#looks every bit the dad coming to bitch about the bills

[papa-evershed]

Rob James-Collier as Daniel Watson

THE INHERITANCE

[justjams2003]

Fast Pace- 13

Am I being mean by releasing the last 3 chapters week for week? Maybe just a bit 🤭

Summary: You're a hard-working Chef in Paris and after a freak accident run-in with Carlos Sainz, your life makes a 180. Let's just say with a certain agreement, you get your bills paid and in return stand in as Carlos' girlfriend for the press. But will you be able to handle the pressure and ensure the lines don't blur?

Pairing: Sugar Daddy!Carlos Sainz x Sugar Baby!Reader

Warnings: I've aged up Carlos, he is 33 in this fic. Smoking, smut, sexual themes, age difference, manipulation, control, slight obsession, the word 'daddy', nudity, a garbage family, family trauma, disowning, tell me if I missed any

Taglist: @httpjeonlicious, @f1lov3r, @messersandmesses, @hollie911, @oriconde08 @thehufflepuffavenger1 @fanboyluvr @thatgirlmj @whyamireadingthis @oriconde08 @depressedriches @roseseraj @skepvids @sain55wifey @distinguishedvoidlady @amatswimming @sachaa-ff @lightdragonrayne @lazybot @formula1mount @fangirl-dot-com @saintslewis @carlossainzwho @lordpercevalcharles @topguncultleader @kitixie @serp3ns0rtiae @hangmandruigandmav @therealone4r @keii134 @dark-night-sky-99 @jax-the-oregonian @hachrinnen

Word count: 3,2k

Masterlist

Part 12 ~Part 14 (coming soon)

“Elle dort profondément, la journée a été longue.” Y/N’s brother and parents both look up at me in shock. I can’t help but laugh at their expressions. We’ve been here three days and if it weren’t for her family, it would be idyllic.

We’ve gone hiking in the beautiful mountains, she’s shown me all around her hometown. She has so many memories here, a lot of them good, but when I hear the things her mother says to her, I can’t but wonder if she’s sugar coating some of it.  

“What? You didn’t think that me, a million-dollar man who travels the world every day, with a French teammate, wouldn’t speak French? Not even a little?” I can only sigh at their foolishness; I see now why my sweet girl is so easy to...shape. Luckily for her, she has me and no one would dare hurt her with me around. Her family, however, after what I’ve seen they don’t get the same lenience.  

 I sit down on the table, “Tell me, how much do you want?” If I was some old-timey villain I would take out my checkbook and write some obscure numbers with lots of zeros. Her brother furrows his brows, “How much of what?”

I chuckle, I thought at least he would be smarter, I guess not. “Money. How much do you want to never speak to Y/N ever again?” Her mother scoffs and begins rambling about just how important she is to her.  

“Look, you’re a terrible influence on my precious girl. You make her feel terrible about herself after I spent all that time convincing her otherwise. Now, we can do as normal families do and only see each other on the holidays. Even then, it’s going be exhausting for her. So, why don’t we just take a short cut? How much money for you to kick her out of your life, permanently?” Her brother looks appalled and disgusted.  

His fist goes to find my jaw, but I catch his hand before he even comes close. “Be serious, you might be a rough and tough city farm boy, but I’ve spent years of my life practising my reflexes.” I take him by his shoulders and shove him back down in his chair. “How much will it be, mom, dad? Fifty thousand, a hundred thousand, or shall we go into the millions?” Everyone goes quiet at the numbers I’m talking of.  

“See? That wasn’t so hard? Now, Cash or Card?”  

“They’re so unbelievable! You know what, no, I’m glad that they did this. She’s been nothing but a cruel bitch all my life. Now that I’m happy, she hates it.” She screams into the phone, she’s standing next to the bathroom trying to get some distance from other people.

“No, I don’t care if they’re my family, who says that to someone?” She scoffs, likely she’s talking to Jasmine and Ilsa, I know Alex and Kika would defend me.  

She’s angry, a wrinkle in a brow and I just want to make it all go away. Maybe even, I’ll have to get rid of those two friends as well. They’re not good for her either. “I know I’ve only known him for a month and a half, but it’s been the best few weeks of my life! It’s been better than anything I’ve had with that fucked family of mine. And the fact that you two can’t see that, really shows me something about you two.”  

Her footsteps are loud on the floor of the plane. She throws her phone on the seat and plops herself down in my lap. Instantly her head finds the crook of my neck and her small hand takes fists full of my shirt. She pulls me as close as possible to me and wrap my arms around her. This is where she belongs, nowhere else but in my arms.  

 Her whole-body shakes as sobs make its way through her. “No te preocupes, mi dulce niña. Estoy aquí para ti. No importan, sólo estamos tú y yo. Just you and me. You have me now, you don’t need them.” I soothe her cries, rubbing circles on her back as she mumbles on about how awful they are and how evil they’re being.

I know it’s better for her in the long run, but it hurts my heart to see her like this. Hurting. At the same time, having her cling to me as if I am her lifeline is a feeling I can’t help but savour.  

“Carlos, where are we going?” A sigh escapes me. “Singapore, for the next race. But I have to talk to you about it.” She raises her head; she has these big doe eyes that has this melting effect on me. Yet at the same time, it makes the khaki’s I’m wearing tighter than I’d like it to be. “This is going to be the hardest race of the year. For the rest of the week until at least Friday, I’m going to be very busy with very hard training.”  

I know for a fact that this is the worst time possible to leave her alone. Right now, I need to be with her every moment. She has to be with me and no one else otherwise my whole plan will be for nothing. I have to be the only one comforting her, if not she’ll think that she can rely on others. My sweet thing whines at the realisation and goes to hide her face again but I stop her before she does.  

“I know, I’m sorry. But, I really don’t want to leave mi dulce niña alone, no?” She shakes her head, wiping her tears with the same hoodie I’d given her at the very beginning. I might have blasted the AC, just to see her wear it again. I know it gives her comfort and she just looks like a doll with it on. So small and so cute, I feel as if the love is oozing from my heart.  

“Now, we have one of two options. It’s not too late, we can still turn this plane around. Get you a nice, big apartment somewhere in France.” She stops me before I can even continues.

“No, I don’t ever want to see that damn country ever again. What if I see one of them again? I’d much rather live on the streets.” I can’t help but smirk, taking her small hands into mine.  

“I thought so. What about somewhere in Madrid? Why don’t you move in with me?” Her eyes go even bigger and bites down on that puffy lower lip of hers. I adjust her to sit on my other leg, the friction between us making me rock hard. Soon after, her eyes avoid mine. Her eyebrows pull together and I can’t help but reach up and smooth the crinkle in her forehead. 

So much seems to be running through her mind, and it shouldn’t be. Things should be easy for her, look pretty and be my pet. That should be the end of it. But this world can be so heartless and make the important people in our lives hurt. “Tell me, mi niña bonita, what’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”  

She sighs and then gives me those big doe eyes again. This time they’re all puffy from crying, and she looks just as beautiful as the day I met her. “Daddy, I don’t want to leave your side.”

Her words are like lava through my body. I take her chin and give her a kiss on her cheek. “I know, baby, but what other option is there? Follow me everywhere I go? You’ll get bored, I’m sure.” She doesn’t hesitate and shakes her head.  

“No, no, I promise. I’ll be good.” This would be more perfect than any other option. Having her by my side for the whole world to see. “I don’t know, cosas dulce,” it’s mostly just an act, I want her to beg. “Please Daddy, please?” She jumps ever so slightly on my lap and I can’t help but holding her waist to keep her still, not knowing how much longer I can hold out. Especially when she’s like this.  

Y/N takes her small hands and hold my face. Then she places a kiss on my cheek, then the other. I take her petite hands in mind. “Oh, alright, but no whining missy.” I hold out my hand, showing how stern I am. But she wraps her fingers around mine and gives me the biggest brightest smile. “You know I can’t say no to you.”  

“Carlos?” I had just finished pretty extensive training for the race. The whole gym room’s heat is all the way up to 30 Degrees Celsius, sweat is dripping off me. My hair is wet, luckily my girl gave me one of her headbands to keep my hair out of my face.

I could see her eyeing me the whole time. I couldn’t bare the heat much long, and just had to take my shirt of. Or maybe it was tactical to get her attention, nobody will ever know.  

“Yes, mi querido?” She gets up from her seat, discarding her phone which she had been so engulfed in before. Her hips sway, she too is sweating and is wearing the smallest little shorts I’ve seen in a while. It entrances me, every time she walks, the way her legs move. The way those tiny shorts sits a way below her naval. Showing off what all the boys are missing out on.  

Y/N makes her way over to me, her fingers dancing on my shoulder. “No, mi cosa bonita, you don’t want to touch me. I’m sweaty and smelly.” She scoffs and wraps her arms around my neck. “You’re saying that like I care.” I can’t help but chuckle at her attitude. Yes, last week changed her, but so far it’s for the better. My hands find her hips, “You’ve been looking so good lately, cosas dulce.”  

Her laugh alights my whole body. “You’ve been using that one a lot lately, I’ll have to google it,” I pretend to wince at her words. “No, cosas dulce, I might get in trouble.” Now she really does laugh, throwing her head back like she does when she’s comfortable. “Why do you laugh?” She shakes her head, “You, Mister Sainz, could never get in trouble with me. You’ve been nothing but perfect.”  

I pull her closer to me, our hips touching the other. “Is that so? I’ll have to hold you up to that.” I can’t help but place kisses all over her bare neck. “Except right now.” My heart rises and I’m just glad the monitors aren’t on.

Has she found out? No, no it can’t be. If she did, she’d be a lot more upset. Or would she? Would she be happy that I did it? Relief to get rid of them and have them well cared for at the same time. She doesn’t look happy now, but she doesn’t look to upset.  

“I’m scrolling through Instagram, right, only to see an edit about you. Guess my surprise that I found out through an Instagram reel that I missed your birthday!” Oh yes, that, is that really all? I can’t help but laugh at how serious she is. “You didn’t miss it; we did celebrate it.” Her eyebrows furrow, “What do you mean?” I love the way her long hair sways to the side when she’s confused.  

“Your fashion show, after the shopping trip. It was more than enough of a present for me. Not to mention you got the sunglasses, with our initials on them.” She scoffs and rolls her eyes.

“You keep calling me hardheaded, but you can be even more dense than me.” I laugh, she can be so complex. Switching from soft and needing to be held one moment, to sassy and chatty the next. I love every moment.  

A hum escapes me, “Aren’t you brave, talking to me like that, cosas dulce?” She ignores my words and carries on. “It doesn’t count as a birthday gift, if I didn’t even know it’s your birthday.” I sigh, seeing now that she’s going to be persistent on this. “That’s why I love it so much. You gave me a gift without even knowing. Call it something poetic, like our souls just knowing, or something simple. Like the kindness you give me that no one else does.”  

She pushes out her bottom lips and her eyes go all big again. “Carlos, that’s really beautiful.” She pulls me down by the neck and gives me a kiss on the cheek. Oh, how I cherish those. I remember each and every one. “But, at least allow me to make you dinner tonight.” I don’t want her going through all the trouble, or making too much of a fuss.  

“Don’t bother, cosas dulce. There’s no point in celebrating. 34 Years and I spent most of them racing, to no avail. A team that fucks me over, another year with no win and still no championship behind my name. And the rookies are getting younger and younger, and better and better. I’m sure I’ll lose my seat in a year or two and after that, it’s retirement for me.”

I didn’t mean to spill out all my thoughts just like that. But when she looks at me with those eyes, I wan’t to tell her everything.  

She cooes and pulls me tight in her arms. “Don’t talk like that. I’m sure you want our kids to see you race at least once.” What? She surprises me again and again. This is good, very good. She’s seeing what I see. Our goals are aligning. Before long I’ll have her all to myself. “You mean it?” Her smile lights up the room and my life.  

“Of course, now give me your card. Brutis, Otis and I are going grocery shopping.” That’s my girl. No longer afraid to ask. “You know where it is, cosas dulce.”  

I can hear music blasting through the hotel room, along with my girl screaming the lyrics at the top of her lungs, like always. She’s dancing and swaying to the music. Her hips move in ways that entice. But the most attractive thing about her, is that she looks as happy as can be. Pure joy radiates off her like the sun’s rays. Nothing is as beautiful as her delight and I just need to be a part of it.  

I scoop her up in my arms and place her on the first open space on the counter. She breaks out in giggles, “Aren’t I glad you’re feeling better,” she mutters between laughs as I make marks all over her neck and shoulders.

“How can I not with such a beauty in my arms?” She blushes and still giggles as my scruff tickles her. But soon she gently pushes me away, not far, by the chest. Her hands there is like fuel to my engine. Sparking my whole body to keep her here, trapped.

“You’re just in time,” she smiles jumping off and plating the food she had made. “I made Fideuà.” At just the mention, memories of my childhood come rushing back. Big Christmas family dinners, with lots of people. Kids running around, screaming with delight, as people laugh and drink lots of wine. “Ah, mi amor, now you are bringing back some good memories, no?”  

Y/N’s smile is big as she hands me the plate and pours some white wine. The first bite is perfect, the taste of fish explodes in my mouth. After it’s the texture of the pasta and the hint of Saffron.

“Wow, I must say, mi amor, this is as good as Mama’s.” This makes her smile as wide as ever. “Really, you mean it? You’re not lying?” There are some slight differences, but it’s incredibly hard to notice. I shake my head no.  

“It’s almost identical.” She blooms with joy and her cheeks are just so faintly red. “Caco sent me the recipe from your mom.” I should have known. “My, my, already in kahoots with my family.” I pull her into my lap as we both enjoy our dinners. “Speaking of, mi amor, I want you to meet my family. And I know you still feel unsure about moving in with me. But if you meet my parents and see the city...”  

Her gaze is stuck on her dinner as she just moves the shrimp around. “I’ll meet your parents, but I won’t promise you anything.” That’s good enough. That’s more than good enough.  

Xxxx  

There is a blazing heat through the paddock. Everyone is sweating and I can only imagine Carlos must be so uncomfortable in his racing suit. Boiling hot, you can see his hair is sweating but you know he won’t wear his headband in public.

It’s a maybe five minutes until they play the national anthem. Yet still through the flurry of everything and everyone he still makes his way towards where you stand with Caco in the garage.  

He hands you his drink, with the weird tube and everything, clearly given to him by Rupert. “Here, it’s very hot, remember to drink a lot of water.” You sigh and take him by the race suit.

“Carlos. Your race starts in twenty mintues, you shouldn’t be bothering yourself with me.” He clicks his tongue. “Siempre tan testarudo,” you sigh, you’ve googled it before and he says it so much that you know he’s calling you hardheaded.  

“Carlos!” The people call out his name, they could get a penatly if he misses the song. “I’m coming! Caco, asegúrate de que bebe mucha agua.” He speaks to his cousin, who agrees. He goes to leave but you grab him by his suit and pull him back. His lips fit perfectly onto yours. He pulls you close by the waist, his other hand rake deep into your hair.  

He kisses you back with such passion. Like a fire lighting between you two. Your soul finally finds rest. You’ve been wanting this for weeks and now you’re finally taking it for yourself. And you can tell by the way he holds you and pulls you closer that this is what he’s wanted. He’s been yearning for it just as much as you have.  

Finally, when there is no air left in your lungs you’re forced to break apart. “I’ll move in with you.” His whole body comes alive with joy. “Really?” His smile is wider than I’ve ever seen before. “Yes really, now go before Ferrari fine me themselves!”  

Hollywood Life 

“Y/N Y/S/N’s content quality and quality raises, could she have gotten herself a full PR team?” 

Glamour 

“Fans are going crazy as the boost in Y/N Y/S/N’s conent shows new insight on her and her boyfriend Carlos Sainz’s life that’s never been seen before.”  

Page Six 

“Carlos Sainz and his girlfriend seem to be attached at the hip.”  

Us Weekly 

“People are freaking out over Carlos Sainz’s post race interview:  ‘The first non-Red Bull win of the season. What would you like to say?’  ‘I’d like to thank my girlfriend. She’s the reason for this trophy. I know I should be thanking the team, but I know they’d much rather have Charles win this. So, this is for her.’ 

E!News 

“Carlos Sainz and his girlfriend seen celebrating in a club with Lando Norris as the DJ.” 

People Magazine 

“Fans are swooning after a video of Carlos Sainz winking to his girlfriend on the first place podium surfaces.”  

My taglist is open, just ask! :)

[heknewwhoyoureallyare]

Asian Alpha: Hey Bro! You there! Yeah you! Come here! Is that your daughter Bro? She’s really Hot! Yeah like Crazy Hot! Her tits are massive Bro, her ass are perfectly rounded Bro and juicy and jiggly, and her thighs are so smooth Bro! It’s as if she’s calling us to touch it! I like that you allowed her to wear such short pant in here and that tank top, Omg! Can she even breathe in those?! Doesn’t matter though! She is such a Vision to us! Can we go there and fondled her Bro? Oooooohhhh I’m sure she would like that, she’s been eyeing us all afternoon and biting her lips and smile shyly and shit! I’m sure you don’t mind if we go there and touch her a little bit here and there. We actually don’t need your permission to do that Bro, we were just being courteous. Judging from your body, I don’t think you can defend yourself from us, let alone your daughter hahahahahahahahaha. What Bro? She’s underage? She’s still 16? Well shit Bro What is her birthday then? Give us your number Bro! If she is already of age, we would like to take her out on her birthday and introduce her to all sorts of fun stuff an ‘ADULT’ can do! Don’t worry Bro, it’s not just with me. My two buddy’s will be there ass well! I’m sure she will be well protected! Hahahahahahahaha Oooohhh you don’t want to give us your number? How about this, if you give us your number and her number ass well, we wouldn’t beat the shit out of you right now! Don’t try call the cops either, my Dad own the cops, and don’t try to change your number either, we can use the cops data to find you! Okay?! and don’t use that tone like that to me again, be respectful! For Fuck sake, do I have to teach this old farts how to have some manners when talking to a better Men like us? Oooohhhhh and btw Bro if you let us introduce her to my other friends, I will send you $ 1,000,000 to your Bank account! See Bro were not that mean! We can be nice as well! We were just the Sons of the Riches Bastards who own the Biggest Companies in this city who also happen to have a BIG DICK and know and WANT to use it, and we wanna borrow your daughter for a night. You look like a broke ass bitch with a lot of debt, and a Hot Daugther, so just give her to us and we’ll pay you the money! You can then use it to pay for your sorry ass bills. Okay? So we got an agreement? Good! Make sure she dressed nicely on her birthday, like really nice, I’m talking like a nice tight dress with a short skirt! A cute lingerie underneath it will be nice ass well, or maybe nothing! Yeah nothing is also good! Hahahahahahahaa thanks buddy you’re a real Bro! Hey speaking of friends! Theirs my buddy! How are you guys?

His friends:

His Alpha Bro Friends: Yo Bro did you see that cute girl with the short pant, and a nice thigh over there? She look like a good FUCK Bro!

Asian Alpha Bro: Yeahhh I just made her Dad to trade her for the money! We will have her on her birthday!

His Alpha Bro Friends: for all of us Bro?

Asian Alpha Bro: FOR ALL OF US!!! Hahahahahahahaha

You: (Cries in pain and humiliation but you still needed the money so that you wouldn’t get kicked out of your sorry ass small apartment and at the same time still thinking about your daughters feeling and well being!)

Your Daughter: (Accidentally listens to your conversation with the Asian Alpha Bros and now she get wet every night and she can’t stop touching herself and thinking about what’s going to happened to her on her birthday)

[nctsplug02]

Can I request dad!johnny? he cheated with y/n so they broke up and 3 yrs later he saw y/n with their son (y/n a single mom) but johnny isnt still aware of it that it’s his kid? Angst-fluff maybe? Thank you!

get your popcorns ready, this is gonna be a long story.

genre: angst, fluff

—

You and your son were waiting in line for some ice cream, he heard the ice cream truck and asked to get some, of course you agreed since it was so hot outside. “Hello,” you greeted the man in the ice cream truck. “Hi, what can I get for you today?” He asks and you hum. “I think I’ll get vanilla. What do you want, baby?” You ask your three year old. “Can I get the brown one?”

The man chuckles and nods before heading back into his truck to get the ice creams. “Okay, here you two are! It’ll be five bucks.” You hand the man a five dollar bill before bidding your goodbyes.

“Y/n?” You turn your head to the direction where your name was called. “Oh, Mark? Taeil?” You’re shocked to see your olds friends standing in line, waiting to order their ice creams. “So it is you! Hyung, you owe me twenty bucks,” Taeil rolls his eyes at the youngster and nods.

“Anyways, how’ve you been? It’s been so long!” The young boy cheers. “I’ve—,” you feel your dress get tugged on. “Mommy, who are they?” Your son asks, hiding behind you. “These.. um,” you look back at Mark and taeil. “They are my friends from a long time ago.” You smile at the two men in front of you.

“Wait, your a mom now? Wow!” Mark covers his mouth in shock. “Mark, youre too loud.” Taeil tells him, Mark apologizes and lowers his voice. “Uh, yeah.. I’m a mom now.” Mark crouches down and holds a fit out to your son. “Hi, buddy! I’m mark!” Your son tilts to the side to look at Mark. He looks up at you who just smiles down at him. “I’m Sungchan.” Your son quietly introduces himself and hi-fives Marks fist.

“Nice to meet you, sungchan.” Mark giggles at the three year olds shyness. “Where are you guys off to?” Taeil asks while Mark tried to start a conversation with the three year old. “Just back to the park, what about you guys?” You point to the park that had no people. “Well, we came here to get some ice cream for us and the others, so we’re headed back.. over there.”

He points to a place behind the cars that were all parked and lined up. “Oh, who’s all over there with you guys? Maybe I’ll come with and say hello to them.” You smile at him, thinking about the others that you hadn’t seen either. “Well, there’s taeyong, Jeno, yuta, Doyoung, and Johnny.” He lists them out, you pause at the last name.

“O—oh, um, actually I think me and Sungchan are just gonna head home after this.” You hug Sungchan to your leg. “Oh, well. Here, how about we swap numbers so you can come over tonight? I mean, we are throwing a little party.” You think about it, what could go wrong with reuniting with some old friends?

“Sure! I mean, it’s been years since we’ve all talked and seen each other, so why not?” He laughs a little and pulls his phone out. You and him swap numbers before you and Sungchan left home.

Mark and Taeil walk back to the little group with ice cream cones in their hands. “Okay, take your ice creams! Me and Taeil have to tell you guys who we just met.” They all take their ice cream and wait for Mark to continue.

“We bumped into y/n at the ice cream truck, she looks better than ever!” Mark announces with a giggle.

——

Later that night, Taeil had texted you, telling you to come over for a bit. You got worried and asked if you could bring Sungchan, he said yes and that he didn’t mind.

You got Sungchan out of the car and knocked on the door. The door swings open and you see Mark at the door. “Aye! You actually came!” He gasps when he sees the three year old standing besides you. “Ahh! Sungchan!” He giggles and starts to jump. “Hi, Mark.” You giggle at how excited he was to see your son.

Mark shuts the door after letting the two of you in. “Are you hungry? Yeah, okay. Why don’t you go play with uncle Mark while mommy grabs you some food, yeah?” Your son nods and looks up at Mark. “Let’s go!” Sungchan grabs Marks hand and allows Mark to take him to the basement.

You sigh and start looking around for the kitchen. “Oh,” you find the kitchen filled with food that they had just barbecued. You hum and start looking for plates, paper plates are sitting on the counter which you grabbed. You filled with plate up with some chicken and rice. You reheat the cold food and while waiting a voice scares you.

“Y/n?” Oh, you knew that voice, you knew it well.

You turned around to see your ex lover standing in shock by the door frame. “Johnny, hi.” You inhale sharply. “Is.. is that your kid?” He points behind him.

- few moments ago -

Johnny sighs and opens the bathroom door. “Yo! Watch out, man!” Mark yells and pushes the tall man back into the bathroom. “Woah, who’s kid is that?” Johnny asks pointing to the three year old.

“Mhm.” You nod confirming his question. “Oh, well, how’ve you been—?”

beep, beep, beep.

The microwave saves the awkward moment. “I’ve been good, how about you?” You grab the food out of the microwave. “I’ve been.. good too.” He nods and tucks his hands in his pockets. “That’s good. Can you show me where the basement is?” He nods and gestures you to follow him.

Entering the basement, you could see your son playing with Mark. “Oh, my god! Y/n? It’s been so long!” Jungwoo gasps and sits up, running over to you and hugging you. “Hi Jungwoo!” You giggle and pst his back as he swayed you back and forth. “Gosh! So that baby must be yours, huh?” You nod and scrunch your face up. “Okay, well I see you have a plate of food so, go on.”

You walk over to Mark and Sungchan who are playing with some action figures. “Channie, come eat food.” You sit down and place the plate down. “Okay, mommy.” He crawls over to you and sits in front of you. “Here, ahh.” You open your mouth and so does he. “Omm, nom nom nom.” Your son giggles at your food noises.

——

After feeding your son, your son got tired and wanted to go home. “Hey guys, me and Sungchan are gonna head home. He’s getting really tired and cranky.” The guys frown and whine, not wanting you to leave just yet. “I’ll see you guys next time, okay?” Mark walks you to your car with Sungchan in his arms.

“Okay, bye y/n. Drive safe, alright?” You giggle and nod. “I’m not that bad of a driver, Mark. But yes, don’t worry. Goodnight Mark, don’t drink too much.” He laughs and nods. “Okay, mom,” he jokes, “goodbye channie, see you soon! Bye buddy!” He waves the little boy off before running back inside as you drove off.

——

For days your son had begged you nonstop if he could spend the night at Marks, and honestly, you didn’t know if Mark would be up for it or if he would be able to take care of your three year old. “Okay, I’ll call uncle Mark to see if he lets, okay?” The three year old cheers and nods.

You pick up your phone and start calling Mark.

“Hey, what’s up y/n?” The man sounded so lively. “Hi Mark, can I ask you something?” The boy nods and hums. “Okay, so lately Sungchan had been asking and begging for me to let him sleep at your place, so is it alright if Sungchan sleeps at your place? For like, a day?”

The man on the other line freaks. “Dude, of course! Send me your address I’ll come pick him up.” You giggle at his excitement, him and Sungchan are growing up as best friends. “Alright, ill send it.” The other line goes silent, bitch hung up.

“Channie! Go get ready! Uncle Mark is coming to pick you up!” The little boy cheers and runs into his room, quickly packing some of his toys and some clothes.

“Im ready, mommy!” He says with his backpack on and his shoes on the wrong way. “Good job, baby! Let’s go wait for uncle Mark outside, yeah?” He nods and runs towards the front door.

You and him are outside, youre sitting on the steps while he sat next to you. “It’s a pretty day, isn’t it?” Your son nods and looks at the flowers that were planted by the big tree in front of your house, it had a swing on it from your childhood.

A car pulls up and you grab Sungchan hand. “Oh, it’s uncle mark.” You let his hand go as he slowly walks down the stairs and then runs to his uncle. “Uncle Mark!” He jumps into the mans arms and makes the older man giggle. “Hey buddy!” He lifts up the three year old and looks over at you, who is walking towards them.

“Hey Mark, take good care of my baby, okay? He’s the only one I’m having.” Mark and you laugh, but soon after he nods. “Hey y/n?” You look in the car to see Johnny sitting in the passenger seat. “Oh, hey Johnny, didn’t see you.” He slightly laughs and then looks back in his lap. “Alright, ready to go, buddy?” The three year old nods.

“You go and be good, okay? If someone tells me you were being a bad boy, then you don’t get to go back to uncle Marks, got it?” The little on nods. “Okay, give mommy a kiss.” You turn your head and point to your cheek. You pull away when you feel his little lips press against it. “Okay, bye bye, baby.” You ruffle his hair. “Bye mommy!”

——

Later that night, you had ran to that store for some food and bumped into someone very attractive. You and him swapped numbers and starts going on dates after that. While on those dates, Mark would babysit for you, you offered to pay him for every time he watch your son but he didn’t accept it.

Tonight was a rainy night, you and jaehyun couldn’t go on a date so you both decided to stay in with Sungchan.

- a little recap of their night -

“Happy 8 month anniversary, babe.” Jaehyun says and clinks his wine glass with yours. “Happy 8 months, baby.” You take a small swig. “Mommy, happy happy day.” Sungchan holds up his cup of apple juice. “Aww, happy happy day, baby.” You giggled and clinked your cup with his.

——

It was so late and the rain made the three of you guys so sleepy, so the three of you ended up sleeping early.

A sudden faint knock could be heard from the living room. You sit up frantically, another knock. “Who the f.. it’s so late..” you groan and get out of bed, making your way down to the front door with a bat in your hand.

“Johnny?” You see Johnny standing in front of your door all soaked, he looked.. intoxicated. “Y/n..” he slurred and wobbled, he couldn’t even hold himself up. “Johnny, it’s late, what are you doing in front of my door at this time?” He laughs but it sounded broken. “I.. I miss you so much..”

he was just drunk talking, you said to yourself.

“Johnny, should I call Mark—?” He quickly shakes his head. “No, please don’t. If you do then he’ll yell at me.” You sigh, the cold breeze making your legs shiver. “I just miss you so much, I miss holding you at night, I miss the way you kissed me, please just take me back—“ you stopped his rambling, his drunk rambling.

“No, johnny, you don’t get to do this! I’ve finally healed after 4 years of our break up. I was so heartbroken that you cheated on me with some random chick from the bar. I was so hurt that you hid it from me and that I had to find out from Renjun and Chenle. This ain’t fair, johnny!” He laughs and nods. “He’s my son, isn’t he?” Great, a new topic.

“So what if he is? It doesn’t matter anymore, you were never in the picture anyway so why does it matter?” He looks up at you. “He’s my son—“ you shake your head. “No he isn’t, he isn’t. He may have your blood but he isn’t your son.” Silence took over, all that could be heard was the raining showering. “Just leave, please? I don’t want to ever see you again.” He steps closer with tears streaming down his cheeks.

“Y/n, please let’s just talk—“ the door opens wider. “She said to leave.” Johnny looks at the man besides you and then back at you. “Alright, I’m sorry..” Johnny turns back around and walks out of your property.

Jaehyun closes the door shut and is immediately taken into your embrace. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up.” He shakes his hand and taps on your thigh, telling you to jump, so you do. “It’s okay, let’s just go back to bed.” He says carrying you back up to your room.

————

a/n: i got really tired and confused at the end. hopefully you can see where i ran out of words and ideas for this story. and by confused i mean like, not knowing anymore words, not knowing what to write and etc. hopefully i can fix this and make it better because it isn’t really that good. I’ll try my best next time! :)

[finnyboywolfhard]

Gross

Richie Tozier x Reader

summary: Y/N likes Richie so much its gross. 

Inspiration: Gross by Olivia Rodrigo 

warnings: literally just pure fluff, cursing we know who this is about 

word count: 2.1k 

The bass was heavy and loud, the people were insufferably packed together. Y/N was a really good friend, or so she kept telling herself, for coming to this party just to appease Bev. Ever since they met at a bookstore, they had gotten really close-despite living in two different towns. Y/N maneuvered her way through the swarm of people. She turned the corner into the living room and spotted her red headed friend in the corner alongside the group, she had heard called themselves ‘The Losers Club’. Her elbows starting jamming into people as she finally crossed the threshold of people and practically fell into the arms of one, Richie Tozier.

“Well, well, well. It appears that you’ve fallen for me.” Y/N let out a chuckle at the response. His brown eyes, goofy little grin and messy, curly hair did manage to melt her heart just a little bit in that moment.

“So, Y/N, you’ve met Richie.” Bev said as she pulled her from Richie’s arms and into a hug. The two stand swaying for a second before Y/N releases herself from the hug. She couldn’t help but notice the six set of eyes staring at her.

“Jesus guys, would it kill you to interact with her instead of stare.” Bev pulled Y/N’s back to her chest and looked toward the group. “You guys, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is Ben, Bill, Mike, Stan, Eddie and Richie.” She pointed at each one as they were introduced.

“Ni-Ni-Nice to me-meet you, Y/N.” Bill said waving to her. Y/N and the group got acquainted a little before they all started breaking off in sections, leaving Richie and Y/N alone.

“Hey.” Y/N said breaking the awkward ‘silence’. “I don’t know this house at all, could you guide me to the kitchen for something to drink?”

“Of course m’lady.” He said taking on one of his many accents. He lightly grabbed her hand and dragged her through some people and into the kitchen. The girl somehow found a water bottle amidst the copious amounts of alcohol.

“Come on, not even one drink?” Richie said leaning in to shout over the music, their faces coming extremely close.

“No sir, I have to drive home tonight. Who’s your lucky DD?”

“Stan the Man Uris.” Richie slurred together slightly. He wasn’t drunk, but he wasn’t quite sober either. Y/N let out an ‘Ah’ in response. She noticed how many eyes were now spent looking at her and Richie.

“Hey Richie?”

“Yes my darling angel?” The nickname made her blush, but she had a bigger thing to focus on.

“Why is every girl in the room staring at you?”

“Oh…Uhh…well you see, I made a joke to some gullible ass freshman that I had a 12 inch wang and he’s started telling everyone. Now the class clown is somehow becoming the class arm candy. I just want it to stop.”

“What if we made them stare for another reason?”

“You got an idea?”

“Two, first off how do you feel about slapping?”

“Please don’t slap me.”

“Okay, what about pretending we’re gonna go hook up?”

“Now we don’t have to pretend if you don’t want to-“ She shoved his arm.

“Richie, do you want it to stop or not?”

“What should I do?”

“I’m gonna get really, really close.” She said as she pressed her body flush with his. Her face was centimeters away from his, she pulled his face down so that she could whisper into his ear. “Now wrap your arms around my waist and pull me closer. Start talking about something random and just ignore what I am doing.” She pulled back just slightly as to start making eye contact. Her stomach was a flutter with butterflies and the proximity. His arms wrapped around her and snuggly brought her closer to him. He began jabbering about something stupid Eddie had said earlier that day about your hand getting chopped off while it’s out the car window. To sell the point to ones close enough to see, which considering how dense the party was was a lot of people, she kept glancing between his eyes and his lips while he was talking. After a few minutes past, she pulled him down to whisper again.

“Is it working?” She watched as his eyes lightly glazed the room and shook his head no. She cursed to herself. Richie’s eyes lit up with an idea, and his arms squeezed her tighter into him.

“I’m gonna kiss you now.” Richie leaned down to whisper into her ear. He leans back and Y/N shakes her head yes. He gently grabs her chin and pulls her in for a passionate kiss. They stay kissing for a brief span before pulling apart. He leaned into her ear and said “If I get you to the front door, can we go out to your car?” All Y/N did in response was grab his hand. He lead her to the door, and she led him the rest of the way. Once they get to her car, she lets her head fall against the headrest on the seat.

“Oh my god it’s so much nicer out here.” She let out with a chuckle.

“You can say that again.” Richie said in the same manner. “Thank you for back there by the way, I just needed to get the fuck out of there.”

“Oh yeah, no worries. What should we do about Bev and the boys?”

“I figured that when they can’t find us, they’ll come looking. In the meantime, we could hangout…that is if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.” Y/N said with a beaming smile. And from that day on, they hung out as much as they physically could. Their weird fake relationship blossomed into a wonderful friendship and then a very real relationship. For nearly 3 months, the pair had seen each other at least five times in a week. Whether that meant Richie driving the 45 minutes to her or vice versa. It was a lot, and it was expensive but they didn’t care. They were having fun and loving where they were.

Y/N was hanging a new photo of her and Richie on her wall by her bed, as Richie watched idly on her bed. His eyes wandered around the walls and furniture at all the different photos and keepsakes she had kept. While most of the photos were of either him, or the two together, he didn’t feel narcissistic in loving how her room looked. He loved it just because it was hers.

“So tell me my darling angel, how was school today?”

“Fine.”

“No Y/N. We’re not doing this bullshit today. What happened?”

“Nothing, just this dumb bitch Penelope C.”

“God, I hate that Penelope C piece of shit.” He said, matching her same angered tone.

“Rich, you don’t even know her babe.”

“I trust your opinion of her, if you hate her, I fucking despise her.” Y/N grabbed her boyfriends face wasting no time in making out with him. She pulls back and just looks at him stunned.

“Why was that the hottest thing you’ve ever said to me?”

“What can I say? I know what drives the ladies crazy.”

“I’m sure of it.” She said sarcastically. Richie did his signature puppy dog eyes, and her icy heart was thawed. She gave him one more peck to the lips, and then began placing pecks scattered all over his face. He grabbed her by her hips and flipped her to be beneath him. He began tickling her relentlessly. Her laughter filled the room, yet also drained her. She pried him off of her. The two lay side by side, heads turned to make eye contact.

“You’re so fucking beautiful Y/N.” Richie said. Y/N moved her head closer and gave him one more soft kiss.

Music softly filled the car. Richies hand was placed gently in Y/N’s lap, his thumb absentmindedly grazes her leg. Her eyes were wandering, looking at each driveway, house, mailbox and road. One day, hopefully, her and Richie would be driving to their own house. They would pull into the driveway and go inside to see their pets or their kids. Her future with him seemed bright. A wide smile creeped across her face as did a light blush.

“What’s got you so smiley?” Richie said, glancing away from the road to look at her.

“Oh, it’s nothing.”

“You were thinking about me huh?”

“Yeah…” Y/N said embarrassed.

“Tell me all the dirty little details, my darling angel.” He said cockily, smirking towards the road.

“Ugh, Richie don’t be gross. I wasn’t thinking about that.”

“I’m sorry, but is it so hard to believe that my hot girlfriend is thinking about her incredibly sexy boyfriend?”

“Oh shut the hell up.” She said through her laughter. He started faintly laughing with her.

“What were you really thinking about?”

“Just about what it would be like to have a future together. And what it would be like to drive to a home of our own with things of our own.”

“You really want a future with me?”

“Of course I do.”

“I can’t wait for it then.” He said smiling, transferring his hand from her thigh to her hand. He gave her hand a light squeeze. They drove in comfortable silence for a moment, before Y/N had the idea to stir the pot.

“Oh and Richie?”

“Yeah?”

“Think of all the sex we could have in a house of our own.” She said with a smirk as they pulled into her driveway.

Bev wandered around Y/N’s room as she was chaotically putting away her laundry all over her room.

“Jesus, everywhere I turn, there’s Richie.” Bev said breaking the silence, making Y/N giggle to herself. “You really like that dumbass don’t you?”

“Yeah, I do.” Y/N stopped for a moment to think about Richie Tozier before continuing,“I can’t help but think and talk about him all the time. He makes me feel so safe and loved, and he always makes me laugh harder than anyone else. I want everything from him- the highs, the lows, and everything in between. I want to tell him everything about my day and i want to hear about the trivial shit he talks about like the traffic coming to see me or what bill did at lunch that day. I like him so so much. I lo-love him.”

“Yeah, it’s kinda gross.” Bev joked with Y/N. “I’m happy for ya Y/N/N, as annoying as he is, he is a really good guy.”

“God, he is so annoying… but it’s kinda why I love him.” The girls continued their night as planned, but the thoughts of how Y/N felt about Richie never left.

As soon as Bev left her house early the next morning, she hopped in her car and went over to Richie’s house. Bev always had to leave super early because of her dad, so Y/N knew she couldn’t just knock on the Tozier’s door. She climbed her way up a tree and across some of Richie’s roof in order to knock on his window. A shirtless and boxer clad Richie came the window groggily.

“What are you doing here darling angel? It’s fucking 7 am.” He said, rubbing his eyes and through a yawn.

“I just really gotta talk to you.” His eyes widened at that sentence. He ushered her in and onto his bed. She sat for a few seconds and then stood up to pace a small line.

“Y/N, is everything okay?” Richie said.

“I just…I like you so much it’s gross.” Y/N said looking right at him. “And you were right.” She said with a roll of the eyes and a light stamp of her foot.

“What? What do you mean ‘I’m right’?”

“That very first night we met, hell the very first moments we met. You were right, I did fall for you.”

“Y/N…” Richie said quietly, coming up to bring his body flush to hers, just the moment at the party.

“I love you Richie.”

“I love you so fucking much Y/N.” He said, pulling her into a long, passionate kiss. Y/N sure was glad he was the one she gave her heart to.

[sylvie-writes]

It’s Just Me

word count: it’s a headcanon and it’s 12 am so quite frankly i don’t know.

warnings: talks of abusive ex, panic attacks. please do not read this if said topics will upset you.

request:

a/n: this is part 6 of (undetermined) of me trying to finish requests that have been sent in ages ago. (literally this was from christmas as you can see, so im gonna switch it up a bit) IM SO SORRY FOR THE WAIT AND QUALITY. it’s been hard to write but hopefully these will do. please ignore any mistakes, again, it’s 12 am.

today you had convinced steve to go shopping for a new wardrobe.

although it was no secret that he was literally a man out of time, you still wanted to dress him fashionably.

tony had made a bet with you the other day that you couldn’t get steve into modern clothes aside from dad-style apparel.

being the competitive person you are, you took on the challenge, putting a nice crips benjamin bill on the line.

steve only agreed because he, too, wanted tony to lose this bet.

yes, the avengers were a bit too competitive, but now is not the time to life coach.

you and steve perused through the racks of clothing in every department store.

it always seemed to be the same though.

you’d send him in with ten hangers and he’d probably only come out with one if you were lucky.

fortunately, one article of clothing here and there was more than enough to compile an outfit for steve.

just as you and steve walked into the footwear store, you recognized an all too familiar face.

the excitement in your body had been instantly replaced with fear.

your ex.

of all places to run into to someone, and of all people too.

your ex who wasn’t just anyone.

they had done unforgettable things to you mentally and it had stuck with you since.

until you met steve, you thought that was love.

but it was quite the opposite.

steve noticed your sudden change in mood and flipped like a light switch into his protective mode.

“(y/n), honey, what’s wrong?”

your breathing was starting to pick up little by little and this point and steve could tell something was truly wrong.

before things escalated, you were able to get the words to escape, “it’s my ex.”

steve had heard all the stories that made him red with anger.

he wanted nothing more to sink his fist straight into your ex’s face after all the things done to you.

you were the love of steve’s life and he couldn’t bear to think that someone would treat such a sweetheart like you so badly.

steve didn’t like bullies and he especially didn’t like this one.

your ex started moving closer and closer as they scanned through the aisles.

luckily they hadn’t seen you until you peeped out a few noises of fear.

tears were steaming down your face and your body was shaking.

this all happened as steve was about to march on over and wail this ninny straight into the ground, but the second he heard your sniffles, he immediately softened.

steve went forward to embrace you, but you flinched.

“my darling, it’s just me. it’s just steve.”

you looked up and he placed his hands on your face to calm you, ignoring the audience.

the audience unfortunately included the knucklehead that was your ex as they smirked upon seeing your reaction and knowing they were the cause.

steve had a few choice words he wanted to use towards the perpetrator, but he knew better than to inflate the situation.

it would be like adding gasoline to a fire and steve wasn’t looking for another explosion.

just when you were finally calmed down, your ex had to open their mouth.

“dramatic bitch as always. if i were you, i’d leave her sorry ass.”

steve couldn’t take it anymore.

he gently sat you down on the bench for trying on shoes and civilly walked on over to the ex.

he looked terrifyingly calm like the eye of a category 5 hurricane.

“you know what? (y/n) isn’t dramatic, she’s an outstanding woman, especially after all the shit you but her through.”

seeing as your ex wasn’t going to listen and take what would have been the easy way out, steve decided to open the gate to the high road.

by this, i mean that steve was about to full on uppercut punch this disgrace of a human’s jaw.

your ex was about to make a remark about how steve’s little heartfelt statement didn’t mean anything to anyone, but it wasn’t even begun as steve’s fist connected with their chin.

you watched in shock as your golden retriever of a boyfriend just turned into cujo in a matter of seconds.

“that’s for everything you’ve ever done my girlfriend. don’t you ever mess with her again.”

with that steve walked away and towards you.

he offered his hand to help you up from the bench and the two of you walked out.

you were able to be content knowing that steve would always have your back.

[study-coffee-chicago]

Seasons of PD: Season 2: Will’s Back...and There’s a Bomb (A Halstead Brothers + Halstead Sister! Imagine)

Your age: 14

Jay's age: 28

Will's age: 30

"Spoke to Dad," Will said to Jay as the two brothers were sat in Jay's apartment sipping their respective beers. "Said you two barely talk. Said if it wasn't for Y/N, you probably wouldn't see him at all."

"I mean, he's not wrong." Jay shrugged.

"Care to elaborate on that?"

"Not really, but you should've been here. You should've been home. Mom was dyin'. You were off partyin'."

"You left," Will said as he set his beer down and leaned forward on the couch.

"I left to fight a war. I came home. And you know why that was?" he asked rhetorically. "It was because my humvee hit an IED and me and Mouse were the only two who survived! And because Mom was sick! I came back for Mom and I came back traumatized! Nothing bad even happened to you in New York and you left two fucking days after her funeral, man!"

Luckily Will hadn't been holding his beer or he would've dropped it right then and there. "Jay, I- I never knew it was so hard for you to come Stateside again."

"Forget it. You weren't there then, what makes me think you're gonna be here now? You're probably taking off in another few days anyway, am I right? Not even gonna go see Y/N? Even though she always wants help on her math homework from you and you don't even have the decency to answer her phone calls!"

"I'm sorry that I don't have my phone on me when I'm performing surgeries, Jay!"

Jay's phone rang, stopping the argument in its tracks. "Speak of the devil," Jay mumbled and then answered the call. "Hey, Y/N, what's up?"

"I don't understand this stupid homework," you groaned from your desk in your bedroom at home. "Why do I even need to know the equation of a line, anyway? It's not like I'm even gonna use it in life anyway."

"Y/N, like I've told you numerous times, I can help you if it's a single variable problem, but anything more than that, I forgot how to do it. Not really helping your teacher's case for actually using this in life, am I?"

"Yeah, not at all. I guess I'll just try and call Will...he's not gonna answer anyway, but I guess it's worth a shot."

"Wait, how about you FaceTime me?" Jay suggested.

"Why? You already admitted that you can't help me."

"Just do it."

"Okay, gimme a few minutes. I gotta switch devices."

"Oh yeah. You don't have an iPhone yet, only an iPod and a slide phone. Sucks to be you."

"Well, I'm sorry that I don't have a grown-up job and can buy my own stuff, Jay."

"And with buying your own stuff and having a grown-up job comes bills. So, be glad you can't legally work yet."

You rolled your eyes. "I'll call you back in a few minutes. And, whatever this is, better be able to help me with this homework since math is my first class tomorrow."

"It'll help. I promise."

"Hmmm, sure." Then, you hung up and switched to your iPod, and hit the FaceTime icon.

"You look like- you look tired," Jay said when he accepted the FaceTime call. He almost said that you looked like hell, but he figured he shouldn't say that.

"Thanks," you replied sarcastically. "You would be, too, if you've been staring at the same problem on your homework for the past hour."

"What's the equation you have to work with?" Jay asked.

"Y=mx+b," you answered.

"Yeah, vaguely remember that. Don't know what it means, just remember hearing it a bunch. Will, you know what that equation is and how to do it?"

"Will's at your house? I thought he wasn't getting back for another week."

"I thought so, too. And then I got called to a bar today because he was being stupid--"

"Hey, I was not stupid!" Will protested.

"Fine. He was being dumb and tried to break up a fight. And, now I think he's got a job at Chicago Med because he got fired in New York--"

"Y/N," Will butted in, "you said you needed help with your homework?"

"Yeah."

"Jay, can you please give me the phone so I can help our little sister with her homework please?"

"Uh, fine. She'll know why you left New York eventually," Jay said as he passed his phone to his older brother.

"Eventually. But not tonight." He turned to Jay. "Can you get me a piece of paper? I'd grab it but I have no idea where you keep stuff in this little bachelor pad of yours."

"Like you didn't snoop through my stuff when I was at work," Jay joked and stood up to get Will a piece of paper.

"Y/N, for Christmas I'm getting you a subscription to Chegg so you don't need to call me for this."

"I'm holding you to that one."

***

God, I hate running on the track. It's literally just running in circles and seeing the same things over and over, no variety in the scenery whatsoever. I wish I could run with Emma, but she's way faster than me, so she's ahead of me by like one or two laps. Uh, this song sucks! I gotta skip--

"Run lockdown! Run lockdown!"

What? Run lockdown? What is the high school cross country coach talking about? Maybe it's just something that the high schoolers have to do for their drills because I sure have never heard of that one.

But then, you saw Emma jogging toward the bathrooms a few yards away from the track.

What the hell?

You ran towards the bathrooms a few yards away from the track and didn't stop until you'd caught up with Emma. "What's going on?"

"No idea. Something about a lockdown."

Once all of you and your coach, Mrs. Rivers, were safely in the bathroom with the door locked, did you get any closure about what was going on.

"There's been a bomb threat."

"What? A bomb threat?"

"What?!"

"So we can't leave?"

"Girls, I need you to be quiet, okay? The police are looking into it, but for now, the campus is on lockdown and we can't leave here until I get the all-clear. The school's already notified parents, so if someone else is picking you up today other than your parents, you need to call them. Just ask and you can use my phone. Everything's going to be okay, though. We have nothing to worry about. We just need to sit tight until I'm told we can leave." Her phone buzzed and you all held your breath. "Looks like Miss G got stuck in the boys' bathroom with all the stinky football boys."

"What if we walk home?" you asked quietly.

"If you walk home, a parent or someone else will have to pick you up since they don't want anybody walking home because, as of right now, they have no idea who did this."

***

"How's your brother doing?" Erin asked as she and Jay were standing around the coffee pot in the break room.

"Pretty sure he's going to quit the new job he just got at Med even though it's his first day," Jay answered.

"What? He got a job at Med?"

"Yeah. Apparently, they were looking for ER docs and he got the job. But, for some reason, now he wants to quit. And, he was late today. Decided to bitch to me about only having almond milk and not having any regular milk in my fridge. Like, dude, you're staying with me. You can deal with a bit of almond milk."

"I don't blame him," Erin laughed. "Almond milk is disgusting."

"But it's better for you...and cheaper."

"Of course that's your reason for getting it."

"Halstead!" Antonio yelled. "Your phone's been ringing off the hook for the last minute. I think it's important."

"Be right there!" Jay quickly poured himself a cup of coffee and then rushed over to his desk.

"Shit," he muttered.

"Who was it?" Erin asked as she emerged from the breakroom, holding her own cup of coffee.

"Y/N," he answered as he fiddled with his phone. "Called me three times in the past minute."

"Any idea what it's about?"

"No, but I'm about to find out."

"Jay!" you whisper-yelled from the other end of the line.

"Y/N, what's wrong? Why are you calling me so much? Are you sick? Do you need me to--"

"There's a bomb."

Jay almost dropped his phone. "A bomb? Are you sure?"

At the mention of a bomb, everyone's heads snapped towards him.

"Yeah, we're hiding out in the bathrooms near the football field right now until they get the all-clear," you told him. "But, they can't let people walk home from school today and Dad's not answering and it's Will's first day, so I was wondering if you could pick me up?"

"Yeah, yeah, I can do that. Do you mind if I put you on speaker for a quick second?"

"Why? I'm fine Jay, really. Just needed to know if you can pick me up."

Innocent fourteen-year-olds, Jay thought to himself. Of course, she just called to pick to see if you'd pick her up. She hasn't grasped the gravity of the situation, and she's probably thinking that this is just another story to tell. Not that if there's actually a bomb at her school that she could be dead any second if it goes off.

"You're sure you don't want me to stay on the phone with you?"

"You can go."

"Okay. Just, listen to the adult that's in there with you, okay?"

"Okay, okay. Bye."

"Bye I love--" He was cut off by the beep which signaled that you had hung up. "--you."

"What's going on? A bomb?" Erin asked, but Jay was already making his way down the stairs.

"Sarge!" Jay yelled as he made his way to the front desk.

"Well, hello to you too, Chuckles. If you're looking for Voight, he's just meeting with a CI and should back soon," Platt told him.

"Sargeant, all due respect, I don't give a damn about Voight right now. I just need to know if you have any idea about the bomb threat at Central Chicago's high school and middle school campuses?"

"I know that they sent someone from bomb squad and some patrolmen over there to see if there's anyone who seems suspicious--"

"Why wasn't Intelligence notified?"

Platt's jaw dropped and she stared at Jay for a second before speaking. "Because last I checked, detective, those schools weren't in our district--"

Jay slammed his hand down on the desk. "Jay," Erin said and grabbed her partner's arm. "I need you to calm down for a second, okay?"

"I don't need to calm down, Erin," Jay spat. "I have every reason--"

"I understand, but being pissed at Platt here isn't going to fix anything. Go back upstairs and I'll be there in a second."

Jay ripped his arm from Erin's grip and stalked upstairs, not without slamming the gate when he was safely inside the Intelligence Unit's area of the 21st District.

"What's his deal?" Platt asked. "I have half a mind to write him up for insubordination for that little scene he just caused."

"Sarge," Erin started, "the school that called in the bomb threat, that's the school Y/N goes to, Jay's little sister."

"What? I thought that only elementary school kids were at school right now?"

"That's true unless there are sports practices."

"And Y/N's in a sport, so she's at school right now." Platt put the pieces together.

"Yeah. And, I know that family isn't supposed to work cases, but could you maybe make an--"

"Erin, go grab Halstead and Dawson, get down to the school. I'll send the information upstairs to Atwater and Ruzek and they can see what they can get. I'll also call Voight and tell him to meet you there."

"Thank you, Sargeant!"

Erin jogged upstairs and into the bullpen. "Jay, Antonio, we're heading to the school! Kev and Adam, Platt said that you're working the case from up here. Voight will meet us there."

"Copy that," Kevin answered.

Jay holstered his gun and was halfway down the stairs before Kevin even finished his sentence.

***

"Kev, what do we know?" Jay asked as they were driving over to your school.

"Uh, I pulled footage from the high school's office and apparently an unknown dude walked in, asked a question, and then walked out all in the span of less than a minute," he answered.

"Can you run facial rec?"

"Nah, not a good enough angle."

"Description?"

"Dude looks Indian or Middle-Eastern to me. He's got short, black hair. Some stubble, not a ton, but it's enough that you can see it even with the bad angle I got. He's kinda chubby, too. Wearing a tan jacket. That's all I got."

"Thanks, man. That helps. Anything from bomb squad?"

"They haven't located a bomb yet, so I guess that's a good sign, right?"

"It is if there's no bomb," Jay replied. "But, just because they haven't found it, doesn't mean there's not a bomb. Whoever the hell did this could've just hid it really well or do whatever a psycho does when they want to blow up a school full of kids."

Jay relayed the information to Erin and Antonio who were also in the car and then hung up his phone. "Any word from Voight or anyone else when I was on the phone?"

"No, you want me to go to the middle school or the high school?" Erin asked.

"Wherever you can get in."

"Jay, we have badges, we can get in anywhere."

"Middle school then. I'm assuming that's where Y/N is."

"Okay."

"Wait!" Jay exclaimed, almost causing Erin to slam on the brakes. "When I was talking to Y/N earlier, she said that she was in the bathrooms near the football field so we need to go to the high school."

"You're sure it's that field? Isn't there a football field at the middle school, too?"

"That's just a shitty practice field," he answered. "Anyway, the high school football field is the only one that has bathrooms near it so that spectators can go to the bathroom when they go to the football games."

"I shouldn't have to tell you this, Jay," Antonio started, "But you can't just burst into the locker rooms and try to get Y/N out of there. No parents are allowed in or out to pick up their kids. And, you're no different. You have to wait for the all-clear to get her out of there."

Jay hated it, but Antonio was right. No matter how much he wanted to get you as far away from this campus as possible, he couldn't until the bomb squad made sure that there wasn't a bomb anywhere near here. If his time in the Rangers had taught him anything, it was that one misstep, and the whole place could get blown up in a nanosecond.

Erin started to pull into the parking lot of the high school near all the cop cars, when one turned on their sirens and pulled in front of them, effectively stopping them from getting any further.

"I know you're worried about your kids," the patrolman said once Erin rolled down her window, "But we can't let anyone in or out until this is all sorted."

"We're not parents." Erin pulled out her badge. "Detectives Lindsay, Dawson, and Halstead from the 21st District's Intelligence Unit."

He looked at the officer next to him. "Desk Sergeant from the 21st said that there'd be some detectives coming." He pushed the button on his radio before anybody could tell him otherwise. "I got the detectives from the 21st here right now."

"Copy," the person on the other end said.

Jay wanted to jump out of the vehicle and strangle that patrolman with his bare hands. "Are you fucking insane?" he yelled.

The one who keyed his radio stepped out of the patrol car, and Jay did the same. "Are you Dawson or Halstead?"

"Halstead. But you, you must be new here because if there is one thing you absolutely do not do when there's even the mention of a bomb is key your radios."

"No offense, detective," the patrolman in the driver's seat started, "but everyone here has been using their radios since we stepped onto this campus."

"There's no bomb," Erin muttered.

They all knew what the patrolman's statement meant: if they had been using their radios the entire time they were here and a bomb hadn't gone off, then there was no bomb to begin with.

Antonio and Erin both stepped out of the car now.

"Who's your sergeant?" Antonio yelled.

"Why? Why do you care?"

"Because of what he just said! You can't key your radios when there might be a bomb, so I think your whole district might need to go back in for a mandatory re-training!"

"I'll call Voight," Erin said.

"Fucking idiots," Jay muttered as he pulled out his phone.

As soon as he was about to dial your number, a call came in from Kevin. "There's no bomb," Jay said as soon as he answered, not even giving Kevin time to tell him anything.

"I mean, yeah, I was callin' to tell you that the bomb squad just declared an all-clear."

"Thanks."

"How'd you know before we even got the call here at the district?"

"They were keying their radios the entire time and nothing happened."

"Yeah, that'll do it."

"We should be back at the district soon."

Jay hung up and made his way to the bathrooms.

You were sitting in silence with Emma next to you when a banging was heard coming from outside causing you to jump.

What if that's the bomber and he's got a gun and wants to kill us before the bomb can get to us? It was irrational, yes, but it was still possible.

"Chicago PD! This is the all-clear."

It was as if everyone in the bathroom let out a collective breath at hearing that there was no bomb or that the bomb had been dismantled.

"Alright girls, you heard the man, we are good to go," Mrs. Rivers said. "Let's head back to the middle school so you can grab your stuff and start getting back to your parents. Was everyone able to get ahold of someone to pick them up? Because I can bring people home if necessary."

All of you filed out of the bathrooms and into the crisp fall air. You were barely onto the sidewalk when you got pulled into a bone-crushing hug.

"Who the--" You looked up. "Hi, Jay."

"Oh my God, you're okay. You don't know how worried I was--"

"Jay, I'm fine," you squeaked out. "But please let go. You're crushing me."

"Sorry, sorry," he apologized and then let go, not without looking you over for injuries even though you promised him that you were in fact fine.

"50-21 George, 50-21 Lincoln, 50-21 Frank, and 50-21 Squad, assistance is requested at Chicago Med for a 10-34. Are you able to assist?"

Jay's eyes went wide and his breath caught in his throat.

"Jay? Jay?" you asked. "You gonna answer that?"

"This is 50-21 Lincoln, hold us down on that 10-34 at Chicago Med," Erin's voice said through the radio.

"Halstead! We gotta go now!" Antonio yelled.

"Jay, what's going on? Will's at Med. What's happening?"

"Come with me," Jay said and then started ushering you towards the car.

"Shit," Erin said when she saw you. "Antonio, you wanna go with Voight, and then me and Jay will drop her off at home? We can't exactly bring her with us."

"Yeah, good idea." Antonio turned to you. "Glad you're safe, kid."

You nodded as he jogged off to find Voight. Then, you turned back to Jay. "Why are you going to Med? Whatever it is, I wanna go with you because what if Will's hurt? I wanna go!"

Jay got in the passenger seat without answering you and you got in the backseat. Erin started driving to the middle school so that you could go get your backpack from your locker.

Once inside school and connected to the wifi, you took out your iPod and pulled up google.

What does 10-34 mean?

The answer almost caused you to drop your iPod on the tiled floor.

10-34 is a police radio signal that means that a bomb threat has been called in.

You ran to your locker and with shaking hands, put in the combination. How was Jay so calm? How was he so calm when you were silently freaking out? And, to make matters worse, he got to work the case while you were going to be stuck going home and just waiting to see if Will (and Jay for the matter since he would no doubt be in the vicinity of the blast zone) was safe, just waiting to see if your oldest brother, who you just got back, would make it out of his new workplace alive.

You hustled out of school and then got into the backseat of Erin and Jay's car. "There's a bomb threat at Med?"

"Who told you that?" Erin asked, turning around in her seat.

"I googled what 10-34 meant. Jay, please, I wanna go with you. I don't wanna go home!"

"No! I know you wanna make sure that Will's safe, and I do too, but you gotta understand that it's not safe for you there, Y/N," he pleaded.

"It's not safe for you to be there, either!" you argued.

"Y/N, I know you're scared, but I'm trained for this kind of stuff. You are not."

"Please," you begged as your lip began to tremble. "I-It'd be faster for you to just go to Med from-from here instead of dropping me off at home."

"She's got a point, Jay," Erin said.

"What? No way, Er! There is no way in hell she is going in there with us!"

"She doesn't have to go past the tape with us. Just somewhere close by." Erin turned back to you. "Would that make you feel better, Y/N? Being somewhere close by?"

You nodded as you wiped away a tear.

Jay sighed. "Fine," he relented. "We'll drop you off at Mama Garcia's to get your homework done since it's a half-block away from the hospital."

"Will's okay, right? You checked in with him?" you asked.

"I haven't yet, but I promise you when I do, I will text you. I just need you to stay calm and focus on yourself right now. It's no use worrying about Will when you can't do anything about it."

"That's what Mom used to tell me when I was worried about you when you were in Afghanistan. She always told me that it's no use worrying about it since none of us were there with you."

"See, you gotta trust what Mom always told you, kiddo. She was a smart lady after all."

***

"Tell me you're not in there," Jay spoke into his phone as he and Erin walked into the police tent-like structure equipped with fancy tech gear outside of Chicago Med's emergency department.

"I am," Will answered, causing Jay's stomach to drop. "Listen, the guy who blew himself up in here, said he had something worse than Ebola."

"What, like he's spreading it since he blew himself up?"

"Yeah, so essentially, every single one of us in here has been in contact with him."

"Who was he?"

"No idea. But do us all a favor and find out."

"Son of a bitch," Jay muttered as he pocketed his phone and entered the tent-like structure where a bunch of people, including the FBI, were sitting at computers.

"Talk to Will?" Erin asked.

"Uh, yeah," Jay answered, "he says he's in there. Apparently whoever the hell blew himself up in there was infected with something that he said was worse than Ebola."

"So if these people get out before we figure out what it is and if it's treatable, we could have an epidemic on our hands?"

"Exactly. Damn, Er. With that mind of yours, you should've gone to med school."

"Very funny, Halstead. You're looking at someone who barely graduated high school and didn't even go to the academy because being in the back of cop cars on the eastside for half my childhood was more than enough experience to qualify me for this job right here."

"I'm gonna start making some calls." Jay turned his attention back to the situation at hand. "Apparently traffic was a mess earlier and Voight and Antonio got called to headquarters to brief some higher-ups about this."

"Fat chance of them knowing anything right now. They've gotta just be trying to keep all the info away from the press." Erin's phone rang. "Speak of the devil."

"I'll call HQ and try to get some more back up to control the situation," Jay said to no one in particular.

***

You kept fiddling with your slide phone, just opening and closing it as you tried--and failed--to focus on your homework as you sat in one of the far back booths at Mama Gracia's. The news was of course playing on the tv in front of you and all the headlines were about what was happening at Med.

"Again we have word of an event at Chicago Med," the news anchor read from her script. "The CFD was able to contain the victims to the ER, but Ebola was mentioned."

Ebola? That was the disease that wreaked havoc on Africa last year.

You knew Will was a doctor and that he was smart, but if he became infected and it was in fact Ebola, what if he died? What if, since Jay was close to Med that he somehow became infected and he died, too? What if you lost both your big brothers in the same amount of time because of some psychopath who decided it was a good idea to blow himself up and put innocent people--innocent first responders--in danger.

"Ay, cariña. ¿A dónde vayas?" Mama Garcia asked as you stood up and made your way to the door, intent on exiting the small restaurant.

"¿Qúe? No entiendo," you answered. You had started taking Spanish this year, so you only understood one word of what she had said to you.

"Sorry, honey. Where are you going? Your brother said to make sure you stayed here."

You and Jay were both pretty close with Mama Garcia. Seeing as it was very close to Med, when your mom had been hospitalized for cancer years ago, you'd always come in here to get dinner. It was here that Mama Garcia had taught you all the words of the toppings that one could put on their tamales, tacos, or burritos, shocking your Spanish teacher when you told her you could tell her in Spanish exactly what you would put on your tamale when you learned about food in class.

"I'm just going for a walk," you answered. "I need some fresh air."

"Okay, don't go far," she warned.

Once out the door, you breathed a sigh of relief and started to walk towards Chicago Med.

When you got close enough, you saw a big white tent and a bunch of fire trucks. You crept to the side and started walking around the side of the building, where there were barely any people and only one cop to keep people at bay. You smiled at him and watched the scene in front of you.

You had seen of those firefighters before on a rare day that you were at the district waiting for Jay and one of them had to walk the firehouse dog, Pouch. He was super cute and all the firefighters were really nice and let you pet him!

"What is it Casey?" a deep voice bellowed.

You knew Casey! Well, you knew of him at least. He was the one that Hermann always said would write him up if he was gone too long with Pouch, so that was always the excuse he gave you when he had to leave the district to go back to the firehouse.

You couldn't hear what Casey said on the other end, but you could hear whoever this guy was talking to Casey. "Okay, we're gonna need to get some CO2 extinguishers inside."

"You mean you're out of fire extinguishers?" a woman next to the firefighters asked.

"Afraid so."

You turned on your heels and sprinted back towards Mama Garcia's. You were a girl on a mission.

"Mama Garcia! Mama Garcia!" you shouted as soon as you were inside.

"Y/N, ¿Qúe pasa?" she asked as she stuck her head out of the kitchen where she was preparing a bunch of batches of tamales.

"They're out of fire extinguishers at the hospital, do you have any that I can bring over there?"

"You are just like your brother," she said, "super sneaky."

"When you live with older brothers and have to steal their Halloween candy, you learn how to be sneaky, Mama Garcia," you joked.

"I'm not even gonna ask how you know this. There's one fire extinguisher back by the bathrooms and I've got two back here I can give you. Esperes un minuto."

You went and grabbed the fire extinguisher from the spot where it was stored in the back by the bathrooms and waited for Mama Garcia to come out with the other two.

"Thank you!" you exclaimed as you took the big bag from her which contained the two other ones. She had put them in a bag for you since they were super heavy.

You slung the bag over your shoulder and carried the other one in your hand. You knew you couldn't run because these were really heavy, but you knew you had to get to Med to help them. Both your brothers were there! And you'd get there, even if it was a lot slower than you had originally planned when you formulated this plan when you were sprinting back to the restaurant five minutes ago.

***

"Is there a detective Halstead here?" a patrolman walked into the tent-like structure and asked.

"That'd be me," Jay answered as he raised his hand and turned away from the computer screen he had been looking at.

"There's a girl outside, Y/N I think she said her name was. Said you're her brother and that she's looking for you. Said she might be able to help."

Jay turned to Erin. "Go," she urged him.

Jay followed the patrol officer to where you were standing and to say he didn't look happy would be an understatement.

"I thought I told you to stay at Mama Garcia's!" he yelled over the crowd of people and the firefighters shouting out orders to each other. "It's dangerous for you here!"

"I know and I'm sorry! But, I came here to see if Will was outside, and I heard that one firefighter talking into his radio thingy, and then the lady next to him said that they were out of fire extinguishers."

Jay crossed his arms in front of his chest. He was not impressed.

"So I ran back to Mama Garcia's and I grabbed these." You held up the fire extinguisher that you had set on the ground next to you because you had been carrying it for a while now and you thought it was going to rip your arm off because of how heavy it was.

"Let her in," Jay declared.

He grabbed the extinguisher from you and then made his way over to the firefighters.

"Chief!" he yelled. "I've got some fire extinguishers here!"

Chief Boden cocked his head to the side. "How?"

"Apparently my little sister was here and she heard Ms. Goodwin say that you were out of extinguishers. So, she ran to Mama Garcia's and these are from her restaurant."

You set down the bag that contained the two fire extinguishers. "Geez, those things are heavy!"

"That they are. Thank you for these..." Chief Boden trailed off, not knowing your name.

"Y/N," you answered.

"Well, thank you Y/N."

"You're welcome, Chief. Please get my brother out of there safely."

"We're doing our best. And, call me Wallace."

He nodded at Jay and Jay placed a hand on your shoulder to lead you back to where he had been working alongside everyone else who wanted to figure out what the hell had gone on in there. Behind you, you heard the other firefighters volunteering to go inside the hospital.

"You're not making me go back to Mama Garcia's?" you asked Jay as you walked.

"No," he answered. "It's gonna get dark soon and I don't need you sneaking off from there again."

"So, I'm staying here so you can keep an eye on me?"

"Precisely."

***

You were sitting in a metal folding chair, scrolling through your iPod--wifi courtesy of Jay's hotspot--when three people entered the tent-like structure.

"Detective," Sharon Goodwin said as she entered the area where everyone was working. Jay looked up from the computer he was working at. "The parents of..." she trailed off, allowing you to assume that these were the parents of the man who had blown himself up.

"Alright," Jay said as he walked over to them. "Please, have a seat."

His voice was monotonous, not soft like when he was talking to child victims and not angry like when he was trying to get a hardened criminal to break. His voice, it was just...there.

"Is there anything you can tell us?" he asked once the parents had sat down.

"He was a smart boy," the man started, "always nice...and helpful. This country has given us so much. How could this have happened?"

"He claimed to be infected with something similar to Ebola."

You felt like you couldn't breathe. So, what the woman on the news had said was true. Your brother--and everyone else in the hospital for that matter--could be infected with something similar--or god forbid, worse--than Ebola.

You couldn't take another funeral. You couldn't take losing another family member before you even learned how to drive, hell before you even got to high school.

Your mind flashed back to when you were four years old. Will was in college and Jay was in his senior year of high school. It was springtime and the weather was just starting to get nice out.

You woke up from sleeping and realized you were thirsty. Seeing as you didn't think it was super late yet, you hoped that maybe Jay or Will would still be up and they'd give you a cup of juice. They were on babysitting duty tonight because your parents had gone out for a date night and knew they wouldn't be back until the early hours of the morning.

With Beary gripped tightly in your hand, you walked down the hallway and towards the kitchen. You saw the living room light on, and then it was quickly turned off.

"Mommy? Daddy?" you asked.

The only light now was from the hallway and you were starting to get scared. Monsters would come out if it was too dark!

Suddenly, the light was flicked back on.

"Y/N, what are you doing up?" Jay asked as he walked towards you.

"I want juice," you told him. But, then you looked at what he was wearing. He was wearing one of those shirts that he had to wear when you and your mom went to his soccer games at other schools. Jay always said that if he didn't wear this type of nice shirt, that he and his team would have to run suicides. You didn't know what those were, but they didn't sound nice. "Why you not in your 'jamas?" you asked. "You have a game? In the dark?"

"Uh," Jay blanched. He couldn't exactly tell his little, very talkative sister, that he was sneaking out to go to a party. "Let's get you some juice."

"Okay!"

Jay got you some juice and started to take your hand to walk you back to your room and tuck you back in when you turned to look at him. "So you going to play soccer? Or you going to see Allie?" He always wore those kinds of shirts when she came over in one of her really fancy dresses. And, Jay would give Allie a flower bracelet, too!

Jay crouched down so he was eye-level with you. "Y/N, you know what a secret is?"

"Yeah! It's when you can't tell somethin' to somebody. Mommy said secrets are bad," you told him, while you swung Beary back and forth in your little hand.

"Well, they're not all bad," he told you. "So, if I told you a secret, you'd be able to keep it?"

"And not tell Mommy or Daddy?" He nodded. "I dunno. I don't wanna get in trouble and have to go in time-out, Jay Jay."

"You won't get in trouble, I promise. And, if you promise not to tell Mommy and Daddy and Will, I'll get you a big pack of Oreos."

"I get Oreos for not telling Mommy and Daddy and Will?"

"Yes, you get Oreos if you don't tell them."

You'd do just about anything for Oreos!

"Okay, I keep it a secret. Where you going?"

"I am going to a friend's house to hang out."

"Okay." You didn't know what was so bad about that, but you wanted to get your Oreos, so you'd keep your mouth shut.

"Alrighty then, let's get you back to bed. Because, if I'm not mistaken, princesses need their beauty sleep."

He tucked you back into bed and got out of the house safely. Now all Jay had to do was to entrust you with the secret that he had snuck and went to a "friend's house", which was code for going to a party.

You had almost fallen back asleep when your door creaked open.

"Y/N," Will whispered.

"Will?"

"Yeah, it's Will," he answered and flicked on your bedside lamp.

"Were you talking to Jay a few minutes ago?"

"No," you lied. You wanted your Oreos!

"Are you sure about that? Because I could've sworn I heard you say Jay Jay."

"You wrong," you told him defiantly.

"Oh yeah? Because I heard him mention Oreos."

"No, no Oreos. He only got me juice."

"So you did talk to him."

"No, I didn't."

"Then who got you the juice?" Will knew you couldn't pour yourself a glass of juice without spilling it everywhere. He also knew that the glasses were up high enough in the cupboard that you needed someone else to reach them for you.

"Uh, uh, the-the juice fairy!"

"The juice fairy, huh? I've never heard of her. Because I could've sworn I heard you ask him if he was going to play soccer and he told you that he was going to a friend's house."

"No, he didn't!" you protested.

"Tell you what, kiddo, if you tell me where Jay went, I will give you Oreos, too."

You furrowed your eyebrows. Will was gonna give you the same thing and Jay might be mad at you. You needed something more. "Oreos and Sour Patch."

"Deal. Sour Patch Kids or watermelons?"

"Kids," you answered.

"Okay, it's a deal. Now, where is Jay going?"

"He went to a friend's house. But he was wearing one of those shirts he wears when he has to go to other schools for soccer," you answered.

"He's going to a party," Will muttered.

"A party? Like my tea parties?"

"Something like that." Where the tea is beer, Will thought to himself. "But, now you have to wait for Jay to give you your Oreos, and then I'll give you your Sour Patch Kids and Oreos."

"Then I have two Oreos?"

"Exactly. Now, time to go back to sleep."

The next day, Jay gave you a family sized-pack of Oreos that you hid in your room. The day after that, Will came home from studying at the library with a family-sized pack of Oreos and a big bag of Sour Patch Kids for you that you also ended up hiding in your room. And, that night at dinner, Will told your parents that Jay had gone to a party. He was grounded until the end of soccer season. But, Will had successfully taught you how to blackmail someone.

"Y/N." Erin's voice broke through your memories of being a little kid and being taught blackmail by your oldest brother. "I need you to breathe for me. Can you do that?"

"W-What if Will-- What if he gets the--"

"Y/N, match my breathing."

She took a deep breath in and you tried to follow. It took a few tries, but your breathing eventually evened out and returned to normal.

"Will," you heard Jay say.

Before you could even think, you had jumped off your chair and were barrelling towards Jay. "Will? You're talking to Will? Is he okay? Is he gonna come out soon?"

"Y/N," Jay spoke calmly, "we just need to ask him some medical questions. Go back to where you were."

"Is he okay?"

"Y/N's here?" Will asked from his spot in the ED. "Why? How?"

"It's a long story. But, I'm gonna put you on speaker so that you can tell her that you're okay and then I need you to answer some questions."

Jay put the phone on speaker.

"I'm fine, kiddo. Really. You wouldn't want to see me right now anyway. You wouldn't want to come in here either because it smells really bad."

"You promise you're fine?"

"I promise. Now, I think I need to answer some questions?"

"Yeah, yeah," you heard Jay say as you walked back towards Erin. It was quiet in there now, as everyone was listening intently to what Will was saying.

Apparently, Antonio and Voight had looked up where this psycho worked and had figured out that he was the same guy who had walked into the high school's office earlier that day, which he probably did for a distraction. Now, they just had Will on the other end telling the infectious disease specialist in the ED all the chemicals that he had been working with so that she could test for them.

***

"Jay! Why'd you turn off your hotspot?" you whined as you pulled up google.

"Because you heard the bacteria and the strain and I know you. I am not letting you go down a google rabbit hole to look this up and try and figure out if Will's gonna die."

You sighed and put your head in your hands. Jay was right, of course, he was right, he's a detective for crying out loud!

"But what if Will's gonna die?"

"Y/N." Jay walked up to you. "He's not gonna die. He's gonna be just fine."

"But you don't know that!"

Jay's phone rang. "It's Will."

"Put it on speaker."

"It's not contagious," Will said.

If you weren't sitting down, you would've fallen to the ground in pure relief.

"So, you're good?"

"Yeah, I'm good. Everyone's good. Whatever he had, it died with him. I've got some patients that need work, but I'll be out soon."

***

Everyone from the hospital, the police, and the firefighters were all currently packed into Mama Garcia's. You, Will, and Jay had snagged a booth because your backpack and homework were still there from earlier.

"That's one good thing about being the middle child I guess," Jay stated after he had taken a bite of a tamale. "Not having to be the victim in one of these bomb situations."

You knew he meant, here, today, in Chicago and not overseas. And, you weren't about to wreck his joke by mentioning that.

"Yeah, but you had to work it," Will pointed out.

"Technically, you did, too, man. I think Y/N was the only one who got out of this without a payday."

Jay's phone rang. "Why's Dad calling me?" His eyes went wide. "Oh shit! I didn't tell him that I picked you up from practice." He threw his phone to Will, who narrowly caught it. "You talk to him!"

"Me? Why me?"

"Because he likes you better!"

"But he's calling you!"

You swiped the phone from Will's hand and answered it. "Jay? Do you know where Y/N is? I came home from work and--"

"Dad, it's Y/N. I'm fine. Jay picked me up from practice and I'm assuming you got a phone call about what happened at school and then he had to go to Med to work that case."

"Med? As in Chicago Med? Where Will just started working?"

"Yes, Dad, Chicago Med. And, we're fine. We're just a Mama Garcia's getting dinner."

"It's ten o'clock at night!"

"I know, and we should be home soon. I promise I won't complain about getting up in the morning."

"Okay, well, I'm glad you three are safe. Just next time, tell Jay to call me."

"Okay, Dad. Bye, love you."

"Love you, too."

You hung up the phone and passed it back to Jay. "He didn't disown me, did he?"

You laughed. "No, no he did not."

"Y/N, right?"

You looked up at the sound of your name to be met with a firefighter.

"Yes, and you are...?"

"Matt Casey." He stuck out his hand for you to shake and you did so. Despite hearing about him, you'd never actually met the lieutenant. "Chief Boden mentioned that you were the one who ran down to Med with all those extinguishers."

"Oh, it was no big deal," you told him shyly. "They're actually Mama Garcia's. I just heard you needed them, so I asked if I could run them over to you guys. It's her you should be thanking."

"Well, you played a big part in that. So, if you want a dessert, on behalf of me and all the guys at 51, it's on me tonight."

He handed you a ten-dollar bill. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it. You made up for your brother almost black-tagging Severide."

"You did what?" Jay practically yelled.

As for you, you had no idea what they were talking about. "What? What's black-tagging?"

"You know what? Never mind," Casey said. "Thanks for all your help today, you guys."

"You were the ones who got them extra fire extinguishers?" Will asked, flabbergasted after Casey walked away.

"Yeah. Jay here wasn't too happy about seeing me over there, but when I told him why he calmed down a bit."

Erin slid into the booth next to Jay and he gave her a kiss.

"Ew, guys! Child in the room!"

Jay stuck his tongue out at you.

"I think he's the child in the room, Y/N," Erin said as she thumbed at Jay.

"So, Y/N, anything else interesting happen today? How'd you do on that math homework I helped you with last night?" Will asked.

"I did really well on it, but that's not even the craziest thing that happened at school today."

"Oh, yeah? Then what was?"

Oh man," you sighed. "Where do I begin? I think to tell you that story I'm gonna need to go get me some Flan."

You picked up the ten-dollar bill Casey had given you and slid out of the booth. If someone would've told you that you'd be buying Flan at Mama Garcia's at ten o'clock at night on a school night, you wouldn't believe them, but it would be plausible at least. The rest of the day? Well, you weren't sure that anyone would believe that you and Jay had been at the location of not one, but two bomb threats in the span of a few hours.

Once you got your Flan, you settled back into the booth. "So, it started out like any normal practice except we had to go to the high school to use the track..."

A/N: Guess who cranked out more than 5k words to get this finished today? That's right, me! Anyway, thank you for almost 8k reads! I know this technically wasn't a PD episode (It was Chicago Fire Season 3 Ep 19), but it had both Will and Jay, and the timeline made it so that it was season 2 of PD, so I thought it was fitting. Finally, please reblog/like and comment and tell me what you think about this one!

If you’re in the taglist, please tell me if it worked, I’m new at this!

taglist:  @theambracer88 @virtualreader @kelelas-life @celyndavies @brookerz122493 @musicismyescape27 @anotherfan07 @thexplosivegirl @dreamingwithlens @xoxmariaxox

[sweeethinny]

Come and sit a while with me

It's been a year since I started all of this, that I wrote a fanfic to celebrate Ginny's birthday, and here I am, posting once again, keeping the tradition <3

This story will deal with grief, suicidal thoughts, but it has a happy ending, I swear

Happy birthday, Ginny.

AO3 | FF. NET | SIYE

----------

It was a normal afternoon at the Potters' house, Ginny wasn't working today and the kids were on vacation, James had gone out with friends, Lily was at the pool with her friends, and she and Albus were enjoying their free time before they had to get ready to go out to dinner and celebrate Ginny's birthday, so they lay on the sofa in the living room, both of them with moisturizing masks on their faces and hair, and the TV on.

The perfect day for her, if she was sincere.

"Mom," Albus muttered, looking at her curiously. "When did you know you loved dad?"

''I always loved your dad.''

''No… when did you know you really love him?'' Albus looked at her, his hair in a bun and his green eyes staring at her in the same way he had since he was born, as if he wanted to know the whole truth, and not half lies. "I mean, when did you look at him and realize he wasn't just another one?"

''Let me see…'' Ginny changed the channel when the movie ended, trying not to smile at the memory. ''I guess I never thought he was just another one, but there was a specific day when I was sure he was the one I wanted to marry…''

August 11, 1998

Ginny loved birthdays, it was simply her favorite date, along with Christmas.

How could anyone not be happy on the day that was entirely and unique to them? Everything revolved around her: the cake, the celebration, the attention, everything. It was her day, the day that Ginny didn't share with anyone, and even though she sometimes felt a bit of a bitch about it, she was glad none of her brothers were born on the same day as her..

She didn't want to have to share this too.

But today wasn't that happy day. Today wasn't sunny and as much as Molly had become more involved in her garden, Ginny's favorite flowers hadn't bloomed in time, as if they knew she was in mourning.

It was the first time that someone would be missing at the party.

Even Charlie called her over the Floo so everyone could sing together and celebrate, but today, it would be eight Weasleys for the first time, not nine. And Ginny didn't know how to deal with that, with that pain that seemed to consume her in every way, and that made her close the bedroom curtains and hide under the covers because she was exhausted.

Exhausted from fighting. Of having to be strong. Not being able to afford the privilege of just crying and admitting it hurt. It hurt a lot. At times it seemed almost impossible to bear. Ginny wanted for the first time in a long while, someone to take over things for her, letting her sleep and cry freely, without judgment, without trying to fix what was broken.

She didn't want a solution.

But she couldn't do that, Molly was doing her best to make this date happy, so that Ginny would realize that there was reason to celebrate, that Fred wouldn't want her to spend all day in her room. She also thought this was unfair, because Fred didn't have to bury one of them, Fred didn't have to go through grief, he never faced that pain, so what would he know?

Ginny knew. She knew what it was like to want to die every day since he died, she was the one who felt this agonizing loneliness that seemed to get bigger every day, she was the one who lay in bed at night and thought she could go crazy at any time because it hurt so much and it was so exhausting.

"May I come in?" A knock on her door made her jump as she tried to hide her dark circles with some of the makeup she had on, and his voice made her curse herself for still being in her pajamas.

''Yes.'' She tried to hide her nervousness because things were still a little awkward between her and Harry, even though she had kissed him a few days after the war ended, on the sofa in the living room in the middle of the night, when her room looked very cold and lonely, and Harry looked so cute wearing plaid pajamas and with his hair cut.

He clearly blamed himself for Fred's death, and Ginny still hadn't gotten over all the latest events: the Carrows' tortures, the war, the deaths, Fred…

Ginny had certain doubts, even though she didn't like to think about it, that they would last.

Maybe they were that couple that everyone looks at and says 'what if life had been different with these two?', figuring they could be something more if there hadn't been so much destruction in their midst.

"Happy birthday." Harry still looked tired, he hadn't regained his weight, but he was already showing signs of improvement, which was good. Ginny was happy to see him look good.

He was wearing the outfit she helped him buy for his birthday when they, Ron and Mione went for a walk in Muggle London. A light blue T-shirt, dark jeans, and black sneakers. A simple outfit, no big deal, but one that seemed to make him look even more handsome, if that was even possible.

The woman who would marry him would be very lucky, Ginny thought.

''Brought it for you.'' She hadn't even noticed that he had his hands behind his back, looking nervous as he showed her a bouquet of honeysuckle, tied with a red satin bow, and a cream-colored card pinned there with his name signed. "I know they're your favorites, and I thought you'd like it." He smiled awkwardly. "I noticed yours didn't bloom this year, and I thought you might want to continue the tradition."

"You didn't have to worry about that." Ginny had to swallow hard to keep from crying in front of him, even though there wasn't a reason to.

"Of course I did, it's your birthday, I want to see you happy." Harry shrugged, his cheeks flushing as if he'd been out in the sun for hours on end. He was so cute, Ginny wished she didn't like him so much, because that way, when their imminent separation came, it wouldn't hurt so much. ''How is your day? I don't want to spoil the surprise, but I think your mom made your favorite cake.''

"It's okay, as far as possible," she shrugged. "Mom is trying to keep me away from the kitchen and all the preparation, so I decided to stay in the bedroom."

''Are you going to be here until party time?'' She thought Harry would start the same speech Hermione gave her when she said she was going to do it, which was the same as Bill and his father: Fred wouldn't like it. Besides, you need to celebrate that you're alive, enjoy life…

Ginny was ready to fight with him, just as she had with the three of them.

"Is there a problem?" Ginny crossed her arms, careful not to crush the flowers.

Harry was bigger than her, but that wouldn't stop her from kicking him out if necessary.

''No. Want company?" Harry looked sincere though. "We can assemble that puzzle you bought, remember?"

''Do you want to stay here? Assembling a puzzle?' Ginny followed Harry as he walked around her room as if the surroundings had been familiar to him for years already, looking for the box on her shelves, which was a total mess of old books, photos and other stuff.

"Of course, it's your day, we'll do whatever you want, ma'am."

August 11, 2021

''How did you know you loved him? Because he wants to assemble a puzzle with you?" Albus asked, no longer paying attention to the TV.

''No and yes. See, unlike everyone else that day, your dad respected my grief. He didn't try to make me go outside, see the bright side of things, nothing. He just stayed there with me, accepting that on that day, I wanted to stay inside my room, putting together a puzzle… He paid attention to the flowers I liked, in the cake." Ginny smiled. "That dawn, after everyone else went to sleep, I finally managed to cry, and son, it's a pain I can't put into words." She swallowed, not wanting to get emotional. ''Over time it gets a little easier, but that year, it was a pain that seemed to tear my chest apart. And do you know what your dad did? He sat with me, hugged me, and listened to me cry for an hour, not saying anything, just standing there by my side.''

The memory was no longer as painful as it had been, and Ginny allowed herself to smile as the image of Harry lying beside her on the bed, his arms around her waist, came back to her mind.

"He never tried to save me, he just stayed there with me, helping me when I needed it, and that was the most important thing."

"He saved you in the chamber," Albus remembered, a mischievous smile on his lips that reminded her of Fred when he was younger. Ginny didn't even know it was possible, but it was always the image that came to her mind when she saw Albus smile like that.

"It was a different situation." She shrugged.

"Did you doubt you would marry him after that day?"

"Never again." And it was true. ''Since that morning, when I woke up and he was still sleeping with me after I cried and sobbed things I don't even remember anymore, I knew he was the one I would marry.'' Ginny touched the ring that was already on her finger for over twenty years now, still smiling like a fool as she remembers the marriage proposal and the marriage itself.

"And why weren't you sure you'd be with him before that?"

''It's not that I wasn't sure, it's just that when you go through something really bad, everything around you seems to fall apart together, it's like nothing else has a solution and you are bound to fail whatever you try. It's a horrible feeling, I hope you never feel that.'' Ginny shifted on the couch to give him a closer look. ''Why this now?''

"Just curiosity." Albus smiled, his cheeks a little flushed. "Happy birthday again, Mom, I love you so much." He kissed her forehead, as she usually did.

''I love you too, my love.''

[bigballofstress]

Pickpocket (Avengers x Child!Reader)

Description: You have been living on the streets for years, and over these years, you have become incredibly good at pickpocketing.  Unfortunately for you, though, you picked the wrong target one too many times.

Part 2 if you guys want it, just let me know!

Chin up, shoulders back, even steps.  My heart is calm, my breaths slow and measured, and every muscle in my body is relaxed.  In other words, every last inch of me screams that I am a confident, kind young lady without a care in the world.

No matter what anybody says, looks really are everything.  Every time you meet someone new or even just pass by them on the street, your mind makes a snap judgement about them.  Now, don’t get me wrong.  I’m not saying that everyone you meet is prejudiced or anything of the sort.  Those snap judgements can easily be changed with an open-minded person, sometimes without even needing a whole conversation.  Still, that doesn’t change the fact that when you see a well-groomed person in a suit, your mind automatically thinks they are successful, and when you see someone coming at you with a hoodie covering their face and their hands in their pockets, you automatically tense up.  None of that is your fault, and actually it’s probably a good thing that you would be wary of people who are acting rather suspicious.  Really, the only issue with these immediate ideas of every person you see is the fact that it makes people like me -- people who understand how these momentary impressions work -- able to take advantage of them.

It didn’t take long to realize I had a talent for it.  I already looked the part, -- a helpless, adorable little girl -- I had a surprising knack for staying calm under pressure, and as much as I hated the old bitch, my caretaker had given me all the tools I needed.  She was a stickler for proper manners, so I learned how to speak, sit, and walk like a “proper young lady.”  Plus, her insane rules about tiny meal portions and too-early curfews taught me to be light on my feet as I often sneaked downstairs to grab a roll of bread at night.  Yes, I had everything I needed.  The only real hurdle was actually deciding to do it.  I never really wanted to be a bad person.  But the world is a heartless place, the city even more so, and by the end of my first week, I knew what I had to do if I was ever going to survive.

So, I started working -- oh, and by the way, no matter what you think, it is still a job.  I put my time and effort into a certain task, and I obtain money because of it.  I don’t know about you, but that certainly sounds like a job to me.  And it was easier than I thought it would be.  Within about a day, I realized that people saw me as sweet, innocent, and harmless -- no, more than that, they wanted to see me as harmless.  Because if I wasn’t harmless, then that meant their world was even more screwed up than they thought.  I learned quick, and by the end of the year, I had perfected my technique.  It was simple: avoid all conversation if possible, and if absolutely necessary, smile and point out the farthest adult man within reason as my dad before weaving through the small gaps in the crowd, preferably around taller people, so they couldn’t see or follow me.  I only got caught once or twice, but I’m grateful that I did.  It forced me to learn perspective, that I needed to know more than just how to talk well.  So, I learned how to run through a city.  And now, I’m practically unstoppable.  

As I take my even, not-too-fast-but-not-too-slow stroll down the sidewalk, a small, ambiguous smile decorating my lips, I can see it in each person’s eyes as they walk past that I have completely embodied my character.  My arms swung with a practiced nonchalance as my eyes flickered from one person to the next, each time going through a mental list as I weighed the chances I had of succeeding on them versus how likely they were to catch on and calculated the amount of time that both of these events would likely take to happen.  Finally, after a few minutes of this practice, one of them caught my eye.

He was larger, more muscular.  Guys like him were  a gamble.  Often, a man of his appearance simply cared a bit too much about his appearance.  Still, every now and then, they look like that because they been trained, and while past training usually meant they had no practice running in a city, it also meant that he would be much more jumpy and alert to his surroundings.  However, his deep, loose pockets with the corner of his wallet just barely sticking out and the thoughtful gaze as he surveyed the buildings tipped the scales further and further in my favor.  The wonder in his eyes just screamed tourist.

I gazed forward with an absentminded look in my eye that I’d spent months perfecting in the mirror while keeping him clearly in my periphery before bumping into him.  As I hit him, two of my fingers simultaneously dipped into his pocket, where my knee bumped against his leg to jolt his wallet up and out.  The moment the warm leather was in my grasp, I forced myself to fall backwards.  Before I could hit the ground, though, I felt one of those strong, muscular arms had wrapped itself around my waist and was helping me back up.  

My jaw clenched for half a second.  This wasn’t good.  His reflexes were too quick to have just worked out at some random gym, which meant my hunch was right: he had been trained.  And that meant that I needed to get out of there fast.  I wouldn’t be able to slip the wallet back in his pocket without bumping into him again, and that would only make me look even more suspicious, so I quickly emptied it of all of the cash behind his back and slipped the bills into my sleeve before tossing the piece of leather on the ground a few feet away.

“Are you alright?” he asked, concern evident in his eyes, and immediately I decided on my personality for the day -- bright and bubbly but proper.  Gently, he released his arm from its position on my waist once he knew I had regained my footing.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry,” I quickly apologized, my left hand shooting up to cover my mouth in fake shock while my right hand carefully dropped the money in one of my own pockets, all the while watching every last one of his movements for any sign of suspicion.  “It was all my fault.  I wasn’t paying attention where I was going.”

“It’s ok, really.”  He scratched the back of his neck.  “I wasn’t really looking where I was going either, so it was partially my fault, too.”

“Well, thank you for catching me, sir, but I really have to go,” I smiled at him apologetically.  “I’m supposed to meet back up with my dad in about five minutes.”

“Oh, no worries,” he responded kindly before sneaking a glance at my old, slightly ripped clothes, the concern still dancing in his eyes.  “You’re sure you’re alright, though?”

“Absolutely!”  I dismissed.  “Thank you again!”

“Um, yeah, no problem.”  We both started to walk away.

I waited patiently as I listened to his retreating steps.  1... 2... 3... 4... and then-- “Hey, mister!” I called, bending down and grabbing the piece of leather from where I had tossed it earlier.  “I think you might’ve dropped your wallet!”

The man turned back, shocked, before jogging back towards me.  “I didn’t even notice,” he mumbled to himself.  “Hey, thanks, kid.”

“My pleasure!” I chirped.  “Now, sorry, but I really have to get going.  See you around, sir!”  I quickly jogged off, allowing myself to get lost in the crowd before he could even have a minute to fully understand what happened.

-- 3rd Person POV --

“I told you guys the world wasn’t such a bad place!” Steve called as he entered the living room of Stark Tower.  The rest of the Avengers looked up in surprise.  They had been having this argument for the past three days, with Steve insisting that there were still people who put others first living in New York while the entire rest of the team tried to convince him otherwise.

“Alright, show your work,” Tony leaned back against the wall, watching the captain with curiosity.

“I met a kid today who couldn’t have been older than 16.  I was trying to remember what the city looked like before I went in the ice, and I accidentally bumped into her.  She then spent the next few minutes constantly apologizing and saying it was all her fault.  And the best part is, after we’d already walked away, she found and returned my wallet.  I hadn’t even realized I had dropped it!”  The 96-year-old man finished with a triumphant grin, leaving the rest of the team silent for a moment.  That is, until Tony busted out laughing.  Steve frowned.  “...What?”

“Steve, honey, check inside of your wallet,” Natasha sighed as she turned back to the tv to watch whatever was on.

Steve frowned, reached into his pocket, and pulled out his wallet.  “I don’t understand; why do you want me to....” He trailed off as he stared at the now empty pocket that only just earlier that day held around 65 dollars in cash.  “She... but how did she...”

Tony slapped a heavy hand on Steve’s shoulder, wiping away a tear from the corner of his eye.  “She scammed you, bro.  And you fell for it hook, line, and sinker,” he grinned before walking back to his room, still chuckling softly to himself at his friend’s misfortune.

------- Time Skip -------

About two weeks had passed since that godsend of a man and I crossed paths.  I can’t remember the last time I had managed to lift 65 dollars off anyone.  That kind of cash can last someone like me a really long time.  But sadly, all good things must come to an end, and after buying myself the first decent meal I’d had in weeks plus a ton of canned foods and non-perishables that I dropped off at the nearest homeless shelter, that good thing ended ended all too quickly.  Which meant it was time I went back to work.

I stepped into the public library, that same ambiguous smile painted ever so gently across my face.  There weren’t a whole lot of people here and there were almost never any big scores, but working here was a lot less guess-work, and more often than not, the target was too engrossed in their book to even notice what I was doing, so there was also much less risk of being caught.

After a quick scan of the quiet room, my eyes landed on the man sitting at one of the long tables, his bag haphazardly laying next to him on the table.  It should be easy enough to grab something from in there, and he seemed invested enough to have his guard down.  He should make for a good target.

I walked into the science section and grabbed a few scientific papers, most of which were generally about to nuclear physics, before walking back to his table and sitting down right across from him.  Scientific papers are the best way to make sure no one has the confidence to talk to you.  I opened the paper that I had read a hundred times and started pretending to read it once more, my left hand resting on my cheek as my right hand slowly made its way towards the bag.

“Excuse me.” I glanced up, pausing my movement towards his back but still being careful not to react too quickly and retract my hand.  I didn’t want to draw his attention to what I was doing, and if at all possible, I would still like to come out of this with something to show for it.  As I met the glasses-clad, clearly intelligent eyes of the man in front of me, it was easy to figure out what my personality should be -- shy, smart, and above all else, kind.  “Is that Schippers’s work?”

I blinked in surprise and allowed a soft smile to spread across my lips.  “You know Stefan Schippers?”

“Yeah, his work in antimatter is amazing,” he grinned fully now, his eyes lighting up and making him almost look like a completely different person.  “Particularly regarding his research in collisions.”

I grinned back, taking note of how his eyes were now trained on mine, instead of glancing around like before.  Maybe I should’ve started a conversation before -- clearly it was a good distraction for him.  Well, either way, it’s going to be easier to lift something off of him now, so I guess I shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth.  “I completely agree.  His work is amazing,” I giggled softly, glancing down at the table before looking back up at him, a slight red hue now painting the apples of my cheeks as my hand slipped inside of his bag.

“I was honestly surprised to see you reading that paper, actually,” he chuckled nervously.  “I’ve read it at least 20 times, but I figured I was the only one.”  I laughed lightly, slipping what felt like a wallet out of the bag and tucking it under my arm.

“Trust me, I’ve read this so many times, I’m afraid the library is going to have to replace it because I’ve worn it out so much.  You know, if you’re interested in Schippers, you should read some of Dr. Banner’s papers,” I laid my left hand on his arm gently while my right arm swung back over to me, pushing the wallet into my lap.  “As much as I love Schippers, Dr. Banner’s work is unparalleled.”

The man chuckled nervously again, ducking his head a bit.  “You really think so, huh?  How old are you anyways?  I don’t see a whole lot of kids brushing up on nuclear physics.”

“I’m older than I look,” I casually brushed off the question.  I was not about to give up any personal information, fellow science geek or not.  “Oh, by the way, do you have the time?”

The man glanced at his watch.  “About 6:00.”

My eyes widened in shock.  “You’re kidding, it got that late?!  My dad’s gonna kill me!”  I gasped and quickly stood up, catching the wallet in my left hand and slipping it into my pocket.  “It was really nice meeting you, sir, but I have to go home.  I really liked talking to you, though!  I hope we can meet again!”  I hurriedly gathered the papers and rushed off, waving with a broad smile.

“Oh, uh nice meeting you... too...” he tried to respond, but she was already well out of sight.

-- 3rd Person POV -- 

“What the hell?” Bruce mumbled, digging through his bag.  The pizza had just arrived, and he needed to pay his share.

“What’s wrong?” Natasha glanced at him, an eyebrow raised.

“I could’ve sworn I put my wallet in here, but now I can’t find it,” he frowned, continuing to search every last nook and cranny of the old bag.

“Don’t worry about it, buddy, I can cover you if you’re short,” Tony shrugged.

“That’s not the issue,” Bruce frowned, finally giving up and tossing his bag to the side in frustration.  “That had my credit card, my driver’s license, and my ID for Stark Tower.  If it’s lost somewhere, it could be a real problem.”

“When was the last time you remember having it?”  Clint mumbled through a full mouth of the piece of pizza that he’d already shoved in his face.  Natasha rolled her eyes and wiped off the bit of spit he’d gotten on her in disgust.

“I was at the library.  I used my library card to check out some books,” he responded confidently.

“Again?” Clint asked, once again through a mouthful of cheese and marinara sauce.  “What, do you live there or something?”

“Ok, now walk us through exactly what happened after you checked out those books,” Natasha suggested, doing her best to ignore her best friend.

Bruce sighed and nodded, sitting down.  “I checked out my books, then walked over to one of the tables to start reading.  Then I talked to that teenager for a little while about some of Schippers’s theories before she ran off--”

“You talked to a teenager about Schippers?  And she actually understood?”  Tony asked, lifting a brow in surprise.

“Yeah, she even recommended I read Dr. Banner’s work in the same field,” Bruce chuckled.  “I thought it better not to tell her who I was, but according to her, Banner’s work is ‘unparalleled’.”

“Damn, the kid knows her stuff,” Tony nodded, impressed.  “Did she say anything about--”

“Boys,” Natasha cut in.  “The wallet.”

“Ah, right,” Bruce mumbled apologetically.  “Anyways, after she ran off, I kept reading for a few minutes before leaving, too.  Then I came back to the tower and got up here just in time to decide on ordering pizza with you guys.”

“Did you use the subway?” Natasha asked.

Bruce shook his head.  “No.  I figured since it was such a nice day out, I would just walk home.”

“How did you enter the building?”

“I ran into Steve downstairs, and we came in together.”

Steve, who had been silent up until this point, finally spoke up.  “This teenager... Was she about 16?  With (H/C) hair?”

“What, you think it’s the same girl who totally scammed you the other--” Tony started, getting ready to take part in his favorite pastime of making fun of Steve.

“Actually, yeah, she was,” Bruce answered, his eyes wide in realization.

Before anyone could say anything, Tony’s incredibly loud laughter filled the room.  “Holy shit, you guys both got scammed by the same teenager!  How does that even happen?!” He wheezed, laughing so hard he could hardly breath.

“Hey she seemed like a nice girl!” Bruce defended.  “How was I supposed to know she was robbing me?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be a genius or something?” Tony asked, tears streaming down his face now.  Bruce opened his mouth, trying to come up with something but came up blank.  A heavy hand landing on his shoulder knocked him out of his stupor.

“Just let it happen,” Steve sighed, his eyes cast down as he shook his head in sympathy.

------- Time Skip -------

It had been a week since I had spoken to that science nerd in the library, and I was still pissed.  Seriously, what kind of grown man only carries around 4 dollars and 36 cents?  Well, apparently, that weirdo did.  I had thrown out all the cards and IDs to at least sell the what looked to be leather wallet to a pawn shop, but apparently the thing wasn’t even leather!  All of that time, wasted for a measly 12 bucks.  I’ll say it again: I was pissed.

So, now I was back out working again, because the money I’d made was barely enough to buy a few snacks that I had to portion out over the course of the past week.

As I walked down the sidewalk, still grumbling softly to myself about what had happened, I saw him.  

Tony freaking Stark.

I grinned.  Maybe my luck was getting better after all.  I mean, a billionaire who’s famous for having, shall we say, questionable morals?  After all, it’s not exactly nice to sleep with as many women as humanly possible before tossing them away like they’re nothing.  I mean, sure there’s the whole iron man thing, but he’s still kind of a dick, let’s be honest.  And while I usually tried to refrain from taking anything major in case my target doesn’t have a whole lot of money or the object is sentimental, billionaire jerks are fair game.  And the best part was, I didn’t even have to read him to know the part I was going to play.  Tony Stark would only ever fall for one personality: sarcastic, quick-witted, and strong.

His head was down, buried in his phone, so I casually walked towards him, picking up an old cup of coffee from one of a nearby cafe’s outdoor tables, before smacking into him head-first, spilling the coffee everywhere.

“What the hell?!”

“Oh my god!” We both yelled at the same time.

“Oh c’mon, kid, this is silk!” Tony continued to shout, staring down at the coffee covering his chest.

“Hey, I’m not the one with my head buried in my phone while walking through one of the busiest cities in the world,” I snapped back.  “And you’re not the only one whose clothes got ruined.  This is cashmere!” I lied through my teeth.  It was a ratty old sweater that I’d bought for about 3 dollars at a thrift store.

Stark scoffed.  “Do you have any idea who I am?”

“Yeah, you’re Tony Stark.  That doesn’t change the fact that my parents are gonna be pissed about me ruining a hundred dollar sweater,” I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms defiantly.

That was when he finally glanced at me and my coffee-stained outfit.  Stark sighed and put his fingers to the bridge of his nose.  “Alright, I’m sorry.” Wait, what?  Since when does the great Tony Stark ever apologize for anything?  “I’ll pay for the dry-cleaning, ok?  Just give me your parents’ numbers.”

Shit, that’s not how this is supposed to go.  Ok, new strategy.  A sassy front but a kind interior.

I sighed and shook my head.  “No, it’s not entirely your fault.  I guess I could’ve tried to avoid you better.  Anyways, you got a pen and paper?”

Stark nodded slightly and reached into his inner pocket, pulling out a tiny pad and a fancy looking pen.  I quickly jotted down the phone number and handed it back to him.  Shoot, he looked like he was about to walk away.  I had to act quick or lose my chance.  Time to add one more very important characteristic to my identity: pitiable.  “Hey, I really am sorry.  I kind of overreacted.  It wasn’t cool.  I guess I just got a little nervous.  My dad likes things to be clean, and he can get pretty mad when I don’t follow that rule...” I trailed off a bit, glancing down at my feet.  I shook my head quickly and met the billionaire’s gaze, now filled with concern, again.  “Sorry, didn’t mean to dump that on you.  I just wanted to say thanks.”  I held out my right hand, praying that I’d guessed which hand to use correctly.  As Stark grabbed my hand, I had to hold back a sigh of relief when I saw the watch casually placed on his wrist.

“It was really nice meeting you, Mr. Stark,” I smiled a bit, with my left hand closing over his wrist while three of my fingers on my right hand undid the clasp on his watch.  Then I pressed down one the buttons on either side of the clasp with my middle finger on my right hand and my thumb on my left hand, making sure to hold the watch in place.  “If you’d like, I’d be happy to buy you a coffee to make up for it.  There’s a really nice café right over there.”  I squeezed the watch tightly with my left hand and jerked my chin towards the store just behind him.  He turned his head and looked, pulling his hand back slightly as he did so, which allowed me to slip the watch off his wrist.  Immediately, I dropped it in my pocket before he had a chance to turn back around.

“Thanks, kid, but I’m good.  I’ll give your parents a call when I get home, ok?”  He said before awkwardly giving me a pat on the shoulder.  “Now go run off and play with some dolls or whatever.”

I rolled my eyes.  “Thanks, but my collection can’t be nearly as big as yours,” I bit back with a slight, good-natured smirk.  “Anyways, I gotta go home and get yelled at by my parents.  Nice meeting you, Mr. Stark,” I called, waving to him as I was already leaving.

Stark shook his head with a small smile.  “Yeah, you too, kid.”

-- 3rd Person POV --

“What, no watch today?” Tony furrowed his brows at Bruce’s question.

“Of course I have a watch today.  I have a watch for every day of the week,” he scoffed, lifting his wrist to show off the rather expensive Rolex.

“Umm dude...?” Clint started.

“Yeah, I know it’s awesome, and no, you cannot try it on,” Tony smirked.  “I have a very strict look don’t touch policy.  These bad boys cost quite the pretty penny, and I wouldn’t want any of you trying to take it from me.”  Clint just shrugged in defeat and unpaused his video game -- it wasn’t his fault his friend interrupted him trying to help.

“Tony, look at your wrist,” Steve rolled his eyes at the pompous man’s antics.

“What, just so I can admire it--” he cut himself off as his eyes landed on the bare skin of his wrist.  “...Where the hell is my watch?”

“Maybe you forgot to put one on today?” Bruce shrugged, going back to his computer as he continued to work.

“No, I didn’t forget; I never forget,” Tony snapped.  “It was there this morning, and now it’s gone.”   He yanked up his sleeve to search in vain for the incredibly expensive missing item.

“Hey, maybe Tony was pick-pocketed, too,” Clint joked absentmindedly before cursing at some ‘dumbass little camping noob’ who kept killing him.

Tony’s eyes widened in realization.  “Holy shit, it was the kid.”

“What?” Steve frowned.

“The kid!  The kid who spilled coffee on me today!”  He shouted.  “I had my watch, then she shook my hand, and now the watch is gone.  She totally took it!”

Clint paused the game again.  “Wait, so basically some kid took your custom watch, which is worth thousands of dollars, right off your wrist, and you didn’t even notice?”  Tony bobbed his head up and down frantically.  “Hold on... You don’t think...” Clint glanced between the three other men in the room.

“(H/C) hair?” Steve asked.

“(E/C) eyes?” Bruce called, suddenly no longer able to focus on his work.

Tony nodded slowly with wide eyes.  Reality crashed down on all three of them.

A wide smile slowly took over Clint’s face.  “So you mean to tell me that three of the Avengers, the Earth’s greatest defenders, got scammed by the same teenage girl in less than a month?”  The three men were silent, each of them staring at the ground as they started to question how smart they actually were.

About 30 seconds later, the silence was broken.  “Nat, you’ll never believe what just happened.  I can’t believe you weren’t home for this,” Clint talked excitedly into the phone while his teammates all slowly left the room to sulk alone.

------- Time Skip -------

It had been a whole month since I had gotten the watch off Tony Stark.  I almost couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw the amount of zeros on the offer the pawn shop had given me.  It was probably one of the best days of my life.  Immediately, I had gone out and bought myself a meal at an actual restaurant, and let me tell you, they weren’t kidding when they said restaurant food is delicious.  Every protein bar and bag of chips in the world couldn’t live up to the food I ate that day.  And with that kind of money, I could be eating like that for maybe even a year!  Still, I knew what I had to do.  

It was almost Christmas.  With the money I’d just gotten, I could afford to buy each and every kid at the orphanage actual brand new presents that year, instead of the crummy second-hand stuff that had to be shared between three or four kids that I usually brought.  So, I went out and blew a good three quarters of my new budget on toys, and not the kind from thrift shops or even the ones from the big department stores.  I could finally get them toys from one of the fancy stores that had display windows.  And it was worth it, too, seeing the pure amazement that lit up those kids’ eyes when they saw there was enough for all of them.  I then spent another quarter of the money on nonperishable foods that I donated to the homeless shelter plus one massive turkey for their Christmas feast. 

After all of that, I was left with around 20 dollars for myself.  Usually I can make money like that last with just a few extra marks, but as the month dragged on and less and less people were out on the streets at night, my budget ran thin.  Eventually, I reached my breaking point.  I’d gone I think four days now without any food.  My stomach growled loudly, begging me to give it something, anything.  I just sighed and receded further into the fabric of my thin, worn down coat that I’d found a few days back by a dumpster -- the coat I used to wear long traded in for a couple spare dollars.  Sure, the wind cut through it like a knife, but hell, it was better than nothing.

I glanced up as I heard the crunching of footsteps in the snow, my heard immediately leaping into my throat at the prospect of there being people out.  I frowned when I saw who they were.  A couple walking together, chatting away about something or another.  Normally, I would never choose a couple to target -- it was too easy for one of them to spot what I was doing to the other -- but I had gotten desperate.  I was freezing cold, and I needed food now.

So, I walked directly towards them and crashed my shoulder into the guy’s, my hand slipping into his pocket.  I thanked whatever higher power was watching over me when my hand came into contact with a money clip.

“Sorry,” I mumbled and slipped my hand back out before continuing to walk at a casual pace away from the two, tucking the clip into my pocket.

-- 3rd Person POV --

“Well that was rude,” Clint huffed, dusting himself off.

Natasha stared at the back of the young girl who continued to walk away like nothing had happened.  “Hey, Clint,” she muttered.

“Yeah?”

“Where’s your wallet?”

“I put it back in my... pocket....” Clint froze when he realized he couldn’t feel the familiar clip in his jacket pocket.  He whirled around to look at the girl, who was already a ways away.  “Hey!  Get back here!”  He screamed, breaking into a run, Natasha quickly following suit.

-- Your POV --

“Hey!  Get back here!”  I glanced back with wide eyes, my heart leaping into my throat before immediately sprinting.

I ran through the snow, turning right and left through back alleys and narrow shortcuts, thanking my past self for never eating well, as my skinny form was able to stay on top of the snow for the most part.  Still, somehow I hadn’t lost the two adults chasing me yet.  They had barely fallen a foot or two behind over the last eight blocks.  My stamina was quickly running out, the malnourishment over the past week finally catching up to me.  I felt dizzy, and my chest burned as I focused on continuing to put one foot in front of the other.  I turned down an alleyway with a brick wall at the end.

“Ha!  We’ve finally caught you!”  The man behind me panted.  I completely ignored him, not pausing a single step as I sprinted towards the wall.

“Uhh, hey, kid?  Rock beats teenager...” He called warily.  I continued to ignore him.  I was only five feet away.  “Stop, you’re gonna hurt yourself!” he shouted just before I jumped, pressing my feet into the bricks to launch my further and further up.  I reached as high as I could and just barely caught the edge of the wall with my fingertips.  I swung my other arm up and forced my arms to pull myself to the top.

I panted as I gazed down from the top of the wall, the couple staring back up at me.  “Holy shit,” the man muttered, to which the woman immediately smacked him in the arm.

“I’m sorry,” I said softly.  “I was hungry.”  I wasn’t really sure why I was apologizing.  Granted, I knew what I was doing wasn’t very nice, but I don’t recall ever apologizing before.  Maybe it’s because they reminded me of my parents -- or, at least, what I imagined my parents to be like.  Maybe it’s because I was so dizzy that I couldn’t really think straight.  I nodded slightly to the two before turning around, preparing myself to jump down the other side.

Suddenly, a massive wave of dizziness and nausea smacked me in the face.  I groaned slightly and put my hand to my forehead, trying to get a hold of myself.  Evidently, that didn’t work, because the next thing I knew, I was falling.

Time seemed to slow as I fell through the air.  I probably shouldn’t pass out right now, the surprisingly calm thought entered my mind.  If I do, I’ll most likely just freeze to death.  Then again, passing out would save me a lot of pain from falling.  Alright, I guess that’s it then.  I’ll pass out now and hope I wake up in time to not die.  My eyes fluttered closed just before I hit the ground, the fog in my brain thickening as I finally allowed myself to just give in to it.

-- 3rd Person POV --

Clint grunted as he caught the girl.  He was expecting to fall to the ground with her, only really serving to break her fall, but was surprised to find that she wasn’t even heavy enough to knock him down.  Natasha made her way over to his side, looking down at the little thief in her friend’s arms.

“She’s light as a feather,” Clint murmured with a frown on his face, “and freezing to the touch.”

“She said she was hungry,” Natasha muttered thoughtfully.

Clint grit his teeth and nodded, determined.  “Alright, that settles it.  We’re taking her back to the tower.”

Natasha glanced at him warily.  “You sure?  The others might not be so accepting.”

“They’re gonna have to be,” he stated, already walking back, holding the girl as close as he could in an attempt to warm her up.

[yikesharringrove]

Show Pony

Chapter one - Big Sky

Also on Ao3

Billy doesn’t give a fuck about the rodeo. 

He doesn’t care about country music, or fancy horse riding, or the beauty queens, even the bull riders. 

What he does give a fuck about it not being in his house today. 

Not when his dad was obviously itching to pick a fight. Not when Max gave him such an easy out over breakfast. 

“I saw a flyer for a rodeo. I think it’d be kinda neat.”

It was in town for four more weeks. 

And Billy could tell the second he and Max bought tickets, he was about to be spending more time than he ever fuckin’ thought he would spend at a rodeo. 

He based that on the way Max’s eyes lit up the second she stepped inside the big fairgrounds. 

Not knowing that he was right. He was about to spend a lot of time at the rodeo. 

But not for Max. 

For himself. 

And a pretty horse rider named Steve.

He didn’t see Steve that first day. 

Was too busy shelling out his own hard-earned cash to buy Max sugary funnel cakes. Sitting next to her watching the poor suckers get bucked off their pissed-off bull. 

But when Max was in the car she turned to him, the sun setting outside, eyes as wide as dinner plates.

“Can we come back tomorrow?”

And the tickets were dirt cheap. And Billy hates being at home. 

So they did. 

And they watched the rodeo queens. 

And the team-roping. 

But it wasn’t until the calf roping that Billy felt his heart sink. 

Because he thinks Steve Harrington might be the most beautiful person he’s ever seen. 

Tall and broad, smiling like sunshine at his gorgeous black quarter horse, patting her strong neck and leading her to the entry point of the arena. 

His name was loudly announced after the event name. 

Calf roping, with our very own Steve Harrington! Steve will navigate his beautiful June into the arena, trying to rope and tie down a calf as quickly as possible!

Billy had tuned out everything but his name. 

Leaning forward on his bench seat to watch him lead June up to the starting line, give her a few more pats before swinging one leg up, heaving himself up and over her back, settling into the saddle with a grace Billy doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to describe. 

Steve appeared to shake himself out, leaning forward over June’s neck to speak quietly to the sleek horse, wiggling his hips a bit in the saddle. 

And then he sat back up, readying himself and waiting for the countdown. 

He was off like a fucking shot. 

Billy’s never seen anything fucking like it. 

June kicked up dirt as she thundered through the arena behind a small herd of a few calves, Steve ducked low against her neck as he led her forward, his lips moving as he spoke quietly to her, egging her on and forward. He was clinging to her for dear life, his legs straining as he was tossed up and down in the saddle. 

And then he let go of her reins, one hand reaching for the rope on his belt. 

And it was the most hick shit he’s ever seen. 

This flannel-wearing cowboy on his perfect fucking horse, roping a baby fucking cow. 

He slipped the knot around it from his perch on the moving horse, lassoing it easily like that was a common skill, and with a fluid practiced movement, he tossed himself off the slowing horse, getting on one knee to tip over the calf and tie it up like it was second nature. 

And maybe it was. Performing in a show like this. 

That’s all it was, a performance. Practiced and rehearsed over and over for Steve and June. 

It was over in a blink, Steve tossing his hands up to show he was finished, and the calf didn’t break its bonds. 

The whistle blew and Steve’s time was read to the arena. Nine seconds. And apparently, nine seconds was a good time, judging by the way Steve’s raised his fists in the air, and patted June’s neck so gently. 

He mounted back on his gorgeous horse as the calf he had roped was released by a few of the rodeo workers and the next guy took his position at the starting line. 

Steve did a lap around the arena of June’s back, smiling and waving to the crowd. 

And maybe Billy just has an overactive imagination. 

Maybe his stupid gay brain was looking for something not there. 

But he could’ve sworn he saw Steve grin just a little bit brighter in his direction. 

There were a few riders after him. Competing to earn a faster score on the same track. 

But Billy didn’t give a fuck about calf roping if he wasn’t watching Steve and June. 

The sun was setting as Billy finally led Max out of the fairgrounds, one hand on the top of her head, steering her towards the Camaro. 

“So, you think we can come back next weekend” Max was giving him a big shit-eating grin, powdered sugar all done her front from the final funnel cake Billy had shelled out to buy her. 

“Don’t see why not. Get’s us outta the fuckin’ house, don’t it.”

“Plus, there are lots of good-looking cowboys, just everywhere. Did you see the guy doing the cattle roping, or whatever? He was cute .” Billy rolled his eyes. Max was just touching the age when she stopped thinking of boys as gross, saw them as cute, and whatever else she said. It also made her realize that having a gay brother apparently meant talking about nothing but boys. It made Billy wanna slam his head into the steering wheel. He grunted in response as she kept going on and on about Steve. 

Like Billy didn’t see the way his thighs gripped the sides of his horse, like he didn’t watch as he hurled himself off June to tie up the fucking calf. Like he didn’t watch him take that fucking victory lap, shit-eating grin looking like home on his pretty fucking face. 

“You gotta carry your own weight, you know that, right Shitbird? I’m talking, pay for your own damn fried shit.” He bets Susan would give him money for tickets if he acts real nice this week. 

He can’t blow all his savings at the fucking rodeo of all things this summer. He’s got plans for the wad of cash burning a hole in the shoebox in the back of his closet. 

Max huffed at him. 

“What am I supposed to do? Get a job? I’m thirteen .”

“So? Babysit or some shit. Rob an ATM. Fuck if I care. Just quit stealing all ‘a my goddamn cash for your fuckin’ funnel cakes .”

“You’re just pissed off because you didn’t try one. They’re the best. You gotta have one next week.”

“I, unlike you, care about what I put in my body.”

“Yeah, because cigarettes and beer are so much better than fried dough .”

“Whatever.” The truth is, Billy’s gotta watch what he eats. Max didn’t know him when he was prepubescent and chubby. He can’t be sitting there shoving funnel cakes in his mouth and not expect it to all go to his gut. Not like her. There’s not an ounce of fucking baby fat on her. She’s positively scrawny. If anything, the funnel cake might help her out a bit. 

“Yeah, whatever .” She huffed, slumping back in her passenger seat. “But can we come back?”

“Fuck, if you keep askin’ me, the answer’s no .”

She huffed again. She does that a whole lot when they talk. 

“Don’t act like you didn’t like it. I saw the way you were watching Steve race. You were practically drooling .” 

Billy clenched his jaw. 

“Was not .”

“Was too .” 

And Max had a knack of leading Billy into moments like this, childish little arguments that made him feel kinda weird inside. Made him feel kinda warm at how sibling it was. Like they hadn’t been forced together just a few years ago. 

For all his bitching, he really did like the little spit. If he didn’t, he’d be a bigger asshole than she’s always accusing him of being. 

“You don’t even know what I look like when I’m really eyeing a boy, if you think that was it. Just, you know. Respected his riding.”

“ Respected his riding. Yeah ‘cause you wish he was riding-”

“Finish that sentence and I’m pushing you out of the fucking car.”

“I’m right, though.”

Billy just reached forward to turn up the radio, letting Dee Snider drown out any other awful shit Max wanted to say to him. 

Which was probably showing his hand too much. No direct answer pretty much means affirmative when it comes to Billy. And yeah, Max knows that. Judging by the way she’s cackling like a goddamn gremlin over the sound of the music. 

He just pressed his foot down further on the gas pedal, letting them fly down the highway. 

And he thought about Steve and June, thought about how fast Steve could press that girl to go. Thought about him leaning forward, flattening himself to the horse’s neck, gripping onto the reins and urging her forward, urging her faster. 

And if he thought about those strong legs wrapped around him, if he thought about what Max was about to say, Steve riding Billy like he would that fucking horse, his hips flexing as he bounces up and down, well, that’s his business. 

And the next Saturday, Susan slid him a crisp twenty-dollar bill to buy Max some lunch at the rodeo. 

They took it more seriously this time, bringing water bottles, and Max slathering thick white sunscreen on her freckled skin. 

Billy even wore shorts, some old jeans he sacrificed to the summer gods when he wore holes in the thighs and chopped pretty much in half. 

And it was kinda fun. 

He knew what to expect now. Knew the barrel racing was all women, all beautiful horses winding their way along clover-shaped tracks. He knew that the bull riding was a little more fun to watch with a shot in him, and that his fake i.d. could get him an alcohol wristband from the tent at the front.

Max sneered at him when he bought himself a beer later in the day. 

“Uh, you know you have to drive me home, right? Like, and not crash your stupid car on the way home.” 

“Fuck off. It’s one beer.”

“And also that shot earlier, and I know you have a flask.”

“Okay, what are you, the cops? I’m just tryna enjoy myself in this blistering fucking heat. I don’t exactly get my rocks off to any of this shit.” Which is a lie. He’s totally sold on every stupid fucking event at the motherfucking rodeo. 

“Fine. You wanna get stupid and drunk? Then you have to take me to the pageant. I wanna watch it.”

“Since fucking when do you give a shit about the pageant .” Max glared at him. Her nose was beginning to get red. 

Maybe if Billy were less of a shithead he would tell her to put some sunscreen on. But she was really testing his patience today. 

And then her eyes went huge, and her jaw went slack, and Billy was just about to tell her to close it and quit lookin’ like a dead fuckin’ fish when he heard someone cough slightly behind him. 

And when he turned, he almost made the exact same stupid dead fish face as Max. 

Because gorgeous cowboy Steve was standing right in front of him. In another cracker of a flannel shirt, stupid blue jeans, and fucking cowboy boots, because yeah. He’s a goddamn hick that rides a horse and ties up calves in a traveling rodeo for a fucking living. 

And God save Billy, because hot damn. 

Steve had an easy smile on his face, a little bit lopsided, and perfect white teeth showing between perfect pink lips. 

“Hey there.”

“Howdy,” Billy responded before he could stop himself, his face burning up. 

He was hoping he was already sweaty enough Steve wouldn’t notice the flush. 

But thankfully, Steve’s smile went wider, and he laughed, this gorgeous bright laugh, his head tossing back, and that thick hair flowing easily. 

He had gold streaks in his hair, lighter browns tussled within the darker colors. Billy wondered if they were natural, days spent out in the sun on his horse. Part of him hoped they weren’t. Part of him hoped that Steve was that intentional with himself and his goddamn hair. 

He smiled at Billy. 

“I’m Steve.”

“We saw you. Last weekend,” Max blurted out before Billy could kick her. She looked shocked that she had even spoken when Billy turned to give her a death glare. But Steve just laughed his gorgeous laugh again. 

“And what’d you think?”

“She wouldn’t shut up about you on the way home.” And Steve was back to looking at Billy, and his eyes are so fucking big, like, who’s eyes are just. Like that. Just fuckin’. Big. 

“And what about you, uh-”

“Billy. And this is Max. My sister.”

“Well, Billy,” and fuck Billy nearly creamed himself at the sound of Steve saying his name. “Did you like my display of talents ?”

“Could say so. I don’t give too many shits about all this hick farm stuff. But I can respect it.”

“Well, that’s alright then.” And Steve reached out to pat Billy once on the shoulder. “I hope I see y’all around. I gotta head off, June needs some TLC before our time.” He smiled at Max, and her already red face flushed deeper, almost blending into the roots of her flaming hair. 

And then he doubled back. 

“You know what, I forgot why I came over here in the first place.” He was digging through his jeans, rummaging around in his back pockets. 

Billy wanted to slide his hands in there, cop a feel while he helped Steve look for whatever he was going to offer Billy. 

And then Steve brought out two white wristbands. 

“They’re for, uh, VIP seating and stuff. If you’re interested. Gets you closer to the arena. That way I can just see what you look like after I’m comin’ off a ride.”

Hoo boy. 

This little cowboy has some fucking charm. 

And he knows it too, judging by his smug little half-smile he gave Billy while he fastened the wristband around his wrist. 

He helped Max with hers, doing it faster than he had Billy’s, and with a lot less eye contact, which was a good sign. He’s not perving on his twelve-year-old sister. Which is cool. 

And then he was looking back at Billy, and brushing his long fingers over the tops of Billy’s shoulders, his arms out in his shirt, the arms torn off an old Aerosmith t-shirt he found at the Goodwill last year. 

“You should reapply sunblock. Don’t want you burning now.” And Billy’s sure if Steve was wearing a Stetson, he woulda tipped it at them. “Enjoy the pageant.”

And he was off, and Christ, those jeans. How did Steve even successfully ride his horse in those things? They were so tight, showed off his nice peachy ass as he walked through the fairgrounds. 

“Wow,” Max said. And yeah, Billy felt the same. 

“In case it wasn’t clear, based on the way he was flirting with me, and also that he’s way too old for you, but, uh, dibs .”

“Billy, you can’t just call dibs on a person.” Billy just laughed. 

He knows that his twelve-year-old fucking sister doesn’t have a shot in Hell with Steve. Really, he doubts he even has a shot in Hell with Steve, but he also likes to spend his time making her life as difficult as possible without actually being a shitty person. So, he just riles her up. Says shit that’ll get her going. He wouldn’t be doing his brotherly duties if he didn’t say that shit. 

Max calls it even by kicking him in the shin twice and making him watch the stupid beauty pageant. 

Which, like, why the fuck are there beauty pageants at the rodeo anyway? 

Turns out it wasn’t pageant at all, but the four previous Miss Rodeo’s all lined up and looking far too glammed out for this fucking heat. 

Max faked being disgruntled by the disappointment, but Billy knows, somewhere inside that tough bitch little soul of hers, she’s glad she didn’t have to sit through a goddamn pageant just to make Billy miserable. 

Besides, Billy had whipped out his flask a few times, and he was feeling alright. Just buzzed enough that the heat had stopped making him feel quite so disgusting. 

But not too drunk to miss calf roping. 

And yeah, maybe it was a little bit lame to make their way over to the VIP seating earlier enough that they scored the front row. But when Steve came trotting out, leading June behind him, Billy was close enough he could pick out the cluster of moles on Steve’s left cheek. 

So, lame was not in Billy’s vocabulary today. 

It was pretty much the same thing as last week. Steve made everyone in the arena ooh and aah with his riding, tied up the calf in less than ten seconds once again. 

But this time, when he took that jaunty little lap around the small arena, Billy knows for a fact Steve grinned at him. Knows his stupid gay brain wasn’t making up the wink he tossed effortlessly in Billy’s direction. 

And they left, just like last weekend, as the sun was beginning to sink below the horizon. 

“Just, c’mon. Mom gave you money .” Max was whining for a corn dog, of all things. When they have perfectly good, not fried food, at home. 

“Maxine, I swear to Christ, I’m fucking tired. Let’s go home so I can crash, and you can fucking drive Susan up the goddamn wall with your whining.”

“You’re such an asshole.”

“I don’t know. He doesn’t seem too bad.” And Billy felt his insides curdling at that voice, felt himself wilting and shriveling because he would not be getting out of this day without one final, no doubt embarrassing, encounter with his gorgeous cowboy. 

Steve was leaning against a booth selling chili fries, looking like a perfect picture of a Clint Eastwood movie. 

Billy had never liked westerns. 

But he was gonna go home and spend all night watching every one he could get his grubby little hands on. 

Steve pushed off the side of the booth as Max found her words again. 

“You don’t have to live with him.”

“And you don’t have to live with my folks. I’d trade you any day.” 

And Billy nearly died. Right there. On the spot. Because. Holy shit. I’d trade you any day. 

Billy was more than happy to follow this fucking hick around America, watch him ride his pretty horse before fucking him against the stable wall. 

Or whatever. Do they have stables? Billy doesn’t know how a traveling rodeo works. 

But like, they’ve gotta have stables, right?

“Nah, you’d get sick of him. He stinks.”

“Have you ever smelled horse shit? Because that’s the fragrance I wake up to every morning.”

And Max was laughing, and Steve was laughing, and Billy was trying to keep his hands as casually as possible in front of his slight chub. 

“Will I get the privilege of seeing you two again?” And what a way to word it? The privilege. And then Steve was looking Billy up and down, and he was biting that perfect bottom lip and opening his mouth and “I could always give you my phone number. So we can. Meet up. Next time you’re here.”

“‘Course. You can give us the grand tour.”

And Steve was digging in those tight back pockets again, and shoving his phone into Billy’s hand, and he doesn’t have a passcode, but his home screen was a picture of him and his fucking horse which is, just about the sweetest thing Billy’s ever seen. 

And Billy put himself in as Billy Hargrove , and then panicked because Steve doesn’t know his fucking last name. So he settled for Billy and then for good measure shoved San Diego after it because. Billy’s a common name, okay?

And Steve took his non-password protected fuckin’ horse girl phone, and Billy was giving him as charming a smile as he could muster with sweat on his upper lip and saying-

“You better text me, Pretty Boy. So I can save your number.” Billy shrugged, looking off to his left to try and seem. Nonchalant. “In case I wanna see you again.” 

And Max was rolling her eyes, but she wasn’t stopping away. Wasn’t even whining at Billy, no doubt on her best behavior in front of hot cowboy Steve. 

But Steve had a glint in his eye, and if Max wasn’t here Billy would be playing this all different, laying on the charm a lot thicker than he was. 

But he can’t be a horny bastard in front of her. That’s just, like, gross. 

So he settles for making a real show of licking his bottom lip, and maybe flexing his bare arms just a tiny bit. 

“We should probably get goin’. Got a curfew for this one,” Billy jerked his head in Max’s direction. She huffed before she could stop herself. “See you around, Cowboy Steve.”

And Steve gave another one of his pretty ringing laughs. 

“Come again soon, Billy and Max.” And again, Billy’s sure that if Steve were wearing a hat, he would’ve flicked the brim at them as he set off back into the rodeo, dodgin off the main thoroughfare. 

“Wow. That was embarrassing for you.” 

Billy whipped his head around to stare at Max, giving her the most disgusted look he could muster. 

“The fuck you mean?”

“You were so obvious.”

“That’s the fucking point . We were flirting. It’s supposed to be obvious, you demon.” Billy shoved her once before stomping in the direction of the parking lot. 

“Yeah but you were like, making these faces at him.”

“Shut the fuck up. I know what I was doing, okay? It was all very calculated . Let him know I’m down for it, and if he texts, then I’m good to go. If not, then I move on.”

And the thought of Steve not texting was kinda, disappointing. Because Billy really wanted him to text. He wanted to stay up late giggling at his phone and the dumb things Steve texts him and pretend they don’t make him flush like a fucking school girl. 

He pointedly didn’t look at his notification when he reached the car, just shoved an old tape in and turned up Black Sabbath when Max wrinkled her nose at it. 

They were both quiet on the drive back home. Something heavy unsaid between them. 

And only as Billy was pulling into his spot in the driveway did Max suck in a big breath to actually put it out there. 

“I won’t tell. About him. Not even Mom. Not even that I think he’s cool.”

“Thanks. Easier just to. Avoid at all costs.” 

And if Billy were a better person, maybe he would hug her or something. 

But they don’t do that. Instead he sighed and didn’t hip check her violently off the porch like his instincts were telling him. So really, he’s a fucking saint. 

[caramelcal]

Songwriting and Fake Dating {3}

Word Count: 2.2k

a/n: hey guys! hope you all enjoy this one as you enjoyed the last one...

this is dedicated to charlie’s mustache. rip :(

also thanks to the person who originally requested this, legend behavior hahah :) hope you guys are having a wonderful night lovelies x 

disclaimer: I do not condone the use of my work/writing without my permission. The only place this has been posted is on my (rosemoonmist) tumblr account. This has not been posted on any other platform either. If you see any plagiarism of my work please let me know! <3 People work hard on their fics, so don’t steal them ty.

taglist:@gia-kerks​ @phantompogues​ @thesweetestsinner​ @honeyheartzz​ @ifilwtmfc​ @hoechx​ @merceret​ @katrin-okay​ @diosa75​

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Another line is drawn right through the words he tried to write. Luke wants to throw his notebook at the wall. He can’t think, or write, the words just aren’t coming to him anymore. He claws at his hair as if pulling on the strands will allow his brain to breathe and come up with the lyrics he had been trying to write for the past two hours. It used to be so easy but he knows why it isn’t working. It wasn’t rocket science.

The words came easy when he was with you, maybe it was the excitement of having someone to write with, or maybe it was the emotions that you both pulled from. It just wasn’t the same anymore. It’s almost like you were the inspiration, the lyrics, and now that you were no longer there, the lyrics weren’t either. Even if you guys didn’t know each other that long and you weren’t the closest, you guys seemed to click and you wrote so much better with each other.

Maybe he just needs a breather. That’s what Luke banks on, that once he goes outside and caught wind of the fresh air, the words will come back. He places down his guitar and his pen and sets out for outside.

Before long, he finds himself sitting on the back porch, one knee up next to his chest and the other splayed in front of him. His eyes are trained upon the dark sky, watching the stars. He barely hears the quiet footsteps that approach him but he sees them sit down beside him, knees up to their chest, hugging them.

“Carrie,” Luke acknowledges, not even looking towards his step-sister when he breaks the silence between the two.

“Luke.”

They fall back into another silence for a few moments, simply watching the stars together. However, Luke’s attention isn’t really on the stars anymore as he thinks about the girl beside him. He remembered when his mom first told him that she was getting remarried and that he was going to get a step-sister. He remembers when they met, and Carrie was just a little too entitled for his taste, and Luke was a little too “street” for hers. They didn’t exactly get off on the best foot, and there were times that there was still some friction in their relationship which certainly wasn’t helped when Luke joined Julie and the Phantoms, but there were times that they were okay; when they shared a sibling bond.

It was hard for both of them to get used to each other, and their parents getting married. For Luke, it had been just him and his mom for a while, so he couldn’t help but feel apprehensive for this new life, not only for him to have a new step-dad and step-sister, but in case this man hurt his mom too. Yet, for Carrie it was different, it had always just been her and Trevor after her mom died during labor. She didn’t know what it was like having a mom, and she didn’t know if she wanted it. Arguably, she was scared; scared that her dad would no longer have time for her and would be spending it all with Emily but that definitely wasn’t the case.

Actually, everything worked out quite well, and soon enough Luke and Emily were moving into the Wilson’s household. It was a strange experience for Luke like he was invited into a whole other world. They came from very different backgrounds, Luke and Emily had never been well off, but Carrie never had to worry about not being able to pay the bills or anything to do with that, so their personalities were quite different. Yet, over the past few weeks, they had become significantly closer and spent more time talking to each other. Luke would show Carrie the songs you guys wrote, and Carrie would show Luke the choreography that you guys had been working on.

They knew exactly why they had become closer, they weren’t stupid. It was all because of you, you were their common ground. You brought the two siblings together.

“You miss her,” Luke comments, breaking the everlasting silence as he glances over at his sister. She isn’t facing the sky anymore and is instead looking down at her legs. It’s been two weeks since you and Carrie fought, where Carrie kicked you out of Dirty Candy, and she hadn’t spoken to you since.

Carrie is quiet for a few moments, almost as if she is battling herself on whether or not she should answer Luke, but she does, quietly, “Of course I do, she’s my best friend.”

A silence fills the air yet again, and Luke doesn’t know whether or not to answer Carrie. The girl has never actually opened up to him before, so for her to tell him that she was missing you was something that was new territory for the both of them. He knew that she missed you, you would have to be insane not to and he was pretty sure this was the longest that Carrie had ever gone without talking to you, so it was like life had been shifted entirely.

“You miss her too,” It’s a simple statement that Carrie makes, but it makes Luke sigh. He does, of course he does. He can’t even write without you.

“She won’t pick up my calls,” Luke says, ducking his head down as he traces the patterns on the ground of the porch. At this rate, he’s probably called you like twenty times in the last week but he always gets sent to voicemail. He knows it’s intentional, but every time he picks up his phone and presses the dial button, there’s a part that hopes you’ll pick up; that you’ll come over and wrote songs with him.

“I won’t pick up hers either,” Carrie admits, biting her lip as she continues to watch the sky, “The dirty candy girls have been bashing her, for putting the band in second place. I just want to scream at them to stop.”

“You should, it isn’t y/n’s fault. She was on her way to the studio that day but I dragged her up to my room. She lost her best friend for just helping me out with a dumb song.”

Carrie knows that Luke feels guilt for all of this. All three of them are miserable without each other and they all know it. Yet, they’re all filled with too much pride to apologize, or even to pick up one another’s calls. They know that they can’t go on like this, because as it goes on they all just feel worse and worse, but no one seems willing to make the first move.

“She always goes out her way to help others, huh?” Carrie says, reminiscing on the number of people that you have helped in the time that you guys have been friends. She remembers the way you give the Dirty Candy girls your water and snacks when they forgot theirs, meaning that you would often to without, helping old people cross the street and just being generally helpful.

You were always so eager to help anyone and everyone, no matter who it was, and that was something that Carrie always admired about you, “Most helpful person I know.”

After Luke’s statement, they are enveloped in another silence, both watching the sky peacefully before a shooting star flies overhead. They don’t speak of it, simply enjoying one another’s company which isn’t something they often find themselves doing. Deep down, they both like each other’s company, and each other, but they never say anything, both too stubborn to do so.

After a few more minutes, Luke gets up, lightly patting his sister on the shoulder, “You should answer her calls, Car.”

. . .

Being a waitress was actually surprisingly fun for you. Normally, you enjoyed serving customers, interacting with people and it was a way to get some extra money. However, right now you wanted nothing less than to be out of here, despite having hours left of your shift; in fact, you had just started.

Normally, customers were respectful and nice, but this one...this one was testing your limits. What made it worse, was that it was none other than Kayla, Carrie’s replace best friend for you and she was shouting, trying to embarrass you in front of not only the customers but in front of your colleagues as well. She’s with a few other friends, but Carrie isn’t there.

Passing you a smirk, she wipes her hand across the table, purposefully making the cutlery drop, “Pick it up, waitress.”

The rest of her group snicker as you try to hold the embarrassed blush that rises to your face. Closing your eyes momentarily, you sigh, “Kayla, I know I haven’t been the best band member but-”

“I don’t think you get it, y/n,” Kayla cuts you off, standing up and walking right in front of you, “Carrie has already told you that you’re done. I hope you would at least have a bit of dignity and to accept that instead of coming begging to me after Carrie didn’t pick up your calls.”

After she says that, Carrie obnoxiously chews on her gum, the other girls snickering. Looking around at them, their eyes on you as they laughed let you clearly know that you were no longer friends with any of the Dirty Candy girls. They were only friends with you to get in with Carrie and it makes you feel dumb that you didn’t realize that beforehand.

“Pathetic,” Kayla spits, looking up and down at the sight of your ducked head.

“Hey, watch it would you Kayla? I think you forget that even though Carrie is annoyed at y/n right now, as soon as she gets over that y/n will be right where she belongs in Dirty Candy again and as Carrie’s best friend,” Julie speaks up from the booth beside them, eyes squinting at the girl, “I think you’re letting this all go to your head too much.”

“You have no idea what Carrie is like, Julie. Plus, even if you told her that I was being a bitch to y/n she won’t listen to you,” Kayla snorts, rolling her eyes at the other girl.

“She’ll listen to her brother though, and we all know that he’ll believe me over you,” Julie responds sassily, Alex and Reggie who were beside her sharing glances. Often, they didn’t like to get involved in drama, and Julie didn’t either but just hearing how these girls were treating you made them feel horrible.

“Whatever,” Kayla says, rolling her eyes again before standing up, “Let's go girls, there seems to be a loser convention going on in here right now.”

Kayla doesn’t seem to be embarrassed, but you know well enough that she is getting out of there before she shows it. The girls are quick to follow behind her, all brushing you off and acting better than you as they pass.

Yet, you don’t pay attention to them for long as you turn towards the girl, giving her a small smile, “Thanks, Julie.”

“No problem, y/n,” Julie smiles, turning her head towards you sweetly. Noticing Alex and Reggie looking at you, you give them a shy wave and a smile before your attention is turned back towards Julie, “Can you do me a favor?”

“Of course, what’s up?” You’re prepared to take Julie’s order, considering that is what you expected her to want you to do but what she says next surprises you.

“Don’t be too hard on Luke, he really didn’t mean to get in between you and Carrie. And we just wanted to say that even if you don’t get back in with Dirty Candy, our band will always be open for you.”

. . .

It’s much later in the night, the café empty apart from you, humming softly a tune from a song you can’t remember the name of. You’re dancing a little as you give the tables one last wipe down before making your way behind the counter again. It was your turn to lock up for the night, the other waitresses already away home but you actually liked it when it was like this.

You didn’t even have the lights on as you took of your small apron-like thing and hung it up. Reaching for the keys, you stop when you hear the bell ringing, signaling that someone had entered the shop. Could they not read the closed sign?

“Sorry, we’re closed right now-” You say, whirling around and meeting hazel eyes, voice cutting off when you saw who was standing there. Clearing your throat, you shift awkwardly between two feet, “Luke.”

“Hey y/n,” Luke says softly, his hair is messy under his navy colored beanie, but you know you can’t talk, yours probably looks a lot worse. He takes a step towards you before speaking again, his voice still soft, “We need to talk.”

[inskz]

lucky charm - lee minho

pairing - lee minho x reader

genre - college!au, best friends to lovers, very cliche fluff (lucky girl starring lindsey lohan kinda vibes???)

words - 4k

note - this is just a cute little drabble i wrote while im still waiting for my covid test results to come back so that i can leave my room and see the sun again 🤪 pls be careful everybody take care of your health 💚 enjoy!!!

- - - - -

“You must be kidding me,” you sigh when you see Minho’s hand has turned into a fist, his rock crushing miserably your scissors. Once again, you lost at rock, paper, scissors. And once again, you’re the one that is going to wash your best friend’s dishes that have piled up in is tiny kitchen sink throughout the week.

“Fuck that. This is so unfair,” you grumble, throwing the dishtowel in Minho’s stupid yet perfectly chiseled face.

You make a beeline for his bed, which is actually only a few steps away from the kitchen. Being a broke college student definitely doesn’t allow him to rent a spacious studio, let alone a two-room apartment. You throw yourself headfirst onto his uncomfortable mattress, whose springs always poke your back at night.

“Life is so unfair,” your friend mocks you, dragging out every vowel of his sentence dramatically.

No doubt, you would be strangling him at that very moment if you weren’t so busy playing dead, hoping he would forget about your pitiful existence.

But there is no way mister Lee Minho would miss out on an opportunity to have his gross plates cleaned by someone else. Grabbing onto your ankle, he drags you out of bed until you plop down on the dirty carpeted floor (Minho has the unfortunate tendency to procrastinate vacuuming too). At this point, you are fake crying, throwing a literal tantrum, like a 6 years old child would.

“Life is unfair!” you yell, your feet kicking in the air in pure anger.

At least it is to you. You can’t remember the last time you’ve been lucky. The only instance you got remotely close to it was when you found a four-leaf clover last summer. Well, only if you disregard the fact you stepped into dog poop  on your way to picking it. Oh and that you were wearing brand new white Converse. 

On the other hand, it seems like the boy has the whole crew of the Olympus gods on his side. Not one day goes by without his guardian angel manifesting its presence. 

Minho has always been the lucky type. The type to get an extra nugget in his box of 10. To find 20 dollars bills on the ground. To win every single Instagram giveaway he participates to (and lord knows how much he likes participating to them). 

But how can you be mad at him when he always happily shares his food with you, invites you to the restaurant without you even asking, and gives you his prizes, pretending he doesn’t need them? You don’t believe him when he says he see no use in a panda onesie or a waterproof bluetooth speaker. Deep down, you know it’s his way to silently love you. 

But well, you can still blame him for occasionally taking advantage of your misfortune to make you do his dreaded house chores, just like right now. 

Everyone thinks you are a bizarre duo. Even you can’t fathom how in hell you two became best friends, considering how awfully your first encounter went three years ago. 

On orientation day, he asked you for the time, probably because his phone was dead (or maybe because he was dying to talk to you?)

Without hesitation, you lifted and rotated your wrist so that you could see your watch. Little did you remember; you never actually owned a watch and you were holding a fancy 7 dollars iced coffee, which, of course, did not have a lid on because plastic is bad for the environment (duh). 

Minho couldn’t help but burst out in hysterical laughter when the whole drink spilled on your jeans. For your defense, you didn’t sleep at all the night before  since you were terrified of being alone in your new dorm room the first few days (weird stuff happens all the time in dorms, okay?). If he had asked you for your name, you probably wouldn’t even have been able to tell him. 

But Minho thought you were the funniest person on campus, and he really needed a clown like you to entertain him throughout his endless college semesters. That’s what he told you anyways. Not that he thought you were the cutest human being he had ever seen. 

Why would he when you are the literal definition of a mess: always having toothpaste stains on your sweater, bags under your eyes, messy hair, tripping and falling, missing buses, breaking things, losing stuff. 

Most of the time, you just forget your keys and Minho lets you crash at his place since he hasn’t got any roommate and he isn’t used to sleeping alone, especially without his cats. It surely isn’t because he loves waking up next to a very groggy but adorable you every single morning, no.  

Minho manages to bring you back to the countertop despite your reluctance. Positioned behind you, his arms trapping your body to make sure you can’t run away from your duties, he dips your hands into the soapy water, and you can’t help but squirm at the touch of an unknown substance sticking to a plate that has probably been soaking here for a week. You despise doing the dishes and your friend knows it.

You hear him giggle in your ear while he is playing with your arms like you are some type of marionette, making you to take the sponge and squeeze dish soap onto it. 

You’ve never been the kind to like proximity nor seemed to be Minho, but for some reason, you always end up glued to each other. You hate public displays of attention and pet names a little less when it comes from him. Or maybe you don’t hate it at all and actually crave it every single minute that goes by.

Before he has the time to come up with the Machiavellian idea to soak your pajamas in dirty water (because you know he would inevitably have at some point), you yank his hands off of you and start scrubbing angrily the dirty cups. 

Minho stays behind you anyways, observing your every move, his chin propped up on your shoulder like a curious little bird. To be honest, his presence is kind of getting overwhelming. But whatever, it’s not like his slightest touch makes your heart warm up in comfort or that he smells like fresh linen drying out on the porch of a cottage house on a sunny Sunday morning or anything. 

“You missed a spot. Here” he murmurs teasingly, his lips almost touching your earlobe, while he points at the handle of his hideous ‘world’s greatest dad’ mug Jisung gifted him last christmas. 

You know he has noticed the way you shivered violently at the feeling of his breath tickling your skin because he starts snickering loudly. 

“I swear to god if you don’t shut up and go seat on the couch, I’ll slap you so hard with this spatula you’ll regret you were even born,” you say, turning around suddenly to menace him with the plastic utensil. 

Of course, he isn’t afraid one bit. Right now, you really wish you could make the smug, but oh so attractive, look on his face disappear. 

“Alright, ma’am” he laughs, holding up his hands in surrender. “I’ll let you do your thing”. He lets himself fall onto his dingy couch. 

You can hear him humming one of his favorite songs above the sound of the water running. It would probably be getting on your nerves if his voice wasn’t so pretty.  

“Chan’s sick, so we’re not going to the gym tomorrow night. Do you wanna eat tacos? El Huero has even better deals than usual” he asks you, scrolling mindlessly through his phone. 

“Aren’t the deals supposed to be on Tuesdays?” You frown and scrub a little harder the frying pan Minho has burnt the night before while trying to make chocolate chips pancakes for diner, because why eat savory food when you can have dessert for every meal, right? It is one of the few advantages of living without your parents you both truly enjoy. 

“Yeah, that’s what I said. Tomorrow,” he yawns, probably exhausted after what you put him through last night. You forced him to catch up on the entire season of Love Island because you desperately needed someone to bitch with, and what better partner than Lee Minho.  

You take a quick glance at him and see him stretching himself across the cushions like a cat. You always thought there was something feline about his features. While you’re drying the mugs with the dishtowel, your mind wanders uncontrollably, thinking about his piercing eyes, his delicate nose, the corners of his lips that curl up a little… 

All of the sudden, your hands freeze. Minho is too immersed in TikToks to notice the stupor on your face. “Wait. Today is… Monday?” you stutter. 

Alarmed by the sound of your voice, his eyes finally leave his phone’s screen to look up at you. “Yeah” he repeats slowly as if you are the dumbest person he has ever encountered. 

And you truly are. You are pretty sure your heart has stopped beating. Minho’s “world’s greatest dad” mug you’re holding slips between your fingers and comes crashing on the floor with a deafening sound. The pieces are now scattered all around you, making you unable to make out what’s written on it anymore. Not a big loss, if you ask. 

“Y/N, you know that’s my favorite mug!” he exclaims, leaping up from the couch. “I’m sure you did it on purpose,” he mutters while he’s trying to collect the small fragments, in vain. 

But you’re too shocked at this very moment to pay attention to the glare your friend is giving you. To be honest, Minho has only two moods: glaring at you or teasing you.  

“My interview,” you finally manage to say, and Minho’s eyes go wide as he realizes the critical situation you’re in. 

You check the time on the microwave: 10:45. In 30 minutes, you’re supposed to be on the other side of town, being interrogated by boring businessmen that are going to decide whether or not you’ll be accepted for a paid internship in one of the most reputable music label of the country. Basically, decide whether you’ll live a happy and fulfilling life, working in the sector you’ve always dreamed of or end up miserable with a boring office job and a massive college debt. 

“Holy shit,” Minho whispers. You can see a wave of panic washing across his face for a split second, but, as always, he manages to find his composure back immediately. 

He has never been the kind to lose his cool, except to scold you when you forget the names of his cats and their respective coats’ color (which you unfortunately often did forget). 

“What are you doing? Get dressed!” He tells you when he sees you’re still standing there dumbfounded in the kitchen, like the famous Robert Pattinson meme, wearing an oversize Kermit the frog shirt with a dozen holes in it and his favorite Adidas sweatpants you always stole from him.

“No, it’s too late. I can’t make it,” you mutter, your breath short. You’re paralyzed, as if there is a 20lbs rock sitting at the bottom of your stomach, pinning you to the ground. 

This isn’t bad luck, you think. This is karma. This is what you get for skipping classes to watch telereality shows in your bed with your best friend and not even realizing it isn’t the weekend anymore.

“Miss me with that bullshit.” He runs to his closet and rummages through his drawers, throwing every piece of clothing that’s on his way to find an appropriate outfit that would fit you. 

“You’re gonna go do this interview even if I have to drag you all the way there.” He pushes you into his bathroom since you still haven’t moved an inch. 

You manage to brush your teeth and your hair, fighting through the nauseous feeling that is building up in your tummy. 

When you come back to the living room, Minho has found dress pants and a sweater that might not look utterly ridiculous on you. He lets you change in a corner, while he runs around the room collecting all your essentials. 

“You’re coming?” you ask him when you see he is already wearing his puffer jacket.  

“You really think I’m gonna let you go all by yourself when you’re literally not even able to put your shoes on properly”. You are, indeed, struggling with your laces, as if your fingers are suddenly made out of butter. 

Minho ties them up for you and you literally feel like he’s your babysitter. You know you’re gonna hear about this for months – what are you saying- years! But all you can think about at the moment though, is the fact that sneakers are definitely not appropriate for an interview. 

He throws your warmest coat at you, grab his keys, and by some type of miracle, you’re both out to the door in less than 10 minutes. 

You try to call the elevator, but Minho grabs your arm and leads you to the staircase. His hand never leaving yours, he runs down the stairs and you have no choice but to follow him as fast as you can. 

You can’t count how many times you missed a step and fell at this particularly slippery spot, between the 5th and the 4th floor, but weirdly enough, it doesn’t happen today. 

When you finally reach the ground floor, you exit the complex and Minho hops on his old and rusty bike that he had attached to nearest tree the night before.

“There’s no way I’m riding behind you on this death machine,” you laugh nervously. The memory of that one time Minho convinced you to seat into his bicycle basket (as if you could even realistically fit in it) and you both fell seconds after he started to pedal is coming back to your mind.

Sure, it was after a long night of drinking, you were both tipsy and it was the only way to get you home since you had spent all your uber money at the bar, but still! You’re pretty sure the bruise on your butt hasn’t disappeared to this day.  

“Hurry up,” Minho groans, ignoring your complaint. You unwillingly seat on his flimsy pannier rack and wrap your arms around his torso. 

You haven’t even left, yet you’re already holding onto his puffer jacket for dear life. A giggle escapes your friend’s mouth (which you think is very inappropriate in such a desperate situation) before he lifts his feet off the ground and starts pedaling. 

You try to ignore the loud squeaking of the bicycle drive by shutting your eyes tighter and rehearsing your introduction you have prepared over and over in your head. No matter how hard you are trying, you can’t remember what you are supposed to say just after your age (which, as you can imagine, isn’t really far into your monologue). 

By the way the wind is lashing your face, you can tell Minho has picked up the speed. His breathing is getting louder, his heartbeat faster and you can’t help but think you’re probably way too heavy for him to bike you around like that. Maybe he shouldn’t skip his gym sessions with Chan so often. Or maybe you shouldn’t have eaten the leftover pancakes for breakfast after all.

You find the courage to open your eyelids and are pleased to see you’re already halfway there, probably because every single one of the traffic lights you encounter is green, and your friend is going surprisingly fast. Is luck finally starting to smile upon you? 

Your mad race comes to a halt when you reach the address of your interview. You hop off the bike and so does Minho who, by the way, is a panting mess. He’s barely able to catch his breath, strands of hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, but he’s beaming at you when he realizes you’re just on time. 

“Go” he gasps, pushing you in the direction of the building’s hall. 

You walk up to the glass door but as your hands are about to push it, you pull a 180. Your friend sighs loudly, already knowing what’s coming next. 

“Wait. No. I can’t do this. I’m not prepared” you tell him frantically. “I’m freaking out. I think I’m gonna pass out.” You are now walking in circles, mumbling incoherently. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” 

Your heart is racing in your chest and your hands are getting clammy at the simple thought of failure. But guess what? You can’t fail if you don’t even try! One more good reason to just go back to bed and forget about your sad life for a good 8 hours, right? 

“Y/N, you’re the most talented person I know, you’re gonna do just fine” Minho catches you in his arm to stop your endless pacing. You would probably think this gesture is endearing if it wasn’t just meant to make sure you couldn’t run for your life.  

“No, I’m not. What if I throw up in front of everybody like that one time during the Romeo and Juliet musical?” You look up at him and his face is only inches away from yours. You’re sure you would be swooning at how beautiful he looks if you weren’t so terrified at this very moment.

“You were nine,” your best friend says, and you swear you have never heard him speak to you in such a sweet tone before. His voice is like honey and lavander but it doesn’t soothe you like it should. 

You manage to break free from his embrace to crouch down, in an attempt to slow down your breathing. If only you had data left, you could be watching those short relaxing videos on your phone. They always work. But no, you had to spent it all on online games, just one week into the month. You really are beyond help.  

“Y/N I know you’re scared, but if you miss out on this opportunity, you’re gonna regret it for the rest of your life.” Minho is lowering himself so that you can hear him, even though you’re curled up in a ball. 

“And I’m warning you, I won’t want to hear you complain about it,” he adds, this whole situation obviously starting to get on his nerves. 

If you were him, you would have probably left a long time ago. But this isn’t your best friend’s way of behaving. You know he would never abandon you no matter how annoying you could be (and you could be very annoying sometimes). After all, he is always the one holding your hair while you puke in the toilets when you had a couple too many drinks.

It takes all your willpower to stand up but there is no other way, you have to do it. You can hear the time ticking dangerously in your mind, as if your brain had turned into a clock.

“You’re right. Slap me,” you say, looking at him straight in the eyes, dead serious. 

“Wha -“

“Slap some sense into me. They do that in movies when people are panicking. It’s like throwing a bucket of cold water in someone’s face. But clearly we don’t have a bucket and we don’t have cold wa- “ you start blabbering. 

“What the fuck are you talking about? I’m not gonna slap you!” Your friend isn’t usually that horrified at the thought of beating your ass. In fact, he has felt the desire to rip your head off more than once, especially when you’d steal all the duvet at night, but at this moment he is just scared you might have actually lost your mind.  

“Just fucking do it Minho!” you scream, your hands clenching the front of his grey hoodie he always looks so divine in. 

Minho has never obeyed you, and this is not the day he is going to start. 

He puts both of his hands on the sides of your face and crashes his lips onto yours. 

You would be lying if you said you have never imagined the day your best friend would kiss you. It happens pretty much every single time you look at his cute pout a little too long. But one thing is certain, it isn’t like you pictured it to be at all.

You were convinced your heart would go so wild it would burst out of your chest and your head would spin so furiously you’d lose your balance. You thought your stomach would fill with butterflies to the brim and your whole body would be on fire.

But none of that is happening. On the contrary, every single muscle in your body relaxes under his touch. The way his soft mouth presses gently against yours makes you calmer, almost at peace amongst all this turmoil. 

Minho is kissing all your tension and stress away and you catch yourself letting a sigh of relief escape your parted lips.

As if you have kissed him already hundreds of times in your past life, Minho feels like home. He’s a safe haven you can always take refuge in during troubled times. Ever since the day you met, he has never left your side.

When he breaks away from the kiss, you notice your breath isn’t so ragged and your mind isn’t so foggy anymore. You’re serene. His cold hands are still cupping your face, slightly squishing your cheeks, and you feel like an idiot sandwich for asking him to slap you seconds before.

“That can work too, I guess…” you mutter.  

“You’re okay?” he asks, staring at you with the softest eyes you’ve ever seen.

You just nod, unable to say one more word, and sprint to the entrance, not wanting to make your interviewers wait any longer than they already have.

“Good luck!” You hear him yell just before the door closes behind you and you can’t help but grin from ear to ear.

- - - - - 

Thirty minutes later, you finally step out of the fancy lobby to find a very bored Minho leaning against a tree, patiently waiting for you.

“You’re still here?”

“Of course, I am,” he says, his mouth full of croissant. He gives you a large iced coffee he probably went buying to kill time. Your lips unconsciously curl up into a smile when you notice it comes from the same chain that the one you spilled on your lap on the day you first met him. 

“How did it go?” he asks you, sticking his buttery pastry into your mouth so that you can take a bite.

“Way better than I thought” you answer, right after you swallowed. You hate the way flakes would always get stuck between your teeth. But Minho is always there to warn you about it before anyone else notices, and even pick them for you if you can’t manage to, which, when you think about it, is kind of gross. 

There are two things the boy knows about you: you’re the greatest pessimist on earth and you’d rather die than admit you were wrong (especially if it meant he was right). So for you to even say it wasn’t that bad, means it went phenomenal. 

“I don’t want to say ‘I told you so’ but I told you so.” He smiles so wide you can barely see his eyes anymore. You have to look away, otherwise you know you might become instantly blinded by love.

“Maybe I could use some more of your luck” you mumble, staring at your shoes and kicking the red leaves that were surrounding your feet on this sunny autumn morning. 

“Really? And what makes you think I’ll share it with you,” he teases you, leaning forward to incite you to look at him in the eyes. 

“That.”

Your hand finds the back of his neck and pulls him in, in order to close the space that is still left between your mouths.

At first, Minho stiffens, taken aback by your bold move. But soon enough, he caves into your touch. He kisses you back fervently, like he means it. 

His fingers entagle in your hair, his arm wraps around your waist and his chest presses against your body. You’re melting in his embrace, submerged by a wave of bliss which he alone seems to know the recipe. 

It feels new, yet so familiar. Like it was supposed to happen, like it was written in the stars. 

He tastes like croissant and Americano. Like fortune and fate. 

And you can’t help but think you’re the luckiest person on earth.

Who cares about winning the lottery when Lee Minho is your lucky charm? 

[littlespoonevan]

still getting good at not leaving

guess who couldn’t help herself and had to write a fix-it fic?!?! lmao look i know this storyline will probably get some sort of resolution in tomorrow’s episode but until then i would like to present u all with this <3 takes place just after the end of 11x02

title from pov by ariana grande

I hope you like it! <3

*

Ian heaves himself up off the floor with a huff when he reaches his hundredth sit-up. Mickey’s still on the bed sorting money into piles and steadfastly ignoring the weight of Ian’s gaze so he decides to go take a shower and hopes the room will feel a little less tense when he comes back.

He doesn’t want to be angry at Mickey is the thing. He loves him more than he’s ever loved anything and he knows who Mickey is. He knows “normal life” and whatever the fuck that’s supposed to be has never been what Mickey’s about. And it’s not- he doesn’t want to change Mickey, y’know? He just wants to keep him here. With Ian. And he can’t do that if Mickey’s back inside a jail cell because they didn’t have enough money for bills at the end of the month.

He dries off and changes into a t-shirt and boxers in the bathroom when he’s finished, hanging his damp towel on top of the shower rod and padding back into the bedroom.

Mickey’s still in the same position he was in when Ian left him but the money’s been hidden away.

“You gonna share a bed with me or is that off the table too?” Mickey grumbles once Ian’s closed the door and Ian can’t help feeling a brief pang of guilt. He’s not doing this to make Mickey think he loves him any less. He sighs, turning around to see Mickey scowling up at him, jaw set defiantly.

“Of course I’m sharing a bed with you,” he murmurs, moving over to the bed and leaning down to kiss the top of Mickey’s head before climbing over him to get settled in the empty space on the mattress.

Mickey slouches a little once Ian’s lying beside him, arms crossed as he casts him a sidelong glance. “I tried today, you know.”

And the thing is, Ian does know. But he also knows Mickey prepared himself for what he perceived to be inevitable failure.

“Mick, you didn’t even put down your real work experience on your resume,” he says, keeping his voice light so Mickey doesn’t think he’s nagging him again. “You’ve had real security jobs before.”

“Yeah but this wasn’t a security job so why would it matter? I was trying to tailor it to the job and shit,” Mickey mutters and Ian gives him a sceptical look. Mickey holds his stare for approximately fifteen seconds before he huffs and looks away. “Whatever. I didn’t want this stupid fucking job anyway.”

“I know you didn’t,” Ian tells him, pushing up on his elbows to mirror Mickey’s position sitting against the wall. He reaches for Mickey’s hand then, relieved when Mickey doesn’t pull away and instead splays his fingers so Ian can fold his own between them.

“I get you don’t just want some crappy minimum wage job for no thanks, alright? I get it. But I also don’t want you to end up in prison again-“

Mickey scoffs and opens his mouth to protest but Ian barrels on before he can say anything.

“Just listen a sec,” he pleads, squeezing Mickey’s hand and eventually getting him to meet his eyes again. “I know you know how to be careful but Mick, you’re on probation. And a Milkovich. The cops don’t need much of an excuse to send you back to jail.”

Mickey doesn’t respond right away but something in his expression softens just a bit, like he finally understands why Ian’s been such a pain in the ass about this.

“You know every time I got caught I did it on purpose?” Mickey says after a beat and that pulls Ian up short. He blinks, shaking his head and Mickey’s expression twists into something that’s almost regretfully amused.

“The first time was because I didn’t rat out your boss for the creepy child groomer he was. Which I should’ve, by the way,” Mickey says pointedly, giving Ian the same knowing look he used to give him every time they had this conversation as teenagers. Ian, now, feels pretty comfortable in saying that he’s been brought around to Mickey’s way of thinking.

“Second time was to avoid my dad in case Frank couldn’t keep his mouth shut,” he continues and Ian winces, running his thumb over the back of Mickey’s hand like he can somehow soothe the old hurt. “Then the time with Sammi- okay, yeah, I didn’t get caught on purpose but that was that bitch’s fault, not mine.”

They haven’t talked about Sammi since they first shared a cell but it still makes Ian uncomfortable to think about that time in their life. To think of how much grief and pain he caused Mickey back then.

“Then I distinctly recall turning myself in for your pasty ass,” Mickey says, bringing Ian back to reality with a teasing lilt to his voice and a smirk as he bumps their shoulders together.

Ian huffs a laugh but his chest still tightens somewhat. He’s not oblivious to how much Mickey has sacrificed for him in the past; it’s more than he’s ever deserved. “I’m glad you did,” he mumbles after a moment. “Even if I don’t like that you had to give up your freedom to do it.”

Mickey shrugs, ducking his head and pulling their joined hands into his lap. “Yeah, well. Where would we be if I didn’t, huh?”

Ian smiles to himself, shaking his head, and thinks of a different moment a long time ago when things weren’t quite this easy. What you and I have makes me free. “Probably not married and arguing about how we’re gonna pay the electricity bill.”

Mickey raises an eyebrow at him, letting out quiet laugh before his expression turns serious. “Listen, we’ll figure out the money stuff.”

“I know,” Ian murmurs, closing the distance between them to punctuate his reply with a kiss. He follows it up with a kiss to the ball of Mickey’s shoulder before he straightens again, letting his head rest back against the wall. “I love you.”

Mickey nods just slightly, a silent I know. A we’re okay. “Love you too.”

Ian smiles at him and tugs on Mickey’s hand until they’re both lying down. And with their legs tangled together and their faces only inches apart on the pillows, he knows they’ll figure it out.

They always do.

*

[master-sass-blast]

This Life is Infinite: Chapter One.

OH YEAH. IT'S TIME, BITCHES!!!

Summary: The Infinity War Fic aka I do whatever the fuck I want with the Russo's canon.

Get ready for the most ambitious crossover in CHC history.

Pairing(s): Piotr Rasputin x Reader, Nathan Summers x Wade Wilson, Alexandra Rasputin x Nikolai Rasputin, and Kitty Pryde x Illyana Rasputin.

Rating: M for canon typical violence and death threats.

Word Count: 10k... oops.

Set after "Children of the Gods: Part Three."

Author's Note: Tentatively, I’m back from my hiatus. Things are nowhere near settled with my mental health, but I’m feeling well enough to post again.

I think it mostly goes without saying that updates for this series might be a little irregular going forward; not only do I need to take care of myself, but I also need to find a better balance with posting fanfiction and the rest of my life. As always, I will do my best to be clear with you all about what to expect in terms of updates and wait times.

Thank you again for your compassion and understanding.

Taglist: @marvel-is-perfection, @chromecutie, @super-darkcloudstudent, @girl-obsessed-with-things, @leo-writer, @emma-frxst, @sadstone-s

It’s not every day that mysterious, leather-clad men appear –quite literally, considering they teleported in—in your kitchen unannounced.

(Okay, perhaps they don’t qualify as “mysterious” when one of them is your dad, one of them is your brother, and the third is your uncle, but there’s a fourth man with them that you don’t recognize, so you like to think that the principle of the expression remains intact.)

You glance between Nate, Wade, your uncle, and the aforementioned unrecognized fourth man, then lift the box of cereal you’d been pouring into a bowl by way of greeting. “Breakfast?”

***

(The fourth man, as it turns out, goes by the code name “Kronos” –which, in terms of super cool code names, ranks at about an eight.)

“There’s a war coming,” Nate explains while the four of you stand around your kitchen counter. “Apocalypse is stirring. He’ll be sending his allies to Earth to initiate the first stage of the war, so that he’ll encounter less resistance when he comes to rule.”

“‘s called ‘The Decimation,’” Wade interjects as he shovels spoonfuls of Lucky Charms into his mouth. He points at his bowl, then jerks his head at the fridge. “D’ y’all have chocolate syrup?”

“Yeah, second shelf on the door.” You take another bite of your cereal, swallow, then ask Nathan, “What… what happens with ‘The Decimation?’”

“One of Apocalypse’s allies, Thanos, will arrive with his armies and generals. He’ll use his own forces to annihilate the heroes of Earth, then he’ll finish assembling the Infinity Stones and gauntlet and use them to wipe out half of all life across the cosmos.”

You purse your lips together and eye your dad warily. “If… if this was anyone other than you saying this, I’d say this all sounds like a hackneyed comic book and-or movie plot.”

“His information checks out,” Kronos says, voice low and gravelly. “Our cross-temporal intel confirms communications between Apocalypse and Thanos. We might have a few weeks to prepare for Thanos’s arrival –and that’s if we’re lucky.”

Wade snorts and mutters something that sounds suspiciously like “handwavey bullshit” under his breath.

You look to your uncle. “And you’re here because…”

“Need to talk to Xavier,” your uncle answers, “and then alert the Avengers and anyone else that can help us face Thanos.”

“Right,” you say slowly. “And you stopped here first because…”

“I was hungry,” Wade blurts as he drizzles more chocolate syrup on top of his cereal.

“You have credibility,” Nathan says while shooting Wade an equally annoyed and endeared look. “Xavier and Piotr listen to you, and the rest of the X-Men listen to them. We can’t afford to deal with a bunch of hesitating and infighting right now. We need to get our shit together and defeat Thanos, or the world as we know it is fucked.”

“Question.” Wade lifts his spoon. “Does Donald Trump die in this decimation bullshit?”

“We’ll deal with him later,” your uncle stage-whispers to Wade.

“If you’re all sure…” You wait for all four of them to nod, then sigh and shrug. “Alright. I think most of the X-Men are training right now. Let’s go talk to them.”

***

“This all sounds fucking insane.”

Wade gasps. The eyes on his mask widen as he lifts a gloved hand to where his mouth is under his mask. “James Doohan used a no-no word! My goodness gracious golly!”

Scott Summers scowls, but otherwise ignores Wade. He turns to the Professor, expression incredulous. “Do you believe… any of this?”

Xavier grimaces. “Our sources through Kronos” –he gestures to your uncle’s colleague—“have been confirming the intentions of Apocalypse for several years now. The difficulty was always in determining when Apocalypse would act, and in which timeline –though, now that we have Cable’s intel, we’ve been able to figure those two details out.”

“If Thanos is as powerful as you’re saying,” Ororo pipes up, looking at Nathan, “then how are we supposed to defeat him?”

“Any way we can,” Nathan fires back, expression grim.

“Our intel says that Thanos only has three of the six Infinity Stones, along with the gauntlet,” Kronos adds. “If we can keep the last three stones out of his hands and defeat his armies here on Earth, we’ll have better odds of facing Apocalypse down the road.”

“Right,” Jean says. “And where are the last three stones?”

“The Mind Stone is in the possession of Vision, an android created by Ultron, who now works with the Avengers,” Kronos explains. “The Time Stone is in the possession of Doctor Stephen Strange, who leads an order of sorcerers and magic users in New York. The Soul Stone… has yet to be located.”

“And we’re sure that Thanos is coming here?” Ororo asks, brows raised in skepticism.

“One of the unifying features across the pertinent timelines is a battle that takes place on Earth, specifically in the country of Wakanda,” Kronos answers. “Regardless of the other features in the timeline, there is always a major confrontation between Thanos and the forces of earth there.”

“Great,” Rogue deadpans, expression flat. “Now we just have to convince them to let us in. ‘Excuse me, your Majesty T’Challa, but there’s an evil spaceman that is collecting all powerful rhinestones and he’s going to come here to try and wipe out half of all life on Earth, so we need you to let us into your country with strict visitation policies to we can help you fight him.’ Yeah, that’ll go over real well.”

“We don’t have time to waste on sarcastic bullshit,” Nathan grits out, cybernetic eye flaring as he glares at Rogue. “We’ll handle getting the Avengers and Wakanda on board,” he says, turning to the Professor. “I take it we can trust you to get your team and Magneto collected?”

“I’ll contact Erik,” Xavier promises before looking over at your husband. “Piotr, would you mind calling your family? I believe, given the severity of the coming conflict, having as many hands as possible would be in our best interests.”

Piotr nods. “Konechno –of course.” He looks up at you from where he’s sitting, confusion clear in his sky blue eyes—

“You good to come with us?” Nathan asks, tapping your shoulder lightly to get your attention. “We’ll need help talking to Stark.”

“Huh? Uh –yeah. Sure.” You look back at Piotr; the request to ask for five minutes, just five minutes, to talk to your husband is on the tip of your tongue—

Nate tugs you –gently—a couple inches closer, then says, “Bodyslide by five.”

The room blurs, then disappears from view.

***

You’ve only bodyslid with Nathan a handful of times –and each time you do, you’re always caught off guard by how fucking weird it feels.

Your stomach lurches like you’ve just gone down the steepest drop on a rollercoaster, even though the ground remains steady beneath your feet. In a flash, there’s a brand new room in front of you –sleek, monochromatic cabinets, white marble countertops, stainless steel appliances and fixtures, the works. The space oozes sophistication, function, style –and money. So much money.

Given everything you’ve heard about Tony Stark, it makes sense.

“Deep breaths,” Nathan says. He places a steadying hand on your shoulder while you blink rapidly. “In through the nose, out through the mouth.”

You do your best to comply –though it’s a bit difficult, given that your brain is shrieking ‘sensory overload’ while trying to adjust to the new lighting, the new sounds, the sensation of having moved without really having moved at all, at least in the sense of walking or riding in a car—

And then alarms start blaring. Red lights flash, klaxons go off, the works.

Wade swears and claps his hands over his ears. “Christ! For a guy who has literal robots that can wipe his ass with dollar bills, you think he’d invest in something a little easier on the ears!”

“Wilson!” The klaxons and red lights cut out, replaced by various whirring noises and the sound of hurried, angry footsteps. “I swear to God, if you’ve hijacked one of my jets again, I’m gonna –who the fuck are all of you?”

Tony Stark looks… nothing like what you see in the papers. Granted, his face and hair look largely the same, but he’s not wearing the crisp, stylish suits that all the magazines, articles, papers, and interviews feature him wearing. He’s got on a worn, holey Metallica shirt, ripped, grease stained jeans, and a pair of scuffed sneakers that look like they might’ve been purchased ten years ago, for all that they’re barely holding together.

The army of security bots hovering and whirring around him, however, do fit his press image.

“Jon Snow!” Wade chirps, waggling his fingers at the harried “genius-billionaire-playboy-philanthropist.” “Long time, no talk. How’s Daenerys doing?”

“Summers, would you do me a favor and put your psychopath on a leash?” Tony asks, tone less than polite or pleasant as he focuses on Nate. “Preferably a nice short one that’s far away from me?”

“We’re here to talk,” Nathan says –though he does stop Wade from trying to play with the knives in the block on the kitchen counter. “It’s a matter of life and death. The well-being of the entire universe is at stake.”

“Yeah, been there, done that,” Tony says, looking none too impressed.

“One of your colleagues may have mentioned his name,” Kronos interjects, taking a step forward. “Does the word ‘Thanos’ ring any bells?”

Tony’s expression sobers for an instant, but he hides it quickly enough. “This is private property, and you’re all—”

A red being with a green suit and a yellow gem in the center of his forehead emerges from the floor. He places himself between Tony and the rest of you. “Would you like me to escort them out, Mr. Stark?”

“Ah, Casper the Friendly Android with No Concept of Personal Boundaries Despite the Infinite Knowledge!” Wade fires back, waving cheerfully. “How you doing, twenty-twenty?”

Vision sighs, longsuffering. “You have been expressly forbidden from these premises, Mr. Wilson.”

“Unless he’s here under my direct supervision,” Nathan fires back. “Stark, we need to talk about this—”

“Tony?” A tall, elegant woman with red hair wearing a tailored, navy blue dress walks up behind the man in question. She flashes you all a polite smile, but there’s no missing the way her gaze cautiously assesses each one of you. “I’m guessing these aren’t –oh. Wade’s here.”

Wade waves in response. “Hi, Miss Potts! How’s being a CEO?”

“It’s going very well, thank you,” Pepper replies politely –though, this time, she’s scanning the room for missing objects and-or visible damage. When nothing turns up, she looks back at Tony. “Are we escorting them out?”

“They claim to have information about the end of the world,” Tony says, tone flippant –though the grave expression on his face belies his snark. “About Thanos.”

Recognition flashes over Pepper’s face, though her polite mask never fully slips. She nods, then says, “Are we going to listen to them?”

“Probably should,” Tony replies in the same lackadaisical tone. “I’m not turning off the security drones while Wilson’s here, though.”

“Just for that, I’m pissing in your Ficus before I leave,” Wade huffs.

“That seems like it’s for the best,” Pepper tells Tony, smiling going tight at the edges while she stares at Wade. She takes a breath, steeling herself, then steps past Tony and nods at the rest of you in greeting. “Sorry for the confusion. Would you mind coming with us, so we can talk somewhere more comfortable?”

***

“I started connecting the dots after Thor left,” Tony explains, twirling a pencil between his fingers as he paces back and forth. “He mentioned Thanos briefly –but with the destruction and repurposing of Loki’s staff, the straggling records of Dormammu’s attack and the use of the Time Stone by Strange, the roles that the Tesseract and Loki’s staff played in the attack on New York by the Chitauri…” He sighs, pausing to stare out at the window at some unseen object before grimacing and shrugging. “It wasn’t hard to figure out.”

You’re all gathered in a conference room –which, as with the kitchen, carries the same modern, sleek style. Floor to ceiling windows show off the training grounds and the forest that conceals the base from the rest of the world. A massive plasma TV takes up one of the far walls, while the other walls are taken up by various dormant, holographic and electronic displays (made by Stark himself, no doubt). A black, oblong table sits in the center of the room, with leather, silver studded swivel chairs positioned around it.

“How many are there?” Tony asks, looking first at Kronos, then at Nathan. “How much time do we have?”

“There are six Infinity Stones in total,” Kronos says. “Thanos already has three –the Space stone, which was contained by the Tesseract, the Reality stone and the Power stone. Your colleague, Vision—” he gestures to the android “—is in possession of the Mind Stone already, and Stephen Strange has the Time Stone. Our agents have been unable to confirm the whereabouts of the Soul Stone, but we’re certain that Thanos doesn’t have it.”

“Yet,” Tony adds, tone pessimistic.

“As far as time goes, we have a few days at most,” Nathan says, crossing his arms over his chest. “Maybe a week, if we’re lucky.”

Tony grimaces. “That doesn’t bode well for rebuilding international relations on a dime. Or team morale for that matter.”

“Sort it out,” Nathan gravels out. “We’ve got bigger issues.”

“We won’t have time for issues if we can’t even pull a team together,” Tony snaps.

“If it helps…” Kronos withdraws a flash drive from his jacket pocket and holds it out to Tony. “The evidence of Thanos’s collection of the stones and his plans to come here.”

Tony accepts the flash drive. He turns it over in his fingers a couple times –no doubt mentally comparing the drive to the technology he’s created—then pockets it. “And Xavier’s on board with all this?”

You blink when you realize everyone’s staring at you. “Uh –yes. He’s contacting Erik Lensherr for some additional support, and the rest of the X-Men are ready to take on Thanos as well.”

“Great.” Tony stares down at the table for a moment, expression slightly melancholy but otherwise inscrutable, but then he snaps back to his usual self. “Good meeting. I’ll text you with the details.”

“Ooh, does that mean we’re trading numbers?” Wade gasps, pressing his hands on either side of his face. “I’ll put you on my favorites list.”

“I’ll contact Xavier,” Tony amends, shooting Wade a slightly harried look.

“We’ll be ready,” you assure him, at a loss for what else to say as you hook your arm around Wade’s to keep him from messing with the holographic display system.

“Vision will escort you out,” Pepper says with a polite smile and nod.

“I’ll make you a friendship bracelet, Tony the Tiger!” Wade calls as you and Nathan gently usher him towards the door. “Wait –stop shoving me! I need to get his wrist size!”

“Later, gorgeous,” Nate says with a barely suppressed smile.

Under any other circumstances, you’d laugh, but the stony foreboding weighing down your gut makes it too hard to even muster up a chuckle –especially when you catch Tony slumping down into one of the conference room chairs with a despairing expression on his face. You force yourself to focus on getting Wade out of the Avenger’s headquarters without stealing anything –though that does little to calm your swirling thoughts. How in the hell are we gonna pull this off?

***

“Are you okay?”

You sigh, instinctively wriggling back against Piotr’s chest as he lays down behind you. “Define ‘okay.’”

It’s nearly midnight now. Between contacting other allies for help –Nathan had you all bodysliding around New York for the better part of the day to reach out to the Hell’s Kitchen figures—and learning up about Thanos’s army and what could be expected in a confrontation against him, you didn’t get home until well after dinner.

You’re in bed now, too tired for anything else. You stare out the windows that overlook the balcony, purposefully trying to keep your mind blank so you don’t grow overwhelmed by the chaos buzzing in your brain.

Because this is insane. This is beyond mutant trafficking or petty grievances between groups of mutant rivals or even being gunned down by the mafia. This is beyond abusive parents, groups of hateful bigots, or anti-mutant legislators.

It’s –quite literally—the fate of the entire world. The entire galaxy. Based on Nathan’s reports of the future, half of all life is wiped out. People, animals, plants –all gone, dissolved into piles of ash… and for what? So some egomaniac can have his moment of glory?

Your stomach curdles when you even try to contemplate a life without Piotr.

“Hey.” Piotr draws you in close when you start crying. “Tische, myshka. Everything is okay.”

“But it’s not.” You sniff, wiping at your eyes with your sleeve. “Nothing about this is fucking okay, Piotr. Someone’s gonna wipe out half of the damn universe because he wants to jerk off to it later.”

“He has to go through us, first,” Piotr reminds you as he presses soft, sweet kisses against your cheek.

“We don’t have the numbers,” you point out bleakly. “We don’t have the ammunition. We don’t have the time to make a solid plan, or to prepare any extra defenses, or—”

Piotr hugs you tight. He kisses the top of your head. His hand strokes up and down your arm in an attempt to soothe you.

You grip his other hand, holding him close to you. You focus on how warm and solid he is. How wonderful he is and how lovely your life is with him. “I love you, Piotr.”

“And I love you, Y/N.”

You squeeze your eyes shut and cry some more.

***

The call comes in at five thirty in the morning.

“Stark’s brought around the other Avengers and Wakanda,” Nathan says, sounding far more alert than you ever will at this godforsaken hour. “We’re lifting off at seven.”

“Roger that,” you manage while Piotr turns on the bedside lamp and blinks the sleep out of his eyes. “We’ll be ready.” You set down your phone when the call ends, then groan and drop your head into your pillow. Why can’t the end of the world ever happen in the afternoon?

***

The Blackbird jets are loaded to maximum capacity. Aside from carrying the X-Men and the X-Force exclusive members, you’re also ferrying the Hell’s Kitchen vigilantes, Piotr’s family and Allison, your uncle and his team, and the younger children and their parents to Wakanda for safe-keeping (your uncle’s reasoning was that an enemy of the institute might notice the sudden lack of protection and decide to attack the younger, more vulnerable students and their families for vengeance, so it was better to be safe than sorry).

You keep close to Piotr or to the cockpit, but there’s still no avoiding the tense, cramped feeling.

You’re not the only “birds” in the sky, either. It’s practically a whole convoy, flying out to Wakanda in what might’ve been a formation if Wade didn’t occasionally grab the control and try to do a “barrel roll.” Magneto and his forces are flying in their own airship, while the Avengers are leading their pack in Tony’s custom, “cutting edge of technology” jets.

You watch the small fleet of jets that belong to the Avengers, lips pursed into a tight line. Your gaze darts over to the navigation board every few seconds, tracking your miniscule progress across the Atlantic Ocean towards Wakanda.

There’s a heavy sigh behind you, and then an even heavier pair of arms settle around your shoulders. “Myshka. You should rest.”

You “hmm” softly to let Piotr know you heard him, but you don’t step away from the cockpit door.

He kisses the top of head and starts gently rubbing your neck with his thumbs. “Will be several hours before arrival, dorogoy. There is nothing you can do until then.”

“It feels like wasting time,” you murmur back –because, naturally, Piotr’s seen to the heart of the issue already. “We’ve got so much to do.”

“And we can do nothing until we arrive in Wakanda.” Piotr kisses your temple, then gently nudges you away from the cockpit. “Come sit with me, lyublyu. You will need full energy when we land.”

And that, above all else, is the only reason you let Piotr usher you over to the nearest seat.

You crawl into his lap once he sits, curling up in his arms. You lay your head on his shoulder and let his warmth combined with the gentle thrum of the jet’s sonic engines lull you to sleep.

***

Wakanda is simultaneously everything and nothing like what you expected.

There’s a force shield that surrounds the inner part of the country that gives way as the convoy of ships pass through it. It almost seems to shimmer out of view before revealing an elegant, shining palace and curved, glimmering towers that comprise the larger part of the city. Lush jungle and towering, ice-capped mountains border the city, split by a winding river and rushing waterfalls.

It almost looks too beautiful to be real.

The awe-inducing visuals and technology don’t stop as the convoy flies out to a glittering, black glass structure that, on the navigation board, is labeled as the lab of Princess Shuri. The convoy swoops around to a massive hangar at the base of the building, landing just inside on the polished stone and metal floor.

Waiting for all of you in the hangar is King T’Challa Udaku; he’s wearing a black robe embroidered with silver thread and a vibrant kente scarf, and generally looks every bit as poised and unflappable as he did in the UN interviews. He’s flanked by his Dora Milaje soldiers –who are undeniably badass with their armor and spears, and you catch Ellie, Yukio, and Kitty all staring at the women in awe—and his partner, Nakia, and his sister, Princess Shuri.

Tony and Professor Xavier handle the introductions with the King, which lets you stretch and take in the hangar and throngs of superheroes. You recognize a few of them –Captain America aka Steve Rogers, Ant-Man aka Scott Lang and his entourage --including a man with dark hair styled like Elvis that you recall seeing in some sort of news interview a while back and a young woman with curly brown hair and warm eyes that’s holding his hand-- and War Hero ,aka James Rhodes, aka Tony’s best friend and “work wife”—but some of the entourage members are new to you.

You take a moment to stretch out your back –sleeping in Piotr’s lap isn’t the worst quality rest you’ve ever had, but given the configurations of the jet seats it was a little cramped—and admire the glimmering, inlaid lights on the hangar ceiling. Swanky.

“We have space prepared for the upcoming preparations and hosting all of you,” T’Challa says, voice cutting through the din of the crowd with ease. “If you would all follow Princess Shuri, please.”

Shuri smiles, then motions for everyone to follow her out of the hangar.

Half of the Dora Milaje break away from the formation, keeping a protective line between the princess and everyone else.

You fall into stride alongside your husband, well-practiced by now at matching your steps to his long stride.

***

The “prepared space” winds up being three massive rooms, each with smaller rooms sectioned around the main spaces, a kitchen-slash-rec area that joins the three massive rooms in the center, and three large, communal style bathrooms with multiple stalls for toilets and showers. The main rooms have several long, workstation style tables at them, with some beds stationed at the fringes, and the smaller rooms function only as bedrooms, mostly for the families with kids and the handful of couples present.

“This interface,” Princess Shuri says as she taps on a small disk embedded into the wall, “will let you contact security and staff if you have questions or need to speak with someone. There’s one in each room, for easy access. It will begin glowing and beeping if someone’s trying to send a call to you; you answer by pressing the base,” she explains, demonstrating on the disk.

“We’re expecting another group of people,” Tony pipes up. “Strange is collecting some of our allies from the South Eastern Quadrant. They should be here in the next sixteen hours, give or take.”

Shuri nods. “We’ll contact you when they arrive.” She offers the group a magnanimous nod and smile, then strides out the hall you all entered through, flanked by the Dora Milaje soldiers.

For a moment, no one moves. You all stand around, hesitating as you all try to take in the new scenery and space.

Alex moves first. She sighs, then grabs her duffel and strides towards the nearest workroom. “No point in waiting.”

Her initiative seems to jolt everyone else out of their daze. Everyone sections off, largely sticking with the groups of their original affiliation.

You amble alongside Piotr, peering around the workroom as you try to decide where to set your pack. Here goes nothing.

***

We’re staring down the apocalypse, you muse as you watch everyone set up shop, and it’s all coming down to sewing machines.

It’d come as a shock when Alexandra had lugged the sleek, white machine out of its carrying case. She’d set it on one of the tables, then lifted bolts of thick, rugged Kevlar out of one of her duffels next. Thread, scissors, measuring tape, and gridded cutting boards follow the Kevlar—

And then the sewing machine jammed as soon as Alex turned it on.

“Ty meshok der'ma,” Alex mutters under her breath as she fiddles with the internal mechanisms of the sewing machine. She glares at the gears, grumbling and swearing while she prods at them with a pair of tweezers. “Kakogo khrena tvoya problema?”

The situation seems mundane in its inanity.

The end of the damn world, and we’re being thwarted by twenty pounds of plastic and metal.

“Day mne poprobovat'.” Nikolai crouches down next to his wife. He adjusts the reading glasses perched on his nose, then aims a small flashlight at the interior of the machine. He murmurs and tuts in Russian while prodding at the machine –and then he makes a soft noise of exclamation. “Broken needle. Pryamo tam.”

“Sukin syn.” Alex uses her telekinesis to draw out the metal shard, then lets out an exasperated sigh and spreads her arms when the machine finally makes the proper start up noises. “Thank you.”

“Be nice,” Nikolai chides her with a teasing grin. “Is uncomfortable, having metal stuck in organs. You would not want to work either.”

“I’ve had metal in my organs,” Alex grumbles as she gets her sewing machine configured. “I still managed.” She smirks when Nikolai laughs, then kisses her husband’s cheek before motioning for you to approach. “Come here, ptitsa. I want to reinforce your suit; I need your measurements.”

You round the table, shucking off your sweatshirt so Alex can measure your torso. “Is there anything I need to do?”

“Just hold still, malenkiy,” Alex murmurs as she runs her tape measure around your waist.

“I make no promises,” you joke.

Alex snorts, then moves her measuring tape up to your ribcage.

***

The waiting is, somehow, worse now.

At least on the plan there was a promise of a destination. A sense of the temporary, that you’d be up and moving and doing again within a few hours.

Unfortunately, reality is so often different from how you envision it, just as it is now. Because the reality of the situation is that there are only a limited number of people capable of helping. Nate and Tony are working with the Princess to configure weapons to fight Thanos’s forces, Hank and the healers are preparing a makeshift medical bay, Frank, Wade, Mikhail, and Neena are cleaning and checking guns, Alex, Piotr and Nikolai are taking turns working on fabricating armor for those who need it—

Leaving you with nothing to do. Aside from keeping those who are working well fed and hydrated and managing the kids, all you can do is sit and watch while everyone else prepares.

It’s agony. Your chest aches from stress, and your stomach’s churning so much you can barely choke food down at mealtimes. I need to help more. I need to do something, dammit.

It’s like being in line for random execution and having no idea whether you’re going to be shot or not.

You stay close to Piotr. You run food and snacks and drinks for anyone who needs it. You help manage the kids when the need arises –but since most of their parents are here, the incidents are far and few between.

You sit. And you wait.

It’s all you can do.

***

“Absolutely not.”

“You need to be reasonable.”

“I am. It’s perfectly reasonable to keep a fourteen-year-old off a fucking battlefield!”

Alex sighs. She leans back in her seat and raises an eyebrow at her eldest daughter. “Normally I would agree, but I don’t think you’ll have much say in the matter. Your ability to control her is notably lacking.”

Artemis huffs and crosses her arms over her chest. “You try reining in a teenager who’s realized there’s no consequences to her actions.”

“I’m not judging, merely observing,” Alex assures her daughter. “But, at any rate, it’s not unreasonable to predict that she’ll join the fray at some point. Body armor is a necessity.”

“It’s an invitation! She’ll take it as permission!”

“Artemis?” Allison sticks her head into the room, then strides over to her mentor-slash-surrogate mother. “Is everything okay? Who’s getting permission to do what?”

“No one is,” Artemis grumbles, even as she holds her arm out so the teen can lean against her side. “Especially not you.”

Allison lets out a disgusted sigh and rolls her eyes. “I already told you—”

“You’re not fighting.”

“I can handle myself!” Allison snaps. She jerks away from Tatianna, scowling. “You’re treating me like a baby!”

“Compared to me, you are a baby,” the older woman points out drily.

“It’s not your burden to bear,” Alex interjects, fixing the testy teen with an even –though not harsh—stare. “Teenagers shouldn’t have to fight for the future of the world. That’s for adults to handle.”

“No one gets to decide,” Allison grits out, “what my burdens are. And this isn’t about ‘should’ or ‘shouldn’t.’”

The corner of Alex’s mouth twitches. She looks up at Artemis, brows raised.

Artemis sighs. She tips her head back, staring up at the ceiling, then looks down at Allison. “You need body armor to keep you safe. That does not mean, however, that you’ll be joining us in the fight against Thanos.”

Allison sweeps her tongue along the inside of her cheek. She crosses her arms and cocks her head to the side. “Pretty sure you don’t get to decide that.”

“Pretty sure you should listen to me,” Artemis fires back, “since I have more experience and am telling you that it’s too much for you to handle.” She lets out an exasperated breath when Allison rolls her eyes, then waves her hand dismissively as if to say ‘I tried.’ “Get her set up.”

Alex nods, then waves Allison over. “Alright, malenkiy. Let’s get you sorted.”

***

“Are you asleep?”

“Nyet.” Piotr rolls over, drapes an arm over you, and kisses your forehead. “I would ask you the same, but…”

You manage a small chuckle. “Pretty obvious answer, yeah.”

The two of you are in one of the private rooms –if only because (aside from your status as married) it has a bed big enough to accommodate Piotr. There’s a small window that overlooks a cavern beneath the lab. Dim, blue light seeps through the glass pane, but it’s not enough to properly illuminate the room.

Piotr’s fingers skim over your upper arm. “Why are you not sleeping, myshka?”

“Can’t,” you admit, voice wavering. You take a deep breath through your nose and try to calm yourself. “I just… I can’t handle not doing anything. It gives me too much time to think about what might happen.”

Piotr croons gently, drawing you in closer so he can tuck you against his chest. He cradles your head with one massive head. “Dorogoy. You know such things are not good for you.”

“Yeah, I know,” you grumble, eyes stinging with unshed tears. “Doesn’t mean that knowledge stops my brain any.”

“Ya znayu,” Piotr murmurs as he kisses your temple. “But everything is going to be alright, myshka.”

“Except it really might not be,” you argue, voice shaking. You grip the material of his shirt, as though he might be wrenched away from you at any moment and whisked away into the wind. “It really might not, Piotr.”

Your husband doesn’t say anything in response to that. He merely holds you closer still and strokes his fingers through your hair.

You press your forehead against his chest and start weeping quietly.

***

The second day is much like the first –a slow, agonizing crawl punctuated by overwhelming anxiety and exhaustion.

You linger at the table where Nate, Tony, and Ellie are modifying guns, handing the three various tools and materials when they ask for it. You watch their progress numbly, brain devoid of anything other than wordless worry.

At least, you watch until Nate texts Piotr to come get you.

“Davay, myshka,” your husband coaxes as he lifts you off your stool. He grunts slightly as he shifts you into a bridal-style hold, then carries you away from the table and out of the room. “Let’s have lunch.”

“But—”

“Is important to stay fed and hydrated.”

“—I was helping.” You peer past Piotr’s arm –then sigh when Nathan gives you a sympathetic, concerned smile and waves you along. “Baby—”

“Just for little bit.” Piotr sets you down when you ask, but he keeps a hand on your shoulder, just in case. “Is not good to sit and stew in anxiety.”

You drop your gaze to the floor. “You can’t prove anything.”

Piotr lifts his hand from your shoulder and cradles your cheek. He strokes his thumb against your skin, waiting until you look up at him before speaking again. “Come have lunch with me, moya lyubov’,” he says with an adoring smile (which you’re certain is a deliberate, tactical move on his part to make sure you don’t try and argue, and dammit if it isn’t working). “I would enjoy your company.”

You scuff the toe of your sneaker against the floor, but ultimately acquiesce. “Alright. I guess I should take a break.”

***

The snooping starts after lunch, while Alex is chewing Frank out for spray-painting his bullet proof vest.

“What, are you looking to ruin perfectly good Kevlar?” Alex gripes as she tosses Frank’s “Punisher” vest aside. “You want to break down the material? Get shot out like some schmuck because you decided to be an artist?”

“It’s strategic,” Frank argues with a good-natured, crooked grin. “Keeps my enemies’ line of sight trained on where I have the most protection.”

Alex nods and makes a sarcastic noise of assent. “‘Strategic.’ Is that what it is? Ya ne mogu v eto poverit'. V moye vremya my nazyvali strategiyu pobedoy, a ne stavili svoyu grebanuyu vizitnuyu kartochku na kazhdoye sovershennoye nami proklyatoye ubiystvo. Get your ass over here, drama boy.” She scoffs and starts measuring Frank’s chest and shoulders. “‘Strategiya,’” she scoffs. “What a load of horse shit.”

“Akh akh,” Nikolai tuts as he walks into the room with a plate of food and glass of water. “What is happening here?”

“I’m pretty sure I upset the apple cart, sir,” Frank says, unabashed.

Nikolai chuckles while Alexandra brings up to speed, ranting in irritated Russian. He sets the plate and glass on the table next to his wife, kisses her head, then ambles back out to the kitchen—

And that’s when you notice it. Or, rather, her.

Natasha Romanoff, aka the Black Widow. Renowned spy, assassin, weapons and espionage expert, and former member of the Avengers if the debacle surrounding the Sokovia Accords is to be believed.

She’s sitting at the kitchen counter on barstool, tapping away at her phone –which isn’t inherently suspicious, but her line of sight lets her look directly into the room you’re all situated in and—

She’s watching Alex.

At first you think she might be watching Frank (which, fair enough, having a mass murderer, somewhat unstable vigilante around is a reasonable cause for caution). But when Frank gets up and walks out (probably to go find Karen), Natasha doesn’t even move. Her gaze –when she’s not looking at her phone—stays fixed on Alexandra while she works at her sewing machine.

For once, you’re grateful Piotr is as large as he is; he makes a great hiding spot to do countersurveillance from.

Natasha approaches slowly, but deliberately. She talks to someone on her phone –whether she’s faking or not doesn’t matter to you, because she still uses it to get off the barstool and amble around while she’s talking. Then, she has a conversation with Captain Rogers, which she uses to get a few feet closer to the doorway.

At some point, you’re not certain if she realizes you’re watching her, only because she gives up the pretense of trying to hide her snooping entirely. She leans against the doorframe, watching Alex intently while she marks, pins, and cuts out fabric.

It’s Illyana who has enough of the whole thing first. Three minutes into Natasha standing in the door way, the blonde sighs, sets her phone down on the work table, and glares up at the red head. “Kakogo khrena ty khochesh?”

Natasha purses her lips slightly. She acknowledges Illyana with a brief glance, then turns her focus back to Alex. “Alexandra.”

“Natalia,” Alex says by way of greeting, not even bothering to look up from her work. “Are you here to help, or are you here to waste my time?”

She grimaces, but recovers and smiles politely. “It’s been a long time.”

“So, you’re here to waste my time,” Alex surmises as she pins a pattern to a piece of heavy black Kevlar.

Natasha swallows reflexively, then turns on her heel and walks away.

***

Half an hour later, it’s Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes’s turn.

The two supersoldiers are far less covert than Agent Romanoff. They stand in the middle of the rec room, a few feet away from the door, and don’t make any attempt to hide their conversation or the fact that they’re watching Alex (and, to some extent, her children and Nikolai as well).

Illyana says something to her mother a few times, but Alex waves her off –and, in general, seems unbothered. “U nas yest' rabota, snezhinka. U nas yest' rabota.”

“Did you know him?” you ask, later, when the Rasputin kids are out of the room. “The Winter Soldier?”

You’ve heard enough through the grapevine to know about the basics of the man’s story –captured by Hydra, experimentation, brainwashing, being coerced into murdering.

(It all sounds chillingly familiar.)

“We crossed paths,” Alex admits with a shrug. She slides a piece of ceramic armor plating inside a Kevlar pouch, then starts sewing the pouch shut. “Overlap was common back in the day.”

“Do you think he remembers you?” you murmur, glancing out at the kitchen (fortunately, Rogers and Barnes are gone for now).

Alex pauses. She purses her lips, then shrugs and resumes working. “I don’t know. He went through a lot with the forced mind wipes. There’s really no way of knowing.”

“Are you going to be in trouble if he does remember you?”

Alex huffs and favors you with a gentle smile. “I’ve gotten out of worse, ptitsa. Don’t worry so much.”

You say that like it’s easy, you think while the knot in your stomach coils tighter.

***

There’s a brief reprieve around dinner. You even manage to relax a little, smiling and chuckling as Piotr and Mikhail bicker and generally irritate each other as much as humanly possible.

Work starts up once more as soon as everyone’s done eating. You nestle yourself against Piotr’s side, relaxed via the virtue of being too tired to be stressed—

And then Tony Stark walks in.

Or perhaps “walk” isn’t the right term. He moves with an air of grandeur and utter self-assurance –which, even with your limited exposure to Tony Stark, you can tell is a “brand standard” for him. He tosses an apple up and down in one hand as he breezes along, expression blasé to the point of looking disinterested as he strides up to the table where Alexandra works.

If it weren’t for Natasha, Captain Rogers, and Sergeant Barnes scoping out the Rasputin matriarch earlier, you would’ve pegged Stark’s visit as entirely coincidental.

“What’s your deal?” Tony asks, leaning against the table next to where Alex is stationed at her sewing machine.

No pretense. No niceties. No attempt at subtlety.

Alex’s lips quirk into an annoyed grimace. She looks up and over the top of her machine for a moment, staring at Nikolai (likely trying to find any scrap of his infinite patience for herself), then lowers her gaze once more and says, “Usually, it’s not answering vague, pointless questions asked by nosey individuals.”

“You’ve got half my team twisted up just by being here,” Tony continues, unruffled. “I’ve seen Romanoff stare down the Hulk on a rampage without flinching. What about you is so special that you make her nervous?”

“Interesting,” Alex comments, almost to herself. “And here I thought, after the Berlin incident, your ‘team’ was largely disbanded. Something about ‘not agreeing with your leadership.’”

Tony’s face twitches, mouth briefly stretching into a pained grimace before he smooths it back out. “You don’t exist.”

“Everyone’s concept of self is different,” Alex mutters as she rips out a crooked seam on an armor pouch.

“There’s no record of your birth. Or your parents, for that matter. Your marriage license has no given maiden name. No history of education, doctor’s visits, driver’s license –nothing until you turned twenty-four.” He takes a bite of his apple, swallows, then says, “People don’t just ‘poof’ into existence as full grown adults. It doesn’t happen.”

“Perhaps,” Alex retorts as she resews the faulty seam, “you are just not very good at finding things.”

“I can find anything.”

“Except, it would seem, a way to keep from trying my patience.”

Tony watches her for a moment longer –then, when she doesn’t say anything, he turns and starts striding out of the room. “I’m going to figure out what’s up with you. There aren’t any secrets that can hide from my A.I.”

Alex doesn’t dignify his departure with a response –but her eyelid twitches as she continues her sewing.

You look up at Piotr, only to find he’s watching Nikolai. You look over at the Rasputin patriarch, and your heart sinks when you see the worried expression on his face.

Nick sighs, then stands and rounds the table. He ambles up behind his wife, drapes his arms around her shoulders, and kisses the top of her head before he starts murmuring to her in quiet, loving Russian.

You lean against Piotr’s side, giving him a reassuring squeeze even though the only thing you feel is disquieted. You force yourself to take a deep breath and relax your jaw as fear starts crawling up your spine once more. One thing at a time. One thing at a time, that’s all you can do.

Except, it seems, when everything decides to happen at once.

***

Meeting the Norse god of thunder is… intense.

Though, that may have to do with the entourage of people he brings with him.

Around three in the morning, Dr. Strange shows up with the remaining allies –Thor, god of thunder, and his brother Loki, god of magic, Bruce Banner aka the Hulk, a woman by the name of Carol, and a group that calls themselves the “Guardians of the Galaxy” (which happens to include a talking raccoon and a sentient tree).

“Just when you thought, like, it couldn’t get weirder,” Kitty mutters to you as she stares at the newest arrivals.

You nod. Granted, your usual metric for all things weird is Wade, who has basically explored every avenue of zany, bizarre, and disturbing—

But yeah, this is pretty fucking weird.

“Where do we stand in preparations for the arrival of Thanos?” Thor asks Tony.

“We’ve got most of the busywork done,” Tony says, outlining the weapons upgrades and the armor work that’s been done. “We waited for major planning until we had everyone here and better intel.”

Thor nods, then gestures to two women standing with the “Guardians of the Galaxy,” one with green skin and dark hair and the other with blue skin and cybernetic enhancements. “This is Gamora and Nebula, daughters of Thanos. They’ll be able to provide information on the strength and size of his forces.”

“Good,” Steve pipes up from where he’s standing with Sam Wilson and Sergeant Barnes. “The sooner we have a plan, the better.”

“It can wait until we’ve slept,” Alex decides, voice crisp. “We won’t come up with anything good while we’re fried.”

Tony blinks, then scowls. “Thanos could be here as soon as this coming morning.”

“Then we’ll be doubly fucked if we’ve stayed up all night trying to scrape together a plan,” Alex replies, unmoved. She crosses her arms when Tony glares at her. “The younger and less experienced of us need rest if this is going to work.”

“I’m with the lady,” Quill pipes up, brushing past Tony. He gives Stark a smile that, if you had to wager, is supposed to be charming but just comes off as arrogant. “I think you’ll find that we… don’t really roll with plans. It’s not our style.”

Alex stares at Quill for a moment, expression vastly unimpressed. She sighs, blinks slowly, shakes her head, then turns on her heel and strides back to the room she’s been sharing with Nick. “Absolutely not. I’m going back to bed.”

As if waiting for a cue, everyone else disperses, muttering about being tired and “needing an IV drip of espresso.”

You shuffle off with Piotr, hand in hand, shivering slightly from nerves. Please just let this go well.

***

“Both the Chitauri and the Klyntaar forces number into the tens of thousands. The Chitauri have sentient airships capable of carrying infantry forces while wreaking their own havoc, in addition to chariots that can carry up to five marksmen at a time. He also has tanks the size of this building that can demolish anything in their path.”

Everyone is gathered in one of the main work rooms. A majority of the people present hang back at the fringes, content to watch while Tony, Captain Rogers, King T’Challa, Alexandra, your uncle, Thor, Quill, and Natasha hash out a strategy.

“He’s trying to overwhelm us with sheer numbers,” Steve says in response to Gamora’s information.

“It might work,” Natasha murmurs, gaze focused on the worktable in front of her. “We don’t have near enough firepower to chip away at that many grunts.”

“Not if we play our cards right,” Alex says, crossing her arms over her chest.

“There’s also our siblings,” Gamora adds with a pained grimace.

Off to the side, Nebula scoffs. “They’re hardly family.”

“Thanos collected beings throughout the galaxy to serve him,” Gamora explains. “To act as his eyes and ears and eliminate his foes. Aside from Nebula and I, he has four other ‘children.’ They’ll be acting as his generals and commanders in the fight –and helping him track down and capture the final infinity stones.”

Tension ripples through the room.

“What do we know about these Infinity Stones?” Alex asks after a moment of fraught silence.

“The stones were originally created by the Celestials,” Loki pipes up from where he’s leaning against a wall. “Their magical properties are tied to aspects of the universe –time, space, reality, and so on. Only beings of immense power can wield them without severe consequences.”

“Thanos has the gauntlet that accompanies the stones,” Thor adds. “With it, once he assembles all six stones, he’ll be able to use them simultaneously.”

“He wants to wipe out half of all life on Earth,” Gamora says, voice wavering slightly. “That’s been his single goal ever since I’ve known him.”

“All men want to be gods,” your uncle jokes half-heartedly.

“Can the stones be broken?” Alex asks.

Loki chuckles, incredulous. “These are magical tools created by the most powerful beings ever known to the galaxy… and you want to break them?”

She shrugs. “Best not to overlook the simplest solution.”

“I’m taking that as a ‘no,’” Steve interjects. “So, if we can’t destroy them, how do we fight them?”

“The only thing powerful enough to combat the effects of the Infinity Stones are the Infinity Stones,” Loki answers.

“And we only have two,” Natasha surmises, expression drawn and grim.

“Three.”

Everyone looks up and turns when Illyana speaks.

She smirks, tilting her chin up when Natasha meets her gaze. “We have three Infinity Stones.”

“Vision has the mind stone, and Dr. Strange has the time stone,” Kronos argues, shaking his head. “The soul stone is still missing.”

Illyana’s smirk broadens. She lifts her hand, curling it as if she was holding something.

A sword materializes in her hand –and in the center of the sword, small but unmistakable, is a glowing orange gem.

Your uncle’s eyes widen. “Holy shit.”

“Three,” Illyana repeats, looking supremely confident and self-satisfied. “Unless there is elusive seventh stone?”

Loki smiles ruefully, shaking his head. “The Goddess of Limbo pulls through. Well done.”

“Okay, but Vision’s stone is in his head and Strange has his stone in a necklace around his neck,” Tony interjects, gesturing to each person in turn.

“Amulet,” Dr. Strange mutters under his breath.

“Your stone disappears if you’re not holding it,” Tony continues, pointing to the sword as Illyana dematerializes it once more. “What’s stopping Thanos from finding it and taking it?”

“I am only person who can use Soul Sword,” Illyana says, arching her eyebrows. “It is bound to me until the next in my line is ready to take my place.”

“My family has been bound to Limbo’s magicks for generations,” Nikolai clarifies when Tony starts sputtering. “Illyana is the keeper of the sword, which means only she can call upon it. Thanos would need our blood to have access to it.”

Tony grimaces. “Still risky.”

“Better than nothing,” your uncle fires back.

“We have a shot of taking down Thanos with the other three Infinity Stones in our camp,” Steve says, planting his hands against the worktable's surface. “Without them, we’re as good as sunk.”

“Well then,” Alex says, smirking. “Let’s make sure we don’t waste our opportunity.”

***

“For the love of god, stop talking.”

“I’m just saying,” Quill starts, spreading his hands in a defensive gesture.

“You’re not saying shit!” Alex snaps, lifting her head from her hands to glare at him. “You’re just wasting our time!”

Once the planning started, a large portion of the crowd dispersed to help wrap up the last of the weapons modification. The leaders from each faction stayed behind –Tony, T’Challa, Steve, Natasha, Thor, Peter Quill, Xavier, your uncle, Alexandra, and Erik—to plan, along with Gamora, Nebula, and Loki so they could offer up information on Thanos, his forces, and the Infinity Stones.

You’d also hung back, since you didn’t have the skills necessary to do the weapons modification. If all I can do is sit around like a nervous lump, may as well do it where I won’t be in the way.

“This plan just isn’t our style,” Quill argues, either immune or completely ignorant to the exasperated sighs and death glares the others are giving him. “We like to take things looser, add a little pizazz.”

“How many times did your parents drop you as a baby?” your uncle asks, staring Quill down. “No, I’m serious,” he adds when Quill glares back at him and opens his mouth to argue. “I’m genuinely at a loss for how you can be this fucking dense.”

“We’re up against overwhelming numbers and powers no one here has ever seen, let alone fought against,” Natasha adds. “We need to allocate our resources carefully if we want even a chance at victory. The three wave strategy is our best chance.”

“Okay,” Quill says, pressing his hands together. “I think we just all need to relax—”

“You’ll be pretty fucking relaxed when I gut you,” Alex grumbles as she pinches the bridge of her nose.

“Look, the way I see it, Thanos can’t take us all at once!” Quill reasons. “If we hit him with everything we have—”

“We have to survive his armies, too,” Tony adds, words clipped. “Or there won’t be any of us for Thanos to be hit by.”

“No.” Alex glares at Quill when he keeps trying to argue, startling him into silence. “Look at them.” She points at Gamora and Nebula. “These are your friends, da? Your teammates and companions, da? This is their abuser we’re facing. If we lose, what do you think happens to them? Do you think someone that wants to destroy half of all life will have mercy for them? Hm? If you care about them, you pick the plan that has the best shot of ensuring their safety. Got it?”

Quill swallows reflexively. He stares down at the holographic display of the future battlefield, jaw working. He exhales through his nose, slow and stuttered, then nods. “Alright. We… we do the three wave strategy.”

“So glad we can agree,” Alex says, turning her attention back to the battlefield schematic. “Now, we were discussing where to put our snipers…”

***

“—I need both their arms. Trust me, it’s the only way this is gonna work.”

“Look, I’m normally all for a little dismemberment, but I don’t think forming our own amputee league is gonna net us a win here.”

You shake your head as Wade banters back and forth with the talking racoon –whose name is Rocket, apparently—then look over at Nathan. “How long have they been at this?”

“Going on three hours now,” Nate replies. A soft, endeared smile flits across his face when he looks at Wade, but his expression sobers when he resumes his soldering job. “How’s the final plan looking?”

“Everyone but Quill was leaning towards a three-wave tactic.”

Nathan grunts. “Yeah, he seems like a jackass.”

“Alex threatened to gut him.”

“Hey!” Wade shouts, sounding genuinely wounded. “No disemboweling without me!”

“Quill wanted to do an ‘all for one’ attack directly on Thanos.” You sit down next to your dad, studying his face while he works. “You’ve actually fought against these people before. Do… do you think dividing our forces up will actually work?”

“The issue is the land and air forces,” Nathan says, shaking his head. He attaches a power unit to the base of a rifle, then starts welding the compartment shut. “This time doesn’t have the necessary shielding to repel the Chitauri and Klyntaar forces for that long. We’ll have to fight the grunts; holding some of our people back to make sure we have someone to take on Thanos is our best bet.”

“That doesn’t necessarily mean we’ll win, though,” you point out.

He offers you a melancholy half-smile. “That’s war, kid.”

Your heart sinks further. “Do we even have a chance?”

“Statistics says we do,” Nathan says he strips a piece of wire before threading it into the gun.

“That’s not what I asked.”

Nathan sighs. He looks at you for a long moment, then says, “I think we have the best shot possible with what we have right here, right now.”

You gulp, then nod. It’s still not technically an answer to your question –let alone a positive one—but…

You’ve learned that, sometimes, it better not to dig at these sorts of questions at all.

***

“We’re dividing our forces into thirds.”

You’re all crammed into the rec room post dinner. In the center of the room, by the counter, Tony, Steve, Natasha, and Alex are addressing the crowd in turns.

“The first wave will consist of high stamina fighters and snipers,” Steve says. “There’s a shield system that extends several hundred kilometers around the lab’s perimeter. Wakandan soldiers will join the line of snipers who will pick off any of Thanos’s forces that make it through the shields.”

“We’ll also have any fighters with enhanced stamina on standby, in case there’s a larger breach,” Alex adds. “Their job will be to protect the sniper line from being overrun by the enemy forces.”

“The second wave will be air support,” Tony continues. “Myself, Rhodey, Wilson, and any flying mutants will head out when the Chitauri airships come in. Princess Shuri has a fleet of attack drones at the ready, which can be manned from headquarters in the lab. HQ will have a complete look at the battlefield; all intel will be coming from them during the fight.”

“Third wave is everyone else, save for Illyana, Dr. Strange, and Vision,” Natasha says. “We’ll join the fray when the second wave of Thanos’s forces arrive. The final three” –she nods to Illyana, Dr. Strange, and Vision in turn—“will wait in central headquarters until Thanos arrives, to prevent early capture of the remaining Infinity Stones.”

“In the meantime,” Tony says, “we’re going overtime on modifying rifles to be sonic weapons. They’re more effective against the Klyntar forces than regular firearms. All hands on deck. If you can’t solder, you can run supplies back and forth and help perform diagnostic tests at the firing range. Clear?”

Everyone nods, then breaks off to start working on constructing and testing more “awesome guns.”

You slid your fingers between Piotr’s. Your heart’s in your throat, racing a mile a minute. Your mouth feels dry.

If you were the religious type, you’d start praying. As it is, you make a plea with the universe on the off chance it decides to listen to you –for once.

Please. Please just let this work.

***

“So… about the three-wave plan—”

Tony slams down the compartment piece he’d been working on against the table. He glares at Quill, face strained with barely constrained rage and impatience. “What the fuck is your deal?”

“It’s just not sitting well with me,” Quill continues, leaning against the table. “I’m more of a ‘solo moment’ style person. More of a lone wolf.”

You gape at him. “You… you work with a team of five!”

“I just think that there needs to be a more focused confrontation with Thanos. Y’know, for someone to challenge him, man to man—”

“Some get this idiot out of my face,” Tony snaps, looking around for anyone that might be willing to assist –or, at the very least, drag Quill out of the room by his jacket collar.

“You’re not listening to me!”

“You’re wasting my time!”

“Why does every problem come back to you?” Alex stalks into the work room, eyes glowing a dull shade of copper as irritation takes hold in her. She strides over to Quill, looking like a menace in black leather and Kevlar. “How much more of a nuisance can you possibly make yourself?”

“I’m just pointing out some flaws in the strategy!” Quill argues, holding up his hands in a defensive gesture. “I’m being the devil’s advocate!”

“You’re pointing out dick,” Agent Barton, alias Hawkeye, points out from the side (where he’s modifying some of his arrows to release sonic pulses).

“Look,” Quill presses on, ignoring Clint’s comment. “We need to make sure this thing is airtight—”

“We don’t have time for ‘airtight,’” Nathan growls, cybernetic eye flaring. “The goal is to survive, not to create perfection.”

“I really just think—”

Alex scowls –and then her hand snaps out and closes around Quill’s neck. She slams him against the edge of the table, sneering down at him while he coughs and claws –futilely—against her iron grip. “You’re past the point of being a nuisance. You’re a fucking liability.”

Quill wheezes, face slowly turning red.

“If I was paid every time a man like you told me how to do my job…” Her voice trails off, and she lets out a sardonic chuckle. “Let me make something clear to you, Peter Quill.” Her hand tightens around his neck, which makes some ominous creaking noises as she presses against layers of tissue, cartilage, and bone. “I am not about to have an asshole like you risk the lives of my children, the people who are putting their own lives on the line to protect the world, or the future of the damn universe. If you’re going to keep being a jackass about this…” She smirks. “I’ll kill you. I’ll do it right here, right now. I am not going to have a hazard like you on my team or on that battlefield.” She grins nastily, leaning in closer as Quill’s eyes bug out. “Best thing is, no one really knows you’re here. No tracks to cover, no family to pay off, no authorities to worry about. You’d be an unfortunate casualty in war. No one would fucking miss you.”

A chill runs down your spine. You gulp, stomach twisting as you look from Alex, to Quill, to Alex again. Is anyone going to stop her...

“I really don’t know how to make this any fucking clearer, but since you’ve proven to be thick-headed, I’ll summarize: you stray from the plan in any way, and you’re dead. Got it?”

Quill nods hastily. He gasps when Alex releases him, collapsing to the floor. He hacks and coughs, one hand rubbing at his throat while his skin slowly fades away from an angry magenta color.

“So glad we understand one another.” Alex smirks, then turns on her heel and strides out of the work room like nothing even happened.

You purse your lips, trembling while everyone goes back to work like nothing even happened. You try to focus on sorting pieces into containers for the fabricators to grab from, but with your shaking hands it’s near impossible. You duck your head, gritting your teeth together as your stomach churns angrily. I just want this all to be over.

***

The call comes in a couple hours later.

“We’ve got temporal disturbances outside the shield perimeter,” Kronos shouts while alarms blare overhead. “Thanos’s forces have arrived and are attempting to break through to our location.”

Your stomach drops as everyone starts scrambling. You grab your flight jacket and goggles, throwing them on haphazardly. You start running towards the hangar –then stop and switch directions. “Piotr!”

He pauses when he hears your voice, turning and catching you as you leap into his arms. He kisses you briefly –desperately—then pulls back and cups your face in his hands. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” You give him a quick hug, then pull away and start sprinting towards the hanger where the rest of the air support is gathering. Tears sting your eyes, but you wipe them away and force down your fear and preemptive grief. Focus. You have to focus.

It’s time.

[urmomsmainbitch]

american idiot - chapter one

link to wattpad story // link to series masterlist // link to writing

word count: 2.7k

warnings: the bowers gang, weapons, violence, basically the whole thing (if you're not comfortable with violence or abuse -- which henry faces during the movies and during the book -- then i recommend you don't read, but i'll try to tag appropriately!)

a/n: i hope you don't think it's ass but this is probably going to come out every other friday or so but this is more of a trailer than the start of the actual series

HENRY DIDN'T REMEMBER a better time in his life than when he heard the news that Tommy 'Gun' Lee was coming back to Derry for the summer. To him, nothing topped the moment where is dad was slurring over his dinner (leftover hot dogs -- again), and let it slip that the "ungrateful little bitch" was coming back for a few months over the summer, and that "your whore of a mother" didn't mention if she was staying for the year or not.

He remembered huffing and puffing, grumbling something under his breath before excusing himself, and running to call Patrick like it was fucking Christmas morning.

Something about his darling little sister coming back made his heart race and a smile light up his face, and it was evident from the way he stepped into Derry Middle on the last day of school.

Oh, this summer would be perfect! His deal with Denbrough was over, the gang was all together, and his perfect sister was coming back from San Diego for the summer. Tommy Lee Bowers, he knew, would make this the best summer he;d ever had -- and by fucking God, he wasn't going to let anything stand in his way. Not that stuttering freak or the stupid Tozier kid who's mouth ran a mile a minute or his father's thriving alcohol addiction -- absolutely nothing.

His Tommy Gun would rule that fucking school the second she stepped in to pick him up, and every one knew it.

Word travels fast at Derry Middle, and when it got around that Bowers had a little sister coming, the first thing Bill Denbrough did was panic.

She couldn't be too different, could she?

The same blood ran through their veins, the same color skin on their bones, and most likely, the permanently upturned smirk tattooed to their lips. His hopes didn't improve when he saw the girl himself, waiting outside on the hood of Butch's car, throwing rocks at little kids passing by as she sat patiently for Henry to come outside.

He'd promised her a tour of the school -- it's only fair, he put it, that a queen knows her kingdom before taking it over. Henry had no doubt that Tommy would run the school when it was her time in September. A grade below Tits and the rest of his ugly friends, it would be more embarrassing than anything else to watch them suffer socially at the hands of a twelve year old girl.

(Henry very much looked forward to that moment. So much so, in fact, that he near goddamn skipped his way to the front of the school to open the door so they could start the tour. It helped that he was getting out of math class.)

It was only in the few moments before she walked in the door (immediately claiming the whole goddamn building with a footstep) that Bowers caught him by the bag and dragged him into the bathroom, away from the rest of the kids, and most likely, where he'd lay dying for the rest of the school day and foreseeable future (Stanley refused to shit in the school bathrooms, and seeing as he was the only one on this side of the building, he was screwed.).

Bill had never liked being alone with Henry Bowers. Nothing good ever came out of it, and he didn't want to stick around this time to find out why he'd been pulled into a bathroom and away from the rest of the student population. Henry let go of Bill's bag, letting him stumble around for a second or two before straightening up and backing him up against the wall.

"W-what d-d-do you w-want, B-Bowers?" Bill nearly spat, looking the older boy in the eyes. Henry's permanent smirk seemed to grow a few inches on either side, because he just chuckled softly -- albeit cruelly -- and looked down at the Denbrough boy. Bill could smell his breath, even though the two weren't standing particularly close to one another.

"Well, B-b-billy," he mocked, nearly laughing as he relaxed his posture a little bit and backed away from him. (Any one is passing who didn't know them might have said, "Hey, I bet those two boys are damn good friends.") "I have some news for you and your group of stupid fucking friends, and let me tell you" -- Henry stopped to laugh for a second, like he was cracking himself up -- "it's going to make your life a living hell."

Bill gulped. He didn't think, realistically, it could get much worse.

"You got a free ride this year because of your little brother," Henry reminded, smiling a little bit, seeming genuine. "But the ride's over Denbrough. This summer is going to be the worst summer of your entire life."

(Bill didn't expect him to say anything else -- but honestly, every summer was the worst summer of his entire life. He didn't catch a break from the older boy and his group of goons, but there was a feeling down in the pits of his stomach that told him that this time, this time, for real, was going to be the worst summer vacation he's ever going to have as long as he lives.)

"But I do have a little piece of extra advice I'm gonna give you."

Bill huffed. "You're so generous," he started, rolling his eyes, as he tried to walk out of the bathroom. Henry grabbed onto his backpack, "but I think I'll have to pass with this one."

He was cut off as Bowers kicked him on shin and onto the cold bathroom tiles. So much for being brave.

"I think you might want to hear this." Henry squatted down to look Bill in the eyes. There was still a hint of a smile on his face. Boy, this is gonna be good. "If you think I'm a pain in your ass--"

"I d-do think you're a p-pain in m-my a-ass."

Henry paused for a second, sending a menacing smile, and pushed him back on the ground as he got up and stepped over the boy on the floor, before beginning to make his way out of the bathroom before looking back, before lending Bill a hand to get up. He hesitantly took it and brushed off his pants, lips pressed tightly together as he looked at Henry. "Then you're gonna hate the girl sitting on Belch's car."

"Why's that?" Bill asked, feigning confidence, already knowing the answer. Henry could tell, just exhaling and giving him a big mischievous smile, hands behind his back.

"Not important, but she's not gonna be as nice as I am," he said with a grin, "but I'm just looking out for you, Billy Boy. Wouldn't want Tommy Gun to whip your ass without some working, right?"

With that, Henry left the bathroom, a smile plastered on his face as he went to greet his sister, and Bill raced out of there like his ass was on fire -- warning Richie not to talk to or about the pretty girl sitting on Belch's car.

-- -- --

"Best feeling ever!" Stan groaned, grinning ear to ear as he dumped out everything from his backpack. School had finally let out for the summer — no more stupid math classes or dumb reading assignments and annoying history tests, just Stanley and his bird book for three whole months.

A piece of his own personal heaven. Points if the pretty girl on Belch's hood was with him but hey, he wasn't picky.

"Really?" Richie asked with a grin on his face, "Try tickling your pickle for the first time." Eddie rolled his eyes, but Bill smiled. Stan let out another groan -- not a good one, this time -- even though, if he had to be honest, this seemed like it would be the best summer of his whole entire life.

Richie felt it too, if he were going to tell the truth (as he so rarely did -- or at times, so bluntly did), that this felt like it was going to the be the absolutely best summer he would have for the rest of his life. He had a whole checklist and everything for things he wanted to do (kiss some girls), things he wanted to see (some girls' boobs), and things he wanted to experience (there were a number of interesting things on this list).

And quite frankly, he felt as though every single thing on every one of his lists could be accomplished with the girl sitting on Belch Huggins' car hood, smiling mischievously as she watched the kids coming out of school.

God, did she really and truly look like an angel. Deep brown hair, straight in some parts and wavy in others, came down a little bit past her collarbone (not super cared for, but neither was his), cherry red lips, and a cute line of freckles going across the bridge of her nose. She was the most impressive tan he'd ever seen in his whole life, a very deep beige from the summer sun — even though it was only June.

The top part was being held up by some clip, and Richie could see his own Hawaiian shirt going over her tank top instead of the open button down she was wearing on top. It was lazy looking and careless and little bit disheveled, but that day, Richard Wentworth Tozier II was convinced he saw the hottest girl to ever be created.

Eddie interrupted his dream, snapping him back for only a second. "So what do you guys want to do tomorrow?"

"I start my training," Richie responded immediately.

"Training for what?"

"Street Fighter."

"You're going to spend your whole summer inside of an arcade?" Eddie couldn't imagine that prospect, but with Richie, anything was possibly -- no matter how disgusting it might seem.

"Beats spending it inside of your mother, oh!" Richie's goofy grin came back in an instant and leaned over for a high five from Bill when his hand was brought down by Stan. "And, 'course, my summer bucket list."

Eddie sent him a pity glance, "No girl's gonna let you fuck her this summer, Richie. If they have any brains at all, no girl is going to let you go within a ten foot radius of her without realizing what she's doing." Richie pressed his lips together. Of course Eddie would be cynical, it's just because — "and don't tell me that I think it because I just haven't hit puberty yet!"

Richie gave him a toothy grin, "Aw, shucks, Eddie Spaghetti, you know me so well. When you see a pretty girl, like say, that one over there—" he pointed discreetly towards the girl on the hood —"you'll get that feeling of butterflies in your stomach and just think, 'Wow, I've just seen an angel.' I don't mean Bowers, I just-"

"Yeah, you mean his little sister." Eddie looked up to Richie for a response, only to see him at a loss for words, jaw dropping and face paling.

For once, Richie Tozier was speechless as Eddie laughed and slapped his back as Bill mentioned something about the Barrens and Georgie and finding him — even though everybody had long accepted the fact that Georgie wasn't just missing.

It was like a switch. Everything changed in that instant. It was like she grew fangs and claws, and he watched Patrick look at her like she hung the fucking moon. It was incredibly painful, but he assumed, in a sense, they deserved each other. It took a second before he realized what this would actually mean for him: having to worry about a double in the hallways — a hot double that could potentially fool him into forgetting her Bowers-ness — and someone else to make fun of him in ways that he'd never tjough imaginable.

Sure, Bowers wasn't awfully bright, but he sure as hell was creative when it came down to it.

"Gunner!" Richie heard Bowers (the boy one) laugh as she shoved him in the side, cackling along herself, cigarette never leaving her mouth — opting just to talk out of the side of it.

Oh, so her name must have been Gunner. That's unfortunate, he thought to himself. But then again, she seems awful, so maybe she just deserves it. He smiled to himself. "Tommy Lee, we've gotta start heading out soon."

Wait, so was it Tommy Lee? Or was it Gunner? Was that just the gang's nickname for her? More importantly, if it was, why the fuck would they choose a name like Gunner for her? Nothing was settling about that fact, and although Richie wasn't typically one to spiral, it was hard to control himself.

"You didn't tell me you had friends, Henny!" Tommy exclaimed girlishly, making Patrick spit out his sofa and slam his hand on the car hood, flicking out her cigarette and letting Patrick snuff it out. She put a hand on her heart. "Oh, you've grown up so fast! I remember it was just yesterday you took a massive shit in that kids backpack and had to do forty hours of community service!"

Richie could tolerate a lot of things. One thing he couldn't tolerate though, was not being able to chime in when his story was being used and told all wrong — or mentioned without his name. Luckily, he was spared his intervention by a howling Belch Huggins.

"It was four eyes!" Huggins nearly screamed, warning a howling laugh from Tommy and shove from Victor, followed by a point led by Patrick. "Yeah, him!"

Richie could feel his face heating up, but before he could say anything, the bright blue TransAM was firing up the engine, and was getting ready to peel out of the school parking lot like a man man was driving.

Bill was the first to say anything. "Sorry about that, Rich. Bowers is a real asshole."

"So is his sister," he made out through his teeth.

Richie saw himself as a 'go with the flow' kind of guy, but goddamn it, he wasn't going to let Tommy Lee shit all over him and get away with it.

He was too stubborn, too arrogant, and too proud to let that happen, but with only a second or two of knowing she existed, he knew she was the exact same way. He could get tell it with the way she walked and talker and immediately took control of some of the scariest kids in Derry Middle.

But she wouldn't come out on top of this one.

There's no way. He refused to let it happen. Letting her win would show everyone else that he was just a loser who couldn't stand up to a girl who's was going to beat the living daylights out of him if he looked at her the wrong way.

She already had Henry and Patrick and Belch on her side — an even, if not better, match to four decently sized seventh graders. There was no excuse for them to get beat.

Grinding his teeth and tearing his eyes away from her, laughing mischievous and almost secretly as she put her cigarette out on Belch's hood as not to be noticed by he coo around the corner (Rich didn't know that the cop around the corner was her father who would beat her till she couldn't stand if he caught her smoking) he said, "So, Barrens tomorrow, right Bill?"

And right as Tommy Lee Bowers and her newfound gang pulled out of the parking lot, she and Richie Tozier locked eyes and made a silent pact — an agreement — something they both agreed on — something he'd be thinking about all night and the whole next morning:

Derry is two small for the two of us.

[moth--blood]

Rewatching IT Chapter One and this is what i wrote down in that time

• George's last word was him calling out to bill :(

• "is that how you wanna spend your summer? inside an arcade?" "beats spending it with your mother" i love them

• stan: *is reading from the book* "put the book back in my office, obviously ur not using it" bruh huh

• "hey eddie? are these your birth control pills?" "yeah, and im saving them for your sister -_-"

• "do you want one from me too mrs k? :D"

• DUDE THE LIBRARIAN JUST STARING AT BEN WITH THE BOOK SCENE MY GOD.

• "WOAH- henry!" the one redeeming character in Henry's lil possy and even then not that redeeming

• "not every fucking plant is poison ivy, Stanley"

• "have you ever heard of a staff infection? >:(" "*holding a stick* oh I'll show you a staff infection >:D"

• "..im fine. whats wrong with you?" "none of your business-" "theres a kid outside and he looks like someone killed him ;;-;;"

• god the first scene with Bev's dad is so fucking uncomfortable

• bev: *jumps off the cliff into the water* richie: "whAT THE FUCK-"

• ben: "cool, huh?" richie: "no :D"

• i think it would be interesting if they included the "*number of cents* for a blowjob" conversation Eddie has with the "homeless man" in the book into the movie, because that could lead a bit more into his character when we eventually get the confession in the second movie but i digress

• "wowowowowoah! what if her dad comes back?!" "do what you always do! start. talking. >:("

• oh my fucking god do i kin Ben.

• Eddie: "shut up richie" Stan: "yeah, shut up richie" Richie: "oOoooh, trash the trashmouth! >:("

• "wait- can only virgins see this stuff? ..is that why im not seein' this shit?" Richie Trashmouth Tozier my beloved

• "ROCK WAR! *gets it in the head with a rock*"

• and, of course, "go blow your dad you mullet wearing asshole!"

• i love the details of richie fighting the guy with the tuba ("fuck off dude! >:(") and then eddie giving him ice cream

• again: details man. eddie starts using his inhaler and Richie immediately looks over at him; when the slideshow starts going and shows IT richie reaches out to eddie and they're clinging onto each other until it "comes out of the projection"

• richie: "you guys are lucky we aren't measuring dicks" eddie: "shut up, richie."

• "beep beep richie :))"

• "dont let him get away" bill what the fuck.

• fuck u too Mrs K

• mike my dearly beloved

• okay Cinema Sins made this point before but this is such a good use of "Dear, God". its only the first verse but it portrays the emotion so well

• henry you leave that fucking cat alone you bitch. i hate you so much but i can admit your dads more of a dick than you are

• god i fucking hate her dad

• YEAAH KILL THE DICK

• "what sickness, ma?" YEAH EDDIE BABY YOU GOT THIS ILY

• i love how Mike brought the gun for the sheep with him. smart kid.

• i love the detail of Eddie going down the rope just like Bill did; it really shows his admiration for the guy, even if that admiration is limited because here its portrayed in film

• oh my god this scene the fucking dancing scene in the sewer this shit is so finny to me

• i love how mike basically just fucking murdered Henry

• oh my god stan honey nO BBY I SWEAR THEY STILL CARE ABOUT U

• "why isn't she waking up?!" ben honey

• .....i kin ben god fucking damnit

• "and now? im gonna have to kill this fucking clown. WELCOME TO THE LOSERS CLUB, ASSHOLE!"

• "i know what I'm doing for my summer experience essay." richie u little queer-coded mf i love you so much

• richie being the first to hug bill when he starts crying over georgies jacket :((

• oh god the dream/pact scene. ow. my heart. im already mourning for Eds and Stan ;-;

• the shot of the loser/lover cast im sobbing

• "I gotta go. ..i hate you. (smiles)" STANNNN

• not the kiss please bev ur getting blood on his face