times before. She shakes her head, ignoring his question, both her arms wrapping around his neck to pull him back to her, mouth slanting over his in a silent sort of plea. He returns it, though his kiss is gentler than hers, softer and less urgent than it had been a moment ago and her heart and mind grow a bit less frantic. 

He changes the pace, slowing her, calming her, Emma sinking into the purposeful slide of his mouth and tongue and the tug of his fingers in her hair. He pulls away, their breath shallow and he finds her eyes in the dark again. The shadows don’t let her read his expression, but he must see something in hers because his hand slips from her hair, following the strands down her back to her waist where it flattens against her hip, slipping beneath the fabric of her stolen shirt. He moves so slowly, like he expects her to stop him, or he’s just giving her the chance to, but the heat of his palm trailing up her side is the most agonizing kind of torment and she bites hard on her lip to keep from begging as he inches across her skin.

When his hand finds her breast she lets him swallow the gasp that escapes her and the small curse she lets out when his thumb rolls over her nipple. She breathes his name when he continues to touch her, her nails digging into the back of his shoulders when he moves to nip and lick at the pulse point of her neck. He releases her only long enough to work the few buttons of her shirt open and then his mouth is on her breast and the room fills with her poorly silenced gasps and pleas as he teases her with teeth and tongue. 

She’s grateful when he kisses her again, just as his fingers trail over her stomach and dip between her legs, muffling the sound that would have alerted anyone still awake to exactly what was taking place in the dark of the cabin. His touch is fucking perfect, like he’d watched her in that fairy field where he talked her over the edge because ever stroke and curl and thrust is exactly what she likes, exactly what she needs and she knows it won’t take long. 

Killian falters when she reaches for him, fingers sliding into the soft, slippery fabric of his pants and finding him hard and straining in her hand. He bites out her name like a curse when she strokes him and he tries and fails to regain his composure. When her mouth claims his he groans into the kiss, his fingers matching the pace she sets with her hand on him and the roll of her hips. His thumb finds her clit and she bites his lip at the meticulousness of his touch, determined and fervid and she thinks he must be close too if he’s trying to send her over the edge so urgently.

Her free hand is vice-like in his hair, holding him to her as they whisper hushed gasps and curses into each other’s mouths and Emma has to turn her head into his shoulder, teeth sinking into his skin as she feels her climax building, hips rocking frantically as he brings her higher and higher. Her grip on his cock tightens, her strokes faster as she nears that edge. His words fall out in a choked mix of encouragement and pleasure, beard rough against her skin, breath hot on her neck, until she feels him tense against her. He groans a muffled ‘fuck, please, Swan,’ against her throat, fingers curling and urging and then she’s coming, back arching and her cry cut off by his mouth on hers before she feels him spill himself in her hand. 

“Fuck,” Killian curses, low and breathless in the stillness of the Neverland night. She doesn’t have any words, heart still racing and eyes still shut tight, her body feeling like it’s going to float away despite the heaviness in her limbs. She tugs his mouth back to hers with the grip she still has on his hair and the groan he lets out almost makes her feel bad, exhaustion and desperation and desire wrapped into one, low sound. 

He kisses her again, lips moving to her neck, her shoulder, her breast, and she’s about to warn him not to start something he can’t finish as the low hum of warmth settles over her skin, but then his fingers tug the edges of her shirt closed gently, pressing one last kiss to her mouth before standing and retrieving a cloth.

“Was that one of the things you had in mind?” she teases when she hands it back to him and he discards it. Her voice is still breathless and strained as he climbs back into the bed, sliding beneath the covers and taking her hand in his. She watches as he raises it to his lips, placing a kiss to the center of her palm and then weaving his fingers through hers. She tries not to let her heart grow frantic with the mix of fear and longing that surges when he lets their entwined hands rest in the bare space between them. 

“That was… wholly unexpected,” he rasps, thick with sleep and sex. She thinks his eyes are drifting shut, the strain of the day finally taking him even as his thumb strokes carefully over the back of hers, slower and slower as he’s pulled under. 

She watches him for a moment longer, making out the line of his brow and cheek in the dark, the steady rise and fall of his chest, more relaxed than she’s ever seen him. And as she pulls his hand to her mouth, lips settling against the cool metal of his rings, she knows exactly what he means. 

***

Emma wakes to a hand pressed firmly over her mouth, her eyes darting open in panic, muscles tensed, braced for a fight. But where she expects an intruder she finds only Killian, face close to hers, finger held to his lips, and she’d fucking deck him for scaring the shit out of her like this if it weren’t for the seriousness of his expression, the fear he just barely hides beneath the command. She knows that fear can only mean one thing, even before he whispers it into the darkness, eyes darting towards the ceiling, to the deck above them.

Pan.

******

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[words-like-water]

You're My Angel

or the one where running errands with peter makes you realize your feelings for him.

wooo! first published story. it has not been betad so if you're looking to be a mutual/beta reader pleeeease hit me up

peter parker x fem!reader

word count: 2,700

warnings: none really. angst if you squint bc unrequited love that ends up requited

i don't like using y/n so peter and the reader call each other lots of nicknames. 

nothing. nothing. nothing.

nothing in the fridge, nothing in the cabinets. no ingredients, barely any snacks. the only tangible things in my kitchen are a bottle of ketchup and multiple almost-rotten fruits. i slam the refrigerator door shut and lean against it with a sigh.

i guess next time i should stock up before a mission. living with my mom has its. we get along, and we don't get in each other's way; she's always at work and i'm always at "avenger club" as she likes to call it. however, being the only other person living here also means that if she doesn't buy groceries, it's my responsibility.

i'm contemplating using instacart for groceries when my phone rings in its spot on the counter. picking it up, a smile finds its way to my face as i see who's calling me.

"hiiii, angel!"

 peter parker's voice pours from my phone's speakers. it's music to my ears. peter and i have known each other since he joined the avengers, two years after i had. we've been inseparable since that week in haiti, saving civilians from a freak tropical storm. 

we had so much in common, from our love of legos to our protective sense for the people we care about. my friends like his friends, and vice versa. even my mom and may get along. 

we're like peanut butter and jelly, chicken and waffles, and cookies and milk. we're great on our own, but together, we just make something amazing. wait, what?

i shake the ridiculous thought from my head as i remember i'm on the phone.

"what do you want, parker?" there's a playful accusatory tone in my voice as I cross my arms like he can see me.

"whatever do you mean? i can't just call my best friend because i want to talk to her?"

i roll my eyes and say, "peter, you only call me angel when you want something." and i know i'm right. he's called me angel ever since we went on a mission where i basically saved his life. he knows it strokes my ego.

"fine, you caught me. may's at this thing with some ladies she met at the library. i'm soooo bored."

"well you're in luck," i proclaim, pushing off of the fridge and walking down the hallway. "i need to run errands, you can come with me."

i hear something like plastic rustling on his end of the phone before he groans, "ew, errands? no thanks." his words are almost incoherent around a snack of some sort.

making it into my room, i drop my phone on the bed and start to change out of my sweats. "okay, stay at home and be bored out of your mind. and when i go to delmar's later don't ask me to bring you anything." i smirk at the commotion i hear from his side as i pull on a different shirt. 

"delmar's? i'll be at your house in 10," he says loud and clear, then he hangs up. 

I shake my head while messing with my hair a bit. not that i care what i look like in front of peter, i just like to be decent anytime i leave the house.

---

true to his word, peter knocked on my door 10 minutes later. his cheeks tinted red and his hair unruly. 

"did you swing here?" i ask him, reaching up to comb through the curls until they lay somewhat flat. he leans down a bit and allows me to work, his hair like silk between my fingers. 

"yeah, the sooner we do boring grown-up stuff, the sooner we can get sandwiches." he looks at me with a gleam in his eyes that never disappears. 

i push his head away lightly as a grab my purse and keys. "you only wanna run errands with me so i'll buy you food? you're such a leech, parker." i say with fake hurt in my voice as i turn to lock the door. 

"awww. that's not true, i'd run errands with you anytime, angel." he coos, and i have to force myself to remain standing as he runs his fingertips down my spine.

i narrow my eyes at him to hide the fact that i'm wracking my brain for possible explanations of why he could have done that. there had to be something on my shirt. that gesture was pure friendliness, right? and better question, why did it make my knees feel weak as toothpicks?

"whatever, liar." i laugh a little to keep my voice steady as i brush past him towards the elevator.

as we get in, he asks me what kind of errands i need to run. first, the library to return some books, then groceries. then we can get delmar's i assure him.

the walk from my apartment building to the library isn't long, and once i return the books, we head for the grocery store. between the destinations, we talk about school, different shows, and our secret "club," but only with codenames in case anyone is listening. we people watch and play games, and every now and then i feel peter's hand brush mine. only slightly, like it was an accident, i pray it was an accident. 

we reach the grocery store, and like the gentleman he is, he grabs a basket while i look for the list in my purse. 

"okay, first things first, cereal." i declare, walking in one direction. they had recently rearranged the layout of the store, but i was confident that i knew where i needed to go. i turn to say something to peter when i realize he's walking the opposite way. 

"peter," i call for him, "where are you going?"

"...to..get..cereal?" he points out like i've just asked him the most obvious question.

"baby," i condescendingly say, "cereal's this way," i point in the direction i was originally going. 

"no, sweetheart, cereal is this way." he juts his thumb in the direction he was going.

"alright, parker." i walk closer to him. "since you think you know everything, let's make it a game."

"okay," he smirks as he crosses his arms, "i'm listening." his tongue swiping across his bottom lip.

my eyes catch on his thick arms, straining against his sweatshirt. stupid spider. and i have to rip my eyes away from the motion at his lips to continue my thoughts. what is wrong with me today?

"for every item on the list," i fight to keep my eyes on his, "we'll make a bet about which side of the store it's on. whoever loses the most has to buy dinner."

he nods along to what i'm saying, seemingly contemplating, but i can already see the mischief in his eyes. "i'll play your game, but when you lose just know i'm ordering everything delmar's makes."

"oh please, be my guest," i nod along with him, "i just hope you've got enough cash to back yourself up."

in the next second, he's in my space. barely three inches away as my breath catches in my throat. 

"so, cereal... lead the way."

---

i turn on my heels, speeding towards where i know the cereal is. he doesn't expect me to move so quickly, as he's still standing where i was a second ago. but he reacts, catching up to me slightly.

my heart is beating fast and hard, and i pray he can't hear it. i can't think for the life of me why he's acting like this. he can't like me. we're friends. that's how i know that peter is awkward. and he's shy, especially with girls that he likes. but he's not shy right now. he's being so forward. which means...

he doesn't like me, he's playing with me. this really is a game to him. he only calls me angel when he wants something.

i almost pass what i'm looking for in my scatterbrained state. "see," i motioned, "there it is, like i said." 

i grab what i need and put it in the basket, barely looking at him, though i can feel his confusion at my change in emotion. i take the list, putting my initial next to the first item, and read off the second item to him. we place our bets, and head in his direction first. it turns out to be correct, so i check off the item and write his initial. we continue this for the rest of the items, but my mind begins to wander again.

i can't believe peter would mess with me like this. playing with my feelings. feelings that i didn't even know i had. i try to think about when they could have developed, and it dawns on me. as i watch him put bread in the basket, an item i was right about, i realize why today is different. 

peter and i had never run errands together. being in such a domestic situation with someone i had come to care for so much made me realize just how much i like peter. of course, when i first met him, i thought he was attractive, but more so, i found him adorable. and he's funny, and he cares so much. and throughout the years he's done everything he can to make me happy. running errands with him made me think of the future. our future and how this could be us one day, making groceries for our apartment.

but it will never be us, because peter doesn't feel that way, and he's playing with me, and it hurts more than i can admit.

i don't hear whatever gloating statement he makes as he wins the next item, fruits and vegetables, and he notices. his face falls as he assesses what might be wrong, and i can feel my throat close at the thought of having this conversation. the universal, friendship-ending, i-like-you-why-don't-you-like-me-back conversation. i cough, clearing my face of any emotion except feigned annoyance. 

"good job. you're in the lead by one. the last item is jam, and i think it's this way, so let's go."

i don't give him a chance to say anything as i take the basket, and head in the direction i indicated. i can feel him keeping his distance, but i don't bother to look behind me. it's good that he can feel his game ending. maybe we can go back to being regular friends after this. hopefully. 

we reach the shelves filled with jellies, jams, syrups, and preserves. it's exactly where i thought it was, although a little high, and i mark my initials next to it. peter congratulates me quietly. i make no comment about how we're tied now, and i reach for it, just aching to hurry up and get out of this store and go home.

i can't reach it, not even on my tippy toes, so i step on the lowest shelf to give myself a boost. i feel my fingers graze the jar, and i almost have it when i hear peter.

"angel, you're gonna hurt yourself, just let me get it." 

and it's a good thing that his hand is hovering over my lower back, waiting for permission. because hearing him call me that name, the one that doesn't sound the same anymore, makes me falter, and with my weight of center because of the basket, i slip off the shelf. 

it's not that high off the ground, but in my distressed state, it startles me nonetheless. peter catches me, one arm on my back and one arm around my front. i'm sure he can feel my heavy breaths, my beating heart. 

he takes the basket, sets it on the ground, and i can feel it before he says it. it takes everything in me not to cry. it's not enough.

"are you okay, angel?"

next thing i know, i'm angrily wiping tears from my face and pushing him away from me. 

"stop it. stop calling me that," i say between deep breaths.

"okay. i'm sorry. i thought you liked it." he steps towards me, hands up, with an apologetic shrug.

he's right.  and that's the problem.

"i do; i do like it. but not like this, not when you don't mean it." i see his brows furrow.

"wh-what do you mean, 'i don't mean it'?" i don't realize he's so close now, and as he places his hands gently on my arms, i don't stop him.

steadying myself, i gaze at my shoes. unable to look at him as i rip my heart out to put it on my sleeve.

"you only call me angel when you want something. but today was different, and i hadn't put two and two together until just now. when you brushed my back in front of my apartment, and when you kept touching my hand on our walk, and when you got in my space when we first got here, it all drove me insane. and you keep calling me angel, but it's different, and now i know why. because you're messing with me, peter parker. and it hurts because i really, really like you, but this is just a game to you. which hurts even more because i never thought that you would do something like this."

i finish my rambling in sniffles, and i wait with bated breath for him to laugh in my face. 

"aw, baby," his hands cupping my face coax me to look at him. "do you know why i call you angel? hm?"

"because i saved your life," i sniffle and try to look back at the floor. but he holds me in place, dipping his head to keep eye contact with me.

"well yes, but also, because you're my angel. any time i hear you laugh, it makes my heart feel like it's gonna beat out of my chest. and you're so beautiful, all the time, it's like you're glowing. but most of all, just like an angel, you make my world a better place just by being in it."

it's easier for me to breathe now. and i don't think i've ever been happier than i am in this moment. i bet i look hysterical, covered in tears, and standing on the jelly aisle. 

"if you really like me, why did you act like that, all bold and stuff?" I'm starting to calm down, "the peter parker i know is awkward when he likes a girl, always."

peter's cheeks go pink, and it's his turn to struggle to hold eye contact.

"i don't know, when i asked mr. stark what i should do about liking you, he told be to be bold because girls like that. i guess i didn't think about if that would work with you." 

his thumbs caress back and forth against my cheeks absentmindedly.

"well, it doesn't work with me," i place my hands on his wrists, my thumbs mirroring his motion. "i want awkward peter parker."

his face is slowly inching towards mine, and this time i don't mind.

"oh yeah?," his eyes flicker to my lips before returning to mine. "i promise i'll go back to being awkward, right after this."

he presses his lips gently against mine, the salt from my dried tears present between us as i kiss him back. even though we were standing in the middle of a grocery store, it was the softest, most romantic experience i've ever had. i wouldn't change a thing. as his tongue brushed against my bottom lip, i had no choice but to regard the fact that we were in public.

"okay, tiger," i pulled back, reluctantly.

the pink in his cheeks deepened drastically. 

"see," i move my hands to cup his face now, "there's my peter parker."

he turns my hand to kiss my palm, then the other. we separate long enough for him to grab the jam and place it in the basket, picking it up. then, he wraps his free arm around me and pulls me into his side.

"i know we tied, but will you still buy me dinner?", i ask as we walk towards the checkout line.

he laughs and kisses my temple, "yes angel, i'll buy you dinner."

[oddthumbswetsleeves]

I Don't Celebrate It

(From my AO3 - Uncommonly_Soya)

The day of the departed was arguably the biggest and most widely observed holiday in Ninjago. Cole remembered the huge celebrations that happened in his town every year. Giant parties with food, music, art, and games. When he was young his mom would tell him stories about her parents and his dad would eventually relent to his begging and join in. It was always such a joyous day. His mom always told him that the holiday was a reminder to celebrate the lives that passed loved ones lived, and to make the most of your own.

When Cole was 7, he made a lantern all by himself for the first time.

When Cole was 10, he helped his mom make a shepherd’s pie for the community cookout for the first time.

When Cole was 12, he got to light a firework for the first time.

When Cole was 13, he didn’t celebrate the day of the departed for the first time.

His dad didn’t open the curtains that morning. He spent the day reading in the living room, on the opposite side of the room from the piano. Cole couldn’t find the courage to leave the house and face the spirit of the day alone. People came to the door, but Cole only watched from the top of the stairs his dad send them away. He refused to take his son out and was adamant that he never liked the holiday.

“I only ever celebrated to begrudge your mother. I have never understood the whole ‘whoopee’ around it.”

Cole didn’t ask him to take part in any festivities when he was 14.

When Cole was 16, he celebrated the day of the departed alone for the first time.

He bought a cupcake from a store the day before and took a tealight and matchbox from the kitchen cupboard. He had been too scared to try take a photo of his mom from any wall or shelf in case his dad noticed. Instead, he drew a portrait of her. He wasn’t super happy with how it looked, but his mom loved anything he drew, so she probably wouldn’t have minded if her eyes were different sizes.

When Cole was 17, he celebrated on the top of his mom’s favourite mountain. He brought a pudding cup, which wouldn’t be damaged during the climb, and the supplies make a lantern for the first time in five years. No one else was climbing that night due to the celebrations, so there would be no way to know if he cried that night.

When Cole was 18, he met someone who had never celebrated the day of the departed for the first time.

Jay left early that morning to spend the whole day with his parents and wasn’t expected back until dinner the next day (for which he had promised to bring plenty of leftovers).

Kai and Nya left after breakfast, saying they’d be back for lunch after spending the night with their village.

Wu had left to visit his father’s grave and, of course, had not given a clear timeframe for his return.

Zane was sitting at the dining room table with an empty plate. Completely still. Cole had always found Zane to be a weird guy. There was always something a bit off about him, but this was strange, even for him. Cole stood in the doorway for a few second before clearing his throat. Zane didn’t react.

“I, uh…” Cole tried to find something to say. “I didn’t think anyone would still be here.”

Zane picked up the plate and stood up.

“You should leave soon if you want to make it home in time for the lighting ceremonies.” Zane’s voice was low. He walked past him to the kitchen, avoiding eye contact. Cole felt his stomach grow heavier, but he had a few years of excuses behind him to explain his non-observance of the holiday.

“I don’t usually go home to celebrate, my dad doesn’t really like the whole fanfare of it.” He leant against the counter beside the sink where Zane was scrubbing his one dish. “He’s kind of a bummer during holidays.” Zane continued scrubbing.

Cole suddenly regretted planting himself so close to his teammate.

Zane eventually rinsed the plate and set it on the drying rack. Cole clears his throat again.

“So, are you going to any parties?” he joked before remembering that it would probably go over his friend’s head.

“No, I have never celebrated the day of the departed.” Zane dried his hands and hung the towel on the cupboard handle. Cole’s jaw slacked.

“You - you’ve never celebrated?” Zane shook his head.

“I learned about the holiday last year, but I have no one to remember, or light a lantern for.”

Cole felt frozen. He had never met someone who had never even lit a lantern before.

“No one? What about your grandparents?”

“I don’t remember them. For all I know they could be alive and well.”

“Oh, right.” Cole felt his face flush. “You lost all your memories.” Zane nodded mutely.

“I guess it’s just a quiet night in for us then.” The two made eye contact. “Want me to teach you that combo that makes Jay really mad?” Zane smiled softly.

“I’d like that.”

The credits rolled on the movie the boys had put on once they got tired of the game. “I’ve gotten used to having three opponents” Cole had remarked, “It’s kinda boring with only the two of us.” Zane had seemed distracted the whole movie, which Cole had probably only noticed because he was too. Zane turned to face him.

“Have you ever made a lantern?” he asked.

“A couple of times. My mom taught me.”

“You do not speak much of her.” Cole rubbed his neck awkwardly.

“Yeah, she died a few years ago. She used to celebrate today like it was the most important day of the year.”

“Do you not celebrate her life?”

“I usually do something small. Light a candle, eat something unhealthy.” Cole stood up to put the DVD back in its case. Just before he could ask about watching something else, Zane spoke again.

“Could you show me how to make one?” Cole turned to face him.

“What?”

“A lantern. I’ve never been shown how to make them.”

“Uh…” Cole looked away for a moment. “I guess, if we have the right stuff here.”

The two searched through the supply closets and kitchen cupboards for the paper, markers, glue, and other bits. Cole felt the heaviness in his chest ease a bit as the pair moved around the monastery. They laid all of the supplies on the floor in front of the tv and Cole put on a comedy he’d seen a few times for background noise. Zane knelt down and stared at him expectantly. He sat on the opposite side of the supplies.

“First, we have to cut the paper long enough to make a box” he slid the scissors easily through the roll of red paper. He folded the paper in half twice, then unfolded it. Zane easily copied him.

“You have to write on it before you glue it, cause it’s too hard once it’s standing up.” Cole uncapped a marker.

“What do you write?” Zane reached for a marker.

“Well, there’s no rules about it. Some people write messages,” he drew a boarder on one of the panels, “some write poems, others just draw pictures.” He started slowly writing, focused on making the letters elegant and decorative. Zane made no such move. “Y’know, the lantern doesn’t have to be for a family member, it can be for anyone.” Zane looked at him again.

“Can I make it for your mother?”

Cole suddenly stopped writing, eyes shooting up to look at his teammate. “What?”

“I don’t know anyone who is departed, and you made it seem as though your father won’t be making her a lantern.” Zane twisted the marker in his hands, “Would it be inappropriate for me to make one for her?”

“Um…” Cole swallowed, “I guess you can. I’ve just never heard of anyone making a lantern for a stranger. Though, I’ve also never met anyone who’s never lit a lantern before today either.” He shrugged and continued writing.

Cole and Zane sat on the monastery roof. Cole let his legs dangle off the edge, breathing in the cool night air. He turned to look at Zane, who appeared as peaceful as ever.

“Ready to light them?” He shook the matchbox. Zane nodded. Cole lit a match and held it under the lanterns wick. A soft red glow lit up their faces as Zane copied him. Cole recognised some of the writing on Zane's lantern as a poem he had read a couple years ago, he assumed the rest was ones he didn’t know. The pair stood holding the lanterns in front of them. As they raised them Cole glanced over at his friend, whose eyes were fixed on his lantern. As they turned in the air Cole could have sworn he saw his name written on one side of Zane’s one.

The two stood silently as the lanterns drifted away in the slight breeze. There was a feint red glow coming from where Cole was pretty sure was Ninjago City. The night was almost perfect. He chuckled.

“Kinda wish I had gotten a cake now.” Zane looked thoughtful.

“We have the ingredients for hot chocolate. I could make some.”

Cole laughed.

“The day of the departed is never complete without something sweet and unhealthy.”

When Cole was 17, he celebrated the day of the departed alone for the last time.

[neeksparksg]

We will Meet Again

platonic Marceline x reader, platonic Simon petrikov x reader,

warning: mention of violence, not happy ending

It had been weeks since Y/n had seen any other humans. The last group she was with had been attacked by a gang of oozers, forcing her to flee. She carried a sizable bag containing a few provisions to sustain her, an old guitar, and a sturdy metal bat for self-defense.

As she walked towards the last location she had heard about, a bunker where she hoped to find some survivors, a glimmer of hope crossed the 10-year-old's face when she spotted the bunker door in the distance. She quickened her pace, but as she drew closer, her ears caught a young voice singing, "Red light, Red light, what are you thinking? Up above the pork and beans."

Curiosity got the best of Y/n, and she cautiously entered the bunker, which had its doors wide open. Inside, she found a girl just a few years younger than herself. The girl held what appeared to be a makeshift guitar crafted from a cardboard box and a cardboard tube. She was surrounded by a multitude of boxes, some of which bore drawn faces.

"Like a clown nose in my dreams," the girl sang as she finished her song. Y/n took a closer look around the bunker, her surprise growing as she realized the only company the girl had were skeletal remains.

"What do you think, Lemmy?" Y/n overheard the girl ask one of the boxes.

"That was great!" The little girl responded on behalf of the box.

"Yeah, you're so good at music, Marceline," the girl said, now speaking for an open can of beans. Thanks to that, Y/n guessed that the girl's name was Marceline.

Y/n pondered for a moment whether to approach Marceline, but the young girl appeared engrossed in her conversation with the cardboard boxes

"Why was your Mom scared of you? Where is she?" Marceline asked in one voice, followed by her own voice explaining, "She saw what I did to the mean dog, then she found a scooter, and then..."

"That was her ticket out of town." Marceline says with the same voice that had asked about her mother

Y/n couldn't help feeling angry at the thought of someone abandoning their child during such difficult circumstances. Marceline's  struggle continued as another voice she said “You scare everybody away, Marceline, just like your dad." Tears welled up in her eyes.

Unable to listen to Marceline's distress any longer, Y/n decided to intervene. "Well, that's her loss. By running away, she missed such a wonderful song," Y/n awkwardly attempted to cheer up the young girl.

Marceline turned to face the unexpected voice, taking a defensive stand. "Oh, right, sorry. My name's Y/n. I hope you don't mind that I was listening to your song."

Marceline remained silent for a moment, her gaze fixed on Y/n. Then she inquired, "You really liked it?"

"Yes, your voice sounds great," Y/n replied warmly. As she stepped closer, Marceline's eyes lit up with excitement when she noticed the guitar on Y/n's back.

"You play the guitar?" Marceline's enthusiasm grew as she found someone else who shared her love for music.

Y/n nodded with a smile. "Do you want to hear me play it?"

"Yes!" Marceline eagerly sat down in front of Y/n, a radiant smile on her face. Y/n retrieved her guitar and began to play, singing one of the few songs she remembered "We'll meet again, don't know where, don't know when, but I know we'll meet again."

After spending three weeks in the bunker together, their supplies had finally run out. Y/n made the tough decision to venture alone into the nearby city to search for food. However, Marceline didn't want to be left behind and pleaded with the older girl to allow her to come along. Unable to refuse her, Y/n reluctantly agreed, “Alright, remember, always stay close to me and be quiet."

Both girls set out, quietly navigating the desolate city. Fortunately, they stumbled upon some canned food, though it was only enough to last about a week. Y/n knew that their time in the bunker was running out, and they would have to leave in search of more supplies.

"This won't last long," Y/n muttered to herself, contemplating their uncertain future. For now, she wanted to enjoy the peace of having a place to call home. "Well, I guess that's all. We better head back home if we want to return before night," she told Marceline, casting her eyes toward the cloudy sky.

Suddenly, something crashed into Y/n's back, sending her sprawling to the ground. "Y/n!" Marceline screamed in terror. Y/n quickly turned around to find herself face to face with a vampire. Fear welled up in her eyes as the creature lunged at her, teeth bared.

Y/n managed to push the vampire back and swung her bat, smashing the vampire's head. But more vampires emerged from the shadows, surrounding them. "Marcy, close your eyes!" Y/n shouted, gripping her bat tightly as she prepared to fight.

Despite her best efforts, the vampires began to overwhelm Y/n. Just when it seemed like she was about to be overwhelmed, the vampires suddenly stopped. Y/n turned to see Marceline with her mouth open, her eyes glowing as she sucked the souls from the vampires.

Concern etched across her face, Y/n began to speak, "Marcy, you—" But before she could finish her sentence, Marceline, tears in her eyes, turned and fled from the scene.

Marceline continued to run, tears staining her cheeks. She had been happy when Y/n entered her life, after her mother had abandoned her. But just like with her mom, she had scared Y/n away, and now Y/n was going to leave her behind. Lost in her thoughts, she didn't notice the approaching footsteps until a man with white hair, a beard, and blue skin spoke to her.

"Hey there, don't worry, everything's going to be fine," he reassured Marceline, handing her a small pink bear plush. She managed a faint smile, but before she could properly thank the man, Y/n's voice echoed through the area.

"Marcy!" Y/n exclaimed as she arrived at the scene runing directly to the younger girl. "Why did you run away?" she asked with concern, pulling Marceline into a tight hug.

Confused and afraid of rejection, Marceline hesitated. "Aren't you afraid of me? Won't you also leave me?" she timidly inquired.

"What? No, Marci. I'm not afraid of you, you saved my life, and I'll never leave you," Y/n promised, embracing Marceline once more.

Marceline gradually calmed down, reassured by Y/n's words. Y/n then turned to the blue-skinned man who had given Marceline the plush. "hello, My name is Y/n, Thank you for finding Marceline."

Marceline chimed in with gratitude, clutching the plush tightly. "Thank you for the toy!"

"my name is Simon, and There's no need to thank me," Simon, the blue-skinned man, replied kindly offering both of them a smile

From that day forward, the three of them embarked on a journey together. During one of their rest stops, Y/n noticed a book falling out of Simon's bag. Her curiosity piqued, she picked it up and asked, "Hey, Simon, what's this?" She held the book in her hands.

. "Oh, that's the Enchiridion," he explained. Seeing the puzzled expressions on both girls' faces, he tried to clarify. "Let's say it's an ancient book, a sort of guide for heroes."

"Cool," Y/n responded, flipping open the book and beginning to read.

As the days turned into years, the bond between Y/n, Marceline, and Simon grew stronger with each passing moment. During their travels, Y/n learned more about both of them. Marceline's father had been an unusual creature, a monster of sorts, which explained her unique powers and her grayish skin. Simon shared the story of Betty and the cursed crown he now carries, and how he dreams on finding Betty. She despised the crown for what it did to Simon's sanity, even though it occasionally saved them from danger, like that one day they faced a horde of oozers when Marceline had gotten sick. Since that day, Y/n had wanted nothing more than to find a way to protect both Simon and Marceline. She gave herself the mission of curing Simon and Giving Marceline a happy childhood

Her thirteenth birthday marked three years of being with them. Y/n had lost her bat along the way but had crafted a new weapon from a sharp piece of scrap metal as the blade, a wooden handle turned into a stake, and a rubber-covered hilt. It had a taser attached, allowing her to conduct electricity through the blade. She had been using it ever since, and now, at seventeen, it had become an extension of herself.

However, their journey was far from easy. Y/n's injuries had piled up over time, especially after a recent encounter with mutants who had kidnapped them to fight. She had fought restlessly until the end, after defeating their King she managed to free her friends, but her injuries were severe. The three of them had to set up a small camp to rest for a few days, allowing Y/n to recover.

"Y/n, you really should take it easy," Simon urged, concern etched on his face as he tended to her wounds.

Marceline sat close by, her eyes filled with worry. "Yeah, we've got your back. You don't always have to be the tough one."

Y/n sighed, knowing they were right. She had been pushing herself too hard, carrying the weight of their safety on her shoulders. "I just... need a second to rest " she admitted, her determination unwavering despite her injuries.

Simon nodded solemnly. "That's the only wise decision you had made in a long time"

Marceline chimed in with a determined smile. "Yeah, now, let's focus on getting you back on your feet."

As they settled into their temporary camp,  the trio found solace in each other's company and the unspoken promise of a brighter future.

Under the moonlit night, as Y/n slept, Marceline and Simon sat around the campfire, the crackling flames casting eerie shadows in the surrounding woods. Suddenly, a rustling sound emanated from the bushes, setting Simon on edge. He instinctively reached for his cursed crown, but to his horror, he found himself unable to grasp it. As Before they could react, a vampire lunged at Simon, catching him by surprise. "Marcy, run!" he shouted, struggling to push the vampire away. Desperation filled Simon's eyes as he attempted to crawl toward his discarded crown, but the vampire clung to his legs.

Marceline acted swiftly, stabbing the vampire and ending its threat, but their fight was far from over. More vampires emerged from the shadows, surrounding the pair. Panic set in as Simon fought to regain his crown, which was now out of reach.

Then, emerged Y/n, barely standing and using her sword to support herself, charged into the fray. Her determination to protect her friends fueled her every strike as she battled the vampires, allowing Simon the precious moments he needed to retrieve his crown.

Simon wasted no time in using the crown's power, freezing their enemies in place. The situation seemed to be under control, Thinking it was over Simon quickly removed the crown from his head throwing it away.

"Are you okay?" Y/n asked, her voice filled with concern as she looked at her friends, a weak smile on her face.

Marceline, her face twisted in worry and frustration, couldn't contain her emotions. "We? You're the one who's injured, Simon and I could've handled them!" she screamed at the older girl, clearly angry that her friend refused to take care of herself, Y/n chuckled softly at Marcy's response, grateful to see her well.

However, their happiness was abruptly shattered as one of the surviving vampires seized a sharp piece of ice and thrust it into Y/n's back. "No!" Both Marceline and Simon screamed in unison. Marceline's face took on a demonic look, and with aa single look the vampire's head imploded.

Y/n crumpled to the ground, blood staining her wound. She was caught by Simon, who cradled her with trembling hands, the gravity of the situation sinking in.

As Simon desperately held Y/n's wound, trying to stem the bleeding "Look at me, Y/n." Tears welled in his eyes, and Marcy watched them crying unable to move "You're going to get better," he declared, though he knew deep down it was a futile hope.

Y/n responded with a weak, yet heartfelt laugh. "We know that's not true." Her gaze shifted to Marceline, who couldn't bring herself to speak, her eyes brimming with tears. Simon's face mirrored the sadness that hung heavily in the air.

"Hey, remember that song?" Y/n asked Marceline, her voice faint but determined. "We'll meet again, don't know where, don't know when." With the strength she could muster, the dying girl began to sing, her companions watching in somber silence.

"But I know we'll meet again some sunny day," she sang, her voice tinged with a cough, yet she carried on. "'Til the blue skies chase those dark clouds far away." Her companions remained silent staring down at her heartbroken as they can't do anyting to save their friend

"And I will just say hello to the folks that you know. Tell them you won't be long," Simon joined her, pushing himself to sing despite the anguish in his heart. "They'll be happy to know that as I saw you go, you were singing this song."

"We'll meet again, don't know where, don't know when," Marceline's voice finally broke through as she added her voice to the song, her tears flowing freely. "But I know we'll meet again some sunny day."

As Y/n's voice grew fainter, like a whisper carried away by the wind, the trio sang together until there was no more sound coming from her. Tears streamed down Marcy's face as she and Simon continued to sing alone, their voices trembling with grief.

"You were singing this song," they sang in unison, their hearts heavy with the loss that hung in the air. "We'll meet again, don't know where, don't know when. But I know we'll meet again some sunny day."

Their voices faded into the night, the song a bittersweet farewell to their dear friend, as they stared at the lifeless body of Y/n, who had passed way with a smile enjoying the last moments with the family she had found

[atwooozi]

gojo x original character

Chapter 10: Unwoven Threads

summary: After meeting Megumi, Ai dives into her research, determined to uncover more about Gojo Satoru. She finds herself more captivated by Gojo's hidden complexities and his connection to his past. Her discovery of an old photo only intensifies her curiosity.

genre: modern AU, slice of life, comedy, eventual romance, eventual smut, some angst

A/N: This is a bit of a shorter chapter but I don't think that's necessarily a bad thing. I don't like when works are longer just to meet a certain length/word count. The song I chose to go with this chapter is Babybaby No Yume by Tanuki. It's a more uplifting song to contrast with last week's more down tempo one.

READ ON AO3

When Ai went home after her meeting with Megumi, she immediately went back to her laptop like a woman possessed. She needed to know more and she was going to find it. 

She wasn't sure if she was going to find anything that would go in the article, but it at least helped her feel like she was getting closer to finding out just exactly who Gojo Satoru was. Readers would love a sweet story about a young man selflessly raising not just one child but two children all on his own, but was that the story that Ai wanted to write? Honestly, no. She couldn't deny that his history was fascinating. Sure, it could be an aspect but she didn't want to use Fushiguro's past as a way to boost Gojo up as a person. 

“Fushiguro Toji…” Ai's brain halted as she looked at the picture staring back at her. It was a man in his late twenties to mid-thirties, a smirk on his face and an award in hand. Standing next to him was a young Gojo Satoru, beaming as he looked at the camera. She stared at her screen, floored–Megumi was the spitting image of his father. It was almost uncanny. Aside from the scar on Toji's lip, they looked practically identical. 

She saved the photo and sighed as she thought back to what Megumi had said earlier. 

“My family kind of fell apart…”

Ai frowned as she tried to remember Megumi’s tone of voice. It felt so distant and devoid of emotions. It begged the question, though, what the hell happened that Gojo of all people ended up with two kids? Not only that but why did he take them in? She couldn't wrap her mind around it. Who in their right mind would let an eighteen-year-old take care of two young kids? 

He was just a kid himself…

Her heart clenched at the thought. She couldn’t imagine taking on so much as a kid. Ai still felt like a child at times. Her mom would still schedule doctor appointments for her occasionally. The thought of being a guardian to two children while trying to get through school seemed like an impossible task. It made Ai wonder how Gojo even managed that while excelling everywhere else in his life. Just how heavily did the world hang on his shoulders?   

Based on first impressions alone, Gojo seemed like nothing more than the goofy character he portrayed on screen. How much was he hiding behind his fun-loving persona? And why was he hiding it? The more she seemed to learn about Gojo, the more questions she seemed to have. It was strange to her, Gojo was so chatty that she was surprised that more people didn’t seem to know about his relationship to Megumi. Just how in the world was he able to keep this under wraps for as long as he had? Then again, all the stuff known to the public about Gojo was trivial information to begin with.

Ai leaned back in her chair and sighed, she was conflating the person that was Gojo Satoru with the celebrity persona. While he seemed impulsive, reckless, and stupid he was anything but that though he still liked to act stupid a majority of the time.    

Ai glanced over at her phone. She was tempted to call Gojo. She had so many questions for him that she felt like they were going to bubble over if she didn’t say something, but it wasn’t the right time. She wasn’t in the right frame of mind for it. If she bothered him now, she felt like she would ruin whatever relationship they had built up because of her impatience. Besides, there was still more research that needed to be done before she could bombard him with questions.

She had a bad habit of acting without thinking things through completely at times. It was a bit of an enigma to her since she loved to plan so diligently, but when excited, she couldn’t help herself. As much as Ai wanted to fire every question that was rolling through her head at Gojo, she needed to calm down. She needed to tread carefully, given how hard that tree-like man had made it up to this point. She couldn’t throw all her hard work away because of a lead.

Ai continued scouring ‌the internet for any information on Toji, but from what she gathered he either worked under an alias or did mostly uncredited parts. She was able to find a few mentions of him for different competitions. He was even a contender to represent Japan at the Olympics, but then he just seemed to disappear from the press completely around the time Megumi was born.

From what Ai was able to piece together, she figured that Toji stopped competing on a serious level when Megumi was born. But the jump to stunt work didn’t make much sense to her. Was that truly a more stable form of work for him and his young family as opposed to being a professional athlete? She wasn’t sure how viable either career could be, to be honest.   

Ai once again found herself wondering if any of this mattered. It mattered to her–but in terms of the story? No. The Fushiguro family was interesting, but that wasn’t the story she was supposed to be writing. As interesting as she found Toji, she couldn’t just shoehorn him into a Gojo Satoru profile piece. 

Ai leaned back in her chair and groaned. Her eyes stung from looking at the screen. She sat up in her chair, her neck and shoulders aching from her awful posture. Carefully, she raised her arms over her head and rolled her shoulders which gave a satisfying pop. 

When Ai glanced at the clock on her laptop, it was past midnight. She knew her body needed sleep, but her mind was racing. As much as her body begged her to rest, she just couldn’t turn her brain off. 

Ai reluctantly got up from her desk chair and debated whether or not she should make herself some coffee. It was something that she imagined most writers would do when they hit a breakthrough–they wanted to keep the momentum going. If anything, they would support her bad decision. As tempting as it seemed, she ultimately decided against it. 

Instead, Ai grabbed a hoodie, her keys, and her phone before putting on her sneakers and heading out the door. What she needed was some fresh air to clear her thoughts. Sitting inside alone with all the questions swimming in her head was just too much right now. At least this way, she’d get some fresh air and move her stiff muscles a little.  

Ai threw her hoodie on and put her hands in her pockets. She truly loved the city at night. The lights, the atmosphere– it felt magical. The city somehow felt so big and so small all at once. There were only a few people on the streets, but she knew that the city was still brimming with energy. It felt electric as if it were alive. 

 Ai slowed down as she walked by WcDonald's. The smell of salty fries and greasy burgers caught her attention as she made her way through the streets. As she looked through the windows of the establishment, she saw a fairly empty lobby lit up with bright fluorescent lights. She swallowed dryly as her stomach growled. She hadn't eaten since early that afternoon. She was so focused on work that she had forgotten to eat...again. 

Ai clutched her empty stomach and walked inside the quiet restaurant. Aside from the few employees and one or two other customers, no one else was there. The only sounds were coming from the small kitchen and the music that played throughout the front end of the place. It almost felt eerie with how peaceful the place was, but she didn’t mind it. The quiet atmosphere gave her overtired brain a break.  

Ai ordered herself a burger and a medium cola before sitting in a booth near a window. She looked out the window at the twinkling lights as she sipped her soda. She wondered if the younger version of herself would be proud of the woman she was now. Her heart tightened at the thought. Although she knew the answer, she didn't want to admit it.

She felt like a hack. She couldn't even form a cohesive narrative. Worst of all, she liked the person that she was supposed to be writing about. It felt like something out of a cheesy romance novel.   

Based on Ai’s recent track record, it all started to make sense that she ended up here at a WcDonald’s at one in the morning. Though if she were at home she imagined that things wouldn’t be much different. Ai would most likely still be at her desk scouring the internet for information about Toji. She was using him as an excuse to keep avoiding writing this cursed article. The only difference between being here and being at home was that she was curled up in a booth with a burger, instead of huddled in front of her computer with bad coffee. Either way, she was still avoiding her work.

 Ai sighed and unwrapped her burger, taking a bite of it. 

“Amada-san.” 

Ai nearly choked on her burger. She was so lost in thought that she didn't even notice the presence right next to her. Trying to control her coughing, she took a swig of her drink before looking up. It was Nanami Kento, the man that she idolized since she started her copy editor job.

He stood in front of her, still dressed in his usual work attire of a blue button-up, funky tie, tan slacks, and signature glasses. 

 She wanted to reach out and see if her hand would pass through him. She could never picture someone so sophisticated as him being here, at this time of night, talking to her. 

Ai had shadowed Nanami when she first started at Hollow , but they were never that close in her mind. She always pictured him as a more mythical figure, not god-like, but like a sorcerer with the way he was able to weave words together so seamlessly. Ai swore that Nanami could get the most tightly wound person to open up to him within the first few minutes of an interview. He had an almost uncanny ability to ask the right questions, ones that pierced through the surface and easily got to the heart of the story. It was amazing. He was amazing. 

Nanami was an outstanding journalist and in a kiddish way, Ai wanted to be just like him. He had a magnetic aura; he commanded attention without demanding it. In their office, amidst the clattering of keyboards and the murmur of quiet conversations, Nanami exuded so much calm and authority. Ai often found herself in awe of him, watching him transform the most mundane topic into something compelling and profound. 

And despite all his talents, Nanami was unassuming. He never boasted about his accomplishments, yet everyone who cared about writing knew about how great he was. His name was synonymous with excellence and integrity. At least, that’s what Ai thought about him. In her eyes, he represented the pinnacle of what she aspired to be–a storyteller who could capture the human experience in its most real form. She just hoped that one day that she could step out of his shadow and shine in her own right one day.       

“Nanami-san,” Ai cleared her throat and sat up quickly. “What are you doing here at this time of night?” 

Nanami slid into the booth opposite her and took a bite of his sandwich, chewing it thoroughly before swallowing. “Overtime.” 

Ai nodded as she stared at him in disbelief. “I see…” 

“And you?” 

“Huh?” 

“...What are you doing here?” 

Ai glanced at her lap before looking back up at Nanami. “Oh, uh, sorry. I can't sleep so…” 

Nanami's gaze was unwavering. It made Ai want to sink into her booth. She felt like he was going to burn holes in her skull. 

“Is your article giving you trouble?” 

“Something like that,” Ai sighed before taking a sip of her cola. 

Nanami nodded and took another bite of his sandwich. “It's easy to get lost in the details. I imagine it's even harder when it's concerning someone like Gojo Satoru...” 

Ai nodded as she listened. She didn't realize how tired she actually was until she heard Nanami's words. They cut through her thoughts so easily. 

“Yeah…” Ai rubbed her eyes and tried her best to suppress a yawn. “I just can't seem to piece it all together. There are just so many threads but none of them seem to form any coherent narrative.” 

Nanami leaned his elbows on the table and clasped his hands together. “Good stories often come from nowhere, Amada-san.” He held up two fingers. “Two unrelated ideas can come together and make something new. It’s our job as writers to be able to recognize when this happens.” 

Ai ran through what Nanami said in her head several times. Maybe it was because she was so tired, but it was hard for her to truly absorb what he was saying. After she finally put it together though, she knew he was right. She was trying too hard to find her story too soon. She still had two more weeks to go with the guy. Trying to force herself to get everything together now was just holding her back. 

“Is that all that’s bothering you?” 

The question caught Ai off guard and she tried her best to sit up straighter. “Um…”

“I only ask because you look like you have a lot more on your mind,” Nanami stated as he adjusted his glasses. 

Ai brought her soda back to her lips and took another sip, trying to buy herself some time to come up with an answer. She knew she was stressed to put it lightly, but she didn’t realize that it was so bad that people around her could easily tell that something was wrong too. 

“I, um, I’m okay.” Ai did her best to assure Nanami. She gave him a tired smile. “I’m just tired from the weird sleep schedule.” 

Ever since she took on this article her sleeping had become worse. She knew Gojo was to blame with his insane call times during the reshoots, but even with her past jobs that required her to follow talent around it was never this bad. Ai was starting to believe that Gojo might be the death of her.

“Hm…” Nanami hummed as if debating whether or not to say more.  

He studied Ai’s expression but nodded his head, accepting her answer. Although diligent in his reporting, Nanami was never one to pry when it came to his coworkers and Ai was especially thankful for that.    

“Thank you, Nanami-san.” Ai smiled up at him gratefully. “I needed that.”

A small smile tugged at the corners of Nanami's lips. “Anytime.” He stood up, bussed his tray, and left the restaurant without another word. 

Ai still wasn't sure if she had actually talked to Nanami or if she had just imagined it all in a sleep-induced delusion of the man. The idea of it being the latter was very concerning to think about, so she prayed to whatever god would listen that it was the former instead.  

Shortly after finishing her meal Ai took herself home. When she arrived she practically collapsed in bed. Her story was there, and it was continuing to unfurl. She just had to trust the process. But right now she just needed to sleep. 

[hauntedwoman]

tagged by @youngestdaughtersyndrome and @glassangels (thank you <3333)

are you named after anyone ? yes i'm named after my nana !! (my full name is margaret hehe)

2. when was the last time you cried? a couple of weeks ago when i was saying goodbye to my cousin who moved out of state w her boyfriend so he can complete his residency for med school................. partly bc i miss her a lot but also bc i genuinely feel like i am never going to experience healthy romantic love i feel like it wasn't made for me HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

3. do you have kids? does my cat count bc i raised her from a little baby kitten she was so tiny she fit in the palm of my hand :3

4. what sports do you play/have played? i was on a swim team all throughout junior high and high school and sometimes i miss just mindlessly swimming laps and getting lost in the pure muscle memory of it but then i remember getting up at 5am on saturdays to go to meets and i realize i can live without it 5. do you use sarcasm? my favorite show is daria u tell me

6. what's the first thing you notice about someone? usually eyes or clothing. living in a place where it's rare to find other ppl my age that dress "alt" i'm always looking for ppl that have interesting personal style.

7. eye color? not to be some annoying white girl on main but they change depending on what i'm wearing. they're usually either blue or gray or a teal color.

8. scary movies or happy endings? considering nothing in my life has ever worked out the way i want it to i can't relate to happy endings. almost all of my favorite films have heavy horror or psychological thriller aspects

9. any talents? i'm a pretty decent singer. i was trained classically and sang in choirs for like seven years, so i also know how to read music. other than that i think i'm really good at interior decorating or just being able to make things "aesthetically pleasing". i also think i'm a pretty good writer and that i manipulate language in a really unique form that gives way to a really clear voice in my work.

10. where were you born? simferopol, ukraine

11. hobbies? journalling, staring into the void, photographing/exploring abandoned buildings, grieving, making playlists for every emotion i've ever felt, clinging onto a past that everyone else has forgotten about except me, reading books that make me feel like i need a lobotomy, antique shopping, blackberry picking, sunbathing, being a heinous bitch

12. any pets? i have two cats (phantasma and smokey), and then my mom and sister have four dogs between the both of them so i am constantly living in autistic hell (they never stop barking and chewing up my stuff)

13. height? 5'4" (162.5cm) i'm so sorry to expose myself as Tiny i know i give off Tall Energy

14. favorite school subject? overall i'd say english but i've also thoroughly enjoyed a bunch of different courses i've taken in college like stage makeup, medieval and modern theatre, and all of my creative writing courses

15. dream job? i simply do not dream of labor but since i can only get a serotonin rush from buying clothes i don't need it would be pretty swaggy if i could be a published author or if i could work in the music industry somehow, perhaps at a radio station with my own radio show or even making my own music. i also deeply miss my job at the used bookstore i had during the worst summer of my life. something about being surrounded by books all day is so comforting.

tagging: @arunima @symptomofloves @discoidal @diabolicjoy @severrance and anyone else that wants to do this <33

[anarcoqueer1994]

TW: Slurs, homophobia, abuse, neglect

Steve’s parents are shitty, but Eddie loves Steve, and it gets sappy

You are My Sunshine

Steve likes boys. He has known he liked more than just girls since he was 8 years old. But Mr. Harrington made sure to try and beat that idea out of him, lay harsh harsh hands against him leaving bruises in their wake, degrade him with knife-like words like pansy or faggot until he learned not to bring up those feelings anymore. His mother would silently sit back, showing her agreement with apathy.

For years, Steve tried to hide it. He played the popular, skirt-chasing jerk, only daring to kiss boys in the dead of night, hook up with them when no one was looking, and accept that many of them were scared too, inevitably leaving him alone after. Honestly his luck with women, though, wasn't much better. No matter what, Steve just ended up heartbroken.

But when he met Eddie, things felt different. He didn't know why, but he was drawn to Eddie like some planet orbiting a giant bright star. And Steve wanted to stay in that orbit, wanted to move even closer, even if it destroyed him. But Eddie didn't destroy him. Eddie loved him. For the first time, Steve felt like he was truly, romantically in love, even if they haven't said that yet. He felt protected, like he belonged somewhere.

But his parents came home unexpectedly one day, to "check-in" after the "earthquake." Only it was 10 months too late. But it didn't matter, they caught Steve and Eddie making out on the couch, Steve straddling Eddie’s lap. Any pretenses that this was anyway two straight dudes hanging out were out the window.

The harsh words come out again as Steve tries to clumsily pull himself off of Eddie.

"I thought I beat that faggot shit out of you!" His dad yells stepping closer to Steve. His mom stays quiet per usual.

"Dad...I..." He stutters.

"Shut up, Steven." He steps closer as Steve flinches.

Eddie watches as the bright light that usually fills Steve's eyes is replaced by something darker...fear. Eddie isn't used to this, Steve was fearless against the monsters of the upside down, but this monster, his own father, is too much for him.

He knows he should stay out of it but can't. Before Eddie knew what he was doing, he was between Steve and his dad, blocking Steve from the man who looks eerily similar except his eyes are filled with hatred.

"Get out of here!' His dad screams at Eddie. "I don't want some trailer trash faggot in my home!" He tries to push past Eddie to his real target of his vitriol. But Eddie doesn't budge.

"I'll leave, but only with Steve." He spits back.

Behind him, Steve is seething. The moment his father turned his attacks to Eddie instead of him, he snapped. He was no longer fearful, all he wants is to defend Eddie, his Eddie.

"My son is not going with you!" Mr Harrington practically growls.

"Yes, I am!" Steve's voice shoots from behind them, as he grabs Eddie's hand, moving so he is next to his boyfriend. Eddie squeezes his hand in return.

He doesn't remember what happened next. Just screaming, and fists. When he gets to the door with Eddie, his father threatens him to never come back. His mother surprisingly convinces his father to let him grab his things first. He leaves that day with a few hastily packed bags, a black eye, and Eddie.

Steve drove off from his used to be home, not saying a word as he gripped onto Eddie’s hand, threatening to never let go. He was lost in his thoughts as Eddie tried to soothingly run his thumb in circles over Steve’s hand.

His father finally succeeded, got rid of his queer son. He knew people would find out. He knew he dragged Eddie, his star, into this. And it kills him. But it also kills him to finally have confirmation that his parents could never love him. He already knew that deep inside, given the years of neglect and abuse, but he secretly hoped that they did care afterall. But in the end, they only cared about keeping him under control, parading around his 'good' features, while trying to push down and erase the 'bad' ones.

To Steve's parents, he was just some planet that inconveniently got stuck in their orbit. He was an unwelcome visitor into their solar system. They tried to make do, throwing meteors of insults and hatred at him, to break him down, reshape him into something they could deal with.

All of sudden, it's too much for Steve, tears start falling down his face as he shakes. He has to pull over as his vision gets distorted. Eddie is immediately squeezing his hand and he leaning over.

"Sweetheart..." Eddie whispers.

Steve looks over like he is about to break, eyes red and puffy, face red, with tears down his cheeks. Immediately Eddie throws his arms around Steve pulling him close, practically pulling him onto his lap, as he whispers in Steve’s ear. Steve clings to him like his life depended on it, and in that moment it kind of did.

"Stevie..." He coos. "I got you, baby...I always got you."

"I'm so sorry, Eds..." Steve says wetly after a while, into Eddie’s shoulder, as the sobs start to dry up.

"What? Princess, no...no you have anything to apologize for." Eddie quickly says, not sure Steve is saying sorry.

Steve pulls away, scooting back into his seat,looking down, suddenly embarrassed for his "outburst." He hears his parents voices as he thinks about it, always embarrassed by any show of emotion he might have.

Eddie reaches back for Steve’s hand. Steve doesn't look up, but lets Eddie take his hand. Eddie clears his throat, "You have nothing to be sorry for." His voice is stern like he refuses to see it any other way.

Steve takes a shaky breath before daring to look up, only to find Eddie’s soft brown eyes staring back at him, except his eyes were full of worry, and Steve knows he caused that.

"No, Eddie. I do. My dad is going to out us, things are going to get out and you'll have to deal with that because of me. And now you are worried about me and my stupid daddy problems. And I don’t want to be a burden and..." Steve's anxious rambling is interrupted with a soft little kiss.

Eddie had watched as Steve was digging himself into a giant hole of guilt and it was breaking his heart, so he did the first thing he had thought of. And now as he pulls away, he doesn't go far, resting his hands on Steve’s neck, and forehead against him.

"Stevie..." Eddie whispers. "I don’t care what your dad says or does. He is an asshole, and doesn't deserve you in his life. He'll, I don't deserve to be in your life. Sweetie, you are amazing, and sweet, and somehow you want to spend time with a cynical freak like me..."

Steve cuts him off. "I don’t think your a cynical freak..."

"I know, sweetheart. And that's why you are so special to me. You really see 'me' and I really see 'you.' And, like, I love what I see. You're funny, and smart, and kind of dumb." He smiles teasingly. "And you are caring, and kind and bitchy, and everything all the same time. And you are so fucking hot. I love you, Steve Harrington. "

Steve suddenly feels like his heart is going to beat out of chest and fly around the car. "You love me?" He says in half disbelief.

"Yea, you are my sunshine, Stevie. You brighten up my life. So, yea I love you." He smiles at Steve like he is the only person in the whole world.

Steve can’t help but smile back. Steve had been wrong. To Eddie, he wasn’t just some planet pulled into his orbit, destined to be destroyed. He was a star in his own right. He was bright and beautiful and powerful. Steve and Eddie were two stars dancing around each other, pulled to one another, always circling the other with their light and receiving light at the same time. They were bright and beautiful and powerful together too. Steve was Eddie’s star just as much as Eddie is his.

He whispers "I love you, too, Eddie." And he leans back in for another soft chaste kiss.

Eddie lets a happy sigh escape his nose. "Good..." then he gets a devious little smile. "But there is one thing I would change..."

Steve pouts, maybe a little exaggerated. " Oh? What is that?"

"Your last name, Harrington." He says definitely.

"Honestly, not too fond of it myself anymore..." He replies sadly.

Eddie senses his sadness so he saves the moment. "Then how about we change it to Munson, soon."

Steve laughs, eyes still red and face puffy from crying. "Is this how you are proposing to me?'

"I don’t know. Would your answer be yes?" Eddie grins.

"Of course." Steve smiles again, before playfully adding, "But if you think this means you don't have to take me out to a nice place and propose properly, you'd be wrong."

"Whatever you say, Princess." Eddie laughs before pulling Steve in for another soft kiss.

[brakish-tea]

Fears as dreams I have had:

End: I dreamed my best friend faded away and died before my eyes

Desolation: I was in a burning restaurant trying to frantically find my way out

Slaughter: I was running through an oddly wide and empty version of museum adjacent London when I saw a child who looked like my secondary school bully. I went up to him and he asked in a child's voice "Are you here to kill me?"

Hunt: I spent the last two years going between Canada and London on the run from a scrawny man with a rifle. I was with my mom. We would close the blinds and live in hiding and we weren't scared because it felt normal to us. One day, my mom gave me a hunting rifle to defend myself. On that same day, my mom was having too long a conversation with one of the neighbors and had left the door open and I was silently gesturing for her to come inside and when we did go to the door it was closed and unlocked. We both knew he was inside and so we both scattered before I heard the gunshots of my rifle echo out across the street and the scrawny man's face was angry. I ran all the way down the near by highway and the air was cool. It all felt normal. He was behind me.

Flesh: My skin texture was melty and strange. Very bad.

Corruption: A recurring dream where I had a very contagious orange coloured terminal infection. I laughed and joked for people not to come near me to make it seem like I wasn't scared to die while making it so that others wouldn't get infected.

Stranger: I was not!them and I was running through a Russian community center (I have never been to Russia in my life). The walls were white plaster and bare save for a pink ballet advert flyer I couldn't read. Jonathan Sims was chasing my with a metal pipe as I was about half way into climbing into the skin of some blonde guy before he hit me. I remember being indignant that the hit meant I made the my torso the wrong height. A similar feeling to when someone jogs your hand while you're drawing.

Buried: I was a young child at the pool with my mom when I fell into a small thin rectangular pool that seemed to go down forever. I was drowning and I couldn't swim back up. I couldn't breathe. When I woke up, it turned out I had choked on my tongue while I slept and that was why I had that dream.

Web: In this dream, I was quite literally The Web. There was a plan over many years where 10 people were sent anonymous paypal money over imessage which would, 5 years later, lead to the death and coverup of a 19 girl hiking in the woods. This would eventually lead to strings based rapture into the skies. When I woke up and felt like a person with an identity again and not an overarching force/concept I was confused and felt like some kind of cosmic horror protagonist which was cool.

Eye: Honestly don't think I have ever had an Eye dream which is odd given my track record.

Spiral: I was in a really fucked up trippy hotel maze thing with blacklights and ladders and messages that didn't make sense and Ryker 8:11 was there and then I climbed out of a trap door and I was on the ground at night in the rain in Brighton.

Lonely: I snuck onto an Antarctic research team base under a fake name after faking my own death. I stood at the outskirts of our little town looking at the warmth and the lights contrasting the tundra and it struck me that this was the only place anyone even knew I existed.

Vast: A childhood memory of a storm came back to me in a dream when I talked to a friend from that world. I still remember it clearly. I must have been 7 or so and I was going with my friends to the park. We stood on the side of the hill and saw a storm. It was so low and small as if it were my storm. As if it were there to strike me. But it was so tall and impossibly vast and dark and roiling and crashing I could not understand it. When the flashback finished, the girl in my dream asked if I had been struck by lightning but I explained I would have a lichtenburg scar if I had.

Dark: I was a priest like figure in a cult that worshiped dark and stars. I remember I was lying in my bed. It was accommodation provided by the cult themselves. The bed was cool and the room was dark, but cast into a deep blue black by the faint light of the stars outside. I felt fulfilled and in tune with the world in a way I have never done so to any meaningful extent.

Extinction: I was standing in the rain and my friend said that the rain drops were too small. I looked at them. They were cloudy and feeble and polluted and tasted unnervingly sweet.

[arawho]

"Come on Looney Lupin go there! or are you scared?" 

Remus was very scared. Grimmauld place 12 had been abandoned since he could remember. However the first day of October after 16 years, the mansion appeared to be populated again and in the quiet but bored neighbourhood, people started talking. Some swear to have seen a strange figure walk by the windows, others narrated about voices that could be heard during the night. 

The situation had caught the attention of one Wulfric Mulciber who had decided the night of Halloween to push Remus against the fence of the apparently haunted house and force him to solve what had become the biggest mystery in town. Remus was not happy to comply but as a self-proclaimed skeptic, the view of a phantomatic ghost was much preferred to Mulciber's fist on his nose. 

He climbed the rusty fence already mourning his probably now ruined sweater made by his mom and slowly walked towards the massive wooden door at the entrance. Remus cursed himself when he instinctively knocked at the door of the supposed abandoned house as he could hear Mulciber laugh at his action. After taking a long breath he pushed the heavy door open and entered the mansion. 

Remus Jaw dropped as what could only be described as a different reality appeared in front of his eyes. The house was alive; numerous candles were lit open, a grand piano was playing, the white keys performing on their own to create an eerie melody, and shadows figures reflected on the walls were dancing the waltzer to the music. He felt like an uninvited guest at a ball from the afterlife. 

"Welcome to Grimauld Place," a deep voice behind him said, making him jolt. The voice belonged to a boy seemingly his age. His long hair was as black as the woods of the enchanted piano and his iris was Grey, a colour Remus had never seen belong to eyes before. However what he noticed first was the formal way the boy was dressed, a black tuxedo complimented his tall figure. 

"Can I ask why are in my house?" 

Remus seemed to suddenly realise where he was again and felt panic rise in his stomach. 

The boy laughed, "Oh, don't be scared now. I usually turn people into worms but I would never ruin a pretty face like yours."

Remus could feel his cheeks get red, "I am sorry I thought no one lived here. It seemed abandoned from the outside and I just-" 

"I know it seems abandoned, I made it that way myself."

Remus' brain was only now starting to process what his eyes and ears could see and hear, but the absurdity was so hard to handle that he didn't know what to say. 

At the lack of response the boy turned his back towards Remus, "Since you're already here you can follow me. I'll show you what I’m preparing," he said while walking towards another room, "I'm Sirius Black by the way." 

"Sirius Black," Remus savoured the sound of the name on his mouth. A strange name for a strange boy, he thought. 

"What are you exactly?" Remus asked as they entered a big but almost empty room. There was only a massive cauldron a the center and books everywhere all over the marble floor. Remus shivered as only the presence of some candles - a total amount of 10 dangerously placed between the opened books- were a source of warmth in the cold empty room. Sirius looked at him as he walked near the cauldron, "Are you cold?" he asked. 

"Aren't you?" Remus questioned instead of answering. 

Sirius shook his head before speaking again, "Come here."

Remus reluctantly got in front of him and Sirius took his hand into his own. They stayed like that for a few seconds while the boy whispered some unfamiliar words. Remus felt a strange feeling and like a fuse catching fire, starting from the nails of his finger his entire body was embraced by warmth. Sirius seemed to observe him and at his amazed reaction, a smug grin appeared on his face. 

"Isn't it obvious?” he finally responded to Remus' previous question, “I'm a wizard."