#maybe one day i’ll have the guts to come up with parent designs so i can draw a little family dinner or something

[cowboy-caboodles]

Pease draw more Javid I love your at sm!! 🫶🫶🫶

as you wish 🤭 here’s the dreaded “meeting my partner’s parents” moment that we all have at one point or another, though i’m sure Davey’s parents are lovely <3

[witchlyboo]

Definitely, maybe.

Part five: The one who belongs to someone else.

Introduction. Part one. Part two. Part three. Part four.

Paring: Latina!reader x Logan Lerman x Tom Holland x Ben Hardy x Timothee Chalamet x Pedro Pascal x Michael B. Jordan

Warnings: Swearing, angst, misspellings, some Spanish, me learning how to write properly, and NY stuff that I've learned from movies that we all agree to pretend are real.

Word count: 6.4 k

a/n: You been asking for smut, I know, I know, I just wanted to introduce you to all the boys first, and we're getting there, just one more ahead. Also, I'm working on a masterlist because we are getting too many parts already.

All body types and skin tones friendly. You can also enjoy it as a no Hispanic reader. Constructive feedback and misspellings correction is always welcome.

Red and blue lights flash the driving mirror.

—No, no, no, por favor que no sea a mi—You beg to the sky looking at the patrol that is asking you to park, or someone else, there's a lot of cars in this part of the city, there's a big chance is the panic who's controlling your senses.—Dios, mi abuela fue a la iglesia cada domingo de su vida y nunca te pidió nada, please let me have some of her divina recompensa.—But that's not how it works, you end up parking with just a few seconds to think what to say. There's a perfect explication of why you are driving a car that is not yours in the middle of the night and smelling like a minibar.

Then this ridiculous thought comes to your mind, you look expensive, you've never seen the daughter of a senator but you must be close to it, it would make you less of a feminist if you just use your attributes? Ugh, you feel sick just to think about it but don't have enough money to pay a fine, and the constant paranoia of being chased all the time as an immigrant will only get stronger.

You pull down your dress a little so your neckline can do its job but you regret it immediately, and you're pretty sure you look more like an expensive prostitute who stole the car of his lover than some influential men's daughter.

—License and registration.—You hear him say when he approaches your window. You don't like this but you have to play the dumb tourist, the pretty foreign girl that is too stupid to be dangerous, with the look you have tonight it shouldn't be hard. But damn you hate cops, any uniformed man that works for the government is your eternal enemy, and you don't know how long you could keep the nice dumb Latina game before spit on his face.

—There's something wrong, officer? ...You?!—Your sexy and fake high voice is ruined when you see the face of the man who stopped you. This night couldn't get worse.

—Wait, what happened with the party?—Evan interrupts you while you finish some notes for work, little remainders for later when you don't have an eleven years old kid running around you, he's not usually this energic and you have to blame yourself for that, you're describing a life of excess and eccentric fun, something you let behind so many years ago that your own son doesn't know even a bit of it.

—Ugh, a nightmare doesn't worth telling.—You remember vaguely most of it but what keeps fresh in your mind is bad enough to don't want to bring it back.

—But if Timothée is my dad I have to know the important things, including the bad stuff.—Sounds perfectly reasonable and that's what makes you groan at him. Sometimes you feel blessed that your kid is better than you in any possible way, and sometimes you want to kill his brain with video games and reality shows like the rest of the parents.

—Ok, cool, but I'll keep all the +18 content for myself, so this part of the story might be blurry for you.—It kinda is for you anyway.

You should’ve known this night was cursed, you had a feeling because a) your earring fell off at the same time Timothée texted you to give you the party address and say he can't pick you up. And b) he won’t pick you up. Your mother would say that’s reason enough to not go, a real gentleman wouldn’t make you go to an unknown place in the middle of the night on your own in a city like this. But you decide to ignore it because you are a modern woman and because it’s worth it. It better be.

The outfit must be something special. You always take your time to choose what to wear, even if just another regular day, and since this isn't the case you thought about it for hours, that made your mind busy enough to not thinking about Tom and the whole love confession. He texted you saying he'll come for you to go to class together on Monday, which is completely impractical because he's way closer than you but is progress and you're going to take it.

You wanted to ask for Sheep's opinion but you thought she might not care, has been a few days since she started acting strange like she's bothered just to see you breathe. You want to blame his boyfriend to take all her time and attention from you but is probably just her new job, she got a small role in a Netflix show, and even when you're so happy for her, that's the event that has changed her into someone completely different. But you give her time, stress can do bad things to people.

The winner is the exact copy you made of the black and white striped dress Cameron Diaz wore in "The Mask" beautiful, classy, and sexy enough without being too scandalous, not that you have any problem with that, but this isn't the occasion, you don't want to feel like you're being too much or too little, just enough, it's supposed to be easy, right? you were born for this. Just adding some big shiny earrings you got on a thrift shop that look like real diamonds and you're ready, not that you own any to compare. Red lipstick, dark eyes, and a messy bun to get that disinterested pitch every look needs.

Getting there wasn't a problem, you were in the rich part of the city, everyone know who, where and what just to brag about it. The excitement is growing with every second, you check your makeup like thirty times in the elevator and send texts to your mom just to let her know where you are, and because you have to share that moment with someone and you are limited of friends these days.

Timothée opens the door with red eyes, drunk, high, or somewhere in between, you know then you were right about the bad feeling. He jumps on you to kiss you and no matter how much you try to explain the delicacy of your lipstick, he does it anyway, leaving a taste of alcohol and shrimps in your mouth. Taking you by the waist he walks you to a group of people you don't know while you're trying harder to fix the red color of your mouth without a mirror.

—Here is the companion I bought, look at her, that's how five grand per hour look like.—They laughed but you were too disoriented to process all the things he said, it was supposed to be a joke? if it is, why isn't he correcting? Instead, his hand goes straight to your ass and presses it to get you closer to him.

—I'm actually an intern in the costume designer department of the new version of "Sense and Sensibility".—You wanted to mention your recent promotion to hairstylist and makeup artist but that might be too pretentious. Anyway, they don't seem to care what you are or not, in fact, they don't even see you, all eyes are on Timothée

—Oh, well, is easy to forget when you're paying them—All laughs again. Who is this person? Who are all these people, actually? You recognize some influencers, a few cast members but there's no sign of the director, other main actors, not even his co-star. You feel like an extra in a movie where someone will be killed in a luxury party, hopefully not you. You take his hand from your body and clear your throat.—I'm just joking my love, she looks stunning, isn't she? I’ll get you a drink.

He leaves and the group of people surrounding you suddenly dissipated like boiling water, you were on your own again and despite some judgmental gazes is like you’re not there, you’re sure you could just take your dress off and throw it to someone’s face and unless Tim says something about it, no one would care. You’re there as his companion, an ornament, and that’s not enough to earn their attention because it’s too obvious you’re the one in turn.

You walk to the only window no one is smoking and check your phone, you know, the thing you do when you pretend you have important issues to attend, but no, you end reading some old messages, pictures, texting your mom of how much fun you’re having at the party, and somehow you check your filed Facebook messages to find Logan’s name. You cover the screen so fast you hurt your nail, his name is enough to make you tremble like a Chihuahua, you haven’t talked to him since that night, you know from his sister he lives in the house he bought for you two and he’s having the happiest life without you. You want to believe that because that means you took the right decision but deep inside… no, you can’t be that person, you want him to be happier than ever.

You find the guts to open the message, and you read as slowly as is humanly possible. “My angel, I hope this finds you in perfect health…” Dios, just Logan could start a message like that, your smile is almost too big to fit in your face so you bit your nail to cover it a little. “I recently found one of the human body drawings you made for me to study, you’ll be happy to know…”

—That’s a fucking long-ass message.—Tim appears behind you and takes your phone from your hand, spilling some of his drink on your dress in the process. Apparently, he's been there long enough to read part of the message.

—Give it back.—You command in the most severe voice you have, your magical moment got ruined and you remember the hole of hell you are.

—"My angel, I hope this finds you in perfect health. I recently found one of the human body drawings you made for me to study, you must know I still use them now and then"—Timothée starts reading the message, and even when no one is close enough to hear it and you don’t really care about this people’s opinion, that’s not for anyone to read, that’s one of the few parts of your life you treasure the most and you’re not ready to get over it.—You little slut, are you cheating on me with a med student?

—Give it to me.—You repeat trying to take the phone from his hand but he’s faster and walks away putting it out of your reach.

—"I meticulously preserve them, I certainly know any piece of art made by you will be priceless in the near future"—You don’t want to hear it coming from his drunk mocking voice, so you try to ignore what he’s saying and put more effort on chasing the phone.—Should I had kept the jeans where you left the wet spot on? I didn’t know you were an artist, my love.

—Timothée, por el amor de Dios.—Now you're trying to climb him, it wouldn't be that hard to take him down, he's skinny and you're fierce. That's what you thought but he's not moving even with you are on top of his shoulder and his opposite long arm keeps the phone away from you.

—Who is this guy and why is he talking to my girl like this?—You see the olive eyes getting darker and the tone of his voice went deeper than you thought he could do. You desist from taking the phone, you know the bullies love the attention, maybe that's exactly what he wants and give it to him just makes it worse.

—I'm not your girl.—You claim fixing up your dress having enough of games, and you have no reason to keep worrying about losing your job, the filming is done, and apparently your relationship with him too. You don't care about any of that anymore, just want to read Logan's text.

Even behind all the alcohol and the eyes injected in blood thanks for who knows what kind of drug, you can see the disappointment and anger, but it's not a broken heart, Is the hissy fit of a child that loses his balloon and now everyone will pay for it, especially you.

—Are you sure about that?—You can see him swallow hard, almost looking vulnerable, but his voice is defiant and threatening to prove you wrong. He just has to stretch out his arm to reach the open window with your phone in hand, his intentions are clear and the only thing you can do is raise your hands as a reflex.—You were mine the moment you put a foot on my trailer, and I don't fucking share my stuff.—Before you can say a word he drops the phone from the fourth floor.

You know is senseless but you find yourself running out of the party and going to search the device, using it also as an excuse to get away from that place. This is the first time someone makes you feel meaningless, you know the famous' world is cold and lacking in empathy but this is ridiculous, they're a bunch of parasites fed by attention and power. By Timothée.

The screen is crashed and the rest of it is probably beyond repair, not that you're surprised, its life is longer than you've been in the country and you admit you should have replaced it much earlier but you're not the kind to throw away things that still work. However, is not the phone you are worried about, not as much as what it contains.

—That was obsolete anyway, I'll get you a better one.—You didn't know he was following you, his voice interrupts your self-wailing. He sounds calmer and a little embarrassed, but not enough to say sorry, you don't think he's capable of saying it.

You shake your head and start to walk away without a word, you don't want anything from him, not materially, at least.

—Don't make a scandal out of it, it's just a phone!—He yells erasing any trace of regret in his voice. He doesn't see the reaction he expected and that's when he runs after you and with a hand on your upper arm pulls you back, you gasped for the sudden bluntness.—That annoying habit you have of leaving when I'm talking to you.

You push him away with all the strength you have, which resulted in him almost falling on the ground.

—I don't care about the stupid phone!—You finally break, but sadly is not as satisfactory as you thought it would be.—You are mean, vain, arrogant and the worst part is that you enjoy being this despicable human because you have absolutely no consequences to it. Everyone around you just accepts it and I feel so sorry for you because the only possible way for you to fill the void inside is to be surrounded by that crowd of mules licking your steps—To your surprise, he has nothing to say, he's just standing there with no facial expression, whatever he feels is easily covered by his years of experience acting, even drunk.—I can't give you that and it's obvious they don't want me either. What am I even doing here?—You ask yourself thinking where would be the best way of getting a cab, is a rich zone, must be easy.

—Everything is better when you're around—His voice is thin and fragile, you have to process what he said three times in your head to understand his words. You're not willing to look at him yet.—You're not like the others.

—Pure bullshit. You love to repeat that misogynist discourse of girls being in a certain way because is easier than be responsible for the people you choose to be—You were hugging yourself the whole time, is a cold night, but not enough to be bothersome, you enjoy Fall weather—You got me for a moment, I give you that, you fooled me but I'm too tired of guessing what version of you is real—When you return your gaze at him, he doesn't try to hide the guilt anymore, but there's still haughtiness in there.—Now, if you don't mind Mr. Chalamet, I need to get a cab.

—No, you came with me, you leave with me.—There's no trace of alcohol in his voice anymore, a good scolding is enough to put you sober, you know that thanks to your mom. Oh god, you're becoming her.

—You didn't bring me here, gigantic head—You look at him and put your hand in front of him with the palm up. He stares at it for several seconds before put his own on it—Not that!—You shake it and start looking inside his jeans pockets until you feel the metal of his key car.—You can't drive and I have to get home. You'll find it in the studio tomorrow.

That's how you ended with a car way more luxurious than you expected, driving so slowly and carefully that the police stopped you. What a night, but at this point, you couldn't care less about anything that is not that message, is been months and you can't get over it, over him. Not even Ben moans, Tom's comforting arms, or fight with a movie star at 3:00 am. is enough to get him out of your mind.

—So is true, you don't wear anything that hasn't appeared in a movie, huh?—Michael B. Jordan is leaning on the car window with a mocking smile and a sparkle of satisfaction that you would love to punch but his uniform keeps you in line, where you come from police is not equal to justice, most of the times is oppression.

—You know where it's from?—That was kind of comforting, no one at the party noticed. Not that you care.

—Is The Mask, not some Adam Hitchcock's blurb.—He smiles and even when you really don't like him, it's nice to be with a familiar face, you are really tired of running away, scaping for problems that are a result of your null capacity to deal with emotions. Ugh, what a word.

—Is Alfred Hitchcock, actually.—You didn't want to sound priggish, but you correct him with no time to stop yourself, an old habit.

—You got me, smarty, you know more than movies than me. Where did you get this car?—You feel really nervous even when you got this legally, you have your documents and license on time and he's being nice enough to not want to run away in a car that you technically borrowed for yourself.

—It's not mine.—No shit, Sherlock.

—No shit, Sherlock, I was asking where did you steal it.—You wanted to laugh but there's something with the uniform that just doesn't allow you to be yourself.—Are you drunk?

—No, no, fuck, no, it's just, I don't feel comfortable with cops—He raises his eyebrows but that is his only reaction.—Listen, is my boss' car, I'm doing the favor to take it to the studio, and I'm really nervous because is fucking expensive, he's an asshole, I haven't drive un almost a year because you people only use cars if you're rich or your work and lives depend on it. I'm starving.—The last part came out of nowhere, you haven't eaten anything in almost 13 hours, maybe that's the actual reason why you are that moody.

He doesn't answer right away, takes his time to look at you, what makes you blush, he's really close, closer than he's ever been. Does he smell like green apples? Not the actual apples, the artificial smell they had given to them.

—Get out of the car.—Oh no, is he arresting you? Is he finally taking revenge for every time you make fun of his Hawaiian-type shirts? You know you have too much karma accumulated and a cop making you pay for it when you don’t believe in their sense of justice is kinda poetic, and evil.

You don’t want to discuss with someone with a taser, gun, pepper spray, or who knows what else. So you take your bag, the key car, and get off defeated.

—My turn is almost over, I’ll take you to eat something, c’mon.—He walks back to his patrol and you stay still for a few seconds still processing his words, you must look totally devastated for him to offer that. How you see it you have two options, go with him and spend an awkward hour with a person you don’t like or risk getting a fine, Tim can pay it, it’s not a big deal but you don’t want to owe him even the minimal thing.

You get in the car holding on to your bag to feel calmer, this is the first time you’re fully alone with him since you found him half-naked in your kitchen. Those defined abs may never leave your brain.

—Are you cold?—He interrupts your thoughts with his question, you didn’t notice you were shaking. He looks for something under his seat and gives you an NYPD hoodie, you hold it doubting your next move, is not like you don’t appreciate the gesture but it’d be easier to take if it doesn’t get that words printed—Is clean.—He says chuckling when he sees the way you’re looking at it.

—Is not that, just, you know, fuck the police, defund the NYPD, demilitarize the pigs and that stuff.—You say putting on the hoodie anyway, is a cold night and you won't help the institution wearing their propaganda.

—Yeah, I get it, but you can't change the system just from within.—You decide is not the right moment to have a political conversation so you shrug your shoulders and discreetly smell the hoodie, a mix of cologne, green apples, and cheap soap, you know is cheap because you buy the exact same, do its job.

—I'm in the mood for pizza.—You say casually, making a deal to yourself to try to be his friend, he is a small part of your life anyway.—Domino's is open at this time of the night?

—Tell me you're not consuming that shit, dear Lord, you been here for how long, two years? I can't believe your idea of a good pizza is Domino's. Stella hasn't taught you anything?—You're surprised by the level of condescension with a pizza and you mirror his smile, suddenly feeling embarrassed. Your school program includes people from all around the world so you don't have that much experience with actual new yorkers. Logan is rich, so he doesn't really count.

—What's wrong with Domino's? I don't buy much street food, is cheaper to buy things on the food market. Besides, all pizza is good.—The mention of Sheep makes you a little tense, so you don't say anything about it, is not a conversation to have with him.

—Don't blaspheme in the patrol, I just washed it—You laugh, finally, after a terrible weekend. You can see why she likes him, there is something about his voice, smile, and his eyes that feel... calm, like watching Friends after a marathon of Lord of the Rings.—There are rules to survive this city, and I'm surprised you have made it this far without a proper guide.

—Chill out Mr. Miyagi, I'm not from the jungle, and I've learned a lot by myself.—He gives you a lopsided grin as a request, and you put your fingers up ready to enlist your acquired knowledge.—Walk fast, like you're about to be stabbed, something that actually happened to me, with an umbrella—He nods and laughs being related to it.—Number two, no small talk, no one cares, even if they ask. Number three, if you look a stranger in the eye, especially a homeless person, you have essentially invited them to approach you.

—Number four, we never eat from Domino's, Papa John's, Pizza hut, or any other chain restaurant, only trucks and local places are allowed.—You roll your eyes but you get the point, is just, again, you're not much into street food, it doesn't taste like home and the only way to eat food like that is preparing it yourself.

—Fine, fuck capitalism, let's support local places—You make an obvious fake enthusiastic tone but he nods proudly.—Number five, you don't need a car to live here, not even know how to drive. I would have successfully avoided this police brutality if I had followed that rule.

—For someone who is about to eat for free, you whine too much.—He parks the car and gives you a sign to go with him. You see him go to a pizza truck and order, you realize at the moment how ridiculous you look, so before chasing him you let your hair down, take your huge earrings off, and roll up the skirt of your dress until your mid-thighs letting the hoodie cover the rest, and clean the red lipstick with a Kleenex from your bag. Now you look more like a college person and not a rich girl who just got seized.

—Here you go.—He says giving you a slice as big as your head, looks oily and spreading cheese everywhere. Perfect.

—Is it vegan?—You ask receiving the food with an obnoxious face. His kind grind turned into a dread expression and you give him your second laugh of the day.—I'm kidding.

You are about to give it a bite when you see passing next to you a huge rat with the exact same slice as yours in its mouth, running into the dark of the night happy to have obtained the food for its family. They use to scare you when you just moved out but now they're like any other pigeon in the sky.

—Rule... whatever, a rat with a slice of pizza is a symbol for good luck, congratulations.—He pets your head awkwardly, not sure if you're ok with the physical contact, which, surprisingly, you are.

—I see rats with bagels all the time.—Pizza and bagels, that's the main culinary wonders of the city, you like it, not much to object but is hard not to compare it with your home's food.

—Is easy to confuse a rough diamond with a simple rock.—You both eat in silence, enjoying the mixed sounds of the city and all the different smells, the whole situation feels like one of those lofi music videos. You remember thinking about moments like this before getting the scholarship, what would it be like to feel normal in the city of your dreams.

—How do you know that much about movies?—He asks after a few minutes when you take a break to drink something, that pizza is not easy to take.

—When I was a kid a spent much time on my own, so my dad bought me a used DVD reproducer, and at the corner of my neighborhood was this movie store where you could buy 5 pirate movies for one dollar. They were blurred, with a terrible sound, and most of the time with the wrong movie inside but they helped me to not feel lonely. Eventually, the store closed but I've watched everything in it by then—He gives you a warm smile, you never told that story to anyone, not because is too intimate to share, but because no one asked, it doesn't sound like a question with a complex answer.—Anyway, I watched Marie Antoinette when I was like eight, and I decided at that moment that however is done I wanted to be part of that magic.

—You hear all kind of people chasing dreams in this city but is hard to find someone who actually deserves it.—You blush and you cover it with your hair but the smile on your voice is impossible to hide.

—Is that a compliment? You must really want me to like you to date Sheep.—You laugh but you can see his face tense, so you can guess your friend has been busy breaking everyone’s hearts.

—She hasn’t returned my calls in three days so I don’t think there’s much you can do—You nod, all this time you thought he was the reason she is ignoring you but apparently you are both in the same boat.—But yeah, I don’t know what I was thinking, what I should have said is, Marie Antoinette at eight? I can see where all the damage started.

You gasp and throw your napkin at his head, he easily catches it without even looking at it and laughs; that was unexpectedly attractive.

—Why a cop?—You ask, not sure where that question came from, maybe you authentically want to know more about him, he just bought you food, and honestly, that's the easiest way to win your trust.

—I wanted to be an actor when I was a child. This is the city of opportunities so you may think that if you want to chase the big wonder, this is the perfect place to do it. But I grow up surrounded by these people giving their entire lives to get something just given to one in a million so I decided is not worth it. For many years I wondered what I wanted to do with my life and the answer was really clear, my dad was a cop, a good one, or that’s what people say. I don’t remember much because he died when I was seven—Conversations about death are not your strength, everything can turn out uncomfortable if you choose the wrong words.—It might not be that glamorous but if my father died for it, it surely worth it.

—For the good ones.—You raise your almost empty can of Coke and he does the same with a grin that warms the cold weather of the night.

—For the good ones.

The next two hours passed like minutes talking about anything and everything. It just felt right to talk freely with him, you didn’t feel judged for your awkward family moments or your random thoughts, not even once because he told you his too. At some point of the night he borrowed you his gym sweatpants, any of you could just suggest going home but that was off the table, end that peace just for weather reasons would have been a tragedy.

—I read Timothée Chalamet is a dick. Is that true?—The mention of his name remains you of your life and everything that comes with it, including the middle semester project that you must dedicate your entire day, one that is about to start.—What, you can’t talk about it?

—He is a complete dick with no sense of privacy or human decency—And when he interrupts a deep kiss to look at your eyes, smile, and caress your chin, you feel like a character of his Victorian movies. But he didn’t ask that.—But the next week he’ll be no longer my problem.

—That’s why we have rule twenty-three, don’t ask for a picture of a celebrity unless they are local—You have heard about it before but you haven’t got the opportunity to decide if you like that rule because the only celebrities you have seen are from work and that club’s party opening.—That means you’ll be free to go to the Stephen Kings’ movie projection there will be for Halloween.

You don’t know if that was a proposition, a suggestion, or just a simple recommendation, and whatever it is, you noticed he was nervous to ask. Is it wrong? It feels wrong like you were betraying your friend accepting to hang out with his boyfriend without her consent. But he didn’t ask you to go with him so is safe to answer.

—Yeah, I guess—You get a moment, four seconds top, where you shared innocent, curious, and tenting gazes like three graders in the playground. And that’s the further you will allow yourself to go.—We better leave, if the sunlight touch me I’ll turn into dust.

You get off the car hood and go to the side door, but this time he opens it for you. You give him a “seriously?” Look, receiving a little push in your arm as a response.

↬☀︎︎

A distant voice asks you to wake up, softly whispers that turn into caresses on your cheek, your eyes feel so heavy, even when you are well aware of your environment your eyelids keep closed.

—Good morning, Princess—This is the first time Tom calls you that way, the change from silly nicknames to Princess is enough to get you out of hibernation. He is squatting beside your bed, his smile is the promise of a better day, and chasing that idea you give him one small back.—Your mom has been texting me desperately all day, she said you're not answering her calls and is worried.

—Fuck, my phone broke last night, can I call her from yours?—That’s an oversimplification but in the search for a better story, that's what you decide to believe and tell. Tom nods and gives it to you, he looks happy, beyond that, this is the first time you see that subtle blush on his cheeks and the eyes sparkling. You sit on the bed next to his body looking for your mom's number, slowly he moves between your legs, you have shorts and an oversized Back To The Future t-shirt, you got took the time to prepare yourself to bed last night and keep Michael’s clothes inside your closet to wash them, like The Tell-Tale Heart, a little innocent secret who feels dirty somehow

The conversations with your mom are always long, nostalgic and the tears are hard to hold for both parts; after a long life sharing almost every day with her, her absence never feels smaller. But this time is different, Tom is exploring the bare skin under your knee with his warm hands, asking for permission with curious eyes, and when you don’t object to the touch the British boy keeps his exploring mission cautiously, giving special attention to see your eyes in case something change. Is time to hang up when he gives a long and loving kiss to your knee, the less erotic kiss you could think of but so intimate to bristle your skin.

—Not nice to touch someone's daughter when is talking to her mom.—The protest of your voice loses strength at every word, he heard that and just straight his back to reach your face, the gap is almost extinct.

—We're okay, she likes me.—He assures holding your hips and pulling you a bit to him. Tom looks very comfortable with the new closeness authorization, you like it but are not very sure about it yet, most of you still think of him as your best friend.

—Did she tell you that? Are you talking with my mom behind my back?—You laugh when he does, almost like nothing changed.

—She adores me, I swear, I'm invited to Christmas, you know?—You're not surprised, she invites everyone, Logan was too but the first time he got family plans and didn't make it to the second.

—You should go, maybe we can do...—His lips touch yours in a peak at the middle phrase and makes you forget what you were about to say.—Man, the audacity to interrupt...—Then he kisses you again, deeply, using his tongue to taste your inner lip and his hands holding your shirt in fists. That's a twist of events.

—Is that ok?—You hear a weak whisper coming out of his voice but you got so mesmerized on his lips that decided to ignore it and kiss him back instead. He responds to your touch and starts to lean over you to make you lay on the bed.

Jesucristo bendito, is this happening? like, actually happening? you must look like trash, you barely took all the makeup from the night before and didn't take a shower, you start to get so worried about smells, feelings, and what that'll mean to your already too much-spoiled friendship.

However, the time of doubts is done when Sheep starts yelling in the living room, you both reacted running to the sound and looking for your blonde friend. Michael is there but doesn't look like the same as a few hours ago, is annoyed and tired for the lack of sleep, a look that doesn't match him at all.—What did you do?—You ask him fast assuming she's mad for something he did.

—Just in time, the star of the movie, I was wondering how much it will take you to be the protagonist of this.—That is Sheep's voice talking about you and what must be your heart breaking from her words.

—Excuse me?—You wish your tone would be less savage but you can't help respond the same way she did.

—Logan wasn't enough, then you got the drummer, fucking Timothée Chalamet, Tom and now my boyfriend. I'm so glad I didn't leave you alone with my dad or I'd be calling you mom now.—You have no words to that, Michael doesn't even dare to look at you, he must have told her something she misunderstood, but Sheep, or well, Stella is saying things she actually thinks and keep to herself. Tom walks in front of you whispering things to her to calm her down but she is not looking at him, you didn't tell her anything about Tom either so he's taking responsibility this time.—Go ahead and fuck the whole city, Michael if that please you but you're crossing the line with Tom and you know that, you're going to ruin him as you ruin every man that enters in your life.—She has a very you moment having the last word of the dispute and getting out of the apartment with Michael going after her but not putting much effort in it.

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Taglist:

@eridanuswave @cjand10 @deluxeplanteater @rorodendra @navs-bhat @coxxxxxpi @leviosatothestars

Thanks for all the love and support, if you have opinions, suggestions, or want to be part of the tag list (Or don’t want to be part anymore) let me know, I appreciate every message.

[hotpinkhoshi]

kiss it better | five

pairing: mark tuan x reader

genre: angst, eventual smut, brother’s best friend au (sort of)

warnings: tw for death, death of a parent, reference to drug addiction

word count: 4.5k

summary: you were off limits for more reasons than mark could count. but everything changed for him the day you walked into his tattoo shop with those big innocent eyes and a laugh like his favorite song. he couldn’t. he wouldn’t. and yet…

a/n: hi babies thank you for your patience, i know it’s been many many months since i’ve updated! the last time i posted for kib was all the way back in may, which is crazy, i know. but life has been weird and it’s been difficult for me to find the motivation to write. it’s slowly coming back for me and i’m so glad you guys have stuck around with me even if i haven’t been consistent. i’m more grateful than you know!

✩ index here ✩

“She did what?” Dahyun asked, her bite of gimbap nearly falling right out of her mouth. 

Youngjae threw his head back and broke into laughter entirely at Mark’s expense. 

Mark ran his tongue over his teeth and refused to look up at his friends, focusing awfully hard on the sketch he’d been working on in between appointments. He quickly realized that they had absolutely no sympathy for him. 

“Yeah.” 

It had been two weeks already since that night, and Mark was just now feeling comfortable enough to spill what had happened after he took you home. He liked to take his own time to process his thoughts before he revealed them to others, and quite frankly, he hadn’t even wanted to tell anyone. But he was starting to think maybe he needed an outside perspective. 

“She has guts,” Youngjae said, after finally pulling himself upright in his chair. “Was it good?” 

“Dude,” Mark warned, far from amused. 

Dahyun cut in. “It’s a good enough question. From what I’ve seen, you guys have some intense sexual tension. If the kiss was hot, maybe it’s worth exploring.” 

“We don’t have sexual tension,” Mark defended. 

Youngjae snorted. 

“Sure. But, let’s say if you did, and the kiss was good…” Dahyun trailed off, wiggling her eyebrows. 

Groaning, Mark tapped the end of his pencil against the desk. He glanced up at the wall, his eyes naturally drawn to the photo of your shoulder, of the tattoo he’d designed and permanently inked onto your skin. It wasn’t the only photo he had pinned up of his previous work, but it was the one he looked at the most. 

“She’s a kid,” he said, little to no conviction in his voice. 

But you weren’t a kid. Mark knew in every way, you were an adult. Even mentally, emotionally, you seemed more mature than he felt most days. Packing up your belongings because you refused to live a life you weren’t satisfied with? He couldn’t imagine anything more grown up than that.

“Mark,” Youngjae’s tone was firm, serious this time. “It’s not the worst thing in the world if you have chemistry with someone. I know it may not be the most convenient girl for you, but… you’ve been by yourself for a long time. You can’t tell me you aren’t lonely.” 

He hadn’t thought he was lonely until you came into his life. He had been fine, so fine, living on his own. Waking up alone, eating dinner alone, focusing on his work and living one day to the next. 

But now, he looked forward to the sound of your keys in the door when you got home from your evening shift. He bought your favorite brand of orange juice instead of his. He didn’t mind watching outlandish and obviously fake reality shows if it meant that he got to hear your commentary along with it. More than anything, he’d gotten used to the way you made him feel. In the simplest of terms, he was happy. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Mark said. “I already fucked it up.”

Dahyun narrowed her eyes. “What did you do?” 

He rubbed some of the tension out of his forehead, relaying the conversation he’d had with Taehyung that night to his friends. The exchange wasn’t longer than a few minutes, but it was long enough for Mark to potentially ruin everything you’d built for yourself in the last couple of months. 

“I didn’t tell him everything - I couldn’t do that. But I told him I’d seen her in the city, that I thought maybe she worked in one of the restaurants near the shop…” A knot of guilt coiled in his stomach. “Fuck.” 

He’d just wanted to do the right thing. You were young, you couldn’t see that your parents cared about you. Taehyung cared about you. They deserved to know where you were, especially after everything they had done for him. He could at least point them in the right direction. 

“Well, shit,” Youngjae offered, a sympathetic frown on his face. 

“I fucked her over, and I haven’t been able to look her in the eye since. We’ve just avoided each other for the last two weeks and I-” Mark heaved a breath, leaning back in his chair. “I hate it.” 

He missed you. Even if he couldn’t say it out loud.

“I have an idea,” Dahyun said, her whole body perking up. “Don’t look at me like that, sometimes I have good ideas. Why don’t you invite her along for Yugyeom’s camping trip?”

“You mean the couple thing?” 

Dahyun sighed. “It’s not a couple thing. It’s just… everyone there is part of a couple. Anyway, it might be a good way to make things less awkward.” 

Mark blinked a few times, waiting for Dahyun to say ‘just kidding’ because it was an absolutely ridiculous idea. “What? How would that make things any less awkward?” 

She shrugged. “I mean, it’s a great opportunity to break the tension. If you know what I mean.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Mark scowled. 

You spent your entire shift thinking about Mark. Thinking about how you had completely messed up your relationship, and trying to figure out how to fix it all. It had been a stupid, drunken mistake, and you would take it back in a heartbeat if you could. 

The past two weeks had been torture, tiptoeing around and trying your hardest to avoid him. You’d picked up extra shifts almost every day, figuring that if you were working, at least you didn’t have to pretend like everything was normal. 

All you wanted was to come home, curl up on the couch with Milo and watch your favorite ridiculous TV shows while Mark snickered next to you, entertained by the disgustingly wealthy families on the screen no matter how much he pretended to hate it. You wanted to be able to lean into him, feel the body heat radiating off of him when his shoulder brushed yours. 

You missed Mark. Even if you couldn’t say it out loud. 

After much debating, you decided that the best way to apologize started with food. And you owed him, anyway, after he opened his home to you and let you stay there free of charge. A dinner was the least you could do. 

You could tell once you walked into Paradise Tattoo just before closing time that Mark hadn’t been expecting you in the slightest. He was at the desk, going over papers with Dahyun, when the bell dinged to signal your entrance. 

In his ripped jeans and muscle tee, all of his tattoos were on display for you, even the large quote he had inked onto his ribcage. You gulped and shoved your feelings down. That would only make things worse. 

“Hi,” you said, greeting both Mark and Dahyun. 

“Hey.” Mark scratched his head and straightened his posture. “What are you doing here?” 

“Well,” you started, wringing your hands in front of you. “I wanted to see if you wanted to get dinner? On me. I owe you, anyway.” 

Dahyun piped up, a mischievous smirk on her lips, “That’s a great idea. Mark was just talking about how hungry he was.

Mark cleared his throat and shot his co-worker what looked suspiciously like a glare. “No, I’m fine. You really don’t have to-” 

“Come on,” you said, hiding a smile. “How about burgers? There’s a good place around the corner. It won’t kill you to let me pay, will it?” 

You could see Mark weigh his options as he chewed his lip. Either end up hungry, settling for some quick frozen food later on, or bite the bullet and let you pay for his dinner. You knew it would hurt his pride to do so, but you wouldn’t back down. It was more than just the free room and board that you wanted to make up for. 

“Alright,” he finally agreed. “Let me grab my stuff.” 

It only took less than ten minutes for you to walk down to the burger place, but it felt like an hour as awkward silence hung around the two of you. It wasn’t until you were both seated at a corner booth inside the restaurant that you finally spoke up. 

“Listen, Mark,” you said, looking up from the packet of ketchup you’d been nervously squishing between your fingers. “About that night…” 

“No, you don’t-” Mark was quick to interrupt, but you held your hand up. 

“Just let me, okay?” You sighed. 

You’d rehearsed these words countless times in the bathroom mirror, and right now it felt like they were slipping right out of your fingers. Where were you supposed to start? With the kiss, straight away? Or getting so drunk that you’d needed to be taken care of in the first place?

“I’m just… really sorry. I was stupid to drink that much and it’s not your job to watch after me. I should be able to take care of myself.”

Mark stopped you again. “I didn’t mind taking care of you.” 

“But it’s not your job, Mark. I’m an adult, and you’re letting me stay with you and asking for nothing in return. The least I could do is make it easy on you.”

“Y/N, if you could have seen me at your age, you wouldn’t feel so bad. We all get drunk and stupid sometimes,” Mark said with a shrug. It almost relieved some of your guilt until you remembered the kiss in the bathroom. 

“Well...” You shook your head and looked back down at your hands. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him for this one. “I really shouldn’t have ki-” 

“Hi! My name’s Lana, I’ll be your server tonight. Can I get you two something to drink while you look over the menus?”

A cheerful brunette appeared in front of you, a pen behind her ear and a wide grin plastered on her face. You glanced at Mark, then up at your waitress, not sure if you were grateful for the interruption or not. 

“Um, can I just have a water?” you asked, voice small and uncomfortable in your throat. 

“Same for me,” Mark agreed. 

“Perfect! Let me know if you have any questions about the menu!” 

You let out a long breath before you were able to look at Mark again. He was biting his cheek, his lips all twisted and holding back a laugh. 

“What?” you asked. 

“Her timing,” Mark got out, just as he let go of his laughter, throwing his head back. 

To your own surprise, you found yourself shaking with laughter as well. Either from Mark’s contagious laugh giggle or the simple ridiculousness of the situation. Here you were, in a burger restaurant, apologizing to your older brother’s best friend for kissing him while you were heavily intoxicated.

You covered your face with your hands to suppress your own laughter, letting your back slump against the cushions of the booth. It all came to you then, just how silly you’d been the last two weeks. 

“I am sorry, though,” you said, after you both settled down. 

Mark’s eyes glinted as he watched you from across the table, the ghost of a smile still on his lips. “It’s alright. I mean it. Last time I was that drunk, I’m pretty sure I ran around the block in my underwear singing the Canadian national anthem.”

You giggled again at the mental image. “What? How did you even-”

“No idea. It’s like I was possessed by a drunk Canadian mischief demon.” 

It was strange to imagine Mark and Taehyung in their teen years, since you’d been so young at the time, you could barely remember anything from that time of your life. You remembered Taehyung wearing the same pair of purple skinny jeans for three months because a girl at school had told him she liked them. 

You remembered Taehyung letting you sit in the basement in your favorite cushioned chair while he and Mark played video games on the big screen. It had been your favorite place to read then, tuning out the rambunctious cries of defeat while you got lost in other worlds. 

“So we’re okay, then?” you asked, after Lana had come back to take your order and left once more. 

Mark nodded, a genuine smile on his lips. “We’re okay.” 

“Maybe it’s weird, but…” you began, staring down at the wrapped silverware on the table instead of looking Mark in the eye. “Even though I grew up seeing you as Taehyung’s friend, that feels like a lifetime ago. And now I just kind of see you as… my friend. Like somebody I can trust.” 

When you finally looked up at Mark, his expression was unreadable. His bottom lip was between his teeth, but his eyes looked somewhat uncomfortable. You worried for a second that you’d crossed a line. 

“I owe a lot to your family,” Mark said after another long moment passed. 

Even though you didn’t remember much about Mark from your childhood years, you knew his upbringing had been rough. His parents had been addicts, the kind that never should’ve been together, let alone bring a child into the world. 

You’d never met his mom, but your own mother had made enough snide comments about her after Mark had gone home for you to understand just what kind of person she was. 

“One of those low life, worthless drug addicts. Sleeping around with anyone that can help her out, if you know what I mean. Never should’ve been a mother.”

She had a funny way of showing her compassion sometimes. 

Taehyung brought him over once after school and your mother had gotten one look at his threadbare clothes and hollow cheeks and taken him in as her new project. At first, he ate dinner with your family almost every night, and then she started making Taehyung pass over his any extra clothes he’d gotten that didn’t fit properly or that he simply didn’t like.

Mark did owe a lot to your family. 

You didn’t know what to say. You’d been so young there was no way you could take credit for anything your parents had done for Mark, but still, you itched to comfort him. Even now, with the unsaid words lingering in the air, you sensed that he had never been able to fully open up to anybody. Though you didn’t deserve it, you wanted to be the first. 

“Your mom,” you found yourself saying. “Is she…?” 

Mark shook his head. “She’s gone. Passed away a couple years ago.” 

Your face fell. If anything, you had expected her to have taken off for good or maybe gotten into some trouble she couldn’t get herself out of, but you hadn’t expected her to be gone. 

“Oh, god, Mark. I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

To your surprise, he only lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “I hadn’t seen her in a long time before that. Maybe two, three years. Then my aunt showed up on my doorstep with a box of her things and told me she OD’d in a gas station parking lot a week before.” 

His voice wavered only slightly, but enough to tell you he cared more than he let on. You could only imagine how painful it would be to hear of your own mother’s passing a week after the fact. 

“I’m sorry,” you said again. 

Mark shook his head. “Don’t be. It’s weird,” he said, tongue running over his lower lip as he paused. “I’d stopped seeing her as my mother so long ago that… I felt like I’d already mourned her death. Fuck, that sounds bad, doesn’t it?”

“No,” you answered as you reached across the table, fingers laying across the back of Mark’s hand. “It doesn’t. At all.”

A moment passed between the two of you. You caught Mark’s eyes glancing down at your hand resting on his skin, but he made no move to avoid your touch. 

“I never even went through her things. The box is just sitting at the back of my bedroom closet collecting dust.” 

“Do you want to go through her things?” you asked. 

Mark paused, chewing at the inside of his lip before he answered. “I don’t know.”

You nodded, somehow understanding exactly what he meant. Though you hadn’t gone through the same thing, you were familiar with avoiding a potentially painful and uncomfortable situation by simply pretending it didn’t exist. Hence why you had four unopened voicemails from your brother and parents. 

You found yourself stroking the back of Mark’s hand with your thumb. It didn’t feel wrong to touch him like this, even though maybe it should have. All you wanted was to bring him a shred of the comfort he had deserved to have for much longer than you’d known him. 

“Alrighty, and here we’ve got the bacon cheeseburger and sweet potato fries for the lady,” Lana exclaimed, immediately bursting your bubble as she returned to your table with your food balanced on a tray. You were quick to snatch your hand from Mark’s. “And a BBQ cheddar burger with curly fries for the handsome man.”

You didn’t miss the way Lana winked as she placed Mark’s food in front of him. This girl was not getting a generous tip from you, that was for sure. 

“I told you, after that depressing dinner conversation, we need to do something fun,” you told Mark as you carried your skincare basket out from the bathroom into the living room.

“And this is fun for who?” 

You threw him a playful glance and plopped down onto the floor in front of the couch on your knees, setting your basket on the cushion and sifting through it. 

“Both of us. Just trust me.” 

Catching the skeptic look on Mark’s face, you could only grin to yourself as you pulled out a tube of your favorite clay mask. He didn’t know just how relaxing a good face mask could be, but you were willing to show him. 

“I’ll even go first,” you told him. 

Mark lifted his feet to prop them up on the coffee table as Milo curled up like a tiny ball of cotton on his lap. You’d both changed out of your work clothes into comfy clothes, and you couldn’t help noticing how warm Mark looked in his white joggers and oversized black hoodie. You wouldn’t mind snuggling up into that space between his side and the couch cushion… 

You sighed and shook your head, attempting to clear the less-than-platonic thoughts from your mind. If you were going to make this friendship work, you would need to stop thinking about him like that. Immediately.

“Can I ask you something?” Mark said after a beat of silence as you popped open the cap to your mask. 

“Hm?” you asked, propping your personal sized makeup mirror on the couch so that you could see yourself while you applied your mask. 

“Yugyeom’s family has a yearly pass to this campground, and every year he does this weekend camping trip…” he trailed off for a moment and you forced yourself not to react, instead focusing on applying your charcoal mask to your cheeks. “This year, it somehow ended up as a couple thing, so Dahyun suggested I invited a friend along. So…” 

Lifting your eyes from your own reflection, you watched as Mark struggled to finish his thought. 

“So…” you said, helping him along. “Are you asking me to come with you?” 

Immediately, a neon flashing red alarm screeched in your mind. ‘This is a terrible idea! You must say no!’ it screamed.

“Only if you want to. I mean, it’s a cool place. Their lot is right by this swimming hole and there’s a fire pit, so we normally bring a ton of booze and cook our own food over the fire…” 

Mark ran his fingers through his deep red locks of hair, his nerves displayed clearly on his face. You weren’t sure why he was so nervous to ask you, but it came off as incredibly endearing. Despite the warnings blaring in your mind, you found yourself nodding. 

“Okay.” 

Mark looked at you then, his eyes finally locking on yours, and the corner of his lips lifted in a hopeful smile. “Really?”

You couldn’t help grinning as well. “Yeah. I mean, on one condition…”

“Oh?” 

“Mhm,” you replied, holding up the mask tube and popping the cap back open. “You let me put this mask on you.”

“Aish,” Mark said and shook his head. “No way. Not worth it.”

“Oh, come on, you big baby!” 

You stood from the floor and climbed onto the couch, crawling to his side and squeezing some of the mask onto your index and middle fingers. “It’s not that bad!”

“Get away from me!” Mark exclaimed with a laugh, dodging your fingers. Milo hopped up onto the arm of the couch, stomping his cute little paws a few times. 

“Just let me pamper you, Mark!” 

He let out another laugh, louder this time, trying to reach for the mask to steal from your grasp, but he wasn’t fast enough. You giggled, ducking to miss his hands as he grabbed for your wrists. 

Somehow, you found yourself straddling him, thighs resting on either side of Mark’s waist. 

“Real men wear face masks!” you exclaimed with a shout of victory as you finally managed to smear a good amount of the clay mask across Mark’s left cheek. 

“Oh, you little-” he replied, hands reaching for your sides underneath the long sleeved shirt you were wearing. He tickled your sides, a joyful laugh falling from his lips when you started squealing. 

Milo yapped a few times from the arm of the chair, presumably because he thought that you were hurting Mark or vice versa, but his protective barks only made you laugh harder. 

“Mark! Stop it!” 

You gasped for breath, wriggling on top of him and dropping the mask tube, fighting between giggling and trying to swat his hands away. 

“It’s what you deserve, you sneak,” he said, his hands still squeezing and tickling your sides, unknowingly drifting further up your shirt to your ribs. 

Twisting and turning, you finally managed to grab his wrists and yanked them from under your shirt. You held them firmly in between your bodies, even though he could have easily overpowered you. 

Your chest heaved up and down with the last of your giggles. Mark stared up at you, still smiling and out of breath. The air suddenly became thick as you held eye contact, your hands falling from his wrists to his chest. 

“Y/N,” Mark whispered. 

‘Danger! Danger!’ your mind yelled. 

Mark’s hands, now free from your hold, landed on your hips. You felt his thumbs slip under the hem of your shirt, stroking the bare skin of your stomach. Your heart pounded beneath your rib cage at his gentle touch. 

“Mark,” you said, intending on telling him to stop, but it quickly died in your throat. 

His chin tipped up, making you realize just how close you were to him now. You weren’t sure who had leaned in first, but only a few mere inches separated your lips from his now. If you only bent forward a bit, you could… 

It reminded you, all of the sudden, of the kiss in the bathroom. It had been quick, but long enough for you to slide your tongue past his lips. You remembered the shock to your system the moment you had felt the cold metal of a tongue piercing. 

“Y/N,” Mark said again. “Tell me to stop.”

His voice was quiet but you felt like you could read between the lines. He didn’t want to stop, and the only way he was going to stop was if you made it clear that you didn’t want this. 

But you did. You’d wanted it from the moment he ran his fingers over the tattoo he’d inked onto your skin one of those first nights, a soft ghost of a touch that made goosebumps form on every inch of your skin. 

You weren’t stupid, you knew that this was all wrong for a variety of reasons, the least of which being that he was your roommate. But that meant nothing to you compared to the way his hands felt on your skin.

Before you could open your mouth, tell him that you didn’t want him to stop, an 8-bit version of the Mario Kart theme blasted from somewhere behind you. You jumped, your heart skipping several beats from the surprise. 

Mark took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, blinking a few times before he gently guided your hips to climb off of him. “Sorry, I should…”

The ringtone felt familiar but you couldn’t figure out why. Even as you watched Mark grab for his phone off the coffee table and immediately silence it, you wracked your brain to try and remember where you had heard that ringtone before. 

It was as if Taehyung had known, the moment that Mark quieted the little voice in his head telling him not to be so close to you and that this was wrong in so many ways, and finally accepted his feelings for you.  

Maybe he had a sixth sense. 

The moment that had passed between you then had been effectively ruined as soon as he was reminded of two things: you were his childhood best friend’s little sister, and he had already ruined your life even if you didn’t know it yet. 

But he’d been so close to giving in. You’d been on top of him, smiling in that innocently beautiful way that you did, your thighs caging in his hips. He hadn’t missed the fact that he could feel you with every inch of him, considering how he’d begged his body not to react, not to harden beneath you. Between the thin layers of his sweats and your sleep shorts, there was no way you wouldn’t notice. 

Later, after you’d grabbed a washcloth so you could both wipe the face mask off your faces and awkwardly watch TV for an hour before enough time could pass for you to realistically head off to bed, Mark listened to the voicemail Taehyung had left. 

“Hey man. I just wanted to let you know that uh, I’m going to try and head to the city and look for Y/N in a few weeks. If you see her again or have any idea where she might be, let me know. I really appreciate it, my mom’s been going crazy… anyway, maybe we can grab a drink or something once I’m in town. I’ll hit you up. Thanks again, Mark.”

Mark was glad he was in the privacy of his own bedroom when he listened to the message so you didn’t see the way he threw his phone down on the bed, muttering curse words to himself and trying to forget how heavenly you had felt on top of him. 

It was impossible. All he could think about was your skin under his fingertips, how your lips had been so soft and smooth and close to his, and how the weight of you on top of him had been enough to make him hard. 

His only option was to shut himself in the bathroom and crank the shower all the way to the coldest temperature that he could stand and pray that it would be enough to keep him from sneaking into your bedroom that night. 

[phantomrose96]

Flash in the Eyes Part 2

(Part 1)

More fixed!Flynn lore? More fixed!Flynn lore

..................

Danny lay awake. He kept his eyes glued to the bedroom ceiling, studded with glow-in-the-dark stars from corner to corner. They doused him in the tiniest shimmer of ethereal light – the second source of light in the room – after his phone, which he gripped loosely in the hand dangling off the bed. The phone cast its own faint shimmer outward, a ray into the bleak night.

And he himself made for the third source of light, he supposed. That pulse of iridescent green from his eyes, which he felt like the beginnings of a headache building inside his head, had been spurred to the front by the trickle of anxiety that kept his nerves alight now at 3:30 am.

The plastic stars above. His phone glowing outward. (His radioactive eyes, pinned to Aunt Alicia.)

Danny was not allowed to forget the incident. He was not allowed to move on. Even home, it followed him.

His phone, with that dim light, was open to a single message that had been plaguing him all day. A single Facebook message, from a profile wishing to connect, with no profile picture, no history, no other friends, made day-of. “danny. this is your aunt alicia. never would of thought id be using of one these computers. wierd things. any way. wanted to apoligize about scarring you. I have a mean face maddie knows. i dont have a computer. this is in the libary in town. but hoping you culd call me on the phone. wanted to ask you somthing more. thanks. xxx-xxx-xxxx…”

Danny left the message on read. He figured it didn’t much matter that his read-receipts were on. Alicia made it clear she had no access to a computer, or likely internet for that matter. This was a message cast into the void, framed as an apology, but fishing for information that made Danny’s skin crawl to think about. Alicia could talk to his mom any time. But she had chosen not to. She’d chosen to contact Danny directly, through a means of great hassle for a woman so sworn-off technology, living so far away from proper civilization. And she’d chosen to do so after seeing that flash in his eyes.

This wasn’t like fighting ghosts. Those were pure physical scuffles which ended in him casting the creature off into the portal to (hopefully) never be heard from again. This instead was an anxiety pricking along every nerve of his skin, deep-seeded and deep-sewn from the woman who terrified him all these many years, whose connection to his ghost-hunting parents sent his brain into spirals of dread for all the what-ifs he conjured.

“You seem deep in contemplation. Perhaps I should come back later?”

Danny sat bolt-upright, spinning fast enough to see new stars spawning in his vision. He blinked them away, and sucked in a sharp inhale of breath as he snapped his head to the side.

Half-translucent, idly floating, Vlad Plasmius appraised him from the other side of he bedroom, studying Danny the way a teacher might study a struggling student.

Danny’s transformation and leap from bed came as one. His covers blew back, phone clattering to the floor forgotten.

“Plas—”

“Yes yes, ‘it is I, Plasmius’. I believe we’ve done our battle cry introductions enough times for the audience to get the point.”

“What are you doing here?!”

“Just dropping in on old friends.” Plasmius, still floating, performed a motion as if to sit. He swung one leg over the other, and reduced the miasma of pressure that his aura sent off. He was relaxed, and conversational, and this made Danny’s neck hair prickle all the more.

“All the way from Wisconsin! Yeah just, dropping in at 3 in the morning! Yeah, well, sorry but I don’t buy it, Plasmius. And I’m sending you back to Wisconsin now that you—”

“Seems we’ve both been traveling quite a bit out of state. Tell me was it a fun little vacation? A ghost hunting trip?”

“It—” Danny’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know we were gone?”

“Oh easy, I have ghost sentinels pinned on your house at all hours. They feed me this information.”

“Noted. Thanks for the tip. I’ll be sure to blast them out of existence next time I’m out.”

“I’d love to see you try. They’re masters of stealth.” Vlad flashed a grin. “I have to say I am quite disappointed to see you all back so soon – must have been a short trip. Where did you go?”

“Not telling you. Now why are you here?”

“I’ll tell you if you tell me.”

Danny bit down the urge to sucker-punch Vlad on spot. “We were visiting our aunt. Nothing special. Not everything is some big…I dunno… ghost conspiracy, Vlad. Now why are you here?”

“I was simply hoping to catch the house unguarded. You know, explore the lab, see the new contraptions that Maddie designed and Jack botched, perhaps sprinkle some cyanide in the oaf’s cornflakes box.”

“Like I’d let you--!”

“Aunt, did you say, Daniel? Alicia, perchance?”

Danny gave no response. He felt only the twist in his gut, which wrought a smile to Vlad’s face.

Vlad clapped his hands together and continued. “That is a name that brings back memories! She and Maddie were remarkably close. I heard about her constantly – given of course that I am a fantastic listener who never forgets a name or a face, unlike some fools who can’t even remember birthdays – but yes as Maddie’s best listener and best supporter, I feel like I know Alicia personally. Tell me, how is her husband Dale doing? How’s little Flynn? Not so little anymore, I imagine.”

“Don’t… talk about my aunt. That’s weird.” Danny floated backwards, coalescing a lick of flame in his palm. “Also, goes to show how much you know these days. Alicia and Dale have been divorced for like ten years now. And there’s no Flynn. You sure you’re that great a listener?”

Vlad quirked an eyebrow. “Ah, shame how divorce never seems to happen to the right people. Has Alicia tried telling Maddie it’s not too late to follow suit?” Danny unleashed his pulse of energy. Vlad blocked it with a single dismissive wave of his gloved hand. “And Daniel I am referring to your cousin Flynn, about whom I am absolutely not mistaken. Maddie and I were sophomores in college when he was born. Maddie flooded me with pictures of the boy, chubby little thing with red hair like Maddie’s. They moved her to tears, some of them. It was formative for me. The moment I realized that was the future I wished for myself, that I could bring Maddie that same joy with a family of our own. Shame how children don’t seem to happen to the right people either.”

Danny gave no response. He only lingered in the air, drifting slightly, the wafting residue of his attack trailing along his palm.

“You don’t seem so convinced,” Vlad commented.

“I’m not. Aunt Alicia doesn’t have kids. I don’t have any cousins. Unless you count whatever Danielle is.”

“A clone. You have to know the cousin thing was made up.”

“Alicia doesn’t have kids. Bottom line.”

“Did she sign him away in the divorce? That’s cold. I wonder if I could convince Jack to do the same with you.”

“Aunt Alicia divorced without kids, dumbass!” Danny swept a hand out. “She talks about her divorce all the time like it’s the best thing that happened to her, and she’s said how easy it was with just her and Dale and no one else. I don’t know how many other ways I can tell you I don’t have cousins, and I definitely don’t have a cousin named Flynn. You’re making yourself look like an idiot.”

“The opinion of a 14-year-old means very little to me.” Vlad dipped forward, closing the gap between him and Danny by a few feet. The air howled cold behind him. “However I am utterly intrigued to know what became of Flynn then. Clearly something worth keeping from you. Drowned in a pool? Carried off by a bear? Perhaps his parents made a ghost portal a decade prior to yours and he zapped it on from the inside.”

“You’re not funny.”

“I am hilarious, young man.” Vlad uncrossed his legs, still floating, but as though standing once more. “You should respond to your aunt’s message.” Vlad nodded his head to the phone on the floor. “She seems eager to speak to you. Maybe she can tell you what happened to dear little Flynn. And if you don’t, well perhaps I will stop by tomorrow morning for some tea, and ask Maddie myself what became of him. You’re welcome to be in the room when I do.”

“Hey!”

A flash of light momentarily blinded Danny, followed by a pulse of energy, and when Danny opened his eyes again he had to blink through stars.

Nothing remained in the night.

Only the ceiling studded stars above, and the glow of the phone below, and the consumptive chilling green flashing from his own eyes.  

[spiltscribbles]

Im so excited!!!! Here’s a little “It’s always been you. You and only you.” sprinkled in with Green-Eyed Epiphany

~Notes: OMFG bubby!!!! You are so beyond adorable! Thank you So SO much for the sweetness!! I really hope you like this XS and fingers crossed  this fits the promptXS <3 <3 <3

.-

Prompt Smash Game  |  Send Me A Prompt💜   |  A Reblog Is Like A Huge, Warm Hug!!!

.-

~R: my mom’s working the night shift at the clinic👀👀

~S: Kinky😏

~S: I can be there in 15

~R: make it 20 and get Chinese x

~S: sometimes I think ur j using me for the food

~R: and bring henny😈

.-

It’s seventeen minutes since Remus sent the last text when the front door of his modest ranch house begins to thump with a familiar wrapping that’s three quick knocks followed by two slower ones, and he has to wrestle down the eager grin from his face when he swings it open to find one of his closest friends standing at the threshold in that customary  weathered, leather jacket that he found two summers ago when Remus had taken him thrifting for the first time, and an impish sort of smirk that definitely would look ridiculous on anyone else, but only makes Sirius all the more maddeningly attractive. 

“What took so long?” Remus asks mildly, pulling him indoors by the sleeve and gesturing for him to set the goods on the kitchen counter once they cross the small foyer.

“You wound me, Lupin.” Sirius retorts, quick-silver eyes flashing before he pins him against the island and puts his hands on either side of his waistline with more gentleness than Remus would’ve expected before they began this whole sorted affair— Okay, maybe that’s the wrong word for it?

It’s not an affair, or tryst, or carrying on or whatever the fuck else Lily says when she’s teetering on the wrong edge of tipsy and thinks it’s her right to call Remus out on his bullshit— on his stupid, beyond obvious crush he’s been fostering for one of his closest friends since junior high.

It’s none of those things— It’s not nearly as dramatic.

It’s just— Just that yes, Remus has been harboring a tiny infatuation  for Sirius ever since that first day of the seventh grade  when he had moved to this tiny, coastal town after his parents divorce. But how could he have not? Sirius is hilarious, and a genius, and so gorgeous that sometimes it feels like his insides are twisting up whenever he glances over at him. And on that first day, he had just caught Remus’s eyes from across the library shelves before classes begun, and smiled in that uniquely electric way of his, and asked if Remus could put slime in a very specific locker, (Snape’s), for a very specific reason, (Because he kept following Lily around like a creep), on account to no one suspecting the new kid. And yeah— Remus was lost on him an embarrassing amount from then on. 

Sure, it can be regarded as kinda pathetic on Remus’s end— kindling this nest of emotions so close to the chest— but also it’s not as if he’s been lovestruck by his crush, like it’s some sort of waterlogged scarf he’s got dragging him down. His attraction towards Sirius is like a soft melody that’s swelling in the backdrop of all their interactions, nothing overwhelming— not a flood plane, not yet at least. It’s warm, and it’s familiar, and it’s persistent like a flutter of a humming bird’s wings.  And Remus doesn’t mind pining over someone as fantastical as Sirius Fucking Black.

Graciously, in some strike of incredible luck, Sirius never caught on to Remus’s silly feelings, not until that night when they were watching an old movie in Remus’s basement while James and Lily were celebrating an entire year together— save for all their sudden stops and just as speedy starts— and Peter was visiting his grandmother in Tampa Bay. It was the first time they had been alone together since Remus broke up with Caradoc for the final time, and Sirius just looked so fucking good in that casual, white v-neck and his skinny jeans that make him look like some echo of James Dean on his best day. And Remus isn’t sure who exactly moved forwards first, or how the fuck Meg Ryan wandering the Seattle streets was some sort of aphrodisiac, or why Sirius— who could have any guy he would ever want— was actually humoring him, but one second they’re lying down on the sofa— Remus caged between Sirius’s expanse and the cushions behind them— and the next he’s tasting PBR on Sirius’s lips, and has got a fist full of his dark hair, and is thrilling at the feeling of Sirius’s thigh between his legs. And yeah— it just happened like those sort of things are want to do, and by the end of it they were sticky and breathless and diffident in ways they never been around one another, in ways Remus reckons Sirius has never been around anyone.

But the next weekend, when Sirius’s latest sorta— but not really— boyfriend had canceled on their dinner plans, Sirius wandered over to Remus’s bedroom window and it was another tumbling of frenzied hands and loosen buckles and thrusting hips. And then it just became an easy release— a sort of poetry, an understanding in all but name.

And that’s fine. They don’t have to talk about it. Remus knows that Sirius isn’t the type to settle down with a partner, to go bowling for a date, or texting countless messages that amount to nothing at all at the end of the conversation, or putting up with another dude’s parents taking photos of them before leaving to prom or homecoming or whatever the fuck else. And Remus is sorta sick of the idea of love, of trying so hard only to end up heartbroken and eating a gallon of Chubby Bunny in his favorite sweats and cursing John Hughes for pretending Hollywood romances can happen to ordinary high schoolers. 

So yeah— This thing they’ve fallen into with each other is good. They’re friends— best friends— and they have fun and they’re apparently really fucking good in bed together, and Sirius never looks at Remus with pity when he spots him gazing at his profile absentmindedly, and he doesn’t mind when Remus traces invisible designs against his skin when they’re soaking in the after glow, and he never treats him  any different. Sirius still slings his arm around Remus’s shoulders when they walk down the halls, and he still buys him his favorite chocolates when he feels poorly, and he still faces Dorcas's disapproving wrath when he drags Remus out of the library to have a little mischief— whether it’s smoking a blunt in the abandoned skatepark in town or playing some stupid prank on those assholes in their year. 

For all intent and purposes, they still behave the same they’ve always acted around one another, but just with the miraculous addition of mind-blowing and dulcetly ductile sex.

This is good, this is fun, this is completely untethered from the bull shit of romance.

And if Remus mouths against the juncture of Sirius’s neck a little too intensely— trying to pry off the memory of the hickey Sirius had been sporting after spending the weekend with Gideon Prewett— Well no one has to be any the wiser, and by the sound of Sirius’s hitched breaths, he seems not to mind even slightly.

“Except my apology?” Remus asks, more coy than he ordinarily acts as he drops his arms around Sirius’s neck, and leans on the balls of his feet to whisper against his temple.

“Oh, you’re such a bastard,” Sirius retorts, labored as all get out, kneading his fingers into Remus’s ass that’s only covered by the thin layer of his plaid pajama bottoms. “You are going to have to do a lot more for me to forgive the lip.”

Remus laughs in a stammering sort of way as Sirius tugs him along, walking backwards to his room that he’s become incredibly intimate with since the first time they did this three months ago. 

“Sirius, the spring rolls— they’re gross if we have to heat them up again.”

“I’ll postmate us knew ones,” Sirius insists, covering Remus’s mouth with his own with fervor. “C’mon babe, do not tease me like this.”

Sirius must’ve caught his mistake, because he suddenly goes as red as Remus feels— The pet name was to close for comfort considering their strictly friends with benefits nature, but Remus is already half hard, and he really does not want to end this, so with a sly wink, he returns to nipping at Sirius’s jawline, rutting against him in a very unambiguous way. “Fine, if you really don’t think you’ll need the nourishment for your stamina?”

The words have their intended effect, and Sirius makes a small growl deep in his throat before practically tearing off Remus’s shirt, and dipping beneath the waistline of his pants, scooping him up and racing to the bed.

And they get lost in one another beneath the pale glow of Remus’s lamplight and the moon spilling through the window, relearning each others every patch of skin for minutes on end that wax and wane like the delta of ocean waves, unspooling into something tangible and tantalizing with every kiss punctuated with teeth that Sirius trails across Remus’s collarbone, and the way Remus palms greedy hands up and down Sirius’s back until he gets the hint and undresses.

“Well come on, you’re not an invalid, Lupin.” Sirius jeers and Remus chuckles as he follows suit until they’re both finally, blessedly nude. And with an easy assurance of them having done this more than a dozen times now, Remus crawls into his lap and kisses him straight on the mouth, preening how Sirius moans against him— canting up wantonly and grabbing at his hips with a sort of intensity that will probably leave bruises in the shape of the pads of his fingers, and Remus absolutely adores the idea of that, feels something hot and needy and desperate unfurl in his gut as he presses their mouths more forcefully together, going buzzed when he gets to relish in the sensation of their tongues running against one another, and the taste of the ridges on the roof of Sirius’s mouth, and the slide of the soft skin of his inner cheek— gasping when Sirius pulls away abruptly, panting an almost reverent, “Mother of God, Remus,” and tackles him flat on his back before they commence, with the addition of both their hard,  leaking cocks thrusting against one another and Sirius’s hand in Remus’s hair pulling that bit more forcefully while his other one roams the dips and planes of his side— skirting against the divots of his stomach muscle before he wraps it around the pair of them and begins to pull in earnest, to the rhythm that Remus swears was strung from the heavens above.

“Oh— Oh, yeah— Sirius,” Remus breathes out in a haggard sort of way, words that he refuses to ever call a mewl even if they’re stretched out and crackle with emotion.

“Yes—, just say that again,” Sirius practically demands, his mouth completely covering his ear in a wet, hot heat— his teeth scraping against the soft shell. “Remus, baby, just say my name, tell me you want it.”

And God, Remus is feeling so heady— like he’s floating and he couldn’t possibly come back down— that he probably would’ve listened to anything Sirius asked of him, especially if he does that thing again, when he squeezes the slick length of them with a tad more force than they usually play at. “Sirius, Sirius. Sirius, please, I’m close,” Remus shrills in an unsteady staccato— his normally smooth tenner going pitchy and pleading, and he can feel his toes curling, can feel the eminent release coming— What he does not expect is to feel something poking at his entrance, didn’t expect to be struck dumb by the sensation of the tip of Sirius’s large, dry finger poking right there, right against the fluttering hole, while he’s still pumping them in tandem, and the second it hooks inside Remus goes a startling sort of static , sees blasts of white blotching his vision and his head thrown back and his dick spirting out heavily against Sirius’s deliciously defined torso.

And he’s just breathing heavily now, during the come down, can barely make out anything  through the heavy weight around him, the one  cushioning his head— but he does graciously feel Sirius’s cock fucking into his own hand against Remus’s thigh and then idly the feeling of his come splattering him, but then after that he can just barely hear the distant padding of feed against floorboards, followed by a wet washcloth being dabbed against his skin. So when he finally forces himself to focus, he sees Sirius cleaning himself off, wrapping it into the pair of joggers Remus was wearing earlier and tosses it to the corner of the room. 

“Rude,” he scolds with no heat, shuffling closer to him when Sirius lies down besides him once more and circles an arm around his torso.

“THat’s what you get when you’re acting like a lazy fuck,” Sirius counters, smug as all get out while he threads a hand in Remus’s hair.

“Hmm, didn’t see that in the papers recently. Is it a new law?”

“Yeah, actually just past on the senate floor.”

“Interesting… Well considering that only one of us has a senator for a father, I really have to ask to see the power-point you shared with him to get this bill through the stalemate,” Remus’s head bounces against Sirius’s chest from the force of his laughter at the barb.

“Oh, stuff it, Lupin.”

Hiding his smile into Sirius’s skin, Remus does as told, and they both just lie there, as if everything’s gone suspended just for the pair of them, just so Remus can count out the beats of Sirius’s heart pulsing against his sternum, and can feel the way their legs tie into one another, and can feel Sirius mouthing against his temple, blowing his curls with every exhale. 

And Remus thinks that he’d do anything to remember this exact moment for every single day from here on out.

But then the quiet is abruptly and permanently punctured by the sound of his phone chirping, and he has to breathe in deeply before separating from the warmth of Sirius, and fishes down for the device that’s still crammed into the side of his bed from where he had hidden it after that initial text.

“Is Dearborn still on your ass to try again?” Sirius asks, a bit stilted.

Remus wonders if he’s just imagining the tension twisted in the question, but reasons that Sirius’s never been Caradoc’s biggest fan, so he just shrugs it off— really doesn’t want to get into some stupid argument about his asshole of an ex when he’s still feeling so content. “Nah, ’s James. Still trying to force me to go to the homecoming dance with you guys.”

“Oh,” Sirius retorts, lips pinched while watching Remus redress. “You should go, Marls is pregaming and you know she always gets the good shit.”

Remus shakes his head while puttering over to find a new pair of sweats and a sweater. “Nah, just not feeling it this year— Erm, you’re taking Gid I assume.” He’s not sure why he asks it, supposes he’s always a glutton for some pain and shitty feelings to inspire his playlists habit, but also maybe it’s him trying to sober himself. Trying to remember that despite this— despite everything they just did and  how easy it’s always been for them to fall into step with one another— Remus isn’t good enough to be seen with Sirius in the light of day. He’s probably not handsome enough or cool enough or something else that makes Sirius absolutely revolted from the thought. Probably that he’s beyond bookish, and looks painfully virginal and isn’t nearly as sly or snarky as his other conquests.

Truly, Remus should just be thankful that Sirius wants this at all, he shouldn’t be so crazed over the why nots of the situation— it’ll only kill him trying to be something he never could actually affect with any credence.

Schooling his features to something passably indifferent, Remus pivots to face him again, is startled when he finds Sirius still naked and staring at him with a burning sort of intensity in his storm cloud eyes. 

“He hasn’t said anything, but I guess he’s assuming as much,” he finally says, running a hand through his overgrown fringe, that familiar twitch of the corner of his mouth grabbing Remus’s attention. The one that tells him Sirius is actually irritated about something he’s not letting himself say out loud. 

“Erm, good? Gid’s a decent guy.” Remus mutters, head ducked once it gets to a point that he can’t stand Sirius looking at him like that— Not after how blissed out and ferocious he had been groping every inch of Remus only moments ago. “You guys are nice together.”

And it’s like the breath before the worst of storms when his words collapse between them, making the pregnant silence go suddenly suffocating.

“Right,” Sirius intones once Remus levels their gazes, hurriedly standing and collecting his own clothes, fracturing the moment completely. “Right. Whatever, yeah. I’ll go to the fucking dance with fucking Gideon Prewett. That’s good.”

“Sir—“

“No, it’s fine. You can just stay home, and mourn over that douchebag Dearborn some more, even though you ending it with that dick was the best decision you could’ve made, Remus, and I’m not even saying it just because I’m petty. He is a prick, and you need to finally get a clue how much better you deserve, damn it!”

Remus’s head feels like it’s swimming. Why is Sirius so angry all of a sudden? Does he not like Gideon? Why can’t he just cut it off like so many times before? And why the hell is he petty over Caradoc? The entire situation feels like someone’s just handed him a wedge of Swiss cheese and told him to knit it back together. 

“What is up your ass?” He decides is an appropriate enough question for his floundering, and shutters back only slightly at how fuming Sirius looks when he rounds on him— clothes disheveled and fearsome glower heavy on his face. 

“Whatever Remus, if you can’t see that Dearborn is bad news—“

“I’m not pining for Dearborn,” Remus interjects, really doesn’t feel like listening to one of Sirius’s ridiculous diatribes about him, not now. Not when he’s still so bewildered by everything else. “Why would you think that?”

The fire in Sirius’s eyes vanishes as quickly as someone blowing on a candle, and it’s his turn to gawk, gaping at Remus, shoulders dragged down and eyes wide. “Wait— You’re not?”

“No…. I haven’t even thought about him for weeks.”

“Oh.” Sirius looks contemplative for a moment, before the righteous anger that only he could ever wear with such conviction, melts over him once more. “All right, then what the fuck is this?”

Remus stiffens, feels his veins lace with ice, an his breath catch somewhere in his throat, really does not think he’s ready for this conversation. “This?” 

“Yes, Remus, this!” Sirius demands, sounding harsh in comparison to the barely croak Remus had spoken with. “Listen I don’t care if you want me to wait some more, if you need to lick your wounds or whatever. But why are you like pushing me on other people? Why do you want me not to be around? why do you  want me to go out with other dudes?”

Remus lies back on the chest of drawers now, feels beyond dazed. “What the hell are you talking about, Sirius?”

Sirius clenches his teeth right then, the hinge of his jaw going taught 

before he skulks closer, not letting Remus drop his gaze. “Is it me? Is it that you just can’t see me that way? Are you just stringing me along or something? Because I really didn’t think that was your style, but if it’s that, then Remus—“

“Stringing you along?” Remus asks in a voice barely above a whisper, just needs to feel his lips forming the absolutely risible words, even if it makes it so something dark passes across Sirius’s beauteous features.

“Remus, I swear to God! Stop repeating everything I’m fucking saying!”

“Then start making  some damn sense!” Remus snaps, suddenly heated as he straightens and pins him with a proper scowl. “What in holy hell are you going on about?”

“God! Do I have to spell it out!” Sirius barks, cutting the final step dividing them and grabbing for Remus’s shoulders with a tight squeeze. “I know you just wanted to fuck around with someone after Dearborn showed his extreme dickitude, and listen, I was so fucking ecstatic that you wanted me for it. But I can’t do this in-between shit anymore! I’m sorry, but I can’t! And I get if this is annoying, but I’ve been crazy for you for so long. And I just can’t keep myself at an arms length anymore, not now that we’ve really had each other, not after you let me actually touch and taste and fuck you and— Damn it, this isn’t coming out the way I wanted, all right! Damn it, maybe Evans was right and I should’ve made queue cards like some dumb ass— But then James pointed out how unromantic that was, and Marlene said—“

Gently, Remus puts his shaking fingers against Sirius’s lips, effectively killing off anything else he’s about to say. And slowly, everything is beginning to slot into place, and he’s so spiteful over how they’ve been such idiots this entire time— swears to put salt into Lily’s coffee next time he sees her. 

“I didn’t know you actually were into me Sirius.”

Stunned, Sirius’s dark brows hike up to his hairline. “How the hell didn’t you know?” He demands against Remus’s fingers, thunderous and insulted looking.

“Because you never fucking said as much!” Remus defends himself, feels a mangled sort of laughter squirming out. “God, we’re idiots.”

“We’re?” Sirius asks, hesitant and red faced before Remus moves his hand to peck softly against his mouth. 

“I’ve been half in love with you for years you absolute ass-wipe, it’s always been you! You and always you.” Remus tells him breathily, still fighting down the last remnants of his actual, god forsaken giggle— like he’s thirteen again and getting buzzed off his mom’s peach wine coolers. “I only never said anything because I never thought I’d have a chance with someone like you— Someone so— so— Someone so amazing.”

The smile Sirius favors him with right then is something absolutely incandescent, and his eyes shimmer with a very distinct sort of joy that Remus wonders if anyone besides him has ever witnessed. “Then you’re definitely the biggest idiot between us, Lupin.” Sirius declares, knocking their foreheads together, and lacing his hand into Remus’s own before squeezing meaningfully.

“Fuck off,” Remus snorts, presses forwards for another languorous kiss, not feeling in danger of being swallowed whole any more— finally letting himself drown and knowing that Sirius will be there to pull him back up no matter what. 

“Oh, I could get used to this,” Sirius smirks, snakes his arms around Remus’s waste that bit tighter.

“Hmm, there is the problem that I usually don’t put out until at least the third or fourth date,” Remus says mildly.

“Pff, ‘s fine, Lupin,” Sirius insists, grinning beatifically. “I like you being a hussy for me!— Oof, careful with the merchandize, you were speaking some real exaltations about that part of my anatomy not too long ago.”

Moving his knee from the point at hand, Remus sticks out his tongue at him. “See if you ever get any ever again, Sirius Black.”

When Sirius laughs, it sounds like the strike of lightening against unmarked land, and the honey cloaked side of a knife’s edge, and like everything splendid Remus has ever known. And he thinks that yes, he could get used to this right back.

.-

[crystalas]

Hind Sight

This is both inspired and a sort of prequel to Starfics’ answer to my prompt, I loved the idea of it so much that I started a Demon Bull Divorce AU, have fun!

Hindsight

Like a lot of things in hindsight MK could see that this was a very dumb idea.

It was a spur of the moment idea that came to him and Mei as they saw Red Son in the garage with his signature jacket hanging up because said fire demon was currently up to his elbows in tuk-tuk engine bits.

Red Son had just shown up at the noodle store one day declaring that he was there to ‘pay off his father’s debt’ after the whole lunar new year event. Everyone was a bit suspicious at first but Mei and MK decided to give him the benefit of the doubt, after all they knew he wasn’t all evil. True to his word he helped out with fixing stuff and had offered to upgrade the Tuk-tuk, after a few weeks they had managed to convince him to hang out with them after work as well.

That day MK had figured out how to shrink himself and after showing Mei she grinned and suggested they surprise Red Son with it.

Which was the aforementioned very dumb idea.

Said idea was for MK to shrink himself and then have Mei put him in Red Son’s jacket pocket, and when Red Son put it back on, have Mei ask the fire demon if he has seen MK and when he said no ask him to check his pockets…boom! Itty MK!

So, the joke was set, a shrunk MK in place and Mei was now walking up to Red Son as he clambered out of the Tuk-Tuk’s mechanical guts wiping away the grease from his hands.

“Hey Red boy” she beamed.

“Hey dragon horse girl” he said back as he got up.

“Have you seen MK?”

“No but I need to show him how to operate the upgrades…” he began but stopped when he looked at the clock on the garage wall, his smile dissolved into mild panic.

“Is that the time?!” he yelped and rushed past Mei grabbing his coat, igniting his hands to burn off all the grease and oil that had clung to him still and began to make a move for the door. “I’m sorry I need to get home tonight, tell Noodle boy I’ll show him tomorrow, okay?” Red Son yammered quickly.

“Red wait!” Mei cried as he vanished into a swirl of fire.

“Did you check your pockets?” she whimpered sheepishly.

 MK felt like he was in a weird fair ground ride, cushioned in fabric and being swung around like on a rollercoaster; it was kind of fun. Not to mention he found a wrapped candy in here and at his current size it was as big as a pillow! He could hear Mei and Red Son talking and waited for his que but then things got very bumpy and then felt very hot and weird for a second as he felt his whole body move in a way that shouldn’t be possible for him before the background ambience of the city suddenly died into a hushed sound of far-off clanking and whirring.

He poked his head out of the pocket to see he was now in an old Chinese style mansion but it was underground and hewn from the rock itself, the walls were adorned with demon Bull family heirlooms and pictures all showing the grand history of the conquering demon clan. MK could hear Red Son muttering to himself.

“I’ve got enough time to check on the projects and get in my best clothes…did I remember to check the repair schedule for the clones?”

MK was about to poke out of the pocket and announce himself when Red Son stopped by a large door that seemed to lead to a main hall, he seemed to hesitate near the entrance as MK and no doubt Red Son could hear angry raised voices.

“How is it I was the one stuck under a mountain but you are the one stuck in the past?” Demon Bull King demanded.

“I am thinking of our legacy and heritage, things you seem keen to throw away!” Princess Iron Fan retorted.

“Our pursuit of power has only brought us trouble!” came the angry reply “We need to move with the times!”

“Listen to you!” Princess Iron Fan screeched “You sound that useless son of ours!”

MK poked out of the pocket and looked up at Red Son who looked forlorn but not surprised as he carried on past the door his shoulders hunched over as he hurried through. Red Son came to a kitchen that seemed big enough to feed a whole court full of people but it was sadly empty and hollow except for one corner where a bull clone was currently working at a stove top. It saw Red Son and bowed respectively.

“I don’t think family meal time will be happening tonight” Red Son declared “so I will be taking my evening meal in my room…again…” the bull clone nodded and got back to preparing said meal. Red Son continued walking through the vacant halls as the vicious shouting ebbed away to quiet muffled sounds. He came to his room and sat at his desk; MK looked around to see his room unlike the rest of the castle had a bit of life to it. There were posters of car designs and movie mechs adorning the walls, a work table filled with small cabinets of tools and gear and what looked to be a shelf filled with scrolls and old tomes. MK had wondered why someone as tidy as Red Son would have what looked to be an arranged pile of tinfoil and fabric in a corner of his room before he realised that must his bed. He remembered Pigsy saying how some demons prefer nests to human style beds.

Okay I really need to show myself before things get even more awkward MK decided and he started to climb out but froze when he heard the door open, Red Son turned to see his mother glaring at him and MK quickly dived back into the safety concealment of the jacket.

“You’ve ruined him” she hissed, and MK could feel Red Son flinch. “Your father was a proud mighty demon King who conquered whole armies alone and made the heavens fear him and now looked at what you have done!”

“Isn’t this better?” Red Son said quietly “I mean…this way we won’t have to worry about him being hurt or sealed… aah!” came the pain gasped as MK could hear a very sharp and painful smack, MK grabbed the fabric of the pocket as Red Son’s whole body violently jerked to the side.

“Be quiet you worthless whelp!” she snarled “I kept our family name safe and proud for centuries and in one year you’ve weakened your father, the great Demon Bull King to the point that he wants to ‘settle down peacefully’!” she said the last bit dripping with venom and MK wished for Red Son to speak up or say something or at the very least move from where he was sitting but he didn’t.

“I’m sorry mother…” was all he managed after a moment of silence.

“Sorry doesn’t undo what you have done!” she spat and MK listened to the sound of her shoes moving away, “Sometimes I wish you had never returned!” she exclaimed coldly before shutting the door.

The fabric around him lurched as Red Son moved and he could feel energy pulse around him like the sky before lightning struck, it was only then did MK realised how dumb this idea really was. Red Son ignites into flames when upset or angry and it’s pretty obvious his clothes are fire proof to deal with that.

MK wasn’t fire proof…

MK made a mad scramble out of the pocket and leapt away just in time for a massive inferno engulfed where he had been hiding and everything else around it. He landed on the cold stone floor and patted himself down to make sure nothing was on fire and once he was sure he wasn’t smouldering he looked back up at the crackling fire ball that was his friend. Red Son still hadn’t moved from the desk but was now hunched over it his hands clawing into his fiery hair his eyes tightly shut but flames still leaked out and his whole body was shuddering as he tried to control his breathing.

MK decided that maybe he should give the fire demon with known anger issues some time to breathe and started to make his way to hide in the nest till he seemed to have calmed down but as he tiptoed his way across the room Red Son sensed the movement. The fire evaporating into the air as Red Son turned around and scanned the room, he glanced down to see a tiny MK in mid sneak.

Red Son looked at MK confused.

MK looked at Red Son worried.

There was a pregnant pause.

“Heh heh …Ta da!” MK said weakly and held out his hands as if to show off “Look what I can do now!”

“Noodle boy?” Red Son muttered quietly as his brain tried to fathom him being there before it clicked that he was and what that might imply. “How long have you been here?” he asked a look of dread falling on his face.

“Oh pssh!” MK tried to dismiss “Not long…no not long at all!”

“Noodle boy” Red Son growled, “How long?”

“… … …” MK struggled to come up with a decent excuse before sighing and returning to his full size, if they were going to have this talk he wanted to be able to look him in face. “Since you made a mad dash out of the garage…”

Red Son gave a groan and covered his face before returning to slump on the desk.

“I know this is going to sound dumb but is everything ok?” MK inquired, “I don’t know how demon families work but that…didn’t sound good.”

“Everything’s fine Noodle boy!” Red Son declared sharply, “My parents are just…going through a rough patch, that is all!”

“A rough patch huh?” MK muttered before walking over to the desk and lightly touching Red Son’s face where the red mark showing where his mother had slapped him was now fading away. How many times had that happened and no one knew thanks to demon healing powers? Red Son batted his hand away and snarled angrily.

“Yes!” he snapped and glared at his desk.

Things were clicking into place in MK’s mind, in hind sight he should have wondered why Red Son showed up out of the blue and wanted to pay off some demon debt, why he had wanted to stay around them as long as possible and even agreed to hang out in the evenings and only on certain days [apparently for family meal times] would he actually go home before anyone else.

MK remembered in the first week of Red Son coming over, Pigsy finally gave in and let Red Son help by telling him to try and get his old tricky stove working again. Red Son had not only fixed it but cleaned it up and gave it a full work through and when he was finished the thing looked and worked as if brand new. Pigsy in his joy of getting his stove back to its prime for free patted Red Son on the back and declared he had paid back the debt in spades.

MK had wondered that day why Red Son had looked so upset but had dismissed it when a moment later the fire demon had gone on a tirade about how insulting it was that Pigsy thought his father’s life was worth only an afternoon of labour.

Maybe Pigsy and Tang had cottoned on a lot sooner than he had because after that they would always find little things for Red Son to do to ‘pay back the debt’.

“Red Son” Mk said as these thoughts mulled in his mind “Was there even a debt to pay off?”

Red Son turned to face him, he fidgeted with his hands for a few moments before sighing.

“I…I…I thought you would be more at ease if you thought that I was honoured bound to behave…”

“Why didn’t you just say something?”

“Like what?!” Red Son retorted “Please may I come over here because I rather spend my days with my enemies rather than my parents because they’re constantly fighting and I can’t do anything to fix it?!” Red Son jaw snapped shut and his hair flared up angrily. “Because they don’t! Fight all the time…I mean…” he exclaimed as he tried to back pedal out of the conversation.

MK watched Red Son and felt a wave of pity come over for him, it was like looking into a mirror of seven years ago. He could almost feel the emotions Red Son must be going through right now, the uncertainty of what was going to happen next, the guilt of not being able to stop it, that gnawing anxiety of thinking if he was to blame somehow. And that horrible cold fear of knowing that sooner or later one of them will be coming up to take their frustration out on someone who won’t fight back…

He thanked the gods regularly that he was fortunate enough that it was Pigsy that caught him dump diving behind his store, how different would his life had been if Pigsy and Tang hadn’t taken him in? He probably had starved to death on the streets that winter.  

“Everything was supposed to get better when Father came back…” Red Son muttered to himself but was jolted back into the room as MK put his hands on his shoulders.

“Your parents are going through some stuff right now, so do you want to hang out at my place while they work it out?”

“What?” Red Son spluttered.

“Maybe they just need some space I dunno” MK said, “but what your mom did was not okay, and I’m worried about you”

“Why?”

“Because we’re friends you dummy!” MK laughed “and friends help each other even without demon debts to pay!”

Red Son stood up and pulled out a duffle bag from his wardrobe, he started to fill it with clothes, a stuff bull toy that looked to be antique and over-night necessities.

“You seem to have experience with this sort of thing” Red Son ventured quietly as MK helped him put his tools away in a box for travel.

“Let’s just say I’ve been where you are” MK said softly.

“In your experienced opinion…will me not being here helped my parents to reconcile?”

MK swallowed a hard lump in his throat, he didn’t know if it helped with his parents because he ran away from home and as far as he knows they never came looking for him. Mk was on the streets for three weeks before that fated night at Pigsy’s and it’s been seven years since then and he’s only ever caught a glimpse of them while during his deliveries on the streets.

“Sure, they will” MK answered with a smile “I hope so!”

Red Son left a note telling his parents exactly where he was and how to contact him before they left.

MK wasn’t all that surprised when after explaining the situation Pigsy happen to have a spare fold out bed in the store room.

[bevvydraws]

Kwami Exchange Students

This might be a mini-fic, I’m not sure yet, but for now just consider anything I post for this AU connected one-shots.

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

Marinette knew that the world was full of more odd and mysterious things than she had previously thought. She was a highschool super hero going after a butterfly themed maniac who wore a wrestler’s mask with a suit, after all. But somehow, despite the craziness she constantly experienced in her life, she still managed to get caught off guard.

Because one day, after weeks of Tikki making sad comments about wanting to experience life as a “modern human” (accompanied with longingly watching dancing videos), Marinette woke up to find Tikki missing. But more alarming than that, was that now there was a teenage girl curiously inspecting everything in her room. Thinking it may be an akuma, she looked around frantically for her tiny spotted friend in hopes of defeating it without waking her parents. She tried not to make any loud noises as she shuffled around in her bed.

It didn’t work, however, and the intruder turned to look at her with wide eyes that were somehow familiar, “Oh, Marinette! You’re awake!” The voice was even more familiar, soft and gentle while slightly squeaky.

“Wh-who are you?” Marinette tried to ask calmly, although the stutter betrayed her.

The girl gasped, her hands quickly flying to cover her mouth, “Oh gosh that’s right!! You’ve never seen me like this before.”

Marinette did a once-over of the girl. Her hair was long and bright red, with black roots. She was wearing a long white dress that looked more like a sheet and no shoes. Her eyes, somehow even wider, were bright blue, and held a wisdom that wasn’t normal for someone who looked so young. Then again, nothing was normal about this teenager who radiated energy and power even while looking like she had just been caught in the cookie jar. Wait... cookie jar?

“Tikki!?” Marinette asked, “Is that you?!”

Tikki nodded quickly, “Yes!! I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to startle you!”

“But you— You’re so small but now— huh?!” Marinette couldn’t find the words to express her confusion as to how the little creature that could fit in her purse was now the same height she was.

“Well, you see...” Tikki fidgeted with her fingers, “It’s been a while since I’ve walked among humans, and I thought it would help better understanding modern society if I could experience first hand...” She looked to the side, then her eyes widened as if coming to a conclusion and looked back at Marinette, “...that way I could help track down Hawkmoth easier. Mmhm, yep!”

Marinette didn’t bother questioning Tikki’s logic, since she had more pressing questions on her mind. “How are you able to turn human?”

“I’m a god, Marinette,” Tikki said matter-of-factly, “I existed far before ladybugs were even a concept. I can take many forms, just like the other kwamis.”

“So why stay so little?”

Tikki smiled, although it seemed sad, “Easier to help, easier to hide, and it’s an easier form to hold. Especially since our energy is so heavily changed to the miraculous stones now.”

“Oh...” Marinette whispered. “But wait how are you gonna blend in?”

“The same way you and Chat Noir have all this time,” Tikki grins, “Hiding in plain sight!”

“It’s one thing hiding you as a kwami from my parents, but I can’t hide a whole human!”

“You won’t have to, silly.” Tikki smiles, “I have it all under control. We kwami are very good at convincing others that typically abnormal things are something completely normal. It’s how so few know of our existence.” 

“Okay…” Marinette said, unsure, “But it doesn’t matter how convincing you are, no one is going to think walking around in a bedsheet is normal.” 

Tikki blushed, looking down at her dress, “It’s not a bedsheet, Marinette. It’s a dress. It’s just something simple so I don’t stand out.” 

“You’re going to stand out if you go anywhere like that.”

“Well you’re the fashion designer,” Tikki huffs, cheek still blazing red in embarrassment, “What should I wear?” 

Marinette grinned wickedly and dashed to her closet. 

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

An hour later, Marinette stepped back to admire her work. She was very glad that she had been working on some clothing she had kept under wraps from everyone, it would be a little too suspicious if Tikki showed up in some of her very-Marinette clothing. Tikki was now fitted with a white tank-top, the words “Lucky” embroidered across it, and light-washed blue shorts. Her hair was tied up to the side and decorated with a black ribbon. Because Marinette didn’t have time to teach her how to tie shoes with fingers, she was wearing simple black flats. 

“Oh, Tikki, you look so cute!” Marinette fawned as the cherry-red-head tugged at her clothes self consciously. 

“I feel so… exposed,” she frowned, looking at herself in the mirror. 

“Tikki,” Marinette said, deadpanned, “you don’t normally wear clothes at all.” 

“You know what I mean,” Tikki huffed, “I’m less comfortable in this form… and it’s so cold.” 

Marinette smiled sympathetically and went to her closet, pulling out an old generic black sweater, “Here, maybe this will help.” 

Tikki slipped it on, and a smile stretched across her face, “This is perfect! Thank you so much, Marinette!” 

“I’m just thankful that we’re similar sizes,” Marinette laughed, “otherwise this would have been a lot harder. Now, how are we going to explain you to my parents?” 

Tikki grinned, “I’ll take care of that! Just be down in the bakery in a few minutes.” She playfully winked at Marinette before snapping, shrinking in a flash of light before revealing a little ladybug. Marinette shook her head, convinced she had seen everything at this point, and opened the window and watched as Tikki zipped out of the window. 

Marinette quickly finished getting ready, grabbing her book bag before running downstairs to the bakery. 

Sabine and Tom barely had time to give their daughter a warm greeting before their bakery door swung open and Tikki shyly stepped in, looking very lost. 

“Good morning!” Tom greeted heartily, “What can we get for you?” 

“Good morning,” Tikki responded, a kind but shy smile on her face, “I’m looking for a Mme. Sabine Cheng and M. Tom Dupain.” 

“That would be us,” Sabine smiles, “What can we help you with?” 

“Um, I’m the exchange student from the program through Francoise Dupont,” she says, producing a flyer Marinette had never seen before as well as some paperwork out of her back pocket. 

Tom and Sabine shared a confused look before Sabine read over the paperwork and flyer.

“I’m sorry…” Sabine says, reading the paperwork to find Tikki’s name, “Mlle. Tikki, but we never signed up for a program like that.” 

With acting skills Marinette had no clue Tikki possessed, tears began welling up in Tikki’s eyes, “Oh, I see… today has been quite trying,” she dabbed at her eyes lightly with her sweater sleeve, “first, my luggage went missing, and now there’s been a mixup with the paperwork. I have no idea what to do..” 

Marinette stepped forward quickly, wrapping an arm around Tikki’s shoulder. “Mom, Dad, I have plenty of room upstairs. The paperwork all checks out, right? Maybe you signed up on accident or don’t remember, but we can’t turn her away.” 

Marinette and Tikki both gave Sabine and Tom their best kicked puppy looks. 

And that was how Tikki became a temporary member of the Dupain-Cheng household. 

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

Convincing the school apparently wasn’t necessary, as Tikki had already handled all of that the night before without Marinette’s knowledge. A few forged emails and “Kwami magic”--as Tikki worded it--and all Tikki had to do was stop by the principal's office to get her necessary books and materials. Marinette wasn’t sure whether she was thankful or concerned that everyone was so easily influenced and convinced by Tikki, but decided not to think about it too much. 

“Oh, I should mention…” Tikki said softly to Marinette as they walked to class, “I’m not the only new student.” 

“What do you mean…?” Marinette had a bad feeling in her gut at the guilty expression on Tikki’s face. 

“Well, I talked about my idea with Plagg,” Tikki said softly, “And he ‘didn’t want me to have all the fun’.” Tikki made air quotes, rolling her eyes. 

“But Plagg needs to stay with Chat Noir,” Marinette hissed. 

“That’s the thing…” Tikki said, wincing slightly as she walked into the classroom with Marinette. 

Marinette wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t seeing a guy she’d never seen before bickering silently with Adrien Agreste. 

The bickering stopped when both caught sight of Marinette and Tikki. 

The new guy, with wild black hair and even wilder green eyes, lit up and a catty grin spread across his face, “Sugar cube!” he said excitedly, zipping away from Adrien at inhuman speed to drape an arm around Tikki’s shoulders, “Didja miss me? It’s been far too long.” 

Tikki grimaced, “It hasn’t been that long, Plagg,” she said, “We were on the plane together just this morning.” The undertone of scolding in her voice made it clear that who Marinette was seeing was, in fact, Chat Noir’s kwami. 

Marinette looked back at Adrien, who was looking at her with wide eyes. Well, more specifically, he was looking at her earrings. Marinette’s eyes went to the ring he was wearing, before looking back up at him. 

Oh.

[starsfic]

Family Dinner

Summary: Xiaotian is invited to be a buffer at Red’s family dinner.

Notes: So Family Dinner won the Art School poll so...enjoy!

-_-

“I need your help.”

The tone, barely audible over his music, was enough to make Xiaotian stop his music and look up from his tablet. Red looked nervous, bouncing from foot to foot, and it didn’t help that his hair was down in a poofy mess and he looked like he hadn’t slept for three days. “Sure.” he said, hoping that would help that look fade. “What do you need?”

The look didn’t ease. “Just so we’re clear, you can say no, but my family dinner is coming up and I don’t want to be alone with them but-” Realization came to life. He hadn’t heard much about Red’s parents, but enough had been heard that Xiaotian could get a picture.

“Sure.”

Red came to a stop, eyes widening. “Really?”

Xiaotian nodded, saving his work and then turning off his tablet. “Yeah! If you don’t want to be alone with them, I get it. This hasn’t been the first time I’ve been a buffer.” The other blinked, opened his mouth, and then closed it, clearly confused. “Xiaojiao’s parents love me.” he said, shrugging.

Red blinked again. “...okay.” he finally managed out, clearly moving past it. “Dress up nice and I’ll pick you up on Friday. Thanks.” And just like that, he was walking away.

“You’re welcome!” he called after him, unsure of what else to do.

-_-

Thankfully, Xiaotian had two nice outfits. Unfortunately, he also had a complete unawareness if they were nice enough. A quick text to Red, asking where they were going, fixed that. Thankfully, the outfits he had looked nice enough for the place which meant he didn’t need to go shopping.

Thirty minutes before he was supposed to be picked up, Xiaotian smoothed down his shirt. He had decided to go with the dress shirt and black slacks inside of the pretty orange dress, which still left him the question of what to do with his hair. He considered his reflection, humming in thought. He could leave it like it was, with his red headband making it spike up, but that felt too casual. Maybe down? He tried it, considering it. Xiaojiao was at a race in the next town over and was probably asleep at this hour, so he couldn’t call her for her opinion.

A knock on the door made him pull his eyes away. “It’s open!”

The door creaked open, revealing Red. He was dressed similarly, what looked like a fancy jacket slung over his arm, golden earrings in, and eye bags still visible. “I was wondering if you were-” He paused, staring at Xiaotian. It might’ve been the light, but for a moment, he had thought Red had been looking him over in a... boyfriend way, for lack of a better word. “You… have your hair down.” He sounded flustered, at least.

“Yeah, I wasn’t sure if it was nice enough or I should put it into a ponytail…”

“Keep it down.” Red said, scanning him over again with a much more technical look. “But it is missing something.” He looked around before landing on Xiaotian and Xiaojiao’s shared jewelry box. “Mind if I-?” Xiaotian nodded his approval, so Red hurried over. After a moment of rustling around, he pulled something out. “Here we go.”

He had pulled out a pair of golden monkey earrings, a gift from Tripitaka when he returned from visiting New York one time. Xiaotian took it with a word of thanks and slid them in. “You ready?” he asked when he finished, stopping to grab the flowers he had ordered just in case. Red shook his head but gestured to him to go first, closing the door behind them.

Outside, the night was cool. Red led Xiaotian to a small red car and once, they were buckled in, drove silently away from the dorms. 

After a few minutes of tense silence, Xiaotian glanced over at his… he wasn’t sure what they were. In any case, Red was as tense as a board, glaring straight ahead, and looking ready to pass out. “Hey,” he finally said. The other blinked. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“It’s just… it’s the first time I’ve brought a guest to these dinners and my mother wasn’t exactly pleased when I told her you were coming after I asked you.” His knuckles went white on the wheel. “And I’m just freaked out you’re going to hate me after this is done.”

He reached out, holding Red’s shoulder. “Hey. Nothing your parents can do will make me hate you.” Xiaotian tried his best to pour every inch of sincerity into his voice. “You’re great. And there is nothing- RED LIGHT!” At his cry, Red slammed on the brakes, an inch from crossing the red light.

The car once again went silent, except for their frantic breaths and furiously pumping hearts. Ahead of them, traffic furiously drove and drove, busy, busy, busy. The two finally managed to catch their breaths, glancing at each other. When they met eyes, they lost their breath again- this time to relieved laughter. Finally, their light turned green and Red started again.

The brush with life and death had seemed to calm him a bit. He started smiling when Xiaotian turned on the radio and started to bop his head to the music.

But, soon enough, they were pulling into a parking lot. Red went stiff again the minute they had parked. Following his gaze, Xiaotian watched as a black limo dropped off two people at the front. When it passed, he finally got a good glance at Red’s parents.

The small woman in the front must’ve been Iron Fan. She was dressed in an elegant red and gold dress. Her long dark hair was pulled away in a complex hairstyle to reveal a beautiful face with red-painted lips and sharp eyeliner. Behind her was DBK. Sharing his son’s liking of colored hair, his purple hair was pulled back into a short bun. He was dressed in a dark suit that failed to hide the fact that he was built like a tank, amber eyes scanning the parking lot. Looking for them.

Red took a deep breath before pulling on his coat. “Okay.” he breathed out, readjudting his ponytail one last time. “Let’s do this.”

“Are you ready?”

“Nope. Let’s go.”

The two bundled out of the car, Xiaotian gripping his bouquet tight. Together they headed towards Red’s parents. In a walk that both felt too long and too short, they were at the sidewalk. The two elders turned and he felt a shiver run down his spine. DBK looked… not pleased. But Iron Fan had the same look on Xiaojiao’s face whenever she was mentally planning to gut someone. Red came to a stop and Xiaotian mirrored him.

“Mother. Father. My apologies for being late.” Red’s tone was formal, apologetic.

His mother stepped forward, the gutting look replaced by some kind of look that was too cold to be maternal. “We were wondering where you were,” Iron Fan said, cupping Red’s face. And then she was squishing his cheeks. “My sweet useless boy.” Before Xiaotian could say something, she was turning to him. The look was back. “And this must be Qi Xiaotian.”

“Yes!” Xiaotian said, trying to not be cowed. He held out his hand. “Red’s told me so much about you.” A lie, but one he hoped worked. Iron Fan considered his hand before shaking it. Her red-nailed grip was ridiculously strong. “I… hope you like flowers?” he managed out, holding out the bouquet.

Iron Fan took it, considering the flowers. “How sweet.” she said. Without another word, she turned. “Come on, let’s go before our table is given away.” The boys followed, not sure what else to do.

When their backs were turned, Xiaotian slid his hand into Red’s hand and squeezed it in a hopeful attempt at comfort.

Red squeezed it back.

Inside, the decor was elegant- one of the fanciest places Xiaotian had ever been in. Their hostess led them up a grand staircase, overlooking the rest of the restaurant, and to a round table with a lazy Susan tray in the center. “We hope you enjoy it.” she said, promising their waiter would be by soon. Xiaotian thanked her before looking down to realize Red had pulled out his chair. Across the table, DBK had done the same to Iron Fan, pushing her in.

Together, they opened their menus. “I think we will get our usual,” DBK said, his voice rough. Xiaotian nearly jumped at it, since the man hadn’t said a word. “Do you have any thoughts, Xiaotian?”

He glanced at the menu, trying to figure out what would be best to say. The menu had been online and he had given it a quick scan ahead, but Red’s parents were leaving him floundering. “Do you have any recommendations?” he finally managed out.

Iron Fan’s grin, cold and cruel, showed he had mistepped.

In the end, it felt like they had ordered the spiciest things on the menu for their main courses. Xiaotian resisted a scream and the waiter had a pitying look on his face. So did DBK, much to his surprise. Now, all that was left to do was wait for the first course.

“So, Xiaotian,” Iron Fan said, all her attention on him. “What do you study?”

School. He could do school. “I’m doing a painting and graphic design major.” Xiaotian said, trying to sound confident. “I’m working on a webcomic idea. But if that doesn’t work out, I’m planning to go into museum work.” He had worked with his dads to figure out this backup plan, just in case.

“Oh, really.” The waiter returned to pour dark red wine into their wine glasses. Iron Fan took a sip. “What is your webcomic about?” Next to him, Red stiffened. Xiaotian stiffened as well.

“It’s… about my dad.” he finally squeaked out.

Iron Fan stiffened but this time DBK leaned forward in interest. “How is Wukong?” he said. “I haven’t heard much since my… return.” And there was another fact- they used to be friends. If things had been different, Xiaotian probably would’ve grown up with Red. “I only heard he adopted a son.”

“He’s married.” Xiaotian squeaked.

The dinner did not get better from there. 

When the food arrived, there was a glass of water that came with it for Xiaotian (which seemed to be the only mercy), and Iron Fan and DBK seemed to laser-focus on Red. It didn’t seem to matter that he was there, their words were cold, casual, and cruel as they picked at things here and there, no matter how trivial.

Finally, the dessert course was done, the check arrived, and DBK paid. “Remember your grades.” Iron Fan said when DBK’s credit card was returned. Without another word or an actual goodbye, she was standing and she and her husband were leaving. Red shuddered the minute they were out of view.

“That went well.” he finally managed out.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t much help.” Xiaotian said, not sure what else to say. At least Xiaojiao’s parents tried, or at least didn’t have their issues in front of him. “I didn’t expect…”

“Nobody expects my parents, Noodle Boy. Let’s go home.”

The ride back was in exhausted silence. “I have mochi.” Xiaotian mumbled out when they parked. “Want some?” He needed something to eat after trying to not burn his tongue off and he really didn’t want to leave Red alone.

“...yeah.”

[lannister-slings-and-arrows]

Chapter Two of See You in the Morning Time

The third in a Rafael Barba/Reader/Frederick Chilton threesome verse written in collaboration with @pascalispretty . Gif by @mrsrafaelbarba . Yep. We did this. Was it necessary? No. Did we enjoy it? Sometimes. Are you going to read it? I sure hope you do and that you like it! Cross posted to ao3!

Part Three of the series So Much Easier than You Realize

Chapter One: A Different Feeling Entirely Chapter Two: Show Me the New

Warnings: Frederick being an anxious (and sad. and repressed) little weenie, discussions of period typical homophobia, bi panic, completely invented backstory (you got on this ride folks lol), Rafael being surprisingly supportive, cuddling, and of course a little bit of teasing Rating: PG-13 Word Count: 2293 Summary: It's not often that Fred instigates anything with Rafael except an argument.

It’s late by the time Fred and Rafael finally make their way to bed. They shower and put pajamas on while waiting for the food to arrive and once they eat, they finish the bottle of wine that Fred had opened earlier and spend the rest of the evening chatting and watching some dumb movie on TV.

Lying in Fred’s bed in his borrowed clothes, Rafael can’t help but smile to himself. After weeks of skittishness from Fred he had finally made it past some of the walls that the doctor had put up. Fred curled close to Rafael while they watched the movie, dragging a blanket over the two of them and cozying up entirely unprompted.

When Fred comes out of the bathroom and flicks the lights off, he’s even more pleased that Fred doesn’t seem to hesitate to lie close to him in bed or reach out for his hand.

“Thank you for letting me stay,” Rafael murmurs, to break the silence more than anything. He hears Fred scoff.

“I was hardly going to kick you out as soon as we were done.” As best as he can, Rafael turns on his side trying to make Fred out in the darkness of the room.

“I know. I just wasn’t sure how you’d feel.” He’s not at his most eloquent or subtle, but he wants to acknowledge what happened between them. “You were… hesitant at first and I just want to make sure you didn’t feel like you had to do this. As of a few days ago you were still pretty clear that you were not comfortable with the two of us having sex.”

Rafael doesn’t want to force a confidence, but he feels like he has to make sure. He’s coming to care too deeply about the arrogant chronically awkward man next to him to just let this go with vague assurances. He hears Fred shift onto his back and wants nothing more than to drag him into his arms and kiss his stupid, conceited face, but he holds himself still and waits for Fred to answer him, giving him the space he clearly wants.

“This wasn’t as sudden as you think it was,” Fred assures him eventually, face still pointed at the ceiling. “I’ve been thinking about this since, you know, that first time.” Rafael can practically feel Fred’s blush from his side of the bed and grins. “And my reticence was never about you, you know that, yes?”

Rafael nods, realizes Fred probably can’t see him, and clears his throat.

“Yeah, I figured as much. I am, after all, a damn catch.”

Rafael yelps as Fred reaches out, faster than he thought was possible for a well-fed psychiatrist who sits behind a desk all day, and smacks him on the chest.

They’re quiet for a few minutes, together in the dark cocoon of Fred’s bedroom, before Rafael sighs. He can’t help but notice the similarities between the blank peacefulness of Fred’s minimalist design and the deliberately organized calm of a therapist’s office and wonders if he did that on purpose. Maybe it’s a natural inclination, he muses idly. It invites honesty. The sharing of secrets.

“I’m only eighteen months younger than Benn, you know,” Fred says eventually, and it’s so unexpected that Rafael finds himself frowning a little in confusion. “All the way through school, I was Bennett Chilton’s younger brother; just the little brother of the handsome quarterback that everyone adored.” Rafael has seen photos of Bennett, tall and painfully handsome. He can see that it might have been hard to grow up in that shadow.

“He came out when he was sixteen, and I was fourteen. And I’m sure you can imagine what that was like at an all-boys Catholic school in Virginia in the eighties.” Rafael winces in the dark. He remembers well enough the attitudes in his own high school, in marginally more liberal New York. He can’t imagine what it must have been like in a place without a visible community to look up to.

“People were mostly smart enough not to say anything to Benn’s face--he was a six foot two starter who never backed down from a fight, they would have had to have been stupid--and our parents were supportive. But the things people said about him behind his back--” Fred shudders, an involuntary shiver that makes Rafael want to wrap his arms around him and never let go.

Instead, he just squeezes Fred’s hand reassuringly and waits for him to continue. For someone who has trouble shutting up at the very best of times--staying silent isn’t Rafael’s forte--he is doing an admirable job tonight. His desire to prove he’s worthy of this unexpected vulnerability from Fred is more than enough to keep him quiet. Rafael is desperate to know more, to know everything about Fred; about what makes him tick, about why he was so reticent, so reserved, when clearly this is something that he enjoys.

“It was awful. The kind of things you never want to hear about somebody you love. And I was hardly in any position to be giving out bloody noses or black eyes whenever someone called him a fag, or made some crack about AIDS.” Rafael shifts slightly nearer, still not saying anything. He smiles to himself when he feels one of Fred’s hands reach up to rest on Rafael’s hip.

“I was a short, scrawny child--I spent a lot of time in the hospital and home sick--and I couldn’t afford to give the other boys in my school one more reason to pick on me so I just… didn’t say anything. I’m not proud of it, but it’s not like Benn had any trouble sticking up for himself. I doubt he would have appreciated anyone stealing his opportunity to get into one more fight anyways.”

Rafael covers the hand Fred has on his hip with his own, deciding now is not the time to joke that he can’t ever imagine Fred as scrawny. Fred clears his throat again and continues in the same calm, rehearsed manner. Like this is something that he witnessed happening to someone else.

“It wasn’t long after that that I had my own month of absolute pure terror and confusion. It was one of Bennett’s teammates from the swim team that actually sent me over the edge. His name was Bobby and he was gorgeous. He had never made any jokes about Bennett, never joked about changing somewhere else in the locker room. He was a little stupid, I can admit that now, but back then I thought he was perfect. I worshipped my brother and this pretty boy clearly did the same.

“Well, I was horrified. Up until then I had been fully and completely in love with a girl I had known practically since infancy. Was all of that a lie? Was being gay genetic? Was Billy going to go through the same thing? It took me a whole month before I had the guts to ask Bennett and I nearly stabbed him with our father’s letter opener when he laughed at me.”

Rafael winces again, knowing how touchy Fred is now, a grown adult well-respected in his professional field and still a little obsessed with slights, perceived and real. Fred huffs, forcing any trace of bitterness out of his voice.

“He told me that you can like girls and boys at the same time and that I should go see if I still liked jerking off to pictures of Jennifer Connolly.” Rafael isn’t able to suppress his snort.

“I always liked Carrie Fisher,” he tells Fred, smiling over at him.

“You would, you pervert,” Fred shoots back. “Probably loved that bikini, didn’t you?”

“I think I’ll plead the Fifth on that one.”

Fred shakes his head and sighs deeply.

“Well, naturally, that was enough humiliation for me for one afternoon and so I threw a throw pillow at him and bolted for my room.”

“Did you jerk off to Jennifer Connolly?”

“Rafael, I can still kick you out of this apartment.”

“Sorry.” Rafael is silent for all of twelve seconds before he asks again, “Come on Fred, I’ve got to know; did you?”

“...Maybe,” Fred reluctantly admits. Rafael laughs and squeezes his hand.

“Moving on from your prurient obsession with my teenaged masturbatory life,” Fred says pointedly, managing to sound arch, offended, and haughty all at the same time. “I contemplated for a while what Benn had told me. A long time actually--that percolated in my brain all throughout the rest of high school. I only ever dated girls, I ignored it completely every time I was even remotely attracted to another boy, but I kept thinking about that. Not only did I have a lifelong conviction that if Bennett said it it must be so, but it just sort of felt right, you know?”

Rafael nods, remembering a similar feeling he had when he was younger. Despite what the other boys in his neighborhood said about “queers”, despite what the Church said, and despite what he knew his father would do to him if he heard Rafael’s thoughts, he was what he was and that was that. Fuck anyone who said different, he remembered thinking. It’s not like he could change it, even if he wanted to.

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” he answers when it’s clear that Fred requires some encouragement to continue. Fred twines his fingers with Rafael’s before carrying on.

“I lived with Benn in college. Our father bought him an apartment in Cambridge the day he got his acceptance letter from Harvard, and it only seemed logical that I’d move in once I got accepted too. And, I don’t know. It was a little easier there.” Rafael thinks he grimaces, but it’s hard to tell in the dark.

“It has been a while though, since I’ve indulged. And I've never participated frequently.” Every word seems like it’s forced out of Fred’s mouth.

“All this to say, Rafael,” Fred murmurs, inching closer across the sheets, “Is that the problem was never you.”

Rafael gathers him into his arms this time. Fred goes willingly, releasing a heavy, shaky breath and clearly relieved to not be talking about this anymore.

“I know,” Rafael reassures him. “I know it wasn’t me. I was just… I don’t know. I was worried.” He smiles, giving Fred another squeeze. “You’re a delicate little flower Freddie, I want to make sure I don’t trample all over you.”

“Get out of this bed this instant.”

Rafael laughs and they settle down to sleep.

***

The three of them celebrate in Rafael’s tiny Brooklyn apartment when Fred returns from Baltimore. He insists that he wants to cook and, though he had his doubts about his equally minuscule kitchen, manages to turn out an incredible ropa vieja. His mother would be proud.

When the empty plates are discarded on his coffee table, stacked haphazardly and waiting to eventually be washed by whoever loses the inevitable game of ‘who had the harder day’, Rafael sinks back into the couch and smiles benignly basking in the praise of the two of them and their company. Four days is starting to become too long to go between times when they’re all together and though he wants to frown at the unpleasant feeling of missing the both of them when they aren’t around he loves it a little bit as well. Every other wandering thought was of the two of them and he can’t deny that it's nice to feel these first desperate stirrings of a relationship again.

“I don’t know how you made all of that, Rafael. I’m pretty sure my cousin Caroline had a bigger kitchen in her dollhouse.” Fred surprises him when he leans closer to Rafael, snuggling contentedly against him. Rafael had told the third of their little trio that he and Fred had finally slept together--hiding things in a threesome was the quickest way to hurt feelings. Everyone was going to eventually do things without everyone involved and it’s best to just let that out in the open--but he hadn’t expected Fred to offer such casual affection so freely.

Rafael catches her looking at the two of them with a soft smile on her face and returns it with one of his own. She hid it well but she was a little disappointed during their FaceTime when he had warned her that Fred might not be overly demonstrative yet. Rafael knew she felt a little--guilty wasn’t the word she would use, he knew, if he could ever get her to talk about it--uncomfortable about how much more open Fred was with her than he was with Rafael. He loves how hard she tries to remind him that Fred is just anxious, cautious, a little scared. Rafael is a grown man and doesn’t need his hand held, but the fact that she tries to anyways makes his heart feel like it’s growing through his ribcage sometimes.

When Rafael looks back down at Fred he looks like he’s about to fall asleep with his head nuzzled against Rafael’s shoulder. He would describe it as endearing until Fred moves one of his hands high onto Rafael’s thigh. Rafael smirks.

“All it took was one night and he’s already falling for me,” he says to her in a stage whisper. Fred is unfortunately still awake enough to jab Rafael in the ribs, settling down only after the air is knocked out of Rafael’s lungs with an “oof”.

“As long as you remember to invite me to the wedding,” she teases. Rafael watches her duck admirably as Fred throws a cushion at her head.

“You’re supposed to throw a bouquet at me, not a pillow!”

[hargrove-mayfields]

for @magellan-88!

When Hawkins’ class of ‘85 graduated high school, Billy was the first to take off, halfway back to San Francisco before the caps even touched the ground.

Everyone gave hats off to him for being one of the few who’d ever make it out of the dying ghost town that was Hawkins, but as much as he hated that place and all its confines, he felt like he had left behind a lot.

The job wasn’t what he really wanted to do anyways, his house, when he was still staying there, was cramped, and after only a couple of months, the town had no sentimental value to him. The only thing he couldn’t help but feel bad about ditching, and that amounted to a whole lot of regret on his part, were the people.

Not the girls who swooned over him or the half made friendships he’d been neglecting since they formed anyways either, but he had his little sister, to whom he promised he’d drop everything and come back the second she said the word, and he also had Steve.

His relationship with Steve was a little blurrier, the two of them had gotten to the point of calling each other friends just after Christmas, best friends by the time Neil kicked Billy out for nothing but turning the big one-eight in april, and he was left crashing on the Harrington’s designer couch until he was free to leave Hawkins.

That’s where Steve would’ve ended the story at least, but as for Billy, he’d fallen ass over tits in love for his best friend in a matter of a smoldering gaze at a Halloween party.

Of all the many things he regrets about his short time in that cramped little town, he’d have to say the biggest was not having worked up the courage to fess up about his little crush before he skipped town to live it up more than two thousand miles away, mostly because that had been the only of his mistake he never took any time to resolve.

So it was that when Steve, apparently completely forgetting about the existence of time zones, calls him up at five in the morning to ask if he could come out to visit his new place in the golden state in a few weeks, Billy senses a pretty big opportunity.

What Steve had always done when Billy was staying at his place was cover the couch in the upstairs foyer, as he was made to call it, in layers of spare pillows and blankets, making it up like a bed for him. If he could, he would’ve let him have the guest bedroom, but that was out of the question when every other night that Steve’s parents were home, they argued and John had to take the spare.

But Billy doesn’t have a spare room, and he isn’t too sure about doing the same for Steve in his new apartment.

The problem isn’t that he can't, he has a brand new couch, bought from an actual furniture store instead of an old busted up one at thrift (or that he brought in off the curb and said was bought at thrift) and it’s even got a pull out to make things easier. He’d spent too many dozens of nights on Steve’s couch, staring up at the way high ceiling and wishing he had the guts to make a move, that he doesn’t think his yearning heart can take being just down the hall from him again, especially not with the promise that in a few weeks time, there’d be that vast, looming space between them again.

So he’s settled on it, Steve is going to sleep in his bed. He’s just gotta find a way to get him there, and that’s simple enough, he just has to pretend there’s nowhere else for him to sleep.

Now, he’ll admit that his plan on selling that idea is shaky at best, but Steve is bone tired when he gets there a few days later, his first time flying and dealing with jet lag taking everything he has out of him, so really, he’s looking to crash as soon as they get up to Billy’s apartment.

Only, he notices immediately that the couch isn’t set up like a bed like he usually would have done it up, and he looks to Billy with a slight tilt of his head, confusion in those big puppy-dog eyes.

So Billy answers, trying not to be too smug about it, “Sorry man, couch is out of the question.”

“Why?” Steve asks, then thinks better of it, knowing Billy’s history, “Actually, hold that thought, I don’t think I want to know.”

That makes Billy laugh, makes him remember why he fell in love with Steve in the first place too, “Nothing gross this time, s’just brand new. Can’t have you drooling all over the furniture that cost me two months of rent.”

“Right. So.. where am I going to sleep then?”

“I’ve got a bed, Steve.”

“Well duh, but I’m not going to kick you out of your own bed.”

“I didn’t say that. You’re not the only one with a queen sized now. I got room for two.”

“But.. is that going to be weird?” Steve asks, shifting on his feet, like the suggestion makes him uncomfortable, and Billy almost backs out then, lies about how he was just messing around to test Steve, but he sticks to his guns, saying, “Only if you make it weird. Don’t have much of a choice anyhow, unless you want to sleep in the bathtub.”

Steve insists on arguing though, “What’s wrong with sleeping on the floor?”

“Dude, this is a shitty ass apartment. I live here and I don’t even know half of the nasty shit that’s been on this floor.”

“Fine, just as long as I have a place to sleep.” Steve half-mumbles, cut off by a yawn, obviously too tired to keep pressing the issue.

He saunters off to Billy’s room not too long after that, not even changing out of his clothes before he’s throwing himself face down in his bed, leaving Billy to do his entire nighttime routine while Steve makes himself right at home, assuming that after brushing his teeth and putting his hair up, changing out of his jeans and triple checking that the doors and windows were locked tight, that’d be enough time for Steve to fall asleep.

That however, does not happen to be the case.

Billy knew from sleeping just down the hall from Steve’s bedroom that he snored like a motherfucker, and from the times he had fallen asleep on the basketball bus after a game that Steve never stopped moving in his sleep, but he was truly not prepared for how difficult it was for Steve to get to sleep in the first place.

He understands it, he remembers how hard it had been trying to relax in the silence that surrounded the country, and since that was all Steve was used to, it wasn’t exactly a surprise that the sounds of the city were hard for him to tune out and just sleep.

What he doesn’t understand is how Steve doesn’t wear himself out tossing and turning, and after at least an hour of it, Billy’s got to wonder if this is a princess and the pea type situation, some messed up spring in his mattress making this arrangement not proper for the royalty at his side.

Billy can tell he wants to talk, from the way he keeps feeling Steve’s eyes on his back, the tapping of his fingers against the headboard, which, if they got to talking he might not even need part two of his plan, but Steve doesn’t ever say anything just sighs with every chime on the clock, another hour he can’t get to sleep.

It isn’t until three in the morning rolls around that Steve finally conks out, Billy himself still barely awake enough to shoot his shot, draping himself over Steve and pulling him close before he has a chance to roll over onto his front again, falling asleep with his crush in his arms.

~~~~

The sun’s not up yet, and the clock’s too blurry to say exactly what time it is when Steve wakes up again, realizing after a few minutes that he’s hot as hell, and didn’t immediately start tossing and turning again, which, once he’s actually woken up enough to think, he discovers that the only reason that is is because Billy is pressed against his back, his arm thrown over his side, spooning him and basically keeping him held there in place.

Steve at first tries not to think about it, the whole, sleeping in the same bed as the person he deliberately never did that with to avoid facing his feeling, and just get comfortable with Billy all cuddled up to him, but he’s a front sleeper, and Billy is fucking hot in more ways than one, so when it’s evident that’s not going to work, he clears his throat, announcing into the silence, “You’re smotherin’ me, Bill.”

There’s a sharp intake of breath behind him, like Billy had just woken up, and a soft little hum of a question, “Hm?”

“You’re like, on top of me, man.” Steve informs him, like he didn’t notice he was half laying on him, but Billy answers bluntly, voice all tired and scratchy, “Don’t care.”

That sort of confuses Steve. He’d been expecting an apology, for Billy to roll over and them to pretend this never happened in the morning, and it’s got his mind, and his heart, racing a mile a minute, because Billy isn’t the only one with a helpless crush, there’s a reason Steve flew 2,000 miles just to see him.

So he asks, before he can lead himself on, “Just to be clear, is this an accidental thing that only isn’t awkward because we’re friends or is this like, meaningful?”

Billy just hums, pulling him even closer, making Steve feel small, “Go to sleep, Steven.”

“Okay.” He tries to, shoving his arm under the pillows and shifting under Billy’s weight so he’d be comfortable enough, but it’s just nagging at his lovesick brain, “But seriously man, I don’t know what I should take away from this.”

Billy sighs softly, rubbing his eyes with his knuckles, maybe because he was tired, maybe because Steve was being Steve, “Look, you’re in my bed, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, because of the couch, I thought you were just a cuddler or something.”

“Nope. This was all by design.”

“So then the couch..”

“Was perfectly fine, yeah. Damn thing even has a fold out.”

“You did this on purpose?”

“Thought I made that pretty obvious.”

Steve pouts, sitting up so Billy has to let go of him, “Well if you’re so annoyed with me, I’ll just leave you to get back to sleep.”

“Oh no. It’s much too late for that. I’m thinking we’re going to have to find another way to spend the time now. And, well, since you’re already here...”

[recklessmark]

chapter eight: be my girlfriend

—from DISCRETION series

Summary: you incidentally met a notorious CEO and your gut told you that you must claim this man. and even the fact that he’s engaged to someone else didn’t stop you from achieving what you want.

Pairings: CEO! Mark x Designer! Reader

Warnings: none

Words: 1006

“Y/N...”

You glare at Alicia, “I want some water.”

“Forget about him...you’ve pulled the trigger.”, she gives you a glass of water.

You nod, “Right, I’ve admitted it, he’s gone. I can’t believe there’s a day I’ll accept the truth myself.”, you gaze at view outside the window.

“Y/N, do you know who took you home?”

“What did he know?”, you didn’t look away from the window, there’s a bird on the window frame.

“What did he know?”, you didn’t look away from the window, there’s a bird on the window frame.

“What did he know?”, you didn’t look away from the window, there’s a bird on the window frame.

“He knows what he needs to know.”

He knows everything!

Alicia stands up an looks at her watch, “I have something to do.” When she’s at the door, she stops on her way, “Y/N, you need to let things go, you have Mark now, isn’t it good?”

You smile in nonchalance, the bird has already flown away. If you can’t forget him, so just give him a small room in your heart.

You take a shower, refresh yourself and come back to be the arrogant version of yourself. Looking around the garage in your basement, you pick your favorite roadster and drive off to Lee Corp. You miss him, you miss his fragrance, you miss his face and either his voice.

Your face darkens, arms crossing on your chest. You’re lonely sitting in the waiting lounge of the company. After ages of waiting, you finally see Jaehyun appears from a distance.

“Hi Y/N! Come to see me?”

“See your ass! I want to see Mark!”

He playfully clicks his tongue as he sits down on the sofa opposite you, “Let me tell you, maybe after 800 decades you can see him, he’s having a meeting.”

You don’t pay attention to what he says at all, staring at the receptionist, “Am I look like a bad person? A criminal? A mobster?

“Why?”

“The receptionist of your company is really smart huh? Just a look and boom! She deduced that I’m under a cloud when her CEO is truly the mob boss!”

When you first walk inside the hall, almost everyone had their eyes on you, especially the receptionist woman. You just picked whatever left in your wardrobe, and you didn’t think you look that bad. But how could they not acknowledge your angel face?

“Excuse me, who do you want to see?”, you didn’t even ask but the receptionist had already steal your words.

“Mark Lee.”

Acting like the whole world is burned down when you call his name out loud, the girl looked terrified, “Sorry, Mrs Lee is busy now, he doesn’t have time for unnecessary things.”

Your whole being zoned into dead silence, which eye of her saw that you come here to play around? You then asked her to call Jaehyun but she didn’t agree either, the girl only approved after your mouth dried from convincing.

To not pass away from boredom, you force Jaehyun to gossip with you. By that you earned a lot of private information of Mark, his parents aren’t around and his background is basically not any better than you.

“What are y’all talking about?”

At the very moment you heard that voice, you instantly stand up on your feet, rushing towards the man.

Mark catches you with his arms, “Hey be careful, why are you here?”

“I miss you! You don’t miss me huh?”

“I do.”

You didn’t anticipate that Mark would return the energy. Your eyes sparkling, staring into his black eyes, which are glistening with some rare tenderness. You push him away, stand right in the middle of his company’s hall, say loudly, “Mark Lee! I love you! Be my girlfriend!”

Jaehyun almost spitted the tea in his mouth out, even some managers and employees that are happening to exist in the lounge couldn’t stop the throaty laught inside their chest.

Mark’s face darkens, his sharp gaze furiously staring at you. He steps forwards, both of his hands make tight grips on your shoulder.

“Oh let’s see how this ‘girlfriend’ ‘take care’ of you.”

You have never been afraid of Mark but when that scene in your office makes a 4K playback in your head, shivers run down your spine.

“Don’t you have works to do. You should finish them, I just come here to check on you. I should go with Alicia...”, you turn to walk away.

“What are you talking about? I’m having a date with her, you can’t join us!”, Jaehyun out of nowhere grabs your arm.

“Of course I can, I’ll go with y’all!”, you are cursing Jaehyun by 68 languages in your head.

“You can’t!”, he pushes you back to Mark’s direction and then walks away, but not before giving you a warning look.

Mark swings his arms around your neck, his broad chest presses against your back, “Baby, let’s try it out.”

“No! I don’t want to! I was just kidding Mark...please.”, your heart hammering in your chest as your face scrunch up, scaring that you may not able to walk in the next two days.

You involuntarily sit on the passenger seat in Mark’s car, trying to find some ways to escape. “Mark, I’m starving, let’s get some food.”

“No!”

His determination is an evidence that you’ve gotten into trouble. You bite your lips, an idea pops up on your mind, hope that this will work.

“Hey if you do not love me why would you want to do that thing with me?”, you cross your arms on your chest.

If you actually think about it, everything you said was not purely incorrect. You are the one that always say you love him but he had never admitted it. You don’t know whether Mark genuinely has feelings for you or not.

He suddenly brakes the car, causing you to almost break your skull, “What the-“

“You’re sure?”. Your eyes open widely as Mark cuts you off, he leans in, his face is an inch from yours.

©️  DREAMYKRAM. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

taglist: @nuoyii @jjikyuu @keemburley @skrtbeepbeep @sunshinedhyuck @jenotation @cloudykeiji @generantionct

[hyuniepot]

enigma || qian kun

e·nig·ma • /iˈniɡmə/ • noun

a person or thing that is mysterious, puzzling, or difficult to understand.

pairing || kun x reader

genre || college au

word count || 2,715

warnings || mentions of alcohol and smoking

author’s note || tbh this started out as a longer fic but... something in me really wanted it to end when it did. but maybe there could be a part 2 someday idk idk (also apologies for repeating text again, tumblr is rlly out to get me)

You’re annoyed.

It’s cold. Your shoes are soaked from walking through puddles left behind from the rain showers earlier in the day. Your best friend, Hana — the one who begged you to come to this party — was talking your ear off. Usually, dealing with her chatterbox self was easy, but you weren’t in the mood to talk.

“I think I’m nervous,” she says. “I feel like if I stop talking I’m gonna start freaking out! I mean, how am I supposed to be calm going to a party like this?”

You furrow your brows. “Don’t you go to parties like this every weekend?” you question.

You roll your eyes. “Sure,” you sigh. You spot a huge house coming into view with lights flashing from the inside and floods of people entering. “So, whose house is this?”

You roll your eyes. “Sure,” you sigh. You spot a huge house coming into view with lights flashing from the inside and floods of people entering. “So, whose house is this?”

You roll your eyes. “Sure,” you sigh. You spot a huge house coming into view with lights flashing from the inside and floods of people entering. “So, whose house is this?”

“Johnny’s,” Hana replies. “His parents own this place, but whenever they’re out of town, he uses it to throw the best parties at least once a year.”

“How cliche…” you mumble.

You finally enter the house alongside Hana. The loud music and all the smells immediately send you into sensory overload. Hana grabs onto your hand and leads you into the kitchen.

“Oh, hey!” A guy with brown hair greets Hana as soon as she walks in. “I’ve been waiting for you!”

“Johnny!” she grins. “Sorry for the wait, I took way longer getting ready than I wanted.”

“No problem, the party's just getting started! So I’m assuming this is the friend you were telling me about?” Johnny turns his attention to you. His gaze is intense.

Hana nods. “Yep, dragged them here with me. I just knew I had to, parties like this are always the best.”

Johnny nods, grinning slightly. His eyes are still burning into you. “She’s right. You’re gonna have a blast.”

You nod and smile just to be polite. Your eyes dart around the room trying to avoid Johnny’s. They’re like daggers. Hana grabs two drinks and before either of you have a chance to say anything, nods to a nearby doorway.

You follow her into the other room and take a seat next to her on an empty sofa. It doesn’t take long before she gets distracted again.

“Oh! Doyoung! Yuta!” she waves to two boys across the room. They both turn to her and smile before making their way over to where you were both sitting.

“Hey,” Doyoung says. You knew him pretty well, you had a class with him and a few mutual friends as well. “Didn’t know you guys would be here.”

You shrug. “Always expect the unexpected,” you joke, taking a red cup from Hana’s hand. You take a sip, cringing from the overwhelming taste of alcohol. You’re not sure why you expected it to taste good. But you had to tough it out and wait until you were buzzed enough to think the alcohol tastes good.

“You guys playing beer pong later?” Yuta asks, sitting down next to Doyoung. “I mean, we need a team we know we can beat,” he says, laughing.

Hana rolls her eyes. “Thanks for the invite, but no. We’re both terrible,” she says. “I don’t want to embarrass myself.”

Speak for yourself…

Out of the corner of your eye you see the front door fly open. A tall guy enters, both hands carrying cases of alcohol. Two other people are behind him; you only recognize one — Ten. He was known as “the hot exchange student from Thailand” for a few months before anyone you knew got the guts to talk to him just to find out he was a sweetheart. You had only talked to him a handful of times.

Everyone cheered as the person entered. You assumed it was Jaehyun since multiple people yelled his name. He beamed from all the cheering, dimples appearing on either side of his cheeks; he looked cute, there was no denying it.

Ten weaves his way around Jaehyun and makes his way to where you were sitting, the other boy following behind. Ten picks up a cup from the table. “God, finally I can drink. Jaehyun made me his designated driver as soon as I got here.”

“Is that your drink?” you ask. You were really hoping he didn’t just grab a random cup.

Ten takes a drink, shrugging. “Should be. Looks like it. I told Lucas to guard it but,” he sighs. “He’s nowhere to be seen. As usual. I should know better, asking Lucas to stay still at a party is impossible.”

He puts his arm around the boy standing behind him. “This is Sicheng, by the way. I think you know him, right Yuta?”

Yuta nods. “Yeah. We have a few classes together. Hey.”

Sicheng grins. “Hi, Yuta.”

Sicheng didn’t look like a party person. He looked like you; someone who was dragged to this party by their much more outgoing friend.

“Anyways. It was nice seeing you guys. We need to go find Lucas and Kun.” Ten says. And like that, Ten disappeared into a pool of people surrounding the area where you sat.

You didn’t know either of the people he listed; you were getting more and more used to that.

Jaehyun finally makes his way towards you, still carrying the cases of alcohol. He looks at Doyoung and Yuta and nods towards a group of people behind him. “Beer pong’s starting. Taeyong and Taeil want to take you guys on first.”

Doyoung downs the rest of his drink. “Got it. Let’s go win our first game of the night, Yuta!” They both get up and run out of the room.

“Hey, Jaehyun,” Hana smiles.

Jaehyun smirks. “Hey. It’s been awhile since I saw you last, how are you?” he asks.

“Oh, you know. The usual. Trying to survive my classes. This is my friend by the way, the one I was telling you about.”

They really must enjoy talking about me, huh?

You smile. “Hi.”

Jaehyun nods. “Nice meeting you finally. I’d give you a proper greeting, but,” he raises his arms. “Kinda busy.”

“Right!” Hana says. “Sorry for holding you up.”

He shakes his head. “It’s okay. I’m kinda stalling going back into the kitchen, Johnny’s an hour ahead of me. He’s on the road of getting shitfaced,” he chuckles. “I’ll see you guys later, maybe.” he walks away from you and Hana and into the kitchen.

“Okay, let’s go.” Hana stands up and grabs your hand, almost spilling your drink in the process.

“Where?” you ask, getting up from your seat. It takes you a few seconds to collect yourself from almost tripping and spilling your drink.

Hana drags you through a group of people. “To watch the beer pong game! I’ll bet you five dollars that Yuta and Doyoung will lose.”

Everything went as per usual.

You weren’t even surprised as you stumbled up the stairs and through an unfamiliar hallway, praying to find an empty room you could lay down in.

After the first beer pong match (which Yuta and Doyoung lost, so you owed Hana five bucks), you lost Hana, but you stayed with Doyoung and Yuta for a while. You drank too fast and it all hit you at once. You felt nauseous and your head was pounding from the loud music that had been blaring for hours.

You open the first door you see. You see two people in bed. You slam the door shut. “Sorry…” you apologize, squeezing your eyes shut.

You shake your head and continue your way down the hallway. One door is open. You poke your head in, looking around to make sure it was empty and that no one was in the bed. It was empty. You enter, turning on a lamp next to the bed and sitting down on it.

You close your eyes in an attempt to try and soothe your head, but it’s pointless. You were burning up. Were you running a fever?

There’s a balcony connected to the room. You make your way to it and open the doors, the cool air instantly hitting you. It feels amazing. You close your eyes and take a deep breath. You smell something familiar in all of this unfamiliarity; Cigarette smoke. It’s unmistakable.

You open your eyes, nearly jumping out of your skin when you see a figure standing on the leftmost side of the balcony. “Shit!” you cry out.

The person just looks at you, cigarette in between their fingers. They blow a puff of smoke before turning their head.

You put your hand on your chest. “Sorry. You scared me.”

“Don’t worry.” they say, sighing.

You step onto the balcony and go to the right, sitting down on a chair. “Um… and sorry for… intruding on you, I guess. I just needed some air.” you say softly. You look towards them.

“It’s alright.” they reply. They turn their head towards you, taking another puff from his cigarette. “I’m Kun.”

The name was familiar. “Kun…” you repeat. “You know Ten, right?”

Kun nods, chuckling a bit. “Yeah. That asshole brought me here knowing I absolutely hate parties.” he sits at a chair identical to yours on his side of the balcony. “I’ve been up here the whole night. I took my chance to hide once he left.”

You grin. “Nice. I don’t blame you. I’m… not much of a partier myself.” you say.

Kun taps his cigarette, small ashes falling from it. He catches you still looking at him. “What? Want a smoke or something?”

You shake your head. “No, no thanks… I don’t smoke.” you tell him.

“Hm,” Kun shrugs and takes another puff. “What are you scared of?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Cancer.”

Kun scoffs. “I’m not talking about the cig. I don’t care that you don’t smoke. I’m asking you what you’re really scared of.”

“Oh,” you say. He actually wants to have a deep conversation within five minutes of meeting. That might be a record. “I don’t know…” you cross your arms. Now that you had cooled off, the air was no longer relieving. “What are you scared of?”

“There’s a reason I asked you,” Kun replies, dropping his cigarette and putting it out with his shoe. “I’m not scared of anything.”

“Oh, come on.” you laugh. “Everyone has a fear, tough guy.”

“Really? Then why won’t you tell me yours?” Kun asks.

You pause. “Because I can’t think straight,” you admit. “And… I have a lot of fears,” you add softly.

“Like what? Death? Bugs?” Kun leans back in his chair.

“I’m scared of death.” you admit. “I don’t really like needles either… or the dark.”

“You have pretty reasonable fears.” Kun replies. “A lot of people tell me they’re scared of those things.”

“But not you, right?” you joke.

Kun shakes his head. “No. I’m still trying to figure out what I’m scared of. I’m not scared of death. I’m a smoker for God’s sake. Needles are gross but I wouldn’t say I’m scared of them. And I have no problem with the dark.” he explains. “Are you scared of the dark or the things in it?”

You think. “I guess the things in it. It’s the unknown.”

“Is that why you got scared when you saw me?” he asks.

You hesitantly nod. “Yeah. That’s the shit I hate.”

It falls silent. “Do you wanna go home?” Kun asks.

You almost get whiplash from how fast he changed the subject. “Depends,” you reply. “Are you trying to get me to come home with you, or…”

Kun chuckles and shakes his head. “No. I’m being serious. I can walk you home, I was planning on leaving after that cigarette.”

“Oh,” you feel your face get hot from embarrassment. “I guess… I live on campus though.”

“I do too,” Kun says, standing up.

“You do?” you join him. “I’ve never seen you.”

“I have morning classes and I don’t do much besides homework in the afternoon so… I’m not out of my dorm a lot unless I’m in dire need of food. Maybe that’s why?” Kun steps back inside and you follow. He closes the balcony doors.

“Yeah,” you had afternoon classes and you had the same schedule as him when it came to after school activities. You had probably passed him without realizing it. “That sounds about right.”

You follow Kun out of the room and down the hallway towards the other side of the house — there was a way to the back door from another staircase. You and Kun were able to leave the house without anyone noticing. Hana would be pissed if she found out you decided to ditch, but you knew she’d be too drunk to get mad. That was for tomorrow.

“Do you know Johnny or Jaehyun?” Kun asks. The party atmosphere slowly fades away.

“Not really. Mutual friends,” you reply. “I came with my friend who knows them pretty well.”

“Ah,” Kun nods. “I’ve known Johnny for a few years now… but you know, every college kid wants to be friends with the party animal so… I don’t get surprised anymore when everyone I meet somehow knows him.”

You chuckle. “I had no idea about all these parties…” you tell him.

“Lucky you,” Kun pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and lights one. “I’m always dragged to these things, I end up enjoying them but sometimes but other times, like tonight, I’m just not in the mood. I just wanna sleep.”

“Ditto.” you reply. “Those things are bad for you, you know.” you tell him, as if he hasn’t heard that phrase a million times before.

“Really?” Kun asks, exhaling. “I had no idea.”

The smell of the smoke makes your headache return. But at the end of the day, it’s his body; there’s no point in shaming someone’s addiction.

“Sorry,” Kun sighs. “I know it’s rude to smoke on your face.” he takes one finaly drag before dropping the cigarette and putting it out.

“It’s okay.” you reply. “I’m sorry if I made you feel bad.” you didn’t know why, but you felt the need to apologize.

“Nah, don’t worry about that,” Kun laughs. “I’ve heard much worse from strangers. Ten is so dramatic about it I have to shower before I see him or he’ll tell me I smell because of the tobacco smell. I’m kinda used to it,”

You giggle. “Sounds exactly like Ten.” you say softly.

The walk back to campus was much shorter than the walk to Johnny’s — at least, it felt that way. Maybe because Kun wasn’t talking your ear off and making your blood boil at the same time.

“I’d love to chat more but, I think this is where we part ways.” Kun says, opening the doors. “I really gotta get to bed because I know Ten’s gonna call me in the morning and yell at me to come pick him up, so…”

You grin. “I’ll probably be in the same predicament,” you tell him.

He nods. “Goodnight.”

You return his nod and start to make your way back to your dorm, but something stops you. “Wait,” you turn to ask Kun if you could have his phone number or if you two could see each other again soon, but he was completely out of sight.

That is when you realized you didn’t want Kun to be a stranger.

[hqmoonsun]

are you there? 🎧

genre: angst

pairing: kageyama x gn!reader

warnings: cussing, mention of death

word count: 1.3k

synopsis: once you turn 18, you receive a pair of wireless headphones, which you could use to communicate with your soulmate

“Happy Birthday!” your parents cheerfully greet as you blow the last candle on your cake.

“I’ve reached the magic number,” you smile to yourself, your pulse picking up at the thought of finally talking to your soulmate.

‘What are they like? How should I start the conversation? What if they haven’t turned 18 yet?’ are the three major questions that have lingered by your side since you turned 16. Today is the day that they are answered.

“Open it!” your older sister and her soulmate excitedly say in unison as your mom pushes a wrapped gift in front of you.

“Is this it?” you look up to your mom, who is nodding vigorously. She is just as excited as everyone else in the room.

You carefully tear the red wrapper around the gift, revealing a plain white box. Your pulse picks up again as you open the box, which contains a set of wireless headphones. Of course, they’re not the regular wireless ones that you already have. It’s specifically designed for you and your soulmate, so you could connect and communicate.

You excuse yourself from your family and make your way upstairs and into your room with the box at hand.

Before plugging it into your ears, you carefully examine the headphones to stall time. Yes, you can’t wait to meet your soulmate, but at the same time, you can’t help but also feel nervous.

“Well, here goes everything,” you deeply exhale before finally wearing the headphones.

Static.

“Huh?” you whine out loud, realizing you don’t know how this whole thing works. “Hello?” you test for a reply.

“Hi,” a rather deep, yet soft voice comes from the other end of the line.

“I think we’re soulmates,” you mumble.

“No shit,” they answer in a tone that you couldn’t tell whether they mean it in the nicest or meanest way possible. “Where have you been? I’ve been waiting for exactly 121 days,” they add on, their voice shifting into a sulky tone.

“Im sorry, it appears I was born 121 days later,” you giggle as you picture them pouting.

“I’m kageyama, what should I call you?”

“Call me y/n, Kageyama,” you could hear him gasp a little after saying his name.

“Hi, y/n,” he replies after regaining his composture.

“I thought you were exaggerating with the gasp, but wow, my name never sounded so beautiful,” you admit.

Seconds, minutes and hours pass by and the two of you can’t seem to get enough of each other.

“Can I ask a question?” you ask since a particular question won’t stop bothering you.

“Go ahead, y/n,” there he goes again, your name leaving his lips.

“Where are you from? I wanna know our timezone differences,” you finally let the question escape its cage.

“Thats a secret, for now,” he cheekily answers, making you overthink of many possible ways you could reach him personally.

“Don’t tell me we’re like neighbors or something,” even though you already know who lives next door, you hope that it’s still a possibility.

“Maybe, or maybe not,” he teases, “You’ll find out soon, y/n,”

“Okay, Kageyama”

For the hours you’ve talked, the two of you had made the habit of saying each other’s name as a way to tease each other.

-a month later-

“How was your day?” Kageyama starts from the other end as you plop face down into your bed.

“Exhausting,” you groan, finally being able to let out how tired you are from practice.

“Im sorry, babe, I wish I could hold you,” he casually comforts, filling your stomach with butterflies.

‘BABE?!?!’ you panic in your head as it’s the first time he’s called you that.

“Me too, babe,” you try to say in the most casual way as possible to hide the fact that you’re extremely flustered right now.

“It’s our first month tomorrow!” you remember after quickly glancing at your calendar.

“Right,” Kageyama’s voice falters.

“Are you okay?” you quickly sit up as worry settles in after hearing his tone.

“Yeah, just sad we can’t see each other,” he confirms, but it sounds like a lie.

“If you’re ready to tell me where you’re from, we could arrange something,” you suggest, trying to lift up the mood.

The line goes silent for what seems like forever that you wondered if Kageyama unplugged his headphones.

“You there?” you ask in confusion.

“Sorry, my family has visitors, talk to you later,” he finally answers before abruptly taking off his headphones.

All you could hear now is the painfully, deafening static. It might just be nothing, but your gutis telling you something is wrong.

-a week after-

Later became next week.

Kageyama never plugged in that day and the day after that and the day after that and so on.

It’s been a week and every time you wake up, the first thing you do is check whether the static had gone away and Kageyama is waiting for you to explain his sudden disappearance.

‘Was it something I said? Am I being pushy about wanting to know where in the world he’s from? Can soulmates even break up?’ are the major questions that’s basically drilled into your head the moment you wake up and before you drift off to sleep.

You drag yourself out of your bed and to your desk, where your headphones lays. At this point, it’s more surprising if Kageyama greets you this time, instead of the static you’ve grown accustomed to after barely taking off your headphones for a week.

As you plug it in for the seventh day this week, your heart drops at the sound of stillness from the other end.

“Kageyama?” you ask, your voice shaking in shock.

“Y/n,” he starts before you cut him off.

“Where the fuck have you been? I was so worried, especially at how our last conversation ended,” your voice unintentionally raising itself out of frustration.

“I’m sorry,” is all he could blurt out.

“Please don’t disappear from me like that ever again,” a tear falls from your left eye.

“I can’t promise that,” his voice breaks mid-sentence.

“What do you mean?” now, you’re confused and worried. The gut feeling from last week is coming back and is stronger than ever.

“Y/n,” your name escapes his mouth again, but this time, he doesn’t mean it teasingly. This time, it’s filled with pain.

“Kageyama, what’s wrong?” your heart picks up and you don’t know what to feel.

“I,” he starts, “I dont exist anymore”.

“What does that even mean?” you let out a scoff, in hopes that he’s just playing with you.

“I mean, I’m gone, y/n,” he explains slowly, his voice now shaky.

“Dead?” you clarify, “I’m talking to my dead soulmate? Is that even possible?” you laugh, hoping that Kageyama laughs with you, but he remains silent.

Without plugging off your headphones, you dash out your bedroom and storm down the stairs.

“Mom!” you desperately shout, “Dad!”.

“What’s wrong?” the both of them rush to you, worry plastered on their faces.

“Is it possible that m-“ your voice breaks, “that my soulmate is dead?”

Your mom’s face softens while your dad straightens up. They exchange looks in silence.

“Please say no,” you plead as your eyes brim with tears “Please say no,” you repeat, desperate for the answer you want to hear.

“Im so sorry,” is the only thing that your mom says before she engulfs you in her arms.

You break away from her as you scream of sorrow. You dash back to your room and close the door shut. You stand behind the door, heavily sobbing to yourself. Feeling your legs getting weaker by the second, you surrender to the floor.

“Y/n, I’m so, so sorry,” Kageyama speaks again, his voice making it apparent that he’s crying too.

“You’re telling me,” you pause in between sobs, “that I’ll never get to hold you? Intertwine my hands with yours? Lock eyes with you?”

“I would do anything to be able to do that,” he replies sniffing.

“Where are you right now?” you ask, pulling your knees closer to you.

“I’m right here,” he says, “next to you, y/n” Kageyama reveals as he hugs you in the afterlife.

[belphegor1982]

not sure if you're doing the prompt list, but parenthood (6) with leonard snart and janet? 👉👈 i'm in love with your characterizations of len and his wife 💕

It took me two weeks, but there it is :D

Parenthood (DCAU)

When she’d been a kid, Janet had – very naturally – assumed that her adult life would match her parents’, or their neighbours: a house, a husband, a dog, a white picket fence, not necessarily in that order. And kids. Like an afterthought, something not really important so much as vaguely necessary.

She hadn’t thought about it until a couple of years or so into her and Len’s marriage. They’d had somewhat rocky beginnings: she’d been fierce, he’d been grumpy, and they’d both been so damn young they hadn’t seen how ridiculous they were, dancing around each other like they weren’t sure they were allowed this… that. ‘Relationship’ was too big a word. Whatever they had, though, they had kept, because it was good and it was theirs. One day it had hit Janet that Len basically only went back to his crappy little apartment to shower; one night they’d been in bed, sweaty and tired and stupid happy, and as Janet reached for the book on her bedside table afterwards while Len scribbled on his ‘heist ideas’ notebook like he’d been struck with sudden inspiration, she had realised in a rush that she wanted the rest of her life to be like this.

“Wanna get married, one of these days?” she’d asked, almost not nervous at all.

Len had stared at her long enough to make her start to regret asking. Then he’d given a small smile, the very rare sort that showed in his eyes.

“Sure,” he’d said, and that was that.

They’d gotten married six months later. Janet wore blue. Her parents showed up, despite the disapproval hanging thick in the air – her father convinced that she could ‘do a lot better than a thug’, her mother ice-cold at the thought of her daughter marrying ‘some two-bit crook’. Len had only invited his sister, a stunning young blonde who’d been friendly to Janet but still appeared put-out that the invitation didn’t extend to her boyfriend.

“He’s a jerk,” Len had said later, making Janet laugh.

“You’re a jerk, Len.”

“Not the same kind. He’s stuck-up. Lisa’s too good for him anyway.”

“Yeah, well. That’s not up to you to decide, is it? It’s your sister’s choice.”

“I know, I just… She deserves better. Better than she got as a kid.”

Janet had looked at him, long and careful, suddenly a little tense.

“Do you think she’s… not safe? With him?”

Len had blinked, then shaken his head.

“Nah, nothin’ like that. You can tell Dillon’s actually good to her. Nothing like…” He had trailed off, something hard and cold and sudden in his eyes like someone had slammed closed a pair of shutters. That had only lasted for ten seconds before he’d shrugged. “I just wish he wasn’t such a dick, that’s all.”

Then he’d abruptly changed the subject, and Janet had followed, because she knew precarious ground when she saw it.

* * * *

Living with someone in the intimate way meant noticing a lot of things about them, more or less willingly.

Len had cottoned on pretty early to her tendency to snap when she was tired or angry, and of holding nothing back then. She also caught him looking at the crisscross pattern of scar tissue on her knuckles from when she’d punched a wall, repeatedly, after the girl who’d been her best friend in school was battered to death by her boyfriend. “I only slapped her around a bit,” the bastard had said, and ten years later Janet still wished that she’d had the guts to punch him instead. She’d finally told Len about it one day, and seen his face go stone and his eyes ice. His cold fury had been comforting.

It went both ways. She noticed things about her husband, too. Like some odd scars she had a feeling he hadn’t picked up in juvie, the trace of a cigarette burn in the hollow of his right shoulder, or the mark – still chillingly precise even years later – of a belt buckle in the small of his back. She wondered whether Lisa had similar scars. Not that she’d ask. She and her sister-in-law didn’t have that kind of relationship.

Janet had a past. Len had a past. That was what being human meant. Sometimes that felt more like dragging a corpse through the dust wherever you went than a happy set of picture-perfect memories, but it was part of the whole package.

The major reason Janet didn’t entertain the idea of kids for longer than a passing thought was because she didn’t want any – for the moment, she told herself, even as she kept forgetting to really think about it. She’s grown up with the distinct impression that she hadn’t been wanted, or had come at an inconvenient time to her parents. The last thing she wanted was to make a kid feel like that.

The lesser reason was everything Len wasn’t saying. He wasn’t crazy about opening up about things either important or trivial, though he did anyway because they both liked to get their point across clearly. But she’d never, ever heard him say anything at all about his life before he’d struck out on his own, a couple of years short of eighteen years old. His sister Lisa was six years younger, and that was all Janet knew. Family, parents, home life – Len didn’t let anything slip. This, combined with the scars and a few odd reactions, carefully hidden under a lot of attitude, told her more than he appeared willing to share.

One day, when he’d been nicely mellowed out by a good score and a shared bottle of the good stuff to celebrate, she had asked him, “Do you ever think about having kids?”

The split-second look he’d given her still haunted her to this day. She had seen him angry, she had seen him silent, cheerful and surly and balking at house chores, but it hadn’t crossed her mind that he could ever be afraid.

“No,” he’d answered curtly. “Why?”

“Just wondering. Kevin from logistics just had his third the other day. Kept asking me when I’d finally get started on my own.”

“Kevin from logistics needs to mind his own damn business.”

“That’s what I told him,” said Janet, and Len smirked. “Anyway, he got me thinking. Turns out I don’t think I want kids. You know, at all.”

The relief on his face was as fleeting as the fear, but just as stark.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I like what we have.” A pause. “You’ve really never thought about having kids one day?”

“Sure I did, once – for about five seconds. Weirdest five seconds of my life.”

She’d given him a look, half amused, half a smile. Relax, Len. You’re not getting interrogated.

“That bad?”

“Look, I don’t… Kids are weird, all right? Adults I can deal with. Besides, all I know is how not to be a father. No way I’m risking—no way.”

That was as close as he ever came to telling her why she’d never even heard Snart Sr.’s first name. But it was enough. They closed the subject and moved on to other things.

* * * *

And then it turned out that Metropolis and Gotham were not the only cities that could boast an actual superhero, because Central City quickly became aware of a lean, young-looking man in a red costume who called himself the Flash and went after burglars and thieves with superhuman speed. Whoever he was, whatever he was, he added an element of danger to her husband’s chosen profession, and Janet took an instant dislike to him and his big smug smile. Then she dismissed him from her mind quickly enough.

Len, though, was a very different story.

While he didn’t like the Flash any more than Janet did, the guy’s addition to the tried-and-true equation of cops and robbers added an edge that hadn’t been present before. Having an actual superhero in town made all of Len’s old research on absolute zero – and tinkering in the basement – not only relevant but useful. He designed a ‘cold gun’ from plans he’d stolen years ago, looking more excited than Janet had seen him in the last eight years, and worked hard to ‘up his game’.

Privately, Janet thought that, for a man who claimed to be as serious about his trade as Len did, creating a brand-new persona complete with parka, visor, and goofy moniker was hilarious.

Not that she ever actually laughed at him. Especially not the one time Len came back from a heist with an armful of cash and a weird look on his face.

“He’s a kid, Jan,” he said when Janet had asked him what could be wrong when he’d clearly got away with the loot unscathed. “He’s a goddamn kid. I don’t think he’s even old enough to drink.”

“What the hell is he playing at, then?” she exclaimed. “This job is not kid’s stuff! What was he thinking, that he could waltz in and play Superman, just like that?”

“I don’t know.” Len took off his visor and pinched the bridge of his nose. Then his eyes hardened. “And I don’t care. I like my job. If this guy thinks he can stop me, then he’d better be prepared to try harder.”

“I got him good today, though,” he said hours later, in the small hours of the night, after Janet’s hands had searched for his, cool and calloused, under the covers.

Something tensed inside in the region of her stomach.

“You didn’t kill him, did you?”

“Of course not,” he snapped, looking annoyed that she’d even ask. Janet’s guts relaxed. “I’m a crook, not a murderer. Besides, you know the second someone offs that guy, Superman or another big hero is gonna show up and turn the city inside out in revenge. It’d be like when a cop gets killed. They close ranks and start shooting indiscriminately.”

“So when you say you ‘got him good’ –”

“I just sent him packin’. Didn’t rough him up more than I would a cop. The kid’s got a mean right hook but he has no idea how real cold works, speed or no speed.”

Janet closed her eyes again and murmured, “Maybe he’ll quit, then.”

“Maybe.” Even half-asleep, she could tell that this ‘maybe’ meant ‘fat chance’.

“So… on the off-chance that today didn’t put him off, what are you gonna do?”

“I was thinking I might hit Drake & Hall Savings on Infantino Street next month.”

“I meant about the Flash.”

Len’s voice was low but certain when he said, “Me too. I’ll just keep doing my job, and if this joker is as serious as he claims to be, he’ll keep trying to stop me. But I’m not gonna drop everything just because of a kid in a onesie and a mask. I’ll just have to find ways to slow him down.”

The last thought that coalesced in Janet’s mind just before she nodded off was Did my husband just become a supervillain?

She fell asleep before the laugh passed her lips.

* * * *

While ‘supervillain’ might have been stretching things – not to mention the word made Janet choke up on laughter – Len’s new approach to the job was certainly different from the one he’d had before the Flash came along. He still refused the label, though, arguing that supervillains had powers, costumes, and delusions of grandeur, while he just had a cold gun, a parka, and banks to rob.

“Okay,” said Janet when she was in a ribbing mood, “what’s the Joker’s power, then?”

This usually earned her a deadpan look.

At least Len didn’t remain the only crook with a gimmick and an eccentric costume for long. Soon her husband had colleagues, fellow not-supervillains, some of whom not only willing to work together but also seemed to actually appreciate it. Their ‘powers’ were not innate, nor did they get them in freaky accidents; like Len, they either stole tech or were savvy enough to design it. And they all rejected the label of ‘supervillain’.

They were ‘rogues’. Or rather, Rogues. And Len – who knows why – took the place of the de facto leader.

Of her husband’s coworkers, Janet got on with Mick Rory the best. She liked his even temper, his slight smile, and the fact that he generally found it easy to keep a level head. Digger Harkness was his exact opposite, and her whole life she could never quite shake off the urge to slap him whenever he opened his mouth. The others were scattered along the scale between those two extremes: some were never quite sure what to do with her (or she with them – apart from making sure the old couch in the basement could be slept on and keeping an eye on their quickly-dwindling stock of coffee and beer packs), while others were more accommodating about having to spend time with ‘Len’s missus’.

One day Janet caught James pilfering one of the cookies she’d baked herself for the next night she’d have to spend alone. He looked so terrified at being caught red-handed that she refrained from rolling her eyes and told him to help himself and share with his musician friend.

She drew the line at pointing out Hartley was too skinny, though. Just because the young man was friendly and polite and, indeed, looked rather underfed didn’t mean she had any right to turn into her Aunt Debbie. She’d rather die first. Besides, she wasn’t the kid’s nanny, was she?

Nevertheless, the cookies proved a success. Like the couch in the basement, like the stocking up on beer packs, like the occasional patching-up of scrapes not serious enough to warrant a trip to the hospital, they surreptitiously became a habit.

* * * *

Over the years, Janet Snart slid smoothly into middle-age never regretting once her decision not to have children. Turned out being a woman, a wife, a friend, and a sometimes kind-of-support to a bunch of Rogues was quite enough.

Parenthood was overrated, anyway.

______________

Hope you liked, @orion-nottson 💜

Timeline notes thingy: Janet and Len met when they were about 25-27 and got married a couple of years later. ‘Dillon’ is of course Roscoe Dillon, the Top, who has a blink-and-you-miss-it cameo in the JLU episode with the Rogues, but since I don’t want to kill him or Lisa, I’m thinking he was her ice skating trainer, they fell in love, and didn’t go into villainy.

Wally was the first Flash of this universe - maybe the second and Jay was a superhero in the 1940s? - since he says “my uncle’s flying in” for the ceremony. Also, when he first pops up in this story he’s not quite 16, while Len is a bit over 30.

...I really overthink these things, huh 😅

[sunsetcurbed]

you showed me faith is not blind (miracles happen)

Pairing: Alex/Willie  Words: 5,686 Rating: T  Chapter Warnings: none  Chapter: 4/11  read on AO3 

Chapter Summary:  “Tell me about it, stud,” Willie grins, reaching up to brush something off of Alex’s shoulder.

Alex feels his face growing hot. Did—did Willie just call him a stud? In front of all of their friends? He looks at their friends who are all grinning wide—such a non-reaction that Alex is sure his must have imagine Willie’s words—and then back to Willie. “What?”

“What?” Luke cries. “Have you never seen Grea—has he never seen Grease?”

(*) 

Alex regrets telling his grandmother that they could start lessons on Monday.

Their gig at Drake's goes from nine until half past ten, at which point another band takes the stage. While their parents are all there (all have to be there in order for them to even be able to play the gig) to drive them home right after, all of them are too amped up to fall asleep. They stay up until nearly three texting each other, first about the gig, and then about everything and nothing. Unfortunately, this means minimal sleep, as Alex's alarm comes to life only three hours later at quarter 'til six. Then it's seven and a half hours of school, and now—now…

"Why are you wearing joggers to school? To the Beasiga consulate?" his grandmother asks, and he thinks she does a great job hiding the horror with exasperation in her voice. She gives herself away with the dramatic hand to her chest, though.

Alex sighs and lifts a hand to rub at his eyes. "I had a long night, sorry. I didn't even look at what I was putting on this morning."

His grandmother huffs. She drops her hand from her chest, shaking her head as she looks him up and down. "Dear, you've got to care about how you present yourself, tired or not. Even were you not a prince, this is an important life skill—how you present yourself influences those around you. How they treat you, how they act, and especially what they think. How you choose to dress is how you choose to portray yourself. And it influences you as well. You would feel much more confident in a pair of well-fitted trousers, wouldn't you? And on that note—your hair."

Alex frowns. "My hair?" He reaches up and runs his fingers through it. "What's wrong with my hair?"

"Well, nothing really. But do you not think you could shape it up some? Use some product?"

Alex pulls a face.

His grandmother looks at him. "I'll call in my stylist. How's Thursday? We'll get you set with a new wardrobe and new hair, all right?"

"Wait a minute—"

"If you don't like it you can go back to wearing your old clothes," she waves him off, "and your hair will grow back, won't it? Just give it a chance, will you?"

Alex isn't sure if it's because she's making fair points or if he's really, really tired, but he nods. "Yeah, okay."

Which is then how he finds himself sitting in the ballroom of the consulate three days later as Tasha—his grandmother's stylist—unclips the barber's cape from behind his neck and throws it off of him. He watches as it, and the rest of his hair that had fallen on to it, falls to the floor. He feels bad for whoever has to clean this room later. He's not given the chance to feel bad for too long though, because Tasha is spinning the chair around to face the mirror. He looks up and—

It's actually. Not that bad.

The sides are a little too short for him, and he's going to hate using product every morning to get it to stand up, but… it looks normal. It looks good.

"Wow," he says, for Tasha, Alden, and his grandmother's benefit. "I like it."

"Oh, wonderful!" his grandmother exclaims, clapping her hands together while rising to her feet. "Tasha, thank you for all your work today."

"Of course, ma'am," Tasha says, curtseying politely. "It is always my pleasure to work with you, you must know."

"I do," she smiles, and takes the hand that Tasha holds out to her in hers and nods once. "Thank you, dear. I will contact you for my hair for the dinner in a few weeks as well, is that all right with you?"

"Yes, that's fine. And it was my pleasure, ma'am," Tasha says again, and then she's gone, and Alex is alone with his grandmother while Alden escorts Tasha out.

His grandmother walks up, standing behind the chair and placing her hands on his shoulders. She makes eye contact with him through the mirror and smiles. "Do you know what I think?" she asks. He hums a question. "You look like a prince."

He holds back a grimace at those words and assesses himself in the mirror. He's wearing a pair of dark wash jeans and a pale pink henley with the sleeves of the shirt pushed up nearly to his elbow. Half of him thinks that he looks like every asshole he's ever wanted to punch for catcalling Julie and Flynn when they were out walking around LA, half of him… kind of agrees with his grandmother. Now that he knows he's technically a prince, and now that he is dressed like this, and presented like this… he can see it.

It scares him.

"Uh, yeah," he agrees. "The clothes aren't half bad, either." They're not. They're really, really not. The clothes Tasha had thrown at him this afternoon were just regular looking clothes, albeit most of them are designer brand, but they're just… picked out for him, fitted to him, and then put together for him so he doesn't have to worry about whether or not something will match.

"You like them then?" his grandmother asks.

Alex nods, lifting his arms and looking down to study his current outfit again. "I do. Not as… posh as I was expecting."

She laughs brightly, and squeezes his shoulders. "No, of course not, Alexander. I know you're still in high school. I would never want to make you stand out. No. No, the goal here was to give you more confidence in yourself, that would never work if you felt you were dressed in some rubbish outfit that stood out at your school." She takes a deep breath and releases it. "Ah! I'm so glad you like it! You must tell me what your friends think tomorrow."

(Huh.

It scared him before.

He's terrified now.)

He doesn't have to wait long to find out what his friends think. His bus gets to the school seven almost every day—today is no different. Reggie and Flynn live on the same street and take the same but which always gets there two or three minutes after Alex's. Luke drives, and since he and Julie live a block away from each other, he gives her a ride. They're almost always there five minutes after seven, sometimes earlier, sometimes later. Willie drives himself but he's a toss up as to when—or if—he'll show up each day because of his other friends. Classes don't start until 7:22, and, apart from Willie, their lockers are all in the same bay, and their first classes are all in the same two wings that are right next to each other, so they all spend their mornings together. So Alex knows that it won't be long before—

"Look at you, buddy!" Luke yells, jumping on to Alex's back, one arm wrapping around Alex's shoulder and neck to cling for dear life, while the other musses up Alex's styled hair. Shit, he should have expected that. Maybe he should have left it unstyled for the first few days. "Lookin' all fancy like, lookin' all—"

"Luke, get off of him," Julie commands, and Alex feels himself sway back. He grabs on to the inside of his locker so Julie pulling Luke off of Alex's back won't pull him over, too. A few seconds later, Luke drops off his back, and Alex stands up straight again. He turns to glare at Luke who is smiling innocently. Julie steps forward from beside her boyfriend and reaches a hand toward Alex's head. "Here, let me," she says, and then starts running her fingers through Alex's hair, tugging it until it's in place again. When she's done she wipes her hands on her jeans and steps back. "There. Back to normal before this one had to ruin it. It looks good! New clothes too?"

"Uh, yeah," Alex nods, shifting on his feet and pushing his sleeves up his arms, just to have something to do with his hands. It doesn't occupy them for long, so they drop back uselessly to his side. "My, uh. Grandma. She? She wanted to—she wanted to uh, spoil me a bit, I guess?"

"Dude, you should have asked for a new kit," Luke tells him.

Julie roles her eyes and throws a backhand into his gut. "Alex just got a new kit in March, Luke."

"Yeah, but wouldn't it be awesome if he had two? Then he could keep one at the studio and at his house."

"I, uh, don't think my mom would've let me get away with that, since she didn't even let me keep the old one," Alex makes up. "It's whatever. The clothes are cool, too, I guess."

"Hey, buddy!" Reggie's voice breaks in. "What happened to you?"

"Wow, Alex," Flynn adds, "are you getting… fancy—" she winks "—for someone?"

"Wh—? No. It—my grandma bought me stuff, took me for a haircut, she just wanted to do something nice for me."

"She did something nice for someone," Flynn grins, looking at Julie, who shares a look with her best friend. Alex wants to ask but at the same time, he really does not.

Julie mumbles something under her breath to Flynn. She then looks over Alex's shoulder and her smile widens. "Oh! Speaking of…"

Alex furrows his eyebrows together and twists around preparing for something potentially humiliating, only to relax immediately when he sees Willie. Willie's smile falters when he must see Alex's new look and his step stutters, but he recovers quickly and he offers a wide smile when he makes eye contact with Alex. Alex can feel the smile grow on his own face. "Hey," he says once Willie is close enough to hear.

"Tell me about it, stud," Willie grins, reaching up to brush something off of Alex's shoulder.

Alex feels his face growing hot. Did—did Willie just call him a stud? In front of all of their friends? He looks at their friends who are all grinning wide—such a non-reaction that Alex is sure his must have imagine Willie's words—and then back to Willie. "What?"

"What?" Luke cries. "Have you never seen Grea—has he never seen Grease?" he demands, turning to Julie. Julie sighs heavily, reaching up to pat Luke's chest, as he rambles to her something about a missed experience and movie night and she's the one that he wants. Alex gives him a look, and then turns back to Willie.

"Sorry, I guess. If that was a reference, I didn't get it."

"No worries, bro," Willie says. He looks at the rest of the group. "We should have a movie night though, if only to keep Luke from premature death."

"Thank you!" Luke shouts. "Do we want to do it tonight or tomorrow?"

"Luke's taking no prisoners on this one," Reggie leans over and says as an aside to Willie and Alex, still clearly loud enough for Luke to hear. He leans back upright and looks at Luke, "I'm good for either."

"Same," Flynn says. 

"I'll be with my grandma this evening," Alex says. "So tomorrow would probably work best."

Luke raises an eyebrow. "You'll be with her all night?"

"I go over after school and I'm there until seven. So if we do it tomorrow we'll have more time," Alex explains, hoping they won't think too much into the amount of time he's spending with her and why it's so structured. But, well. Non-princes have structured visits with their grandparents too, right? He honestly can't remember. His last grandparent passed away when he was twelve.

"Saturday it is then," Julie decides. "That work for you, Willie?"

"Yeah, I can make that work," he says. "You guys finish practice at four, right?"

"Yeah, we usually aim for somewhere around there," Julie confirms. "So you can come over any time after four."

"Right," he nods, and snaps his fingers, instantly turning them into finger guns, pointing them at Flynn. "You want a ride, then?"

"Please," Flynn says, and Willie nods, reaching forward to high five her. When their hands collide, she clasps his hand in hers. "We can make our own band in the ride over too."

"Ooh," Willie cringes, "not sure if you want me in your band. Unless you just want me to dance for you. I've got that covered no problem, but anything beyond that, I—" he makes a face and pulls his hand back from hers to drag it across his neck in a cutting motion (even though Alex knows he can sing). "No go."

"Fine," Flynn huffs. "I guess we can let them have their thing."

"Oh, that's sweet," Reggie hums, propping an arm on Flynn's shoulder—the only one who could ever dream of getting away with that. "Did you hear that guys? She's going to let us have our thing."

"How considerate," Julie coos.

Alex holds up his hands in a show of innocence. "I'm an innocent bystander if Luke murders Flynn for calling our band a thing."

"I wasn't going to murder her," Luke rolls his eyes, shoving at Alex's shoulder.

"Maiming her is also a crime," Willie adds.

The group around Alex laughs and Alex feels his chest expand, happy to be with his people. It's not that prince lessons have been horrible, but they've definitely taken a lot out of him this week, especially being added on top of his schoolwork. He barely has time to talk to his friends anymore, let alone be with them like this. Even at lunch he's been working on homework, just so it's more that he doesn't have to do later that night. They've all been great about it—offering to help with his homework, catching him between classes just to get in their four minute conversations, and staying up a few minutes later than normal to text with him when he finally finishes homework for the night. But… this. The entire presence of the entire group is just rejuvenating and Alex is angry that he's only got a few minutes of it left. But he's going to soak it up for as long as he can, because he knows that he owes his happiness to his friends and right now, he's really happy.

At lunch, he's busy doing his math assignment, even though it's Friday. With band practice and the movie night tomorrow, and prince lessons on Sunday, he's not sure how much time he'll have this weekend for his homework. He's sure his grandmother would cut back on the lessons if needed, but if he can get it done at school just as easily, he might as well. He's hunched over his book and worksheet while his friends all make noise around him, Reggie jostling him every once in a while. Willie, however, never once bumps into Alex even though Alex can see Willie stand up multiple times to reach across the table to wrestle something away that Luke has stolen from him. It's surprisingly easy to get his work done despite the chaos. His anxiety drives him, causing him to hyper fixate on his work, but that also means that, like Tuesday, he forgets to eat.

The bell rings and Alex snaps his head up looking around him, his nearly completed math assignment still under his pencil. His friends are all getting up. Reggie grabs the piece of pizza off of Alex's tray and shoves it in his mouth. He mumbles around the food in his mouth, that only years of hearing Reggie speak with food in his mouth allows Alex to make out "you snooze you lose." He is, however, at least decent enough to throw away the tray of the food that he ate, so Alex doesn't complain too much.

He closes his worksheet in his math book, bookmarking the page where he left off, and slips the book into his backpack. He moves to stand up, but as he spins on the bench, he realizes Willie is still sitting next to him. When they make eye contact, Willie flicks his eyebrows up and down and smiles. "Back with us, hot dog?"

"Yeah. Sorry for ignoring you guys, I just—"

"Hey, no, that's not—" He reaches into his backpack and pulls out a bag of trail mix. "You didn't eat Tuesday, kind of assumed it was going to happen again at some point so I came prepared. Now at least you'll have something, dude."

Alex takes the pack from him and wills his face not to burst into flames and nods. "Yeah, thanks, Willie."

They both stand up and walk out of the cafeteria, heading towards their classes. When they reach the D wing, where Willie is meant to turn and Alex is meant to continue straight, Willie grabs Alex's hand and pulls him through the group of students to the wall. Alex follows confused, but willing, and frowns at Willie when Willie turns to him and leans against the wall. "D'you think your grandma would let me pick you up today instead of having her guard dogs take you home?" Willie asks.

"Huh? Why?"

Willie shrugs, nonchalant. "Haven't gotten to talk to you outside of text all week, and even text has been pretty sparse. I know you're busy, I get it, I do. But I kinda just wanna hang."

"What about tomorrow?"

Willie scoffs. "Come on, it's gonna go like every other movie night we have after band practice—you're going to make it through the first movie, which, by the way Luke's not going to let us talk through since you've never seen Grease before, and then you're going to be asleep within the first thirty minutes of the next."

"I will not—I won't—I—whatever," Alex mutters. He wants to refute it, but he can't drudge up a memory to do so. "I'll talk to my grandma. I don't see why it should be an issue."

"Great," Willie grins. "Have a great rest of your day, yeah? Text me the answer and address." He glances at the clock. "And you might wanna hurry to class too." Alex looks at the clock and curses, turning and rushing down the hall. He makes it to class with a few seconds to spare, and the anxiety of nearly being tardy morphing into the immediate focusing on class doesn't let him think too much on his potential… hang with Willie later.

When he gets to lessons that day, he asks his grandmother later if Willie can pick him up and she tells him yes. So at seven he bids goodbye to her, Alden, and John, the head of security. Willie's car is parked in the driveway and, just like last Friday when he came to pick him up just down the street, it looks entirely out of place in this neighborhood. Alex doesn't care. He gets in the car, placing his backpack on the floor, and buckles himself in. Willie had started driving as soon as he shut the door, so when Alex looks up, they're already turned out of the driveway. "Where to, then?"

"I'm not sure," Willie shrugs. "I didn't plan that far ahead."

"You're a horrible date," Alex jokes, sinking further into his seat.

Willie casts a look at Alex. "Yeah?" he grins.

"The worst."

"Well I guess I just have to step up my game then," Willie hums, and flicks his turn signal on to switch lanes. It seems like he's made his mind up where they were going. "So how's school been—how did your midterms go? Junior year kicked my ass, and I didn't have the added pressure of learning to become a prince."

Alex laughs, but starts talking about his classes and what he got on his midterms, before asking Willie about his classes as well, and about what Alex should expect next year. About twenty minutes later, Willie is pulling into a parking lot, pulling out his wallet as he does so he can pay. Alex looks around at where they are and frowns. They're near Venice Beach but not at Venice Beach, so Alex isn't sure what Willie's plan is here. However, there's a parking lot here, so Alex figures there must be something of significance.

They get out of the car and right away Willie leads him in one direction and, well, it all makes sense then.

"Seriously?" Alex groans.

"What, hot dog?" Willie asks, turning to him, holding his arms out at his sides. "Are you not impressed with my date?"

"This is the most cliché Los Angles date," Alex tells him, taking a few longer strides so he can catch up to Willie, who's walking up on one side of the Venice Canals.

"Is it? Is it really? Because by the look on your face you didn't even know where we were until just now. I think I'm winning at this whole date thing."

All right.

They really need to stop saying 'date' before Alex starts to get his hopes up. They're already up enough as it is—adding in banter about their non-existent date is… not helping him.

"Just because I've never been here before—"

"You've never been here before?"

"No. My parents don't really do tourist-y places," he says.

A smile spreads on Willie's face. "Oh, that probably means I have more date material, doesn't it? All the tourist spots you've missed out on your entire life?"

Alex hums, and doesn't comment, because fuck, stop saying date.

"This was actually my parents first date, too," Willie says, and Alex's mind malfunctions at the 'too.' Sorry, too? Too? He runs Willie's words back in his head. Yeah, he definitely said too. "They met at Venice Beach and decided to keep their first date close to where they met since they thought maybe it was lucky or something." Too. "That's what my mom says, anyways. My dad always laughs when she says that, never agrees, but never disagrees, either. I definitely don't agree, I don't think Venice is lucky or anything." Too. "I do think it's a good spot though, cliché or not. You can't deny that it's a great place, right? So, c'mon, hot dog. You can go on and admit that I'm actually the best date."

Alex laughs. He hopes it's just him that it sounds off to. "Not a chance, puka. A date isn't just the location, you know."

Willie quirks his eyebrows and pokes his tongue in his cheek. "You're right." He reaches over, grabs Alex's hand, and tugs. They start walking the canals and Alex expects Willie to drop his hand but he doesn't. "I can't ask first date questions since we already know everything about each other—" first date. Alex is maybe panicking. "—so you gotta help me out here. What don't I know about you?"

Alex's brain is currently short-circuiting, so thinking of these things isn't easy for him at the moment. He takes a minute to really think about everything that Willie knows about him and says, "I actually like the sofritas at Chipotle more than the steak. When Julie told me it had more sugar it ruined my whole 'it's healthier' disguise."

"Dude, I know that," Willie laughs. "You devour sofritas. No, that doesn't count. Something else."

"I hoard books. I've literally got over a thousand books. I have three book shelves in my room and—"

"No, I knew that, too. I've been to the bookstore with you, and I've seen your room on Snapchat. Something else, man, dig deep."

"Okay, here," Alex starts. "No one knows—well, actually Julie probably knows at this point. But Reggie and Flynn don't—"

"Luke does?"

"I'm getting there," Alex says. He pauses. "He was my first kiss. And second and third and—a lot. We didn't… date? But both of us wanted… practice."

"Really," Willie whistles. "When was this? I thought he's been all eyes for Julie since he met her?"

"Yeah but they didn't get together until sophomore year. Anyway, I'm pretty sure he was practicing for her," Alex admits. "I didn't care. It was just… nice, at the time."

"Huh. Well, yeah, okay, definitely didn't know that one," Willie acknowledges.

"Yeah," Alex laughs, "like I said, no one does."

"All right, your turn."

"You're not just going to answer?"

"You wanna ask the same question then? Something you don't know about me?"

"Oh." Alex looks down at the ground. In the corner of his eye he can see their hands swinging together. He looks towards them. They look completely fine even though it feels like his hand is on fire. "Uh," he clears his throat, and looks back up, looking at Willie. "If you could talk to any animal, what would it be?"

Willie's step falters and Alex opens his mouth, about to take it back, ask for a redo, when, "like, any species of animal, or like, a single… one animal, like, say I had a pet dog, I could only talk to that pet dog?"

"Like, a species?" Alex says, voice lilting into a question.

Willie hums, thoughtful, but he looks genuinely into the question, so Alex doesn't ask to take it back even though he feels like it had been a ridiculous question. Willie's face is so focused that Alex doesn't want to break him out of it. After a minute, he picks his head up from where he'd been watching the ground as they walked, and looks over at Alex with a confident look on his face. "Crows. Hands down. They're supposed to be one of the smartest animals out there. Did you know they understand water displacement? Like, scientists did an experiment where they put treats in water in long, skinny test tubes and gave the crows objects. They-they figured out that the heavier the object, the higher the treat rose. They learn safe and dangerous places to go, and they can remember good and bad people, and hold grudges against bad people and even pass those grudges down through generations. And they, sometimes they hold funerals? Which I think is really cool of them. They're can make their own tools or use things around them—there are crows that drop nuts in the street during red lights in path of car tires, let the cars run the nuts over, wait for the light to turn red again, and then go get the food. They just… they seem so cool, y'know? I'd love to talk to something that intelligent that isn't human."

In the second that it takes Alex to blink, he falls even further in love with Willie. Alex… can't believe that Willie is real. He took Alex's dumbass question and ran with it and didn't give some half-assed answer like most everyone else would have done. He put genuine thought into a inane question and even before he answered he had made Alex feel relaxed for asking a question that Alex had thought was dumb. Alex feels so at ease around Willie, even when he does something foolish like ask a completely out of place question, and Willie just… makes him feel like it's okay. Willie makes him feel like it's not an out of place question.

"Alright, sticking with the animal theme, if you could be an animal for one day—what day?"

Willie really makes him feel like it's not an out of place question. 

"I—" Alex goes to answer the question, then narrows his eyes. Well that's not how he expected the question to end. He looks over at Willie and sees his shoulders shaking as he giggles to himself. He goes with it, just like Willie had. "Is it every week or just this upcoming day?"

"Hm. Every week."

"Sunday," Alex decides. "It'd get me out of the seven hour lessons I have coming up every Sunday for the next month and half for the foreseeable future and after that… wait, is this like… a werewolf situation where like… Sunday, boom, I'm an animal? Or do I get to like, change at will?"

"Let's go on the side of chaos. Boom, you're an animal."

"Oh, great. That's fun. That's awesome. I hope I'm not a dangerous animal."

"Nah, man," Willie grins, bringing his hand that's not holding on to Alex's and swinging it to bump Alex in the chest. "You'd be a golden retriever. But like, one who wasn't taken out enough as a puppy, you know? So you're scared of shit."

"Makes sense. Yeah, though, still Sunday. Gets me out of lessons. And it can't be Saturdays because of band practice, and I can't miss a day every week of school a year, so. Sunday is the only option. Plus maybe my parents would stop giving me disappointed looks every time I didn't go with them to church. I can't Mom, Dad, I'm on four paws and slobbering."

Willie swings their hands exaggeratedly between them. "Who knows? Maybe if you were a dog they'd have an excuse to clip a leash to you and literally drag you to church." Alex looks at Willie, horror on his face. Willie laughs. "Alright. Your turn."

He looks back ahead. He dodges out of the way of a couple that's passing them, which means he has to press his body closer to Willie's. When they separate again, his mind is going so fast he can't keep up. He tries to think of something, tries to come up with anything. "What are you most proud of?"

Willie's eyebrows go up. Alex thinks he's asked another stupid question for a second until, "huh. That's a good question. I'm… not sure? Obviously I'm really proud of my dancing, I'm really proud of my grades, my dedication to my work… I'm really proud of my skateboarding. I've come a long way with that, and it's… you know my skateboarding is like… is like my happy place. But I also don't skateboard to show off or for a job? So saying that I'm most proud of it doesn't feel right." He looks over at Alex and studies him. He tilts his head, and then looks back out at the path they're following again. "I'm proud of my friendship," he decides. "I'm proud when the kids at the skate park come to me when they need help with a trick, or when they want to show off a new trick. And when Flynn and Julie ask me to help them prank you guys. And when Reggie feels safe enough to tell me about his parents fighting again, and takes me up on my offer to hang out at midnight just to get him out of the house. And when Luke asks my opinion on a new song and genuinely cares about my opinion. And when I help you through a panic attack, and see you come back to yourself and know that you're okay. And—and just hanging with you guys, making you smile, making you laugh. I'm proud of that."

He feels overwhelmed for a moment, but when it passes, he feels so genuinely grateful to have a friend like Willie. To have someone who is not only willing to help him through his darkest moments, but is proud to do so, who isn't ashamed or embarrassed to be associated with the kid who has anxiety. He's grateful that his friends have someone like Willie: that Flynn and Julie have another mind to help them—with school as well as their pranks. And Willie not only helps Reggie with his parents, but sometimes Reggie will see Willie playing with a fidget toy and a few days later at lunch Willie will toss it to Reggie, holding up a new one saying his parents had accidentally gotten him two. Then with Luke, Willie helps him get away from music and just exist in the world and he's one of only five people who can do that, so that's amazing enough on it's own. And with Alex, Willie is there through the hard times, yes, but Alex loves most when they're celebrating the good times together because that's when Alex can appreciate it the most. It's just—Willie's incredible, he's an incredible friend, and Alex is so glad that Willie knows that.

"I think I asked the better questions," Alex murmurs, at a loss for anything else to say. But, Alex really does think he asked the better questions in the end, even if they had been dumb. Or, maybe he didn't ask the better questions; maybe Willie just had the better answers. He feels like he got so much more out of Willie than Willie got out of him and for a second, he feels guilty. This had been Willie's idea—Willie had been the one who had wanted to find out more about Alex. Alex will just have to find ways to disperse pieces of himself into the rest of their conversation today to make up for it.

Willie tips his head back and laughs. "Uh-uh, no way. My first question got out of you that your first kiss was Luke Patterson. Clearly the superior question." Alex groans and drops his head. "Yours were a close second and third, I'll give you that."

Alex huffs, feeling his face heat up. "I'll just think of a better question."

"Nothing is going to beat finding out that Patterson was your first kiss," Willie says, squeezing his hand. It sends a jolt through Alex, and reminds him that they are, in fact, still holding hands. That they are walking around Venice Canals holding hands. On a "date." Oh, fuck him. He looks over at Willie who is looking back at him with a smug grin on his face. "So. Your Royal Highness—" Alex groans, and Willie laughs "—what exactly have you been doing at those lessons of yours?"

[ticklikeabomb]

Grouch - Part 6

Pairing : Bucky x Plus Size Reader ; Avengers x Plus Size Reader

Warning : Language ; Angst 

Word Count : 1.4k

Disclaimer : I do not own the characters, nor the universe where they were created and interact in. This series/fiction is only for entertainment purposes.

A/N : I’m sorry it took so long. Writer’s block is a bitch :/ Hope you will still like it :) 

“Y/N? Y/N stay here, alright Sweety. Let’s play hide and seek. You know the rules, don’t you?” “Alright, I’ll count to 50 and you will only get out if you hear Mommy and Daddy. No one else! Do you understand?” “Y/N? Y/N?”. You stayed hidden as your parents ordered and made sure in being as quiet as possible. You crawled back on yourself when you heard loud noises and shouts. “FIND THEM!”, was heard not far away from where you were hidden. You saw black boots position themselves in front of you, blocking the mere light your eyes had access to. “Clear” a deep voice growled emotionless. The shadow was gone as quickly as it arrived.

You let out the breath you were holding when you felt a grip on your leg pushing you out of your corner. The man quickly covered your mouth before your fear could express itself in a form of a yell and shushed you. “Your parents send me.” Only trusting your gut and your parent’s words, you tried to bite the hand off but came across metal. He chuckled slightly before turning yourself to him, “That would have been clever if it wasn’t me.” In front of you were the bluest eyes you’ve ever seen, a mix between extreme roughness and a hint of kindness.

You tried to kick him and get yourself out of his hold but it was impossible. “Stop”, his deep voice made you still.  Your body trembled more and more, deeply aware of what was waiting for you at the other end of the corridor. “Don’t say a word”, he whispered. It wasn’t a problem. At this point, you barely produced enough saliva in your mouth. In the corner of your eye, you saw the bad guys approaching and felt your breath cut short. At your grand surprise, the man your parents told you to fear and never cross path with, didn’t turn you to the enemies. When they were out of sight, he led you the opposite way and pushed the wall where a secret exit door was concealed. “Get inside, crawl until the end and when you’re sure that the coast is clear, you run as fast as you can. Someone will be at the end of the way waiting for you. Is it clear?”, he said. You nodded instinctively. He was about to close the door behind when you stopped him. “Aren’t you coming with?” He gulped and shook his head. “I have to find your parents and get them out of here.” “Don’t leave me alone”, you stuttered and felt tears streaming down your face. “ Y/N, if you follow my instructions, everything will be alright”. You nodded again and asked him “What’s your name?” He looked at you, a mix between pride and mostly fear before answering, “My name is Bucky…” “SOLDAT!!!”, was being shouted. Bucky looked at you one more time before yelling “GO!”.

You woke up in sweat, the monitor beeping your heart rate out while you tried to catch some air. “Hey it’s ok, you’re alright”, you heard and saw Wanda beside you. “What did you do to me?”, your voice shacked. “I..I’m bringing back your memories.” “Why?” She gave you a weak smile before declaring, “Because no one deserves to live in a lie. You deserve to know the truth, the real events that occurred in your life and not what they implanted in your brain for their advantage.” You gulped and locked away. “Will you keep doing that?”, you asked weakly. “If you want me to continue, yes.” Your eyes locked with hers before you nodded. “Good. It’s not going to be easy but you’re not alone in the process. We’re here for you”, she commented. “Why would you? I only caused destruction and almost killed some of you.” “We all have our demons and honestly we all tried to kill each other at least once”, she joked. She felt that you needed some time alone and discretely left the room.

She arrived at the King’s meeting room and saw the team, T’Challa, Shuri and Okoye discussing. “How is she?”, asked Bucky worried when he saw Wanda entering the room. All the eyes fixed on her, she exhaled deeply and sat down. “She’ll get there, eventually.” As soon as those words left her mouth, everyone in the room heard you shouting from the top of your lungs. Some on them already on their feet were stopped by Wanda who assured them,” It’s alright. She needs to let it all out.” The others still perplexed returned to their seats except for Bucky who standing, faced the door listening to you. He was having a hard time staying passive at the situation but he also knew, confronting you would only do worst.

Wanda came back the next days, slowly recovering your memories. Recovering your memories was something, recovering your identity was another. It didn’t matter how much you were rediscovering about your past, the dark about you was complete. The images felt like photograms being projected in front of your eyelids, 25 photograms per second of unknown events. “Do you want to stop for today?”, asked Wanda. “No, let’s continue some more.” She showed a moment you were both together, laughing, crying, singing and dancing. One of those nights where you didn’t feel like Atlas carrying the world’s weight and problems.

“I have a terrible voice”, you laugh. “Shut up, no you don’t”, counterattacked Wanda. “You kidding, have you really heard me? I could evoke thunder faster than Thor”, you tell her and she falls on the bed, laughing. You join her and look at the colors of the projected stars on the ceiling. “It must be beautiful up there, don’t you think?”, you ask her. She hums in agreement. “You think Thor would ever let us join him, flee Earth for a moment, get to know other species and communities?”, you talk out loud. “I hope… but in the meantime, we still have those two bottles and snacks to finish. Which movie now? The Nice Guys or This means war?”, she asked. You pretend to think about it while you see her grinning at the corner of your eye. “This means war”, you turn towards her before sliding awkwardly down the bed, making her laugh hysterically.

When she finished showing you that memory, you turned to her and asked, “We were close weren’t we?”. The end of her lips lifted in a shy smile but didn’t continues their course. Sadness, nostalgia maybe. “Yeah we were”, she whispers, awareness taking over her, knowing your relationship will never be the same again. “I’m so consumed by hatred or whatever this is that I didn’t realize that I wasn’t the only one who lost big time. They stole my life and with it all our future moments together. I’m sorry”, you tell her. “Don’t apologize for something you had no control over. They’re to blame”, she replied.

Five minutes later, Shuri and T’Challa entered the room, their personal guard carrying two boxes. “Hello Y/N, how are you today?”, asked the King. “I’m good thank you. How are you?” He chuckled before replying he was alright. “I’ve been working hard on it and your new prosthetics are finished”, exclaimed Shuri excited. Your frowned not understanding where she was going. “I’m sorry, my what?” The proceeded to open the boxes and in front of you were what was supposed to be your new vibranium arms and legs in a black and purple design. 

You internally gasp, looking at the mesmerizing work in front of you. “You like? Because if you don’t, I ca-“, “No, I…I love it but I can’t accept it”, you tell them biting on your teeth in order to prevent you from crying and showing them your feelings. “Hey none of that alright. Don’t worry and besides they’re cooler than Barnes’”, whispered Shuri before covering her mouth. “Oh no sorry, I know I shall not mention you know who”, she quickly said. “It’s ok Shuri. I guess I’ll have to face him one day, I just don’t really have the strength to it right now.” They nodded and your eyes landed on the prosthetics. “They’re gorgeous. Thank you”, you tell Shuri and T’Challa. For the first time you smiled in what felt like ages.

“When can I put them on? I have a revenge to plan!”, you exclaimed with a small smirk and dark eyes.

*credit of gifs and picture to owners*

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